He stared over the hood of the car at Alec. “You won’t be answering to Tristan or the council anymore. To me and me alone.”
Alec smirked. “It’s about fucking time.”
Aye. It was.
CHAPTER
21
When the war had escalated and the vampires could no longer keep the upper hand against Sortiari attacks, Mikhail had prowled outlying villages, farms tucked away from prying eyes under the cover of darkness, in search of slayers and Sortiari sympathizers. Then the church’s hold had been absolute. The slayers used the cloister in order to manipulate hapless humans into sheltering them and, in some cases, giving aid to their cause. Superstition ran rampant and they feared the vampyres of legend: unholy, soulless demons that ravaged villages, killing indiscriminately in their quest for blood. Well, at least the legends had gotten something right. Their soulless states made them no more evil than any creature that roamed the earth, but perhaps it was that state of emptiness that had prompted the Sortiari to eradicate them. Ignorance bred nothing but mindless violence. The Fate they’d claimed to serve was nothing more than a reflection of their own misguided fears.
Tonight he’d hunted back alleys and neighborhoods across L.A., but not for the influencers of Fate or their berserker lapdogs. The resurgence of his enemies was the least of Mikhail’s worries right now. He’d sworn that he’d let Claire be. That he would not be mastered by the tether that secured his soul to hers. He’d been lying to himself of course. He could no more keep himself from her than he could stop the sun from rising every morning.
If he didn’t find Claire soon, he’d go out of his fucking mind.
Dressed for battle, Mikhail had never felt more like himself. Like the male he used to be. Abandoning the high-priced suits and designer business attire, he’d outfitted himself in the combat gear of a modern-day warrior. A thick nylon belt held throwing knives, daggers, and a .40-caliber Ruger. And his black long-sleeved shirt and fatigues were woven with a lightweight body armor that would deflect a blade with ease. He might not have had the advantage of the magic that the Sortiari used to infuse their weapons, but he had his speed, strength, and stealth. He could break an enemy’s neck with a simple turn of his hand. His thick-soled boots pounded the pavement as he walked, a rhythm that helped to center his thoughts. A centuries-long war was about to be fought in Los Angeles, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many slayers would swarm the city as the Sortiari unleashed the berserkers, fully consumed with battle lust.
How many more dhampirs would die before he regained the strength to turn them?
Turning Ronan had weakened Mikhail considerably. The Collective wore on his mind, his ability to bury the memories in his subconscious diminished without the strength Claire’s blood and life force gave him. He was lost without her.#p#分页标题#e#
Arrogant decisions never produced favorable outcomes. He’d pushed Claire too hard, too soon. Interactions with humans were rare. In the Collective, only a few memories of vampire/human relationships stood out, one of which being the torturous vision of the male who’d inadvertently killed his lover in the hopes of turning her. Mikhail had taken Claire like she was some paltry bauble he’d found on the street. Given her no choice in her present or future, only demanded obedience under the guise of protection. Despite his treatment of her, she’d surrendered her body to him. A gift he hadn’t deserved. He’d repaid her by proclaiming that her life as she knew it was over. That she belonged to him and would give up her humanity without a second thought.
None of his regrets or plans for amends would matter if he couldn’t find her, though.
In the eastern sky, the first streaks of gray washed across the horizon. Another night wasted. He revisited the street where the slayer had attacked her. Claire’s scent lingered, barely noticeable under the layers of filth and pollution and myriad creatures who’d traversed the same path in the past two weeks. Gods, the city was so vast. She could be anywhere.
For all he knew, she’d taken a plane and flown as far away from him as possible. Though her blood no longer coursed through his veins, Mikhail should have been able to track her through their tether. He’d joined their bodies, taken her blood again and again. The only thing that would have solidified an unbreakable connection between them would have been if she’d taken his vein as well. Once that was done, he would have been able to track her location no matter the distance. But until then, he was lost. Swimming in a sea so deep and endless, he despaired of ever reaching the shore.