Of Blood and Passion

by Pamela Palmer

  She cried out in pleasure, her legs turning weak beneath her. Arturo pulled her tight against him, burying one hand in her hair as his mouth returned to hers and he kissed her fiercely.

  “Thanks, kids,” Micah said somewhere behind her in a voice rough with arousal. “That did the trick. I’ll be back after I’ve found a blood donor.”

  She’d completely forgotten Micah was there. The moment he was gone, Arturo pulled away from her, removed his shirt, then reached for hers. Within moments, he had her jeans and panties pushed down below her knees and was entering her from the front on one long, glorious stroke.

  Quinn cried out and Arturo covered her mouth with his own, drinking her cries even as he gripped her buttocks and thrust into her, over and over, each stroke more perfect than the last. Within moments she was once again climbing, this time not alone.

  Higher and higher they rose, Arturo driving into her, filling her with heat and passion, until she felt as if the sun caressed her face, drenching her in its perfect warmth. Suddenly, as one, they shattered, the sun bursting, blinding, healing.

  They clung to one another as Quinn’s heart rate slowly descended from the stratosphere, Arturo stroking her hair with the most gentle of hands. Within the curve of his strong arms, beneath his tender touch, the last of her doubts fell away. He would never let anything or anyone harm her. He’d die before he let that happen, which terrified her in an entirely different way. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. With a kiss to her temple, he pulled away and began to adjust his clothes, and she did the same.

  “Every pleasure feeder in the castle probably felt that,” she murmured wryly.

  Arturo threw her a knowing look, hot laughter in his eyes. “You can be sure Micah did. I suspect he waited outside the door and is only now going to look for that blood donor.”

  When they were both dressed, Arturo pulled her close once more. “I’m changing the plan. I shall accompany you to Cristoff’s private study, not Kassius.”

  She looked at him, shaken by how rattled this mission had him. “Turo…”

  “I do not want you out of my sight.”

  “I know.” And that knowledge warmed her. “But we need you to keep an eye on Cristoff and to run interference if anything goes wrong. I’ll be fine. I have power of my own and Kassius to watch my back. He won’t let anything happen to me.” She had no doubt of that.

  Arturo took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm, watching her with dark, fathomless eyes, setting butterflies to flight in her chest. He’d always had this effect on her, this ability to send her careening off her axis. She wasn’t entirely sure what she felt for him—heaven knew, her emotions had always been jumbled where he was concerned. But the one thing she was certain of was that he had far more of a claim on her mind, her emotions, her heart, than she was comfortable with. And as long as he remained her partner and companion, she feared he always would.

  “Everything’s going to go without a hitch,” she promised him. Even though deep in her gut, she knew that was a lie.

  Chapter 11

  Micah joined them in the cave a short while later. He was smiling, his eyes bright even as shadows moved in their depths. He knew the dangers that faced them as well as anyone.

  “Let’s turn you into Grant Blackstone, Miss Quinn.”

  “If we must,” Quinn replied. And, of course, they must. Her best defense was a good disguise even if it meant wearing the face of a man she held little love for.

  As before, she stepped in front of Micah and let him run his fingers along the planes of her face, and felt the tingle of magic. She watched him as he worked, his expression sober, his eyes intent with focus. Finally, he stepped back with a satisfied nod.

  Quinn turned to Arturo. “What do you think?” She even sounded like Grant.

  “I do not care for your glamour, tesoro.”

  Micah scowled. “What’s the matter with it? It’s a perfect likeness.”

  “Precisely.”

  Quinn laughed.

  As Micah rolled his eyes and turned to work his magic on Kassius, Arturo walked over to her, cupping the back of her neck with his hand.

  A smile lit his gaze. “How I love the sound of your laughter,” he said quietly. “Even if it sounds like Grant’s.”

  “I’m kind of amazed I can laugh, under the circumstances.”

  He gathered her close and held her against him, as she wrapped her arms around his waist. They stood there, entwined, soaking up one another’s warmth, for Arturo had yet to lose the unnatural warmth he always acquired when they kissed. He’d told her that he’d never heard of it happening before—a vampire growing warm. He called her his sunshine and there really did appear to be something in her magic that warmed him as if he stood in a healing sun, instead of the real one that would kill him in an instant.

  “They’re done,” Arturo said, finally, kissing her hair.

  Quinn pulled back and turned to find that Kassius now looked exactly like one of the vampires waiting for them in the tunnels outside, a stocky, blond-haired male.

  Micah was staring at her as if he’d just bit into a lemon.

  “What?” she asked him.

  He made a funny sound, half choke, half laugh. “It’s going to take me years to get that image out of my head.”

  Amusement pulled at her mouth. “What image?” But she thought she knew. “Arturo and Grant?”

  “More like Arturo tenderly kissing Grant’s hair.”

  Quinn smirked. “You’re living in the wrong century, Micah.”

  The vampire lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not the fact that Grant’s male. It’s that he’s Grant.”

  She couldn’t argue with that.

  Kassius met her gaze. “Are you ready, sorceress?”

  Quinn nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  One by one, they filed out of the cave and joined the others gathered further down the tunnel.

  Bram stepped forward and Arturo shook his hand. “Cristoff must continue to believe me loyal, Bram. Word cannot get out that I am otherwise.”

  “Nor I. We’re all in the same boat, Ax. All betraying him.”

  Arturo nodded, shook hands with a couple of the other vampires, then turned and met Quinn’s gaze. “Be careful, tesoro.”

  “You, too.”

  She watched as he turned and disappeared back down the tunnel, the way they’d come. The plan was for him to walk into Gonzaga Castle through the front door, Cristoff’s snake come to report on his hunt for the missing sorceress. As long as his cover hadn’t been blown, he’d be fine. If it had, he’d soon be dead.

  That was something she couldn’t let herself think about.

  Meanwhile, she and Kassius would make their way to the stairs directly below the castle and wait for Arturo to tell her, telepathically, that he was in place and it was time to move. The original plan was for Micah to keep to the shadows within the castle in case he was needed, but there was risk in that since he was supposed to be searching for the sorceress, too. Now that Bram was in on the plan, it would be he who would keep an ear out within the castle and report to those below.

  “Ready, Quinn?” Bram asked. He motioned to the Slava female at his side, a friendly-looking young woman. “This is Deb. She’ll be accompanying us.”

  Grant led the way down the tunnels in the opposite direction from Arturo, followed by Kassius, then Quinn. Micah, Bram, and Deb brought up the rear. As they walked, Quinn studied Grant. Her impersonation of him probably didn’t have to be perfect—people tended to see what they expected to see. But it had to be good enough that she didn’t attract attention. Mostly, she just needed to keep her head down and keep from being drawn into conversation because, while she would sound like Grant, she certainly didn’t use the same words or terminology as a male born right after the Civil War.

  Above all, she needed to avoid Grant’s brother, Sheridan, because there’d be no fooling that vampire.

  There were a hundred ways this could
go wrong.

  “Quinn,” Kassius said quietly beside her. “You must remain calm. It will not do for Grant Blackstone to radiate fear. He, alone, shows and feels none.”

  Her eyes widened with dismay. She hadn’t known that. Any fear feeder would feel her emotions and suspect something, even if it was only that Grant Blackstone was up to something. Which could have her hauled in front of Cristoff.

  “Why in the hell did we glamour me to look like Grant, then?” she said, stopping in her tracks.

  Micah grabbed her shoulders to keep from running into her. “What’s the matter?”

  “You need to make me look like someone else. Kass says Grant never feels emotion and I sure as hell can’t mimic that.” If they needed proof, her pulse was already racing, her palms damp with sweat. And she was still perfectly safe down in the tunnel.

  “Come here, Quinn,” Grant said. “I want to talk to you. Alone.”

  Her vampire companions glanced at one another, but none of the three offered up an objection when she continued on with Grant. It occurred to her that she and Grant must look like twins.

  “Stay in sight,” Micah called quietly.

  Grant said nothing, but stopped some twenty feet from the others and turned his back on them. “There’s a reason no vampire senses my fear.”

  “And what is that?” But she watched him, unable to hide her interest. “Magic?”

  “Yes. My father’s.” He took a stone out of his pocket, a small clear crystal in the shape of a squat Washington Monument, and handed it to her. “Hold onto this. I’m going to want it back, but you need it more than I do at the moment.”

  She looked at the stone, then at Grant. “A magic talisman or Dumbo’s feather?”

  Grant frowned. “Who’s Dumbo?”

  Quinn’s smile was quick and amused. “A Disney character. Never mind the reference. I was referring to the fact that sometimes simply believing will make it true. Whether or not the stone truly possesses magic, if I believe that no one will sense my fear, then perhaps I won’t feel afraid. Although in this case, I’m not sure that’s going to work.”

  He nodded, his brow slightly furrowed as if he only partially understood what she was trying to say. “You’ll still feel afraid. The vampires simply won’t be able to sense it. I used the stone to cast a temporary spell over my companions earlier, which is why neither of your fear feeders sensed our presence when you first arrived in the tunnels.”

  “How did you know we were coming?”

  “I didn’t. Not until you entered the stables. I set that trap soon after Kassius learned of the tunnels. I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t tell others.”

  “How did you know we’d entered?”

  He shrugged. “Magic.”

  She eyed him curiously. “You have an awful lot of magic for a sorcerer too weak to renew Vamp City.”

  “I have magic. It’s just not the right kind.”

  He was being awfully helpful all of a sudden. “Why give me your stone, Grant? Why help me at all?” But she realized she knew. “I’m wearing your face. If I screw up, you’re toast.”

  “Something like that. I’ve never had anything against you personally, Quinn. I’d love to see this world crumble because I’m sick to death of living in it and I can’t leave. But I’ll happily put up with another hundred years in exchange for watching Cristoff taken down by his own vampires.”

  She looked at him curiously. “This isn’t the time for this, but I’ve been wondering…do you have any idea how we’re related?” When he lifted a brow, she continued. “I possess Blackstone magic, therefore I must also possess Blackstone blood.”

  Grant shrugged. “Daddy dearest only had two legitimate children that I know of, but he was old by the time Cristoff killed him, Quinn. A lot older than he looked. He rarely talked to us of the past and never told us when he was born or anything about his own childhood. But a couple of times, a couple of things he said, made me wonder if he’d turned immortal as some of the most powerful sorcerers do. He may have fathered many children in his lifetime. You’re probably descended from one of them.”

  Quinn nodded. “Thanks for this,” she said, pocketing the crystal.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Grant motioned the others to join them and the small group continued down the tunnel. Quinn felt the stone in her pocket. Now that she had her magic feather, what could go wrong?

  Her gut cramped, because she knew the answer to that.

  Everything.

  Arturo parked his Jeep in front of the iron gates of Gonzaga Castle. After leaving the tunnels, he’d retrieved his mount and ridden it to his house, then switched to his Jeep. The yellow Wrangler drew far too much attention these days, when he needed to be stealthy, but today he had no need or desire to hide his movements. Arturo Mazza, Cristoff’s most loyal, danced attendance on his master, and he was happy for all the kovena to know it.

  The moment he turned off the ignition, the screams hit him like flying glass.

  Dio. Cristoff must be torturing a dozen at once.

  As he climbed out of the vehicle and strode up to the gates of what, for decades, had been his second home, his flesh chilled to ice. Because all he could think about was that within minutes Quinn would be walking those deadly halls without his protection.

  And that Cristoff wanted to hurt her with a hunger bordering on madness.

  Chapter 12

  It is time, cara. Arturo’s voice sounded in Quinn’s head as she and Kassius waited in the torch-lit tunnel at the base of the stairs that would lead directly into Gonzaga Castle, her back against the cool stone. Cristoff is well occupied. Mio Dio, but he has grown depraved.

  As if he hadn’t been utterly so before. Maybe Cristoff really had grown worse. Or maybe Arturo could just, finally, see him clearly.

  “It’s time,” she told Kassius, her heart starting to race. They probably hadn’t been in place and waiting for more than ten minutes, but her nerves were stretched almost to the breaking point. What kind of idiot was she for willingly going anywhere near that monster? Every couple of minutes, the question burst in her mind all over again.

  Was she really going to do this? It wasn’t too late. If she told them she’d changed her mind, there wasn’t a one of them who would blame her. But all she had to do was think of Zack lying on the kitchen floor and her spine turned to steel.

  “Ready?” Kassius asked.

  Not in a million years. But she took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Respect lit the werevamp’s eyes.

  Bram stepped forward, the female Slava at his side. “Deb and I will climb the ladder first and let you know when the coast is clear.” The ladder led to a small empty bedroom, one in an unused hall of dorm rooms originally intended for slaves. No one would question a vampire male leaving a small bedroom with a female slave. If they encountered anyone in the hallway as they left the room, Quinn had no doubt Bram would greet them loudly…assuming Bram was on their side, as he claimed, and not Cristoff’s mole. Once, she might not have questioned the motives of everyone around her, human and vampire alike. But if there was one thing Arturo had taught her, it was that.

  Even as a myriad of doubts preyed on her mind, she knew she had to trust. She couldn’t carry out this mission alone, and they couldn’t do it without her. They’d never get into Cristoff’s private study without her magic.

  Bram clambered up the ladder first and the rest of them held their collective breaths as he opened the hatch slowly, then disappeared into the room above. The distant sound of screams filtered down into the tunnel, making Quinn shiver. Bram motioned for Deb and the woman followed him. As soon as she was up, Kassius started to climb.

  Quinn turned to Micah, who would remain behind. “Wish me luck,” she whispered.

  He gave her a bear hug. “You’ll be fine, Quinn. I have complete faith in you.”

  She wished she could say the same.

  When he released her, she turned to the ladder and
followed the others up into the tiny, Spartan room. Bram replaced the hidden hatch, then motioned them back, but Kassius stopped him.

  “The screams,” Kassius said. “They’re not coming from the throne room.”

  “No. He bit a dozen Slavas and left them in the foyer.”

  Bit? Quinn’s eyes widened. “Dragon fire?”

  Bram nodded, his expression filling with pity. “You’ve experienced that particular torture, haven’t you, Quinn?”

  A hard shiver ran through her at the memory of an agony so overwhelming, she’d been unable to move.

  Kassius cupped her shoulder. “You’ll have to walk through the foyer. Keep your head down and just keep moving. Trust me, Grant Blackstone would give the victims no thought.” As he and Quinn moved behind the door, Bram opened it, took hold of Deb’s arm and ushered her into the hallway.

  The sound of the screams rushed in five times louder than before, flaying Quinn with horrific memories of the pain she’d already suffered in this place. And that was nothing…nothing…compared to what Cristoff would do to her if he caught her again.

  She began to tremble deep inside, her heart pounding, a thin panic rising on her skin.

  Take slow, even breaths, cara. Arturo’s voice stroked her mind like a soft, warm hand. You are powerful. You are in complete control of your magic. You have nothing to fear.

  She wasn’t sure about any of that, but he was right. If she didn’t start believing she’d succeed, she would absolutely fail.

  “I can do this,” she whispered.

  Kassius glanced at her, perplexed.

  “I’ll get it under control,” Quinn promised. She had to.

  The vampire’s frown deepened. “I sense no fear in you.”