The blood was as intoxicating as Connor had imagined it would be. It wasn't laced with drugs, and he had no intention of having this drawn out. He'd drain him and then force his blood into him. It would take or Dimitri would die. There was no other option.
His obsession blinded him to the advantage he had given Dimitri. The free hand holding the stake made it's move, and there was no warning. The words couldn't really register.
Connor's type of vampire didn't fall to the ground or need to be burned or buried when they were staked. They became dust. It was fitting in a way. The body returning to Earth.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Connor the vampire joined Connor the morta in death.