Of Blood and Passion

by Pamela Palmer

Releasing her neck, he lifted his head to watch her face, forgetting she was glamoured. But even as he caught a glimpse of Grant’s face, it disappeared, the glamour dissolving. With joy, he drank in the play of passion over Quinn’s own beautiful features, loving the look of joy in her eyes as her gaze met his as he drove into her, faster and faster and faster. Together they rode the storm into a sky filled with warmth and life, as if they flew right up into the sun.

  His own release tore through him like a wild storm made all the more perfect by the scream of pleasure that escaped Quinn’s throat, by the way her body pulled him deeper and deeper, contracting around him as if to milk every last drop of his essence from his body. In his mind, color exploded, the sun erupting into a brilliant, glorious fireball of powerful, benevolent heat.

  Utterly sated, Arturo collapsed, burying his face against the satin of her neck. “Bella,” he murmured. “What you do to me.”

  “And you to me,” she murmured, sounding delightfully like a satisfied cat. She ran her palms up and down his back as if enjoying the feel of his warm flesh beneath her hands. “Are you recovered, yet?”

  “Your sunshine was all I needed.” And it was. He felt hale and hearty, hungry for blood, but not unduly so. And for nothing more. For a reason he didn’t understand, Quinn’s kiss, her touch, the warmth that seeped into him when they were together was physically changing him. Fear no longer fed him as it had for all of his long, long immortal life. He needed only blood and Quinn’s touch to survive.

  “We need to talk, Turo.”

  He lifted his head slowly, uncertain what she wished to discuss, but fairly certain it was not something he’d be happy to share. “You need to sleep.”

  Her soft hands stroked his back, holding him fast with their gentle touch. “This can’t wait, Turo. I fed Kassius. We exchanged glimpses of one another’s pasts again.”

  Inwardly, he grimaced. There were so many things he’d done in his long life, more than a few he was not proud of. “You have seen my misdeeds.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “No, fortunately. Nothing like that.”

  Arturo pulled out of her and rolled to her side. “Tell me what you saw, tesoro. I would not have secrets between us.” At the lift of her brow, he added, “Any more secrets than necessary.” But when he would have pulled her against him and nestled her in his arms, she resisted, sitting up, peering down at him instead.

  “As it happens, there might be fewer secrets between us than you think,” she said archly.

  Arturo rolled onto his back, one hand behind his head, his other stroking her knee. “Tell me.”

  She watched him with green eyes dancing with fascination. “I saw the battle in which you used your mind blast in front of Micah for the first time.”

  He groaned, then thought back, recalling that day—his using the mind blast, Micah realizing he was Cristoff’s…

  He went still. “What did you learn?”

  “That you’re his son. For real. And that you inherited his mind blast.”

  He met her gaze with a wry one of his own. “You are correct, amore, there are far fewer secrets between us. Those are the ones I refused to share with you. I regret that you’re burdened with this knowledge, now, too.”

  “You know I won’t tell.”

  He squeezed her knee. “Not intentionally, no. I do know that.”

  Quinn compressed her mouth, watching him thoughtfully. “Have you used the mind blast much since that day?”

  “Never.”

  “Until today.”

  “Yes.”

  “You risked everything for me.”

  Arturo sat up, facing her, then took her hands. “I always will.”

  She squeezed his hands, her lovely brow knitting. “He didn’t know it was you.”

  “No. I cannot target my blast easily. Fortunately, he couldn’t tell where it came from.”

  “Did you know that he wouldn’t know it was you?”

  Arturo shrugged. “No.”

  Quinn stared at him, her mouth dropping open. “You didn’t simply give me a chance. You attacked him believing he’d attack you back, that you’d have to fight him to the death.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “But though he possesses no ability to use his mind blast offensively against one he’s not touching, he apparently has the ability to counterattack. He hit me so hard and fast, I stood no chance against him.” Arturo released her hand to rake his own through his hair. “If he’d known it was me, I would be dead.”

  “But he knows someone has the mind blast.”

  “He believes it is you.” He squeezed her knee. “He believes you can do anything.”

  “I wish. How did you get him to stop?”

  He explained, then said, “There is one thing more, cara. Twice…” He hesitated. As much as he wanted to share his hope with her, he feared she’d not understand.

  Quinn squeezed his hand. “Tell me.”

  Looking into soft green eyes, he did. “Twice I saw a flicker of humanity spring to life in his eyes. Neither lasted long, but I believe his soul is beginning to reawaken.”

  Quinn frowned. “Yet still you attacked him with the intent to kill him.”

  His palm cupped her cheek and he wondered if she’d ever completely trust him. “I told you, I will never let him harm you again.”

  Her breath left her on a hard exhale. “He’s your father.”

  “Yes.” He lay back on the bed, tugging her down with him, pulling her into his arms. “And you are my sunshine.” His hand stroked her back. “You were not harmed unduly by my blast?”

  “It hurt like hell, but no, I wasn’t hurt. The pain went away quickly enough.”

  “I felt it, your pain. I am sorry for it.”

  “I’m fine.” She ran her fingers along the plane of his chest. “You’re really his son?”

  “I am. My mother called me Little Cristoff.”

  “My mind is going to explode. And he doesn’t know?”

  “He does not.”

  “Did he ever know about you?”

  Arturo lifted his hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes, he did, piccola. Once upon a time.”

  Quinn snuggled against Arturo’s chest, his arm warm around her, as he spoke of a time so far in the past.

  “My mother was sixteen, Cristoff only a few years older, when he seduced her. This was in Pavia, in what is now called Italy, in the early fifteenth century. Cristoff was a distant relative of the royal Gonzagas and his family was wealthy and powerful. My mother was a poor orphan living with her grandmother. When Cristoff learned she was with child, he supported her for a number of years. My earliest memories are of my father visiting us, bringing me a piece of fruit and playing with me. I adored him. My mother used to tell me that her greatest wish was that I would be just like him when I was grown—honorable and good and fine.” He sighed. “I know that does not describe the monster you know him to be, Quinn, but he was once all of those things.”

  “Yet he didn’t marry your mother or, presumably, the other six girls/women he impregnated.”

  Arturo shrugged. “It was a different time. And he did end up partially raising six of his seven children—all boys.”

  “Tell me.”

  “When I was nine, Cristoff disappeared. I believe that was when he was turned into a vampire. A small kovena of Emora vampires had moved into the area and I suspect they thought it prudent to recruit one of the village lords for their own. They chose Cristoff. When I was sixteen, Cristoff sent vampires to collect his bastard sons to be raised in the kovena and turned when they were grown. But the vampire sent to retrieve me, Raul, decided to steal me away in hopes that I would use my gift for his own purposes. He wanted to sire me himself someday. When he tried to take me, my mother attacked him and he killed her.”

  It had happened so long ago, yet in his voice she heard a tiny break, an old, old pain. A wound that had never entirely healed.

  “He took me to Venice and le
ft me with a human male in need of an apprentice. I became a skilled blacksmith while Raul waited for me to grow up.”

  When he didn’t continue, Quinn glanced at him. “You can’t stop now.”

  “It is painful, tesoro.”

  She laid her cheek against his chest, her arm tight around him. “I’m sorry, Turo. I’m sorry for what you suffered.”

  His hand caressed her head. “I can regret nothing that has led me to this moment, amore. Nothing.”

  She kissed his jaw. “Did Raul come back for you?”

  “Yes. By the time he did, I was a widower with a seven-year-old daughter.” His voice caught. “Her name was Abrielle.”

  Quinn tensed, knowing she wasn’t going to like what came next. But she kissed him, silently encouraging him to continue.

  He did. “Raul informed me that it was time I came into my power and I refused. He overpowered me, drained me, fed me his own blood in order to turn me. Then he sat with me as I changed. I woke ravenous, as all new vampires do. The bloodlust was a fire within me. But there was only one human heart beating in my home.”

  Abrielle’s. “Oh, Turo.”

  “Even through the bloodlust, I refused to harm her, amore, but Raul knew love ties would only hamper my acceptance of what I was. So he took her from her bed, ripped open her throat with his fangs, and brought her to me. I was crazed, desperate to save her. But she was already bleeding out. She was dying. And the bloodlust was too powerful. I took her from him, held her in my arms, and drank her blood until her heart stopped beating. I killed her.”

  Quinn lifted up, looking down into his face with a fierce tenderness. “You didn’t kill her, you know that. He did.”

  “I killed her. And then I killed Raul. And I continued to kill vampires until I found another as desperate to destroy the blood-sucking race as I was. Bram and I nearly destroyed each other before we realized we were cut from the same cloth, both hating what we’d become. We traveled together, killed vampires together, until the day we faced a powerful werevamp who had been tracking the Vamp-slayers.”

  “Kassius?”

  Arturo nodded. “He was startled to discover the vamp slayers were, in fact, vampires. When he realized it, he understood what drove us and he convinced us to join his kovena, which was run by a vampire worthy of both loyalty and admiration. We lived there for nearly three centuries in relative peace until another vampire challenged our master and killed him. Our new vamp master was of a darker spirit, so the three of us left. It was 1725 and I had heard Cristoff’s name from time to time over the years and knew him to be a powerful, though fair, vampire master. I wanted to see him again, so decided to seek him out. Bram and Kassius, who knew my history by then, accompanied me. Cristoff was much as I remembered him and we hit it off at once. I had not yet found the time to tell him who I was when the incident occurred that you witnessed through Kassius’s eyes. After that, I knew I never could. The three of us pledged fealty to Cristoff and stayed. Before long, I became Cristoff’s favorite and one of his most trusted.”

  “This all took place in Italy?”

  “In the lands that are now considered Italy, yes.”

  “Then Cristoff decided to move your kovena to D.C. during the Civil War.”

  “War is a great temptation for pain and fear feeders. The move was to have been only temporary, and many within the kovena remained behind, initially. But we liked America and when the war was over, we decided to stay. Phineas Blackstone offered to create Vamp City…for a hefty price, of course…and Cristoff was intrigued by the prospect of a world without sunlight. We all were. It was everything Blackstone had promised it would be. For a time.”

  Arturo fell silent, stroking her back. “Sleep, amore.”

  But too many thoughts fought for attention in her head. “Cristoff can find me with that sword. It’s not safe for me to stay here.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair. “You are safe here.”

  “I think I should see if Savin will take me in.”

  “Absolutely not. Quinn…Cristoff is no longer looking for you.”

  “What? Why not?”

  He sighed. “If you are not going to sleep, then let us find Micah and Kassius. I have something I need to share with all of you.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  Arturo said nothing more as they quickly dressed. Minutes later, the four of them filed into the sitting room. Arturo closed the door and pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket.

  “Cristoff has called off the search for the sorceress,” he told his friends. Turning to her, he said, “He’s come to realize he’ll never catch you by direct methods. He believes you able to disappear at will.”

  “Which she can,” Micah said with a small smile.

  “Then what’s his plan?” Quinn asked, but a sick knot was already forming beneath her breastbone. “He’s going after Zack.”

  “Not just Zack.” Arturo handed her the paper.

  Quinn unfolded the sheet to find a photograph taken a little over a year ago of the three of them—Quinn, Zack, and Lily. Zack and Lily had surprised her on her birthday with a cake laden with candles. Zack had taken the selfie of the three of them and posted it on-line. All three of them had been tagged.

  She looked up sharply. “Where did you get this?”

  “Cristoff.”

  Quinn felt as if she’d been gut-punched. Not only were hers and Zack’s shared last name a dead giveaway that he was her brother, but the two of them looked so much alike as to be twins. Cristoff knew what her brother looked like. Zack and Lily, both.

  “Where did he get this?” Quinn demanded.

  “He sent Traders to hunt for any humans you might be close to.”

  “So he could use them against me.”

  “Yes. One of them is quite adept at computers and searched social media to find this picture. Over and over, he found pictures of you with Zack and Lily, and no others.”

  As the room began to spin around her, Kassius grabbed her arm. “Sit, Quinn.”

  She did, sinking onto the small sofa.

  “I am sorry, tesoro. Sooner or later, he was bound to realize he could find the information he sought if he looked in the right place. The real world, as it turned out. But Zack is here and safe.”

  “Lily isn’t.”

  “No.”

  Quinn paled. And now Cristoff hunted her. Dear God, if he found her… “We have to find her first.”

  “We are looking for her, Quinn. We will redouble our efforts. You realize she may no longer be alive.”

  The words were another blow. “I know that. But I need confirmation. I need to know where she is, one way or another. Because if Cristoff captures her…”

  There was no need to finish the thought.

  If Cristoff got his hands on either Zack or Lily, he’d order Quinn to surrender. And she would.

  Chapter 20

  Lily Wang peeled potatoes, tossing them into the large cooking pot as several other humans worked around her in the cramped kitchen, chattering and arguing.

  “That bitch is crazy, with all her woo-woo stuff,” Veronica said, only partly under her breath.

  Lamar grunted. “She takes good care of us. I have no complaints.”

  “Yeah, but she hurts me every time she feeds from me.”

  “Then don’t offer up your arm, moron.” Lamar wasn’t the most patient of people, but he always said what Lily was thinking, and she liked him for that. “Octavia doesn’t require you to feed her, you know that.”

  “But I feel so good afterwards.”

  Lamar made a sound of disgust and Lily suspected he was rolling his eyes. “Then quit complaining.”

  “Fuck off, Lamar.”

  Lily had barely been here two days and was already tired of Veronica’s whining. The girl…and she was still a girl, barely seventeen…had never seen a vampire other than Octavia and her friends. Apparently, they’d snatched her out of the hands of a Trader right after she’d walked i
n through a sunbeam. Veronica didn’t know how good she had it here.

  Lily let the heatless argument roll over her, glad to be helping with the cooking for this crowd. There were thirteen humans living in this house somewhere in the middle of nowhere, two of which had turned Slava. But they weren’t slaves. They were well-fed and well-treated. And they were completely free to leave if they wanted to. None of them did. Most knew what awaited them outside. Most knew that escape from Vamp City was impossible. No, not impossible. Anything was possible if you just figured out the key to the puzzle. And Lily fully intended to figure out that key. Eventually.

  “It’s time to practice the earth ritual,” Octavia called, sweeping into the room with a clap of her hands.

  Veronica groaned loudly, but the others dropped what they were doing and followed their hostess without complaint. Lily still couldn’t believe her good fortune in stumbling across Octavia. She’d escaped Castle Smithson—a vampire kovena housed in the original Smithsonian Castle—a few days ago, determined to find her way home. But surviving in a place as dead and dangerous as Vamp City was a skill she hadn’t mastered. She’d found shelter that first night, but the next morning, she’d quickly found herself surrounded by hungry werewolves. That would have been the end of her if Octavia hadn’t appeared suddenly, her bow cocked, her arrow aimed at the skull of the lead wolf. Octavia had asked Lily to come with her. She’d asked.

  And while Lily had, rightly, suspected she was a vampire, the decision had been an easy one. Vampires didn’t need to kill to eat. Wolves did.

  Never had she expected to be brought to a cramped, homey house filled with generally good-natured humans. Why they were here, no one seemed certain. Octavia fed from them, sure, and asked them to cook both for themselves and for the wolves so that the wolves wouldn’t have to hunt people for food. But that was it. It was like they were her charity project. Except, that’s not what she’d said to Lily when she found her. She’d told her she wanted her to join her army.

  Her army.

  Lily had expected to be handed a sword or bow, and taught to fight. Instead, Octavia taught them New Age-y, Wiccan-like rituals, making them practice for a few minutes every few hours. Which was okay with Lily.