A Kiss of Blood: A Vamp City Novel (19 page)

“You knew.”

I feared, yes.

“Much better,” Fabian said, a satisfied smile in his voice. “I wonder if I would rise to your Slava’s touch as you do, Mazza. She is quite beautiful.”

Arturo’s body went rigid.

Fabian made a tsking sound, his voice sharp. “You would deny me a taste of your Slava, my friend?”

Arturo stilled, his posture visibly calming, though Quinn felt no softening of the tension in his muscles. Or her own.

“You would not enjoy her touch,” her vampire said, his voice taking on the hypnotic quality of his
persuasion.
“She was broken early in her stay in Vamp City, and now accepts only me. The touch of another male, except for the most casual, often sickens her. Literally.”

Fabian nodded slowly, as if everything Arturo said were undeniably true. “That would indeed be unpleasant. I’ve no desire to touch her, then.” He shook his head as if trying to throw off the effects of the
persuasion.

Fabian clapped his hands once. “Music! Come, my friends. Enjoy!”

People began to flow into the room from the various doors, most of them naked. Somewhere in the rafters above, a live band tuned up.

And still Quinn caressed Arturo’s shoulders, her fingers moving of their own accord, finding their way into his hair. Heat flushed her skin, desire shortened her breath—a desire she always felt when she was near Arturo, heightened by Fabian’s elixir.

In so many ways, they needed to get out of here. They had to find Vintry. But Arturo knew that as well as she did, and knew what risks he could and couldn’t take with Fabian. Pleasure-feeder or not, their host was quick-tempered and, she suspected, unpredictable. There was no telling what he would do.

Under the thrall of Fabian’s elixir, she had no idea what any of them would do.

Q
uinn was ready to crawl out of her skin.

Her breasts ached, her nipples were hard and sensitive, her blood pounded, her body pulsed with the need to feel Arturo’s hands on her in return, on her breasts, her thighs, and stroking between her legs. The only time she’d ever felt anything like this fever of need had been when Arturo had made love to her after he’d saved Zack from the Games.

Her hands trembled as she stroked his bare chest, his shoulders, his neck and back. It took every ounce of control not to climb onto his lap and straddle him to try to find some small measure of release. And he was in no better shape. She could feel the tension in his shoulders and hear the harshness of his breath.

Of course, the
entertainment
Fabian provided did nothing to ease her growing carnal need. For more than an hour, the music had pounded with a deep, erotic beat, designed to whip the dancers on the mat into a hedonistic frenzy. And it had done just that. While some had danced, most had grabbed and groped the nearest flesh, fondling, caressing.

As Quinn had stared, they’d begun to merge into groups of two and three, cocks sliding into hands, into mouths, into bodies, both male and female. Half a dozen males had formed what looked like a conga line, each grasping the hips of the male in front of him, until Quinn realized the only movement any of them were making was hip thrusting.

As she watched now, a female with white-centered eyes and elongated fangs rode one male while a second took her from behind. A third grabbed her face and shoved his cock down her throat as she grabbed his hips and pulled him closer.

A few weeks ago, such a tableau would have shocked Quinn. Now, she found the sight almost heartwarming. The only cries were of pleasure, even from the Slavas, though she wondered if any were actually here of their own free will. Without a doubt, all were under the thrall of Fabian’s elixir.

In her current impassioned state, she found the sight of the foursome incredibly hot. She was so aroused, her own body so desperately in need of attention, that watching the others was almost more than she could bear. Especially with Arturo’s flesh beneath her hands, his scent filling her lungs, his taste like the finest wine as she ran her tongue along the curve of his ear.

Her breath was completely ragged, her equilibrium destroyed. And hers wasn’t the only one.

Without warning, Arturo pulled her onto his lap and began to kiss her as if he were drowning and she was the only one who could save him. His hands burrowed into her hair, his breath as rough as her own. He’d held on to control as long as he could, despite the smell of sex all around them, the sound of slapping flesh and passion underscored by the pounding, pulsing music. And the elixir flowing hot through their veins.

“Fuck her, Mazza,” Fabian called. “Strip her down and fuck her.”

Quinn tensed.

“Easy,
cara,
” Arturo whispered against her ear. Then he dipped his head to her neck and bit her.

She screamed with pleasure as the first pull of blood shot her straight to orgasm. Her overheated body shattered, pulsing, the pleasure exquisite as he pulled on her neck again and again.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were white-centered and white-hot, his fangs long and streaked with blood. “
Mio dio.
”

“Mazza,” Fabian growled over the swelling music. “You’ve taken me to the edge and left me there. Fuck her!
Now.
”

Arturo cupped her jaw, the heat in his eyes part real, part the product of the drug. But the concern and tenderness were completely genuine. “Not in front of the others. She’ll not be able to tolerate it. Find us a screen for privacy.”

We cannot avoid this,
cara mia.

“I know.” Heaven help her, she didn’t care where they did it as long as he filled her and ended this pulsing, aching torture.

Minutes later, slaves erected dressing-room screens all around them, though why they had such a thing in a place like this, she couldn’t imagine.

“Fuck her, Mazza,” Fabian called. “Or I’ll do it myself, vomit and all.”

Hidden at last, Arturo turned to her, his hands on her face, meeting her gaze. “I need you.”

“Yes.” But when she reached for her shirt, he grabbed her wrists, stilling them.

“I would have us not undress any more than we have to,” he said against her cheek. “I don’t trust him. Unfasten your jeans and get on your hands and knees.”

With shaking fingers, she did as he asked, and, a moment later, he was pulling her jeans and panties down to her thighs, exposing her ass to the heated air. At once, she felt his hand on her, between her legs, his finger sliding deep inside of her.

She cried out from the pleasure.

“You are so wet,
cara,
so ready for this. For me.”

She heard the zip of his pants, the quick rustle, then felt his hands grip her hips and his thick erection plunge deep inside of her.

She screamed, arching, pushing back to shove him deeper. “Harder, Vampire. Faster!” she urged, then gasped as his pounding took on a superhuman speed. She came again and again and again. Each time she shattered, she felt him with her in a way that wasn’t quite physical, as if he embraced her, holding her as she came apart.

“
Cara,
” he gasped, and she knew he was close. She rose again, and this time he joined her, slowing, jerking her hips tight against his as he roared, as the pleasure exploded. She felt his spirit wrap around hers, felt the sun on them both. In her mind’s eye, she watched him tip his face up, smiling. The sun’s warmth flowed down inside her, down into the deep, cold crevices of her being, of her heart. Their cries echoed around the room.

It was moments before she came back to herself, collapsing onto the chaise as Arturo pulled out of her and released her hips. She felt him stretch out beside her, and turned her to face him. For long moments they stared at one another, his fingers stroking her cheek.

“What you do to me,” he breathed.

“That was . . . unbelievable.”

He smiled, stealing what little breath she’d managed to reclaim.

“I saw the sun. I felt it on my face. And it didn’t burn.”

“I know.” Which made absolutely no sense. “Was it real, or just the drug?”

He looked deep into her eyes, stroking her face. “It was you,
amore mio.
You give me the sun.”

For long moments, they stared at one another, then Arturo blinked and began to frown.

“It is too quiet.”

In a heartbeat, a human heartbeat, he was up, helping her to her feet and pulling her jeans up, helping her adjust her clothes, then quickly adjusting his own.

Arturo set aside the screen and, just like a bad dream, Quinn saw that all eyes were on them, most mouths hanging open. With a silent groan, she hazarded a glance at Fabian. He was watching them with a look of rapture, his eyelids heavy, his mouth open and panting.

A cunning smile broke slowly over his face. “My friends, that was extraordinary. Never have I felt its like. If such a creature always creates such a response, no wonder she was used to the breaking point.” He lifted a weary, sated hand. “She is all yours, Arturo, my friend. But you will stay here. With her. And pleasure us both.”

Quinn felt Arturo tense. “Of course, Fabian. I shall be happy to be your guest for a while longer. Just as soon as I have found the sorceress and returned her to Cristoff, so that she might save our world.”

Fabian’s smile turned calculating. “While you search for the sorceress, Jillian will remain with me. Because then I know you will return, and quickly.” His voice rose. “This Slava is not to leave the castle,” he commanded. “Not unless she’s with me.”

Quinn’s stomach clenched.

Arturo took her hand. “She will remain at the castle with you, Fabian, as you wish. But while I am here, I would have her remain by my side. It brings me pleasure.”

Fabian’s eyes narrowed as his gaze moved between them. His mouth tightened. But, finally, he nodded grudgingly. “While you are here, she is yours.”

Her hand clung to Arturo’s, her heart still pounding though the effects of the elixir appeared to have dissipated with their lovemaking.

“I must take my leave, for now, and search for the sorceress, Fabian,” Arturo said calmly, his voice still husky with lingering passion.

“Later,” the vampire master snapped. “Sit and fondle her. I am not through with you two.”

Arturo’s hand tensed around hers, but he did as commanded, pulling her onto his lap as the other inhabitants of the room resumed their inventive rutting. She curled her arm around Arturo’s neck and stiffened only a little when his hand went to her breast, fondling her through her clothes. Despite the multiple orgasms, despite the elixir’s effects having worn off, her body lit up again with that simple touch. And beneath her hip, she felt his erection once more begin to rise.

Fabian was never going to let them out of here. And, at this rate, Vintry was going to die before they ever got a chance to talk to him.

If he wasn’t already dead.

Chapter Seventeen

I
t was another hour, and three orgasms later, before Fabian finally acceded to Arturo’s thinly veiled demand to find “Jillian” food and a bedchamber in which to sleep.

“See her fed, then return to me at once, Mazza,” Fabian called, as they reached the door behind their guard escort. “Our feast awaits!”

They’d no sooner entered the back hallway when another guard stepped forward.

“I’ll take them from here.”

Quinn immediately recognized the voice if not the man. Micah.

The original guard nodded and left.

“I found Vintry,” Micah said when they were out of earshot of the guard. He looked nothing like himself, his hair long and blond, his face broad as a bowling ball. His glamour was pretty amazing. Then again, so was her own. “He’s in the dungeon, locked in a cell in the very back. Alone. They’re afraid of his death wind. Access is through the second pantry, behind the wine casks, but I’ve yet to find the key to his cell.”

Micah was speaking fast and low. “I asked him if he could help the sorceress, and he said yes, he could, but he would not. He hates vampires, wants us all to die, etc., etc. Then he started yelling bloody murder for me to leave. A bitter old cuss.”

“I’d probably be bitter, too, if someone locked me in a dungeon to die,” Arturo muttered. “We’ll have to grab him out of there and run. Perhaps Tarellia can convince him to help us.”

“You’ll be implicated in his sudden disappearance. But you can spin it easily enough.”

“I can. Find us an empty bedchamber close to the dungeon where we can set up base.”

“Already done.” He led them down a second hall with far too many doors, which meant the rooms were microscopic. Probably the Slavas’ quarters. Pushing open one of the last doors, Micah stepped back for them to enter.

The room was just as she’d expected, a dingy little closet with a tiny bed that took up the majority of space. She took a seat on it since there was so little room to stand.

Arturo’s hand rested on her shoulder, but he turned back to Micah. “I must return to Fabian for the feast, but once it is done, we’ll move. Find the key.”

“Roger that.”

Arturo squeezed her shoulder. “Stay here,
cara.
I’ll find you food. You should be safe here.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Micah promised.

Quinn wasn’t entirely sure she wanted Micah keeping an eye on her. There was no way she was sitting here twiddling her thumbs while Arturo attended Fabian. Not when Vintry could be freeing her magic and might die at any moment.

As Arturo started for the door, the sound of a commotion erupted nearby, along with the unmistakable sound of a crying child.

Arturo froze.

“What’s a kid doing here?” Micah muttered.

The two vampires strode forward as one. Quinn pushed off the bed and followed, horrified at the thought of a child’s witnessing, let alone experiencing, anything that happened in Vamp City.

They didn’t have to go far to find the source of the disturbance. A couple of doors down, the hall crossed with another. As they turned, Quinn caught sight of the two pantries Micah had mentioned, one with wine casks in the back.

A short distance farther, the hall opened into a huge kitchen. Standing in front of the door at the back, a trembling young woman cradled a towheaded boy. He couldn’t be more than three or four, tears running down his cheeks as he hiccuped with sobs.

The pair were flanked by men Quinn assumed to be vampires, talking to a third dressed in guard’s black.

One of the vamps smiled. “Found them outside, just wandering around. They must have escaped the Traders.”

Arturo’s eyes narrowed, tension stiffening his shoulders even as his face took on a casual, curious expression.

“Has the ban on children been lifted, then?” he asked with mild curiosity bordering on indifference. An indifference she sensed was wholly faked.

“Apparently so,” the guard said, “since they were declared fodder for the next Games.”

Fodder. Children . . .
toddlers . . .
sent into the arena to die?

Quinn swayed, grasping the nearest wall. Her gaze flew to Arturo as he and Micah exchanged looks, something passing silently between them. A question, a nod, a shrug.

“I’ve seen those two,” Micah said, stepping forward. “They were running from Sakamoto’s contingent several hours ago. I’d have grabbed them myself, but those who steal from Sakamoto have a bad habit of turning up dead.”

The two vampires blanched. Sakamoto sounded a lot like Cristoff.

“They were alone,” one of the two complained. “We didn’t steal them.”

“I’m heading out now to do a perimeter check. I’ll see if the contingent is still out there and hand them back before Sakamoto declares war on Fabian’s Palace.”

The vampire pair stepped away from the woman and child like they’d suddenly become radioactive. “Sure, sure. Take them.”

The woman stared around her, visibly shaken, pale as snow and clinging to her toddler for dear life. But to her credit, she wasn’t crying or begging. Just trying to figure out how to keep her and her son alive.

“Come along,” Micah said, gripping the woman’s arm lightly. Quinn thought she saw him wink at the woman. “You don’t belong here.”

The woman didn’t fight him, allowing him to steer her out the back door.

Arturo stepped forward. “My Slava is in need of food,” he bellowed, drawing all attention. “Where can I get food?”

Most who’d gathered to witness the commotion dispersed. One woman hurried to him with a sandwich on a plate and a can of Coke. Arturo took them from her and walked away, brushing past Quinn without a glance.

Playing her role, Quinn followed him as meekly as she could manage back to her bedroom. But the moment she closed the door, she dropped the façade. “What’s Micah going to do with them?”

Arturo handed her the plate, then opened the Coke for her, cocking his head in challenge. “What do you think a vampire will do with two fresh humans?”

Rolling her eyes, she took the Coke. “He’s either going to set them free or take them somewhere safe.”

“You’re so certain?” The look in his eyes told her that her answer mattered. Very much.

“Yes, I’m certain. I saw the look on your face when you heard that kid, Arturo. You turned to stone.”

“Children do not belong in Vamp City.” His brows drew down in an expression of bafflement. “It is the
law
. It
was
the law. No children. Ever. When did it change? When did everything change?”

Now it was her turn to cock her head. “Your reaction was more than annoyance at unauthorized rule breaking. You were horrified.”

“Yes.” Arturo met her gaze for a long moment before answering her first question. “We are a quarter of a mile from the Boundary Circle. He’ll find a way to set them free.”

Thank God. But her curiosity was peaked. “You feel a certain protectiveness toward kids, don’t you?”

“They deserve a chance to grow up.”

She sensed there was more to his reaction. The situation had hit a nerve, but he clearly didn’t feel like talking about it with her. Not here. Not now.

She picked up her sandwich. “Micah won’t be able to get that key, now, will he?”

“Not yet, no. Unless he runs into trouble, he’ll be back very soon.”

As if trouble didn’t stalk them at every turn.

Arturo eased past her. “I have to return to Fabian. Sleep, if you can. I’ll fetch you when I am able. Lock the door as soon as I leave.”

“Enjoy your dinner.”

With a small smile, Arturo left, closing the door behind him.

Quinn got up and threw the dead bolt, one hundred percent certain it wouldn’t actually keep out a vampire who wanted in. But it might dissuade one who didn’t want to suffer Fabian’s displeasure.

Returning to the bed, she wolfed down the sandwich and Coke. She was exhausted, desperately in need of sleep. But Vintry was still alive and might not stay that way much longer.

Her pulse began to escalate as she formulated a plan. Not only were there vampires out there, but most of them were males with no compunction about taking what they wanted from any human, female or otherwise. Especially a Slava.

She palmed her switchblade, opened the door, and peered cautiously down the hallway. When she saw no one, she stepped out, closing the door behind her, and strode the short distance to the second pantry, then ducked inside and slipped back to the wine casks visible in the light flickering in from one of the small wall torches in the hallway.

She found the door behind the casks just as Micah had described. Though wooden and old, it was well oiled and barely made a sound when she pulled it open. But whatever lay beyond was dark as a crypt. She was going to need a light.

Stealing across the hall, she pulled one of the torches out of its holder, hoping no one would miss it before she returned. Once again, she made her way to the cellar door and pulled it open. Her light illuminated a long, wooden stair and a dark void beyond. A tingle of dread danced down her spine, though she found it reassuring that Micah had just been down there and lived to tell the tale.

Then again, Micah was a vampire.

Swallowing her trepidation, she closed the door behind her and descended the stairs to the hard-packed dirt floor. Lifting her torch, she saw that the path led out from the stairs a good hundred feet, lined on either side by rows and rows of prison cells.

Though she listened, she heard no noise. Another chill skittered down her spine, and magic began to buzz lightly beneath her skin as she strode down the path, glancing into each cell. Empty, every one. Until she reached the very last.

She found the old fae lying on a pallet on the floor. He appeared small in stature, his hair almost gone, his skin as wrinkled and leathery as any ancient male’s, though this one was far more ancient than any she’d come across in the real world. He was wearing worn brown trousers and a flannel shirt that looked as if it hadn’t left his body in several decades. His feet were bare, and he had one arm flung across his eyes. What a lonely, sad way to die.

“Douse the damned light,” he growled.

“Vintry?”

“What do you want?”

Spying a torch holder on the wall a few cells down, she planted the torch and returned to Vintry’s cell, now cast into shadow.

“Tarellia said you might be able to help me.”

“She lied.”

Dying and bitter, just as Micah said. Not that she could blame him. “I know you’d just as soon Vamp City failed. But what will happen to the other fae if it does?” she asked softly.

“What do I care?”

Biting back her frustration, Quinn launched into the truth. “I’m a sorceress, Vintry. Apparently
the
sorceress. Maybe the only one left.”

The old fae’s arm moved, his head turning to peer at her through rheumy eyes. “You?” He couldn’t have put any more derogatory disbelief into the word if he’d tried. The little prick.

“It’s true. And my brother has somehow gotten tangled up in my magic. He’s suffering from a magic sickness, and if Vamp City dies, he will, too. I’ll do
anything
to keep that from happening.”

He turned back, covering his eyes again. “I can’t help you. Go away.”

Not a chance. “Tarellia believes I have both Blackstone and Levenach blood. That my Blackstone magic is being obstructed by the Levenach curse. That as long as it is, I’ll never have any real control of my magic. She believes you can help me break my Blackstone magic free of the curse.”

Once again, Vintry lowered his arm and peered at her, but this time, the look on his face was different. Almost intrigued. “Blackstone
and
Levenach, eh? What’s your name, girl?”

“Quinn Lennox.”

His eyes narrowed, but he was no longer scowling at her. “Do you have the key to my cell?”

“No.”

Her heart leaped as he pushed himself slowly and stiffly from the bed, his body bent and arthritic. “Damned aging,” he muttered as he crossed the floor and gripped the bars tight with one hand as if to stabilize himself. Then he held out his hand. “Put your hand through, girl. This might hurt.”

She eyed him warily, but did as he asked. Wrinkled, gnarled, surprisingly warm fingers curled around hers as the old fae closed his eyes. Quinn stared at him, noting the profusion of age spots, the wisps of hair, the hook of a nose. His ears, she noted, had the slightest point at their tips, making her smile. He really was an elf. She was holding hands with an elf.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He stared at her, his eyes, amazingly, filling with tears as he began to smile. “I thought I’d missed you.”

“Excuse me?” She resisted the desire to pull her hand away.

“You are the one foretold, girl. The Healer.” He patted her hand as she stared at him in stunned confusion. A gleam leaped into his eyes. “Is the snake with you?”

“Arturo? Yes. How . . . ?” Maybe Micah had mentioned him.

Suddenly, the old fae’s eyes went wide, and he jerked away, stumbling back. But as he stared at her, his face softened with understanding, and he began to laugh. “Glamour.”

She jerked her gaze down to her hand, her pale true hand. “Shit.”

Vintry waved his hand. “Return with the snake, and him alone, and I will help you. He must be here, too.” He turned away and began making his way back to the bed. “Now go!” he admonished, though his voice was warm this time. “Take the light with you. And don’t delay, or I’ll be dead.” He began to cackle.

Quinn turned away, relieved, and more than a little dazed. The Healer? At least Vintry had agreed to help. The trouble was going to be getting Arturo away from Fabian in time. Oh, and the small fact that she’d lost her glamour. Again.

At least her room was close by. Quinn made her way swiftly up the stairs to the pantry, briefly debating whether to leave the torch in the prison instead of taking it with her, and decided against it. Vintry didn’t want the light, and she’d need it to make her way through the pantry since she’d removed the light that had shone into the space in the first place.

Hearing nothing through the closed door, Quinn opened it slowly, wishing to hell she still looked like Neo’s sister, then slipped into the pantry and closed the door behind her. The torch holder sat on the wall just across the hall, taunting her. Because as long as she held the torch, there was no hiding.