A Vampire’s Thirst_Quinn

by A. K. Michaels

  “Get out, now.” Quinn was on the verge of losing control. He felt it leaving him, draining away from him with each passing second. The man’s pulse in his throat was like a beacon, screaming at him to tear into it and drain him dry . . . right that very moment. “You need to leave.”

  Quinn didn’t recognize his own voice. It was thick with his need for blood, to feed . . . no not feed. To fucking feast on the being before him. He wasn’t even sure what the man was. Wolf, Fae, hell he could’ve been a damn Witch for all he cared. All he knew was if he didn’t leave that very instant that he was going to drain him fucking dry right there in a damn Directive building. He didn’t care that it would be the end of him, couldn’t seem to be concerned that it would bring down a hail of fire and brimstone if he killed one of their own. Hell, he couldn’t give a shit about any of that, all he could think of, focus on, was the blood that pumped through the warm body that still stood before him. Ignoring his warning to leave and glaring at him in anger.

  Oh well, the fool’s fate was sealed. Quinn’s fangs sprang free, ready and eager to sink into this idiot’s jugular and drink him dry. He took a deliberate step toward him and still he stood there glowering at him. Fool. Could he not see what he was? Did he not know his death was staring him in the eyes? Was he so stupid that he couldn’t fathom what stood before him? Whatever . . . Quinn could hold back no longer. The Thirst had taken over. His skin was on fire, his stomach felt as if he hadn’t fed in weeks, and his mouth lusted to be filled with warm blood straight from the vein.

  “You had your chance.” Quinn gabbled around his large, razor sharp fangs . . . just as the door behind the man sprang open and Thorne appeared, snatching the man’s collar and throwing him out.

  “Get out of here,” Thorne spat out before turning to face him, hands up in surrender. “Q, it’s all right, there’s blood in the pack there. Look, you dropped it on the floor. It’s behind you, at your feet. Pick the damn thing up and feed. Quickly, before Jana comes looking for you like I did.”

  Quinn’s anger rose like a flaming hot fire. Thorne had denied him his blood straight from the vein, and now stood between him and the quarry he knew must still be nearby. Snarling he stepped forward, waving Thorne away. “Get out of my way, Thorne. I want warm blood, not that shit from the bag.”

  Thorne looked at him as if he were insane. As if he didn’t know him but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the beating heart he could hear receding down the hallway. “What the fuck, Q? Stop this, now, before it’s too late . . . Amaya needs you. Do you hear me? Amaya needs you!”

  Thorne rushed him, his arm snaking back and before he could blink his friend did the unthinkable. He punched him square in the face. He never envisaged Thorne doing such a thing, never thought his friend would ever lay a hand on him so to say he was shocked was the biggest fucking understatement in the world. His face hurt like a bitch, but more importantly, it shocked him out of the bloodlust haze that had taken over him. Quinn shook his head, clearing it further, running a hand over his face and seeing the evidence of Thorne’s punch as he brought it away: blood on his palm.

  “Here! Drink these, now. That’s not a request.” Thorne pushed several bags toward him.

  Quinn took them, silently gulping down the cold, red liquid and handing back the empty containers. When he was finished he went over to the sinks and cleaned himself up and only then did he turn to face his friend. “I apologize. I guess this Thirst is affecting me more than I thought.”

  “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Thorne exhaled loudly, running a hand through his short hair. “They’re ready to start on the Russian so let’s just get back there and forget what went on in here.”

  “I’m sorry, Thorne,” Quinn reiterated. “Truly.”

  “I know you are, Q, but you were ready to eat that guy and you can’t do that.” Thorne sighed again. “Let’s just hope we can find Amaya soon before you lose control again.”

  Quinn didn’t reply. Didn’t attempt to say that it wouldn’t happen again, because he was beginning to understand just what this Thirst was and how powerful it was, and more importantly, the consequences of being separated from his Bloodmate. He feared if they weren’t reunited, and soon, that he would completely lose his mind and that would be when Jana and the rest of her team would put him down like a fucking dog before he could go on a feeding frenzy and cause the damage a Vampire as ancient and strong as he was could wreak.

  As Thorne led him toward the cell where the prisoner was being held he wondered how they would do it. He was an ancient, powerful and wouldn’t be easy to take down, but between them he was under no illusions that they’d manage it. Delia was also an ancient, and with the Witch involved and Jana? Hell, yeah, they’d kill him okay, not easily because in the throes of the damn Thirst he’d fight like a madman but they’d still get the better of him and he’d never know the joy of holding Amaya in his arms. Or feel her lips on his, her skin beneath his fingers, hear her scream his name as they joined together in ecstasy . . . no!

  He wouldn’t allow that to happen. He would get the answers he needed and rescue her before it got that far. Before he got that far and was lost to the madness that lurked just beneath the surface. He had to or his happiness, his future would be lost forever.

  “Let’s do this,” he snarled as Thorne stopped at the door that separated him from the one person who held the answers to everything. Every-fucking-thing.

  Chapter 9

  Amaya tried once again, unsuccessfully, to get a piece of her clothing between the silver shackles around her wrists and her skin. They burned painfully and she was finding it harder and harder to think of anything but the throbbing agony they were causing. The bastard that had taken her had locked them on her as soon as they were out of sight of the two men who’d tried to rescue her . . . Quinn.

  The name ran around and around in her head as she memorized every inch of his face. His glaring and angry eyes as he stared at the Russian who held the gun to her head, dark emerald that she was certain would darken further in the throes of passion. Shit! Where did that thought come from? And why was she thinking such things when she was in such dire straits?

  She should be trying to figure a way out of her predicament instead of daydreaming of the Scotsman naked . . . but once again her mind wandered to his tall, muscular body and what it would look like without being encased in a rumpled tux. Would it be as perfect as his face? Would he be a gentle lover? Or wild and rough? Amaya couldn’t help herself wondering what she’d prefer when they’d finally be alone and she had no doubts that would happen. Well, not many anyway.

  The way he’d looked at her with such fierce protectiveness told her he’d do all in his power to find her. But would it be enough? Could he reach her in time? She knew she was in a precarious position. The man her abductor had brought her to was even worse than he was. An ancient Vampire with a heart as cold as ice and they’d moved from the hotel he’d been in to the warehouse they were now in. It was near an airport because she could clearly hear planes taking off and landing, but that was all she knew, other than the room she was in had no windows and was cold, dirty, and damp.

  Her beast was going crazy, desperate to break free and furious that it could not. With the silver restraints binding it inside Amaya and her Tiger were thwarted from protecting themselves or attempting an escape. Her only hope was that her mate did as he promised and rescued her. Her mate. The sound of that was magical. It wasn’t something she’d ever expected and the fact it was a Vampire came as a whopping great surprise. She’d usually stay well clear of them because, for whatever damn reason, they seemed to have a craving for her Tiger’s blood. So, she kept away and never, not ever, had she allowed one to feed from her . . . well, not willingly anyway.

  There was that time once when she was younger but that wasn’t by choice and she’d made that fucker pay when she’d grown, both in age and strength. But with Quinn, her mate? That would be different, wouldn’t it? Hell, she had no fucking
idea. Guess she’d just have to wait and see. All she knew was the moment, the very second she’d seen him, scented him, she’d known he was hers. Her Tiger had roared in her head, deafening her, and her heart had soared to the very skies, her stomach fluttering and her mouth had watered as if a feast had been lain out before her. She’d almost forgotten she was being held by that damn Russian. Everything else had fell away and all she’d seen was him.

  Until that fucker had pressed the muzzle to her temple. That had put a damper on everything. Then her mate had sworn to come for her. Sworn to find her and she believed him. Absolutely, one hundred percent, she believed him. He would get her back. She knew it. But she also felt something else. Something inside him that was . . . almost alive and as if it were consuming him. Amaya had a bad feeling about whatever it was. She couldn’t understand it, not really, but she had gifts from her father’s side and she could sense things in others, and she sensed something within Quinn that was . . . consuming him. Yes. That was the only way to describe what she sensed and she knew, just knew, that if he didn’t reach her in time that whatever it was would devour him completely and he’d be lost to her forever.

  She couldn’t allow that to happen. Amaya would not allow that to happen. She had to figure out a way to help him. Help her mate. Help Quinn. She just had to think. First, she had to rest and then she’d have a clearer mind. Yes. Rest and then she’d know what to do. She’d call upon all her gifts and she’d come up with something to help him. She had to because both of their futures depended on it.

  “No pressure then,” she mumbled as she lay down, closed her eyes and fell into a fitful slumber.

  Quinn walked into the room with one goal coursing through him; get the answers he needed to save his Bloodmate. Nothing else mattered. All he sought was to make the Russian talk and he’d do whatever it took to make that happen. He just hoped that Jana and the rest of the team were on the same page and wouldn’t stand in his way, even if his methods became extreme.

  The only people present were Jana, Delia and the Russian, a large mirror on one wall where he presumed the others were on the other side and watching everything that happened. The room was sparse, their prisoner sitting in one chair and two other chairs opposite, neither women occupied them. Jana stood in a corner while Delia paced back and forth, her head spinning to them when they entered.

  “Finally,” she snapped.

  “Has he said anything?” He nodded to the man in the chair.

  “No.” Jana shook her head.

  “Okay, can I start?” Quinn walked over, standing behind the seated prisoner.

  “Sì,” Delia waved her hand at him.

  He leaned down, voice low, barely a whisper at the fucker’s ear. “You’re not getting out of here. That’s not going to happen. But you’ve got a choice . . . I’m going to give you a choice.” He walked around to face him. “You’re a Shifter, and you have a need to transform, but that will be taken from you from this moment on. You’ll be in a cell and you won’t ever be able to change again . . . think about that. Not ever again. Never.”

  His head shot up, eyes glinting with anger and Quinn spat out. “You’re not old. In fact, you’re young for a Bear so that’s going to be a very long time. But that’s not all, we’re going to place you in the wing set apart for Vampires. That’s where you’re going, fucker, and you’ll be their snack each and every damn day for the rest of your long life. Imagine that . . . being held down every day, morning, noon, and night to be fed on by groups of hungry and angry Vamps. They’ll feed from every part of your body, and I mean every part of your body. If you get my meaning, some of them have particular tastes and they’ll feed from your most intimate places while their friends laugh and jeer at you. Just take a moment to see that in your head. I’ll let you think about that for a moment.”

  Quinn turned his back on him as he jerked in his restraints, growling and snarling, spittle flying from his mouth as he shook with anger. Finally, he shouted, “No! That’s against the law! It cannot be allowed.”

  Jana stepped from her place in the corner, a sneer on her face. “I am Jana Noskova. I assume you’ve heard of me?”

  His eyes locked on hers. “Of course. You cannot allow this. You are Magno Zara’s Second, how can you let him talk to me like this?”

  Jana shrugged. “Your men have kidnapped a Bloodmate and we will do whatever it takes for her safe return.”

  “No!” he screamed, his face turning bright red and the veins in his throat bulging.

  “Yes,” Quinn replied quietly. “We will ensure this is your future unless you help us. If you tell us what we require, without the need for me to compel you, or the need for us to use magic, then maybe, just maybe you’ll be treated like a normal prisoner. You’ll still go to a Directive jail but you’ll be in the Shifter population . . . or, I can go one better. If you give us the information quickly and without the need for coercion, then I promise to end your life. That is your choice. A life in a Directive cell or die tonight. Your decision. This is a time limited offer so make up your mind now.”

  Jana’s head whipped to him, her eyes closing to slits and he knew she didn’t agree with him but if it got them the answers they needed he didn’t give a goddamn shit. She opened her mouth to say something but, surprisingly, Delia’s hand shot out and landed on Jana’s shoulder. The Italian shook her head at Jana and she closed her mouth, a low growl coming forth instead as she spun away to return to her place in the corner.

  Their prisoner’s body seemed to implode, shoulder’s drooping and head falling forward as his dire circumstances surrounded him. It took him only a few seconds to nod his assent. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “What’s your name?” Quinn asked first.

  “Zimin, and the man that took your Bloodmate is Mirov Andreevich.” He let out a groan as if he was in pain. “Shit, you’ll have to kill me because I won’t survive more than a week, even in a Directive prison.”

  “Fine, if that’s your decision.” Quinn shrugged. “Carry on, we need every last detail.”

  “We work for Zorin Igoravich and he’s got a Witch that he’s been using to try and capture these Bloodmates. He plans on finding them and then blackmailing their mates for as much money as he can get. When we’d captured her, we were to return to the hotel he was staying at . . . but wait . . . we weren’t staying there so there’s no point in going there. We were then going to a warehouse near the airport. He has a private jet that’s ready to leave at a moment’s notice. If the mate is in Hong Kong then he’d broker the deal here, if not, then he was going to fly out as soon as possible.”

  “What else?” Quinn snarled, leaning down and scowling into Zimin’s face. “Do you have any other Bloodmates on your radar? If so, where? Who?”

  Zimin shrank back, shaking his head. “I’m not privy to that information. Mirov is Zorin’s guy, not me. I only get told what I have to be by Mirov, or know stuff ‘cause I’ve overheard it. I’m telling you all that I know. You can compel me if you don’t believe me.”

  “Is this Witch with him?” Delia asked from her place against the back wall.

  “I’m not sure.” Zimin shook his head. “He was, but I heard Mirov saying something about him going off in search of something . . . or maybe it was someone. So, he might have left. I can’t be certain.”

  “Where’s the warehouse? Do you have an address?” Quinn paced back and forth, eager to get the last piece of information before they could be on their way.

  “Please,” Zimin’s voice pleaded as he lifted his head to follow Quinn. “I don’t have an address, I promise I’m telling the truth. Mirov knew where it was, but we were to go to the hotel and then go to it so I wasn’t told. I only know it was near the airport. I do know that it is owned by a Russian contact of Zorin’s that has an export business here but that’s all the information I have on it.”

  Delia strode to the door, nodding to Jana. “We should try and find the warehouse as quickly as possible.”


  “It shouldn’t be too difficult. I don’t suppose there’s too many Russians that have their own here, not if they’re Supernaturals anyway. We should have them on our database.”

  “Wait!” Zimin shouted as they all moved to follow Delia. “You said you’d kill me and after I’ve told you this that’s the only fate open to me.”

  Quinn shook his head, snarling. “Your fate is in the hands of The Directive. You honestly think I’d give you an easy way out after helping to take my Bloodmate from me? If you did then you’re more stupid than you look. I hope they lock you up and throw the fucking key away. Enjoy your time in the dark bowels of their prison, Zimin. It’s what you deserve.”

  “No! You can’t do that! You can’t!” he screamed over and over as they all left him. The sound of his agony and terror of what was to come like music to Quinn’s ears as he joined the rest of the group in the hallway.

  Slamming the door behind him he turned, grinning and seeing Jana looking at him in surprise. “Shit, Quinn, you had me fooled. I thought you were going to kill him.”

  “I had to make him believe me.” Quinn’s lip curled up in a snarl. “And trust me, I wanted to end him, but I’m aware that it would’ve caused you problems and I think he’ll suffer more where he’s going. That means more to me than the momentary satisfaction I’d get by breaking his neck.”

  She turned to Delia, raising a perfect eyebrow. “Did you know?”

  Delia merely smirked. “I had my suspicions that he would not carry out his promise to end him. It would be too kind to do so and he doesn’t deserve such an act, not after his part in the kidnapping of the one thing that Signore Quinn holds most dear.”