by Joey W. Hill
Quinn remembered how he'd been given a second room at Butch's, connected to Selene's, leaving her the choice to make him sleep elsewhere.
In some ways he'd been sorry to hear about the two-cabin setup, because he'd love to take out the whole bunch. But he wasn't a complete testosterone-driven moron. He'd heard what Dix said. Taking out one wasn't going to be easy, so it needed to be the right one. His specific bloodlust for Laurent aside, everyone knew the head of the snake was the most important part.
Don's info about the service road had given him the idea for his approach, which was good, because in this part of the world there wasn't a lot of thick tree cover for stealth. He'd thrown some tools into the back of the truck, changed into a serviceable T-shirt and jeans. He looked for all the world like a contractor hired to do maintenance.
As he bumped down the dirt and gravel access road, the cabins came into view, the early afternoon sunlight limning the rustic buildings. He stopped about a hundred yards from them. The cabins were spaced about that same distance apart. The two rental vehicles parked between them supported his theory about Laurent's belief in class division. One was a black Suburban, the kind of thing you'd have your hired men drive to look intimidating and official. The other was a luxury Mercedes. He'd probably had Claudio do the driving while he rode in back. What an asshole.
Getting out of his truck, Quinn moved to the open bed and took his time pulling tools out of it before sauntering to the fence line. In a few minutes he'd started work on replacing the predictably rotted section of split railing that formed a dubious aesthetic border between the properties. Don wasn't known for keeping up with grounds maintenance.
Hearing the door to one cabin open, he glanced up. Since the olive-skinned, golden-eyed man stepping out was doing so into full sunlight, he deduced this was Claudio.
"Mornin'," Quinn drawled. "Hope I didn't wake you, sir. Just had to get this fence post replaced before the boss drove me crazy about it."
Claudio had stopped, was studying him closely without saying a word. His tawny-brown eyes were flat as gold coins, as steady as a special ops military vet with a side dose of sociopath. A spear of trepidation shot through Quinn as he abruptly remembered Selene had said both vampires and servants could detect the scent of another vampire. Could Claudio detect the third marking? Or just her scent?
"If you're staying in town long," he added casually, gauging the depth he needed to sink the fence post, "I'd highly recommend the After Hours Saloon. The bar manager and waitresses there are awful pretty to look at, and they serve good food and drinks at reasonable prices. I was just there last night. Damn near had to throw me out at closing, because I never wanted to leave."
Claudio's expression eased, and Quinn bit back a sigh of relief. Giving him the impression he'd brushed up against Selene had helped.
"At the moment, I'm looking for something close by where I can go grab a fast breakfast," the man said.
Right. Claudio had to eat, and Don's fifty acres of rustic cabin retreats didn't offer room service. Don would scoff at the mere idea.
Quinn suppressed a fist pump. Not only was he getting rid of the one person who could handle sunlight, but if Laurent felt comfortable enough to let Claudio go seek his breakfast, that made it even more likely he'd had him bunk down with the other two vampires.
"That would be Elaine's. No more than a couple miles up the road." Quinn nodded in that general direction. "Stay away from the Southwestern omelet. Give you gas for days."
Claudio had no reaction to that. He obviously wasn't much on talking. As Quinn pulled the old post free, he started whistling, ostensibly paying attention to nothing more than the job he'd been hired to do. Thank God he was familiar enough with Don's property to know what might need repair, because when he pulled up the post the base was so rotted it crumbled.
Since he could sense Claudio still watching him, Quinn lifted his head.
"Looks like he let this go way too long, doesn't it?" he said, as if he thought Claudio was just watching him work out of idle curiosity. He took pride in his ability to maintain a casual facade while rage boiled furiously inside him. Claudio had stood by while Laurent tortured Selene, probably even helped. Quinn wanted to wrap his hands around the servant's throat, choke him until his eyes bulged, then force him to drag his Master out into the light that was so damaging to him. But getting him out of the way would better help him accomplish his real purpose.
When a vampire dies, the servant dies. Remembering Selene's words, he knew if he took out Laurent, he'd have the satisfaction of killing Claudio at the same time. The most violence Quinn had ever indulged toward another human being had been a barroom brawl. He'd been in a few of those, and most ended with all of them sharing a beer. Killing a man was something a man did only if there was no other choice. But he'd never come home to find someone he loved mangled almost beyond recognition, by men who then checked into a hotel and contemplated breakfast the next day as if it meant nothing. As if she meant nothing.
To his way of thinking, the moment Laurent had raised a hand to Selene, he'd decided to die. Quinn was just going to help him on his way.
Seemingly satisfied, Claudio made a noncommittal noise and moved toward the Mercedes. Quinn returned to his work, not looking up as Claudio got into the full-size luxury rental car, turned the engine over and pulled away on the gravel drive.
Quinn kept working a good five minutes more, even though every part of him was screaming to move, move, move.
He studied the two cabins out of the corner of his eye. There was still a chance he could be wrong, but as sharp-witted as Claudio had seemed, there was no way Quinn could have risked asking more pointed questions. Either way, Quinn had the advantage now. The three in those cabins, whatever their distribution, couldn't survive sunlight.
He'd stayed at Don's a couple times when he was with a one-night stand from town he didn't really want to take to his home and risk Annette's disapproving frown in the morning. While he wasn't proud of those lonely couplings, he was glad of it now, because he knew Don hadn't changed the layout of the cabins in years. It was basically a kitchen unit, a sitting area, the bed and a TV. The curtains were thick and could be drawn to keep out the light and heat, but both cabins had east-facing front windows. Big ones, a whole three-set panel.
Quinn went back to his truck, pulled out the items he needed and strode back up the walkway. As he closed in on the cabin Claudio hadn't exited, the slouching saunter of a contractor disappeared from his gait. He tuned out everything, just like when he was about to put his ass on the back of a bull. He focused all his energy on his strength, his wits, his unwavering belief that he could and would make those eight seconds count.
He didn't let himself think about what he was about to do, about how far it was from everything he'd always been. This was for Selene. All he had to do was remember her crumpled form and, even more, remember how she'd asked his forgiveness for getting all shaky and weepy in his arms. He approached the cabin with stealth, keeping an eye out just in case Claudio returned early. His footfalls were nearly silent, like when he approached a crazed cow trapped in wiry bushes. All his senses were on high alert. He tried to blank out everything but the task at hand, but by the time he reached the front of the cabin, all he saw was red, and all he felt was that fury again. He'd ride it like he used to ride those bulls, and hang on for well over eight seconds.
Hefting the hoe he'd brought, he jammed it into the window, breaking the glass, making a wide sweeping motion with the handle to clear a hole with it before he reached in and tore out the blinds and curtains. He moved fast and smooth, like he did when bringing down a calf. No hesitation, no looking until he jumped back and hefted the other thing he'd brought from the truck. A repeating rifle.
He saw the movement inside as the sun blasted through, a shadow that moved fast from the bed, headed for a corner, but he could only go so far. Quinn fired into that corner and, sure enough, luck was with him. The shadow hit the corner at the
moment the bullet did, spinning the vampire around. Quinn kept firing, advancing on the window, making that shadow jerk again and again. A snarl of pain reached his ears that sounded more like savage lion than man.
As the male dropped to a knee, Quinn was standing right in front of the window. He swung himself over the sill with one lithe movement, flipping the hoe so he led with the jagged end he'd broken ahead of time. In another two strides, he was upon the bleeding male. He saw the flash of fangs, the crimson light in his eyes as the vampire surged up from the floor, but he was weakened, stumbling. Intending to take advantage of that forward momentum, Quinn seized the back of his neck to shove him right onto the business end of that hoe handle.
Then pain exploded in his head and the world went dark.
*
"Wake up." The sharp order came with an equally sharp reinforcement. His cock and balls were in agony, his ass on fire.
Quinn lifted his head. The screaming ache in his shoulders told him his feet were off the ground even before the rest of his stretched body did. In the moonlight he could make out several men watching him. His wrists were tied to the top rail of the five-slat fence, his ankles to the lowest rung of it, all of him off the ground, his waist and chest bound to the middle slats rails with no regard for circulation or comfort. Nothing like Selene might have done it, with the intent being restraint for mutual pleasure.
He was stripped naked though, his nether regions out there dangling in a terrifying way. No, not dangling. All of a sudden, he realized why it felt like his cock and balls were wrapped up in barbed wire. They fucking were. Blood crusted the tender flesh. He couldn't stop twitching because on top of that, his ass felt like acid had been poured down inside of it. He convulsed against the pain just as he felt the hands pulling away from him, finishing whatever they'd just shot into it to wake him up.
Making the nightmare even worse, whatever they'd put in there made his cock start to harden against those sharp edges. He snarled, bit back a cry of pain. Even if he swallowed his tongue, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Especially not to the male standing about six feet in front of him eyeing his cock and balls like he was considering having them for dinner.
Fuck. This was Laurent. If the Gucci shoes and expensive haircut hadn't told him that, the air of Prince of Darkness and malevolent satisfaction in his expression would have. But beneath that was a chilling level of rage.
Yeah, Quinn had guessed wrong about the cabins, because this wasn't the vampire he'd nearly staked. But he'd still done damage, gotten closer than a puny human was supposed to. Which meant the Prince of Darkness was majorly pissed.
They'd knocked him out hard. Or maybe they'd kept knocking him out until night fell and they could arrange to display his body like a side of beef in front of their overlord. He was still feeling dizzy and nauseous, and had an odd craving for Selene's blood, as if it would be a tonic for the pain. Maybe her blood restored his health the way his could hers. Something to ponder when he had more time, though he had a feeling his future was very much in doubt.
Christ. That burning in his ass accelerated, and his cock swelled to an even thicker size. He bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out even more, but he couldn't keep himself from writhing, even as his nausea increased at the obvious sexual pleasure his discomfort was causing his enemy. Laurent was sporting an erection under those nicely tailored slacks.
As horrible as the pain was, Quinn found his gut cramping even more at having his sexual responses turned against him. He didn't even want to think what ultimate purpose Laurent would have for that.
"It was a credible plan," Laurent observed, his dark eyes lifting to lock on Quinn's face as it contorted with pain, as his body writhed in the bonds. "When Claudio returned to find how you'd disturbed Mike and Ernesto's rest, he thought you might be a vampire hunter, but once I took a nice long whiff, I could smell her all over you. Little Selene finally took a servant. She sent him to try to assassinate me."
Oh Christ. "She didn't. She didn't know." It might be futile, but Quinn coughed the words out on an ash dry throat.
"Hmm. I believe you. It didn't really seem her style. She's more cut and run than stand and fight."
"Maybe she's just live and let live," he rasped. He was going to die of shame and agony together if his cock didn't stop getting bigger and stiffer.
"A creed you and I obviously don't share. Mike was not at all pleased with being shot by you. He wanted to kill you right then, but he wouldn't do so without my say-so, and I need to teach him the pleasures of waiting. Of feeding on fear and pain as much as blood."
Fuck this. Quinn met his gaze, spat again. "Yeah. I get it. You're going to torture me until I beg for mercy, then kill me. Blah blah blah. That's your sick shit deal. Fucking do it, but I'm not going to feed any part of you, you sick fuck."
He'd use rage to fight through the pain. Unfortunately, his response didn't elicit anything from Laurent but a lifted brow. He glanced at Claudio, standing silently just behind him. "He actually thinks he has free will, a choice in all this. That we can't make him dance like our puppet at any time. It's almost charming. Very John Wayne."
Laurent stepped closer. As he did, Quinn saw a deadness in those eyes that made Claudio's lack of emotion seem like Chuckles the clown in comparison. Truth, what he saw teeming in Laurent's eyes reminded him of a writhing bed of hungry snakes. It was the look of a monster, something that fed on despair, pain, a complete lack of hope.
It made his balls want to shrivel back up into his body.
"While you were out, I should have given Mike something to do," he said. "He could have fucked your ass several times. That special ointment Claudio just inserted wouldn't be the only reason you're hurting like a son of a bitch. But perhaps it will be far better to have him do it while you're awake, help you really understand what being a vampire's servant means. It seems Selene has romanticized it a little too much."
At the avaricious light in Laurent's eyes, the frank hatred in Mike's as he stood off to the left, Quinn couldn't stop the image that went through his head. Their bodies pushing him down, grunting over him, his legs spread, a nightmare that wouldn't be a nightmare. No. He couldn't lose it like this. Even though he wanted to recoil in horror, knowing Laurent wasn't issuing idle threats, showing weakness wasn't the best option here. Or at least it was an option Quinn wasn't giving himself. Fuck. His Mistress had stood toe to toe with these three, let them beat her to pieces, knowing she couldn't stop them. She'd blocked her mind to spare him from it. He couldn't do any less than live up to her example.
Laurent cocked his head toward the impassive Claudio. Quinn wondered what was going on behind the gold eyes of Laurent's servant, because he didn't so much as twitch a facial muscle. The wind ruffled his thick mane of hair, taking a few strands across his brow. It was obscene, how handsome he was, how beautiful Laurent was. Except for the scar on his face, Mike was the same. Though his fancy dark clothes had a few bloodstained holes in them still, and that gave Quinn some fierce satisfaction. Yeah, you can fuck me, but it doesn't change the fact I shot you and nearly staked your ass.
"For instance," Laurent spoke again, "I guess you expected Claudio was coming from their cabin. But a servant would never feed himself without checking in on his Master to see if he needed anything. Though it was past dawn, Mike and Ernesto don't necessarily sleep as deeply as Selene does at that time of day. You probably didn't realize that, did you? The older we are, the longer past dawn we can stay awake, keep our faculties alert to danger. The advantage to not being a sixty-year-old fledgling.
"I wanted blood and to have my dick sucked off," Laurent continued, "and Claudio took care of both of those things before coming out to find his bacon and eggs. You had a fifty percent chance of choosing the right cabin, and unfortunately the gods didn't favor you. Yes, you cornered Mike, but Ernesto had enough shadows to take you out from behind. You let your temper override your good sense, and now both you and your Mistress will pay for it."
<
br /> Cold shot through Quinn's vitals as he lifted his head, met those dark eyes. Laurent nodded. "When Ernesto gets back with Selene, we'll see how tough you are. Whatever I do to you, I will do to her three times over. That will really destroy you, won't it? To see your actions taken out on her? I understand human weaknesses. They're the easiest to exploit, your sentiment and care for others."
There is no upside to going after a vampire. Dix had tried to warn him. Oh God, Selene. Selene, vulnerable in her bed. Ernesto would drag her out, bring her here, and she'd have to go through it all over again. He didn't know enough about this world, Dix was right. He'd acted according to the rules of his world and without enough information about vampires. As a result, he'd fucked up beyond all possible reason.
"No. Don't take this out on her. She wasn't any part of it. It was all me."
Laurent's expression took on a mocking cast of pity. "He still doesn't understand. In our world, you are nothing, human. Less than nothing. If you belong to a vampire, your sins are hers. You attempted to kill a vampire, so once she knows that, she'll know your life is already forfeit. I will torture her for your crimes, I will torture you for them and then she will watch you die. Before we take her back home where she belongs."
He wanted to die right now. If he thought it might ease any of her suffering, he would. But he knew it wouldn't. He would have to face this, face what he'd done. Even though it tore his heart out to think it, he wished she'd never stopped in Nightfall, never had the misfortune to meet him, the idiot who'd brought her to this. She'd told him to trust her, and he hadn't. He'd had to be the big-ass hero who avenged her, rather than doing what Dix had told him he should be doing.
