“They are. However, once in a while some are able to resist, especially if they are reborn as masters. I believe Virginia would be among those if turned.”
“I can see why you’d be apprehensive about it.” I waited, debating whether I should ask what I’d wondered about for so long.
Misha quirked a brow. “Is there something you would like to know, my darling?”
“Hmph,” Virginia moped from the doorway. She’d accepted Misha’s command to leave the kitchen, but refused to go far. She scowled, angered by his dismissal, and clearly ticked he’d called me his “darling.”
“Virginia, if you wish to receive any pleasure from me this evening, you will cease your childish behavior.” Misha didn’t bother to turn toward her; instead he swept my long waves behind my shoulder. “Now, if you will excuse us, Celia and I would like to be alone.”
Virginia smiled at me before she left. It wasn’t a friendly smile. It was more like a crazy “one day I’ll eat your liver with fava beans” kind of grin. Like I said, she gave me the willies.
“You were saying?” Misha asked.
I shrugged. “I was just wondering how a master creates a vampire.”
Misha leaned forward. “Why? Are you interested in becoming one?”
I rested my chin on my hand. He didn’t intimidate me in the least. “No, I’m just curious. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”
Misha walked around the table and knelt in front of me. He took my hands, placing my fingertips over his crown line and rubbing them gently. I felt two indentations. He then slid them down a little to his forehead and I traced two more grooves. At first, I didn’t understand, but then it hit me. “You pierce the brain . . . with your fangs?”
He nodded and smiled, but his grin lacked any trace of genuine humor.
“But wouldn’t that kill a human?”
“Yes, usually, but that is why it proves difficult to make a vampire.”
“But why the brain? Weres pierce the hearts.”
“I think it is simply because vampires have traditionally valued the brain as the most important organ. We are intelligent and analytical. The weres believe the heart to be all-encompassing.”
In that simple statement, Misha had spoken volumes about the differences between himself and Aric. I continued to gape at him. “So then, like the weres, you transfer your power into the person you’re turning?”
“Yes, but unlike the weres, vampires do not risk death, should we fail. It either works or it doesn’t.”
“And this is how Uri turned you?”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t stop my cringe. “Did it hurt?”
Misha quieted, as if remembering. “It happened over a hundred and twenty years ago and . . . I still remember the pain.”
The thought of him suffering made me inexplicably sad, perhaps because, like him, I’d experienced my own share of pain. I placed my hands on Misha’s head and swept my lips over the fang sites. He grabbed my wrists, locking eyes with me as he stood. “Do not pity me, my darling. Look around. As you can see, it was all worth it.”
I didn’t bother to do what he asked. In my attempt to show him compassion, I’d inadvertently insulted him. Master vampires believed themselves gods who ruled the earth and there I’d treated him as my equal—or, as he saw it, someone beneath me. His dark expression brought me a sense of unease. “If you say so, Misha. Look, I’m tired, and Virginia is probably waiting for you. I think it’s time for bed.”
He didn’t release me right away. Just when I thought I might have to break his hold, he dropped my hands and nodded curtly. “Good night, Celia.”