she gazed down at the sleek vehicle.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” she whispered, not even looking up at me when I came to stand beside her. “I got her a few days before James showed up. I ordered her months ago after Knox banged up my M5.”
“You like cars?” I asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of my voice.
Mira snorted and looked up at me like I had lost my mind. “This isn’t just a car!” she cried. “This is a 2010 BMW M6 with a five-hundred-horsepower, V10 engine. This exquisite piece of steel, glass, and leather is a work of art.” Then to my shock, she bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the hood of the car. “She’s my baby.” With another sigh, Mira walked around to the trunk, trailing her left hand over the car’s sleek lines in a loving caress. She popped the trunk using a remote and dropped in the bag she had been carrying, then stepped aside so that I could place mine beside hers.
After thirty seconds on the road with her, I realized that it wasn’t the supple leather seats, the impressive sound system, or the curvaceous lines that screamed of sin and seduction that drew Mira. No, it was the raw power that she had at her fingertips. With the tires squealing, we tore out of the parking garage and through a maze of streets to the interstate, pouring through all seven gears like water rushing down a narrow gully.
A smile lifted her lips and her eyes never wavered from the road as she weaved between the widely spaced cars on the expressway. Despite the breakneck speed, I felt safe. She wouldn’t do anything to threaten the existence of her “baby.” And she was right. The car was an impressive symphony of sex and power that fit Mira perfectly.
NINE
W e followed the pale concrete ribbon winding north out of the city and along the interstate. As traffic picked up, Mira eased up on the gas and relaxed her grip on the black leather steering wheel. In the glow of the pale interior lights, I could see the tension creeping back into her face as the joy of being back in her car started to fade.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my deep voice rumbling in the silent car like a bit of thunder.
“A small gathering of nightwalkers,” she stated.
“Why?”
Mira sucked her lower lip into her mouth, holding it with her teeth for a second. This couldn’t possibly bode well for me. “First Communion,” she finally volunteered.
“Why do I have a feeling that this has nothing to do with the Last Supper?” I said, sarcasm sharpening my tone. My right hand tightened on the armrest on the door. This was going to be bad.
“Last night, a nightwalker within the city brought over a companion,” she began.
“Brought over? As in, made another of your kind?” I interrupted.
“Yes, and if you don’t settle down, I’ll lock you in the trunk,” she threatened, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m not too thrilled with this development myself, but it’s too late. The deed is done.” She pinned me with a warning gaze for a couple seconds, and I gritted my teeth and waited for her to proceed. This was an argument for another time. She was right, in that there was nothing to stop the fact that there was yet another vampire in the world.
“All right,” she continued in a huff. “First Communion is the first time a new vampire feeds. For my kind, it’s a big deal. There’s no real ceremony, but if the sire and new night walker are hunting in another nightwalker’s territory, it is customary for the keeper to be present at the First Communion.”
“Why?”
“To begin the process of indoctrination into our culture. There is a lot a fledgling must learn if he or she is to survive. The new nightwalker must learn the full meaning of words like ‘master’ and ‘slave.’”
Something cold and dead crawled into her voice. There were times when something dark uncoiled in Mira when she spoke of her kind. While she was a staunch defender of vampires against the naturi,
“Isn’t she beautiful?” she whispered, not even looking up at me when I came to stand beside her. “I got her a few days before James showed up. I ordered her months ago after Knox banged up my M5.”
“You like cars?” I asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of my voice.
Mira snorted and looked up at me like I had lost my mind. “This isn’t just a car!” she cried. “This is a 2010 BMW M6 with a five-hundred-horsepower, V10 engine. This exquisite piece of steel, glass, and leather is a work of art.” Then to my shock, she bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the hood of the car. “She’s my baby.” With another sigh, Mira walked around to the trunk, trailing her left hand over the car’s sleek lines in a loving caress. She popped the trunk using a remote and dropped in the bag she had been carrying, then stepped aside so that I could place mine beside hers.
After thirty seconds on the road with her, I realized that it wasn’t the supple leather seats, the impressive sound system, or the curvaceous lines that screamed of sin and seduction that drew Mira. No, it was the raw power that she had at her fingertips. With the tires squealing, we tore out of the parking garage and through a maze of streets to the interstate, pouring through all seven gears like water rushing down a narrow gully.
A smile lifted her lips and her eyes never wavered from the road as she weaved between the widely spaced cars on the expressway. Despite the breakneck speed, I felt safe. She wouldn’t do anything to threaten the existence of her “baby.” And she was right. The car was an impressive symphony of sex and power that fit Mira perfectly.
NINE
W e followed the pale concrete ribbon winding north out of the city and along the interstate. As traffic picked up, Mira eased up on the gas and relaxed her grip on the black leather steering wheel. In the glow of the pale interior lights, I could see the tension creeping back into her face as the joy of being back in her car started to fade.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my deep voice rumbling in the silent car like a bit of thunder.
“A small gathering of nightwalkers,” she stated.
“Why?”
Mira sucked her lower lip into her mouth, holding it with her teeth for a second. This couldn’t possibly bode well for me. “First Communion,” she finally volunteered.
“Why do I have a feeling that this has nothing to do with the Last Supper?” I said, sarcasm sharpening my tone. My right hand tightened on the armrest on the door. This was going to be bad.
“Last night, a nightwalker within the city brought over a companion,” she began.
“Brought over? As in, made another of your kind?” I interrupted.
“Yes, and if you don’t settle down, I’ll lock you in the trunk,” she threatened, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m not too thrilled with this development myself, but it’s too late. The deed is done.” She pinned me with a warning gaze for a couple seconds, and I gritted my teeth and waited for her to proceed. This was an argument for another time. She was right, in that there was nothing to stop the fact that there was yet another vampire in the world.
“All right,” she continued in a huff. “First Communion is the first time a new vampire feeds. For my kind, it’s a big deal. There’s no real ceremony, but if the sire and new night walker are hunting in another nightwalker’s territory, it is customary for the keeper to be present at the First Communion.”
“Why?”
“To begin the process of indoctrination into our culture. There is a lot a fledgling must learn if he or she is to survive. The new nightwalker must learn the full meaning of words like ‘master’ and ‘slave.’”
Something cold and dead crawled into her voice. There were times when something dark uncoiled in Mira when she spoke of her kind. While she was a staunch defender of vampires against the naturi,
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