“Use my shoulder for a pillow, if you want, Quinn,” Marcus said quietly. “Or my thigh. I did two tours of duty in Iraq a few years ago. I can sleep standing up, sitting down, even standing on my head, if I need to.”
Quinn smiled. “Thank you. I’m going to take you up on that.” She tried getting comfortable against his shoulder and finally gave up, curled up on the floor beside him, and laid her head on his thigh. His warm hand curled around her shoulder, and the last of her tension dissipated. She was safe. For now.
“No! Richard, don’t let them hurt him. He’s one of the good ones!”
Quinn woke, sitting up as commotion erupted in the hideout. Half a dozen Slava males dragged a seventh, struggling, male into the room.
“He’s a monster, Delilah,” Richard said coldly. “They’re all monsters.”
“That’s not true!” The woman, an attractive redhead, was growing frantic, and Quinn could see in her face that she had feelings for the captured male.
She glanced at Marcus, watching tensely beside her. “Is he a vampire?”
“I think so.”
“I would have thought a vampire could throw them all off. Or dart away.”
“They’ve cuffed him.”
Quinn stared in consternation at the vampire, whose hands were clearly unbound. “What do you mean?”
“See the silver chain around his throat?”
She did. Its large links made it look like a choke chain.
“Silver doesn’t burn them, but it acts as a powerful damper for their powers if it encircles their heads or necks. You’ll never see a vampire wearing a silver necklace. As long as we humans can get our hands on silver, we have a weapon, though a minor one. It’s damn hard to collar something that can move faster than the eye can see.”
“You have to use something . . . or someone . . . as bait,” Quinn murmured. Is that what had happened here? She watched as the vampire was thrown to the floor and chained on his back, spread-eagled.
The woman, Delilah, ran to him, falling at his side. “You idiot! Why did you come after me?”
“I thought . . . you were in trouble.”
She slammed her fist against his chest. “I hate you!”
“No,” he said quietly. “You don’t.”
Delilah made a sound like a sob. “Damn you.” When she looked up, tears gleamed on her cheeks. “Richard, please. Don’t hurt him.”
“Don’t be a fool, Delilah.” Richard turned to one of the other males. “Get her out of here.”
“No!” the woman cried.
As one man grabbed her arm and pulled her away, another pulled out a knife and stabbed the vampire in the side, sinking the blade all the way to the hilt.
The vampire threw his head back in pain. The metallic scent of blood, an oddly-spicy-smelling blood, began to fill the room.
A second human stabbed the vampire through the throat as the first human pulled out his knife and stabbed the vamp in the stomach.
Quinn looked away, breathing through her mouth. She neither wanted nor needed to see this. “I thought he had to be stabbed through the heart.”
“He does. And only a wooden stake will kill him.”
“So they’re just torturing him.”
“Yes. Taking out their hatred on him.”
If it were Cristoff they were stabbing, she’d have watched. She might have even enjoyed it. Arturo? God, no.
Delilah sobbed, begging them to stop. “He’s done nothing! Hurt no one.”
By the time the blood-coated men and women backed away from the prone vamp, Quinn was sick to her stomach. And angry as hell.
“Enough.” Richard turned to one of the attackers. “Jose, you get the killing blow. You’ve lost the most at their hands.”
Quinn rose. Marcus grabbed her arm, but she shook him off and stepped into the circle of bloody attackers. “What is this vampire accused of?”
Richard threw her a sharp look of warning. “Proceed, Jose.”
A broad-faced, broad-shouldered Mexican stepped forward and positioned himself over the vamp’s chest.
“No, Jose!” Delilah cried. “He’s not evil!”
“Have we become the monsters, now?” Quinn asked. “Do we kill the innocent because we don’t like their eating habits?”
She didn’t see the fist coming until it was too late. The male beside her punched her in the mouth, splitting her lip and knocking her back in a minor explosion of pain.
Cara! Arturo’s voice.
Careful hands gripped her, pulling her back. Through tearing eyes, she saw Jose lift a wooden stake. “For my wife and my children,” he snarled. And drove the stake down into the vampire’s heart.
Delilah screamed, the sound cut off suddenly as Richard clipped her beneath the chin with a swift uppercut, knocking her out. Quinn allowed Marcus to turn her away, to lead her back to the wall. Jesus.
Tell them you’re the sorceress, Quinn. Tell them you’re their only chance of survival. Don’t let them hurt you!
He thought she was the one being tortured.
Jeff moved beside her, his face a mask of fury. “Are you trying to get us thrown out?”
“Oh, go fuck yourself.” She sank to the ground, angry, frustrated, hurting.
Vampire, if you can hear me, don’t follow me here. Please. They’ve just killed a vampire who I don’t think deserved to die. I don’t want that to happen to you.
He didn’t deserve that kind of death. She wasn’t sure anyone did.
These people had suffered too long at the hands of the vampires. They’d had too much taken from them—lives, freedom, loved ones. They’d been tortured repeatedly, whether they remembered each instance or not. And had been made to suffer in God only knew how many ways. They couldn’t strike out at the ones they hated, so they struck out at the ones they could. It was wrong. Horribly unfair. And sadly inevitable.
The vampires, through their own cruelty, had created another breed of monster.
Richard stalked over to them, turning a vivid glare on her. “Out. You’re not welcome here.”
She rose, meeting his gaze. “A little truth presents that much of a threat to you?”
Jeff leaped up beside her and grabbed her arm. “Shut it, Blondie.” He turned to Richard, his demeanor changing in an instant. “Richard, I’m sorry. If I’d known what a bitch she was, I would never have agreed to bring her along, but I made a promise, and I’m stuck with her. Let her stay until morning, please? Then we’ll all go.”
Richard snorted. “To find a sunbeam. You’re an idiot.” His rancor spewed over the lot of them. “You’re all idiots! And I want you all out of here at first light.” He turned and walked away.
Marcus pulled her back down beside him and put his arm around her shoulders. “You’ve got a soft heart, Quinn, but soft hearts have a way of getting torn to pieces in this place. I’ve crossed paths with that vampire before, the one who just died. He had a streak of compassion a lot of vamps lack, but he was far from the paragon Delilah seemed to think he was. More than once, I saw him torture Slavas in front of new slaves just to scare the new ones. Yes, he cleared the minds of the Slavas when he was through, but torture is torture. Even the ‘good’ ones are monsters, Quinn. The sooner you understand that, the better off you’ll be. There’s no such thing as a good vampire.”
He patted his thigh, and she curled up and laid her head down as she had before, his w
ords living in her head beside thoughts of Arturo. She knew that the vampire couldn’t be trusted to tell her the truth, but she had seen goodness in him. At least she thought she had. Was that just one more lie, or was he truly the exception to the rule?
Did it even matter? If she succeeded in escaping Vamp City this time, she would never see Arturo again.
She was lying on the beach, the towel beneath her soft and sun-warmed, the sun a blazing ball in the clear blue sky. A breeze blew across her heated skin, cooling, soothing. Heaven.
A shadow fell across her closed eyelids, and she looked up, blinking at the man standing over her. He was dressed all in black, his skin hinting of the Mediterranean, his dark eyes gleaming with a heat that had nothing to do with the sun.
In the blink of an eye, his shirt was gone, his broad, muscular chest on full display. For her. Only for her. There was no one else on the beach, no one in the world but the two of them.
He wanted her, she could see it in his eyes. And she wanted him.
She only had to think the words and he was kneeling beside her in the sand, lifting her hips as he pulled off her bikini bottoms. Then his hand was between her thighs, his other pulling aside her bikini top as his mouth dipped to claim her now-bare breast. His fingers stroked her sensitive flesh, back and forth, sliding through her wetness, delving into the dark heat of her body.
You were made for me, cara. Though she heard no words, his thoughts flowed freely into her head. You are mine.
And then he was over her, his pants mysteriously gone, his cock pressing against her, sliding inside her. And it was good. So good.
Quinn!
Arturo’s sharp voice startled her awake and she sat up, blinking in the dim light in confusion. Someone had turned out all but one of the oil lamps.
“You okay?” Marcus asked quietly beside her. Around them, the others slept, some snoring softly.
“Yes. Just . . . dreaming.”
Ah, were you asleep, cara? Were you dreaming of me? I felt your passion rise, and I admit to a strike of jealousy.
The dream had fled, thanks to him, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of restless heat that still throbbed between her legs or the tingling sensitivity of every inch of her skin. That had been one hell of a dream. She supposed she should be grateful for the interruption, or she might have truly embarrassed herself.
I think of you, cara, constantly. The way your skin smells when you’re aroused, the way it flushes a beautiful shade of rose when I stroke my hand over you.
Quinn groaned. Go away, Vampire. If only he could hear her.
If only she could deny she felt any attraction for him. But she tried hard never to lie, especially to herself. She might have seen the last of him, but it would be a long, long time before she forgot Arturo Mazza, her onetime vampire master.
Chapter Sixteen
The flicker of lanterns beat against her eyelids, waking her. Quinn sat up, feeling more rested than she should, considering her midnight visit. Around her, the others rose as the Slavas once more lit all six oil lamps. With no windows, and no real light either way, morning had to be manufactured.
Jeff came over to them, handed out chunks of hard-as-rock bread. “Eat, then we’ll leave.” He cut her an annoyed look but didn’t say anything more. It wasn’t like they’d intended to spend more than the one night here. She certainly hadn’t. This morning, she was heading for the gladiator camp and nowhere else. The others could come with her or stay behind. Their choice.
The bread was truly awful, not much better than cardboard, but she managed to get it down. As they rose to go, Delilah came over to them, her eyes swollen and red from a night of crying, her jaw resolute.
“I’d like to travel with you if that’s all right.”
Jeff looked at her stonily. “It’s not.”
“Jeff . . .” Marcus said quietly.
“I don’t trust a vamp-lover.”
Quinn had had enough. “You’re welcome to come with me, Delilah.”
Jeff rounded on her. “You selfish little bitch.”
Quinn whirled until they were face-to-face. “You, who considers no one but yourself, is calling me selfish? That’s rich.”
Temper, cara, Arturo chided.
Oh, shut up, Vampire, she snapped, wishing that for once he could hear her.
“If you want me to lead you—”
She cut Jeff off. “I don’t need you half as much as you need me, and you know it.”
Marcus’s hand landed firmly on her shoulder. “This isn’t the place for this discussion.”
He was right, dammit. Not unless she wanted Richard and every Slava in here to know she was a sorceress. Maybe a weak one, but a sorceress all the same. Quinn pulled back, folding her arms across her chest. “Delilah comes. Nonnegotiable.”
Jeff shook his head in disgust. “You’re a fool.” He swung one of the packs onto his shoulder and stalked toward the front door.
The others hesitated only a moment before following.
Quinn looked at Delilah, motioning her with her head to join them.
With a look of relief, the Slava fell into step beside her. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much trouble.”
“Is there ever anything but trouble in this place?”
The Slava smiled weakly. “I suppose not.”
Jeff led the way outside, where the streets were dim and colorless, faintly lit by the steel gray of day. But Quinn no longer trusted him to lead her to the gladiator camp.
“Do you have your bearings?” she asked Marcus, who’d waited for her.
Delilah touched her arm. “I know exactly where we are. Where do you want to go?”
“The gladiator camp.”
Delilah lifted a brow, but asked no questions. “I can take you there.”
“Lead the way.”
Jeff scowled, but Quinn ignored him.
They walked through the empty streets as they had before, disappearing into the shadows and the old buildings whenever the sound of a carriage or automobile sounded nearby. Quinn thought she heard Arturo’s Jeep, but only in the distance. He couldn’t find her. She wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“How long have you been a Slava?” Quinn asked the woman, as they walked past a block that consisted now of little more than rubble.
“Oh, I don’t know. Close to seventy years, I imagine. I was captured only a few months after the stock market crash of ’29.”
“A little over eighty, then.”
“Is it? It makes so little difference here. Nothing ever changes.”
“Do you have someplace to go, Delilah?” Marcus asked. “Where we’re going . . .”
The woman waved a hand absently. “You’re trying to get home, I know. And, yes, I have someplace. My sister is married and free. If I can find her, she’ll take me in.”
Quinn frowned. “Is she in a hidden enclave, too?”
“Yes. In a way.”
Clearly, she didn’t intend to say more, and Quinn couldn’t blame her. She’d already run afoul of one enclave. The less anyone knew where she was going, probably the better.
They continued on in silence down a couple of blocks of run-down buildings before once more crossing the street. A movement ahead caught Quinn’s attention. All their attentions, it seemed, for they stopped as one.
A vampire?
“Wolves,” one of the women whispered, the word radiating fear.
Quinn glanced at Marcus. “I thought the wolves lived in the Crux.”
“They do,” Delilah replied, “but they often hunt in the Nod—the unclaimed boundary lands.”
“W
hat do they eat?” The moment the question was out of her mouth, Quinn wanted to take it back. “Do I want to know?”
“Meat,” Delilah said simply. “Human or vampire.”
Lovely. Vamp City was definitely not a people-friendly place.
In front of her, two of the slaves pulled switchblades out of their pockets. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcus pull one, too.
“One wolf isn’t going to take on this many of us,” he murmured. “Not when it’s obvious we’re prepared to fight.”
From the building across the street ran another, and another, and still another, until there were ten in all.
“Too bad it’s not just one,” Quinn muttered.
As the wolves began to circle them, their lips pulled back in hungry snarls, Delilah stepped away from Quinn, into the street, her arms up as if in surrender. None of them called her back. Quinn had a feeling that none of them knew what she was doing.
“I am Delilah,” the woman called. “Sister to Nirina, the wife of the alpha of the Herewood pack. I ask that you deliver me to my sister. And I request safe passage for my friends.”
One of the wolves, a large gray one, broke from the others and walked to Delilah, sniffing her thoroughly, before backing up several steps. As Quinn watched in amazement, the wolf shifted into a man in a process that was neither fast nor slow, and appeared to cause him little pain. He stood naked, a large man with a hard-boned face and a dark braid that hung halfway down his back.
“You are who you say.” He looked at the humans with dispassion. “We’ll not take them all, but the price of your passing is two. You may choose which two, if you like.”
Delilah shook her head. “They are new to V.C., with wives and husbands and children mourning them in the outside world.”
“There is no escape for them.”
“There may be. Several of the new ones have managed to escape through the sunbeams.” Which was false as far as Quinn knew, but she wasn’t about to correct her. “Let these people go, I beg of you. Let them escape this place as we cannot.”
The werewolf frowned, eyeing the group of them, then turned back to Delilah. “You will owe me a boon, sister of Nirina.” His gaze skimmed the woman’s body before slowly, hungrily, returning to her face. “And I will collect.”
A Blood Seduction Page 22
