A Blood Seduction (10 page)

“Done. Manchester, free the slut. Get her out of here, Arturo.”

Moments later, she was free, Arturo’s long fingers curling coolly around her upper arm. But she knew better than to stop too soon. The female would know she’d been faking. Struggling in her vampire’s grasp, Quinn continued to scream, kicking him in the shin. A bit of retribution for his scaring her half to death the first time he’d found her.

As he steered her toward the waiting Jeep, Quinn glanced back at the other slaves, sick with the knowledge they’d likely all be dead before another week passed, dying horrible, painful deaths.

Arturo opened the passenger door of his Jeep and shoved her in, his hand flat on her torn back. The pain tore a scream from her lungs, and she gave in to it, cutting the night with her misery, reveling in the knowledge that Francesca was probably covering her ears.
Take that, you bitch.

Arturo closed her door, and she grabbed for the roll bar with one hand and the top of the windshield with the other, desperate to keep her bleeding back from banging against the seat as he flew over the pitted road. This ride was going to hurt.

On a roll now, she continued to wail as Arturo climbed into the driver’s side, started the vehicle, and took off. The ride was every bit as bad as she’d feared it would be. As hard as she tried to keep her back off the seat, she kept slamming into it with excruciating regularity. Sweat rolled down her temples, unwanted tears down her cheeks as she clenched her teeth against the need to cry out, tired of hearing her own screams and pretty sure they were far enough away now that she didn’t have to keep up the pretense. The nausea rose, slow and steadily, until she had no choice but to say something.

“I’m going to be sick.” The words were little more than a gasp, but the vampire heard. The car came to a slamming halt, and, for an instant, she thought she was about to fly through the windshield, but his arm braced her before she ever saw him move. Who needed a seat belt when you had a vampire?

She fumbled for the door, but he was already there, opening it, lifting her out, keeping her from stumbling forward as she fell to her knees and retched in the dirt. For long, trembling moments, she stayed there, drenched in sweat, feeling like the world’s biggest wuss. Yes, her back was a bloody mess, but this was nothing compared to the pain the others would endure . . . were already beginning to suffer. Her stomach didn’t seem to care.

When she was fairly certain she wasn’t going to heave again, she looked up to find Arturo standing a few yards in front of her, watching her with cool eyes, the charmer once more gone as if he’d never been.

“You did well,” he murmured. “My ears are going to be ringing for hours.”

“Thank you for rescuing me. Did you? Rescue me? Or am I going to suffer at your hands, too?”

“Have you suffered at my hands,
cara
?”

“No. But I escaped you. I hit Ernesta.” She cringed. “Please tell me I didn’t kill her.”

His mouth pulled up on one side, but that tiny bit of a smile rose nowhere near his eyes. “You didn’t kill her though you gave her a hell of a headache.”

Her breath trembled out with relief, and she realized how much that had been weighing on her. “Good. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I only meant to get away.” She pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain that lanced her back with every move.

“Yet here you are.”

She shrugged and moaned as that hurt, too, then met his gaze. “I have to find my brother.”

He shook his head. “You’re a fool to have come back here. He’s probably dead by now. Or as good as.”

“He’s my brother.”

For long moments, he studied her, then finally held his hand out to her. “Come.”

She hesitated, then started to reach for his hand, only to snatch hers back as she realized his pupils were beginning to turn white, his fangs starting to elongate. “You’re hungry.”

“You’re bleeding.”

She shuddered. “Right. Trust me, I’d rather not be.”

At his soft snort, she looked at him, surprised to see the smile reach his eyes.

“Do you need to bite me?”

“Wish to? Always. Need to? No. Your blood is far too enticing, and you’ve been weakened. Again.”

Despite the fearsome visage he presented, she placed her hand in his. And held on tight.

Chapter Seven

A
s Quinn braced herself, feeling shaken and beaten, Arturo pulled into the alley behind his house. He handed Quinn out of the Jeep and led her into the kitchen as he had when he’d caught her trying to escape him the first time. His hand circled her upper arm to steady her, she supposed. They both knew she wasn’t about to try to escape. Not yet, at least. Not after what had just happened. Her back burned from Francesca’s lashings, her stomach was still sore and tight from the vomiting, and she felt more than a little light-headed. Another advantage of having a vampire companion—if she stumbled, he’d be able to grab her before she fell.

“Susie!” Arturo led her to the stairs. They were halfway up the flight when the girl appeared in the hallway below.

“Yes, Master?”

“Quinn is in need of tending. Gather your supplies and meet us upstairs.”

“Yes, Master.”

Quinn glanced at her companion. “She’s kind of young, isn’t she?” He’d already admitted to having sex with her. Every third day.

“She’s older than she looks.” At the top of the stairs, he ushered her into the room where she’d first found herself tied, spread-eagled, to the bed. “Susie will be up shortly, then I will leave you in her care. I would appreciate it if you would refrain from attacking any more of my servants.”

Quinn grimaced. “Sorry. No attacking the other slaves. Promise.” She shrugged. “At least, not unless I’m provoked.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he murmured.

Susie appeared in the doorway, throwing a sweet smile at Arturo before shifting a wary gaze to Quinn.
Seriously?
In this kid’s eyes, she was more scary than a vampire?

“She’ll not hurt you,” Arturo told the girl. “I have her word.”

Quinn felt about two feet tall.

Arturo met Quinn’s gaze. “I will not be far. In case you get another urge to sunbathe.”

He wouldn’t let her escape again. Part of her didn’t want to. Horace’s words, that Arturo was the best of the lot, had been soundly illustrated today. Yet, trapped was trapped. Only free would she stand any chance of finding Zack.

Arturo left. Susie remained in the doorway, clutching a basket of medical supplies against her abdomen. Good grief, her hands were actually shaking.

“Susie . . .” Quinn lifted her hands, palms out. “I didn’t mean to hurt Ernesta. I mean, I did, but only because I was trying to escape to find my brother, and she’d told me she wasn’t human. I figured that meant I needed to hit her hard. But I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything against her personally. And I don’t want to escape this time.” At least not this moment. “I won’t hit you, I promise.”

The girl stepped forward cautiously. “Where are you hurt?”

“My back. I was lashed.”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Susie nodded toward the bed. “Take off your shirt and lie down.” The girl was suddenly all crisp efficiency. And she no longer sounded so young.

Quinn did as she was told, shrugging out of her jacket, then nearly moaning at the pain of peeling her tank top out of the wounds on her bloody back. If the girl had been looking for a bit of retribution for her friend, she was getting it in spades. Quinn forced herself to yank the top free as tears burned her eyes. With trembling hands, she pulled her running bra over her head, peeling it off, too. Finally free of the garments, she lay on the bed, the cotton bedspread cool and comforting against her sweat-damp skin.

The bed sank at her side as Susie joined her.

“The ointment will heal the wounds, but the application may be uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

She doubted that. “It can’t hurt much more than Francesca’s whip.”

The girl’s fingers were surprisingly gentle, the ointment cool to the touch, the sting not nearly as bad as Quinn had expected.

“You were lucky the master saved you,” the girl murmured, her voice soft. “They say no slave survives Francesca, not even the immortals.”

“Immortals? You mean vampires?” Little by little, the pain began to disappear beneath the ointment.

“Immortal humans. They call us Slavas.”

Quinn glanced back at Susie with surprise. “You?”

Susie smiled gently, the oil lamp casting a soft light over her young face. “Yes, me. It happens to all of us who’ve been here a while. If you live long enough, it will happen to you, too.” She lifted a lock of her own light brown hair, holding it up where she could see it. “You know you’ve become immortal when your hair starts to glow.”

“What makes it do that?”

“No one knows, but they think it has something to do with the magic of V.C. because no slaves ever had glowing hair before this place was created. Vampire saliva, shared during feeding, has always had a healing effect on humans. But only the humans in Vamp City have ever actually turned immortal.”

The girl’s skin was perfect, unlined. “You look like you’re twenty.”

She grinned. “I was born in 1950. That makes me . . . oh, goodness. Over sixty years old.”

Quinn gaped at her.

“I was nineteen when I was caught and sold in a slave auction. Within a couple of years, I stopped aging.”

“Arturo bought you?”

“No. I was bought for his master’s, Cristoff’s, slave hall. I . . .” Her face tightened, shadows darkening her eyes. “I didn’t like it there. After a few months, Arturo bought me and brought me here, and I’ve never left. And never want to. He’s not like the others. You’re very lucky he’s chosen you.”

Quinn turned back, resting her chin on her hands. Without a doubt, she owed the vamp for getting her out of Francesca’s clutches. And he really didn’t seem to be like the others. Still, there was no way she could accept that this was it. That she would spend the rest of her life in this house, serving a vampire. She had a brother to save, a job to get back to, a life to live in
her
world, the real world, where the sun shone and the roads were paved and every man walking down the street wasn’t trying to eat her.

It would kill something inside her simply to give up and give in, even if Zack weren’t involved. Arturo might not be one of the truly bad guys, but it was highly unlikely he’d simply let her walk away. She was going to have to play this carefully.

“Do you ever leave the house, Susie?”

“No, and I don’t want to,” she said quickly. “It’s safe here.
I’m
safe here. I like it here.”

“You might be able to go home. Back to the real world. I did.”

Susie shook her head. “It’s unlikely I’d survive. A few vampires have tried to take their slaves with them through the Boundary, but the slaves instantly revert to their true age. Even if they weren’t too old to live, the shock of aging that quickly usually kills them. No, there is no going back for me, and nothing to go back to.”

“Horace is older than you, isn’t he?” Suddenly his comment to her before, that his family had been gone more than a century, made sense.

“He’s more than a hundred years older than I am, yes. He was one of the first slaves brought in after V.C. was created.”

Quinn closed her eyes, trying to absorb Susie’s words. This girl was over sixty. Horace, one of the first brought in, was a man of the 1800s. He must have looked and talked just like he did now, back in 1870. Incredible. She hadn’t time-traveled. Not exactly. And yet . . .

“Do the vampires ever let their slaves go? Those who haven’t turned immortal?”

“No. They don’t let any go. But not all vampires live within V.C. Those who live in the real D.C. need slaves, too.”

She looked at the girl with surprise. “How many live in the real world?”

“I don’t know. With the magic failing—“

“Thank you, Susie. That will be all,
cara mia.
” Arturo’s rich voice had Quinn’s attention whirling to the doorway, her heartbeat jumping.

“Yes, sir.” Flashing a quick smile, Susie rose, picked up her supplies, then grabbed Quinn’s discarded clothes.

When Quinn made a sound of objection, Susie met her gaze. “I’ll wash and mend them for you.”

Chastened, Quinn nodded. “Thank you, Susie.”

Arturo closed the door behind her, then moved toward the window, out of Quinn’s line of sight. She didn’t like having him behind her, but she was bare from the waist up, with nothing to put on.

With a sigh, she levered herself up, amazed that her back no longer hurt. Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she sat, crossing her arms over her chest. She’d rather be able to see him, all things considered.

She found him watching her from the far side of the room, his body utterly still, his gaze quite active, dropping to her chest, to her legs, then slowly climbing back to her face, a heat in his eyes that made her shiver. Had he come to claim his sexual rights as her slave master?

Slowly, he moved toward the bed, his steps as silent as any predator’s. “Stand up.”

“Why?”

“You make a terrible slave,
cara.
I wish to see your back.”

Turning her back on a vampire hardly seemed like the smartest move. Then again, as fast as he moved, what difference did it make? She did as he asked, keeping her arms crossed over her chest as she rose, which effectively hid all evidence that she had breasts. Lucky her.

His fingers skimmed her shoulder blade, then her hip, two places untouched by the lash. “Is the pain gone?”

“Yes. Completely.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “What’s in the ointment Susie used? It has some serious antipain properties.”

A gleam of laughter entered his eyes. “Magic.” His head dipped, his cool lips pressing against her bare shoulder.

She shivered at the gentle, sensual kiss, her nipples hardening beneath her forearms. “Vampire . . .” Her voice sounded breathy.

His hands came around her, grasping her arms, tugging them lightly as if to open her to his gaze.

“No.”

The soft, damp stroke of his tongue over her ear sent another tremor through her. “Why do you hide yourself,
cara
? I wish to see you.”

Quinn grunted, letting him pull her arms away, dropping them to her sides. “There’s not much to see.” As an athlete, she’d always had far more of an appreciation for what her body could do than what it looked like. In sports, her lack of curves had been an asset. With guys, not so much.

Cool hands slid over her breasts, covering them completely, which wasn’t hard to do. But, oh, it felt good.

He flicked her nipples with his thumbs, sending a rush of hot desire flowing through her veins. Over and over, he rubbed his thumbs back and forth over the tight buds. “You have beautiful breasts.” The huskiness of his tone almost made it sound like he meant it.

“If you’re into fried eggs.”

“They are not fried eggs. Size is not everything.”

“Most men would disagree.”

“Most men are fools.” He turned her to face him, then gripped her waist as he studied one breast with the raptness of a connoisseur, tracing her areola with his thumb. The gentleness of his caress made her tremble. “Soft as silk,” he murmured. “The skin flawless. Your nipples are beautifully shaped, perfectly formed pink buds. Among the finest I’ve seen.”

She watched him, torn between pleasure and wariness. “I can’t decide if you’re playing me.”

His gaze flicked up to meet hers. “And what would I be playing you for?”

“Sex.”

That ever-present amusement lifted his mouth. “Seduction takes many forms. But my words are true,
cara.
I’ve seen many a breast.” His brow arched wickedly. “Many a breast.”

She laughed. For the first time in forever, she didn’t feel lacking with her shirt off. Thanks to a vampire.

Without warning, he knelt before her, gripping her waist with long, cool fingers as he pulled her close, and took one of her breasts into his mouth. His tongue took over for his thumb, flicking her nipple. Surprise caught in her throat. Desire shot straight to her core.

“
Vampire.
”

She didn’t want this. And yet she did. He sucked at her, pulling her breast into his mouth. Without thinking, she gripped his head, sliding her fingers into the dark silk of his hair, breathing in the rich, intoxicating scent of him. Almonds. And night. And potent, virile male.

Oh, God, I want
this.
Her body melted beneath his touch, her legs turning to soft butter.

His mouth released her breast, his lips trailing kisses down one barely there slope and up the other to give equal attention to its twin. Flicking, sucking, his hands sliding up and down her sides, then down to her hips and behind, gripping her rear, sending heat leaping within her.

While she held him to her with one hand, with the other she slid her fingers to the back of his neck, feeling the tendons and rock-hard flesh. His skin wasn’t cold to the touch, not at all. Just a little cooler than her own. Wonderfully so. She wanted to press her heated flesh against him and cool the raging fever he caused with his touch, with his mouth.