Bitter Blood (The Morganville Vampires #13)(37)

“Yes,” I whispered. No. Not at this cost. And not with her.

I had never expected, after all we had endured, to be undone at the lily-white hands of a maiden. Myrnin might possibly have been able to find a way to stop it, and her. That was why Naomi wished him gone, of course.

And why I’d have no choice, none, but to do her bidding, until she finally had no more use for me at all. All vampires had some measure of control of others; it was an instinct that made us effective hunters, but in some—like Amelie—that trait was very strong, a hammer blow that could be wielded against other vampires. Naomi’s ability was a whisper, not a shout, but it was just as powerful. I had never suspected she possessed such skills. She had always seemed so…innocent. And kind. I ought to have known better; vampires are never kind, not unless that kindness buys us something.

“Tell me,” I said. “Tell me why you’re doing this. Why now?”

“I did not come after you,” Naomi pointed out, and raised an eyebrow. “I am not my father, Bishop; I had no need to rule until it became plain that Amelie was…incapable. I would have been happy to see her healed and whole again, even then. But you had to come after me, Oliver. So it’s entirely your fault that I am driven to this extreme.”

Naomi’s chin suddenly rose, and her eyes dimmed to a pale blue. “It seems I must leave you now, Oliver. She’s awake,” she said. “You know what to do. And remember, if you fight me, I’ll make the punishments I’ve given you already seem like a caress.”

She vanished like smoke. Surviving my attempt to destroy her, in the chaos of the final battle with the draug, had made this one stronger, faster, more coldhearted than ever.

I waited until I sensed Amelie’s approach, and then I turned with a false but convincing smile; it ripped at me like razors to betray her so, because even after all our years of rivalry, I had finally come to realize her worth, and now…now the smile was no longer mine. It was a lure, a lie, and it sickened me to see her return it.

She walked on bare feet down the path, hands stroking the petals of flowers as she came; her thin white gown blew like mist in the moonlight. She was beautiful, and desirable, and I despaired inside as her hands touched the bare skin of my chest, because I was going to be the death of her.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it. Nothing at all. I wanted to warn her, to tell her how dangerous I was to her now. How destructive.

“You strayed,” she said, and kissed me very lightly.

“Yes,” I said, and felt myself smile that warm, challenging smile that had charmed her into trust. “But I’ll never go far.”

Until I kill you. God forgive me.





SIX





CLAIRE




Claire really wanted to confront Eve about what Miranda had overheard—she and Michael couldn’t really be considering moving out, could they?—but in the morning, Eve was gone early, and Michael was sleeping late; she wasn’t quite gutsy enough to go knock on his door and demand to know the truth. Michael was grouchy in the mornings.

Miranda, of course, had kept Claire up talking into the wee hours; she’d been getting more and more chatty since taking up residence, which was great in a way, because the kid had been so repressed and isolated before, but bad for Claire’s sleep cycle. It also cut into the time she could spend with Shane; he tended to steer clear when Miranda was around, and although he wasn’t above just moving the girl firmly out of the room when he felt it was necessary, he hadn’t done it last night.

So Claire woke up short of sleep, yawning, and a little cranky. Not her best morning ever, but in a matter of minutes it got drastically better; she was still stretching and trying to wearily decide what to wear, when there was a thumping knock on her door, one very different from Miranda’s tentative taps.

She grabbed her robe and threw it on as she answered. She didn’t open up all the way, just peeked through. There was Shane, balancing one coffee cup precariously on top of another. He’d given her the giant Snoopy cup this morning, which was nice. “What’s the password?” she asked him.

“Um, you look hot with your hair standing up?”

“Good enough.” She stepped back and relieved Shane of the Snoopy cup as he came inside; then she set it hastily down when he stepped in to slide his free hand around her waist and kiss her. She had morning breath, but it didn’t seem to matter to him; he tasted of mint toothpaste and coffee, but she forgot all that in seconds and then it was just all incredibly delicious. Her whole body tingled with warmth.

“Morning,” he murmured, his lips close to hers. They were so tasty, she licked them, which made him smile and kiss her again. “Too bad you’re dressed.”

“I’m not dressed. I just have on a robe.”

“Oh?”

“Hey,” she said, and put a hand flat on his chest. “None of that, mister. A girl’s got to have boundaries.”

“You’ll let me know when I get there,” he said, and untied her robe. “You lied. You’ve got on jammies.”

“Well, yeah, those, too.” She was short of breath, and when his hands found their way under the flannel of her pajama top, the air in her lungs rushed away. “You really shouldn’t…”

“Do this? Yeah, I know.” He undid the first button on her pajama top and put a kiss in its place. “But I’ve been thinking about doing it all night.”