She buttoned up the shirt and found a belt in the closet that she wound around her waist to make the too-long shirt look more like a dress. This was L.A., no one would bat a lash at her attempt at a fashion statement. Gray light infused the darkened room, the first signs of dawn on the horizon. She needed to leave while it was still dark enough to slip under the radar of the guards posted outside and before the heavy blinds shut down over the windows. If she didn’t get out of there before sunrise, he’d never let her leave.
And honestly, she probably wouldn’t want to.
The Patek watch that had started it all sat on a mahogany dresser and Claire snatched it up and put it on her wrist. She had no idea if she was coming back, and if she wasn’t she couldn’t leave without some part of him to keep close to her heart. With her shoes in hand, she padded from the room, careful to ease the door open with barely a sound, her footsteps were heavy, reluctant. Her own body betrayed her, urging her to stay put.
I’m so sorry, Mikhail. Guilt burned at the back of her throat. Sat heavy on her heart like a stone. Maybe she’d come to terms with forever. Maybe leaving her humanity behind to be with him would become something she could accept once she removed herself from the situation long enough to give it the serious thought it deserved. But until she put some distance between them she’d never know for sure if the decisions she made—her feelings—were her own or something fabricated by the inexplicable connection between them.
She tiptoed down the two flights of stairs and through the house like the thief she was. Miles from the city, she’d have to walk until she could hitch a ride. Thanks to the fact that she’d left her purse on the sidewalk when Mikhail had saved her from the priest, catching a cab was out of the question. Out the front door and into the driveway, Claire averted her gaze from the gardens and vast lawn. The lush carpet of grass that Mikhail had laid her down in as he’d made love to her again and again in the fragrant night air.
In the eastern sky, the first orange hints of dawn made their appearance. Mikhail would be a prisoner in his own home, and it caused a sick pang of regret to flare in her stomach. He’d be alone. Angry. Hurt. God, she was a horrible person. A coward. She probably wasn’t deserving of the affection he wanted to bestow on her.
She definitely wasn’t deserving of his forgiveness.
CHAPTER
17
Of all the dhampirs Ronan knew, Eric Jenner was the only male more ruthless than himself. Jenner was a true warrior down to the marrow of his bones, fierce and stalwart. A big son of a bitch, too. Even for a dhampir. Once Mikhail turned Jenner, he’d be a force to be reckoned with. A vampire worthy of the position Ronan was about to give him. And he’d be up to his neck in bullshit before he had a chance to adjust to his new existence.
“Siobhan won’t be pleased.” Jenner’s voice boomed without any effort to project, deep and gruff. “She’ll have your balls when she finds out.”
She’s already got them. Ronan pushed the details of his arrangement with Siobhan to the back of his mind and focused his attention on the task at hand. “You let me worry about her.”#p#分页标题#e#
Ronan had known Jenner for almost as long as he’d known Mikhail. It was blind chance that Ronan had stumbled upon the orphaned vampire mere days after he’d escaped from the hell the slayer had left him to die in. Knowing that the future of the race depended on Mikhail’s survival, Ronan hadn’t wasted a second in getting him out of Europe. America had seemed like a world away. Hell, it had been more than two hundred years ago. Jenner had been living in the country for a few months and Ronan had befriended him. So much history. Ronan had thought to take Mikhail far from the Sortiari’s reach. And now that anonymity Ronan had hoped to give his friend was long gone.
“There might be others in the coven who would want to be turned,” Jenner said, thoughtful. “Though Siobhan’s sowed the seeds of her hatred well. She could convince a snake it could fly if it suited her mood.”
True. Hadn’t she convinced Ronan to trade his body for the codex? “I’m not interested in making an enemy out of her, and stealing her people from under her nose isn’t the way to keep her placated.”
“Hers isn’t the only coven in the city. Who else have you reached out to?”
As Ronan’s sole employee, Jenner could be counted on in any situation. He was one of very few Ronan trusted, and beyond capable. But the male was no diplomat. He broke bones first and asked questions later. “I’ve contacted Samuel and Juliana. Their covens are second largest to Siobhan’s.” Of the thirteen dhampir covens scattered throughout the city, none were as powerful as Siobhan’s. Petty squabbles broke out occasionally, but no one seemed interested in testing the female’s mettle. “Three more have contacted me in the past week. As you can guess, they’re all jumping at the chance to transition.”