A deep sound of agreement met her ears.
Arturo brushed her hair off her shoulder, baring her neck, and she tipped her head to the side, giving him full access. Two vampires, both wanting to feed from her, and she was letting them do so freely.
Trust came in many forms.
She felt Arturo's lips brush the sensitive skin at the curve of her neck a second before his fangs slid in. Her breath caught with anticipation, and she was not disappointed. He pulled gently, a small intake of blood, but the pleasure that ripped through her was anything but small.
Quinn gasped, her breath trembling into her lungs.
Arturo took a second, harder pull, and she cried out from the blast of exquisite pleasure that left her shaking with need, her body trembling, her legs weak, her body pulsing hot and low. With his third pull of blood, she came, hard and fast, her legs buckling beneath her. As the pleasure ripped through her over and over, she felt Arturo's arms around her, holding her close, his mouth moving from her neck to her jaw, to her cheek, to her mouth. And then they were kissing, touching, his hands in her hair, her free hand sliding over his muscular shoulder.
She barely noticed the pull on her wrist, didn't even realize it had stopped until Arturo pulled away, kissing her forehead, and she realized she had both arms wrapped around his neck.
In a flush of embarrassment, she pulled away, hazarding a glance at Micah who was watching them with the same look on his face she'd often seen on Arturo's when they first met-that rapturous look of feeding pleasure.
"I'm going to hang around you kids more often," Micah said, his tone all too serious. "If it was half as good for you, Quinn, as it was for me . . ."
Quinn's face flamed hotter. "I'd rather not discuss my orgasm with you, Micah, if it's all the same to you."
He grinned. "No discussion necessary. I was there." He shook his head, his expression turning once more serious. "Don't let Fabian get a taste of that, or he may lock you two up and never let you leave."
Micah strode to where he'd tied his horse and quickly mounted. "On the plus side, I'm refueled to the top. On the downside, I've got a woody like you wouldn't believe."
"Micah . . ." Arturo growled.
With a laugh, Micah turned his mount with a wave. "I'll find you." Then he disappeared into the dark.
Arturo retrieved their mounts, then hovered over her as she reached for the reins. "He did not take too much?"
"I don't think so. I feel fine." To prove her point, she swung up into the saddle without any trouble. "That was . . . rather embarrassing." And more intriguing than she wanted to admit.
"We are vampires, Quinn. We are Emoras. Blood, pleasure, fear . . . we must feed."
"I know." She sighed. "I know."
They continued on until a large stone wall came into view on the hill in the distance. "Is that it?"
"It is. Do not forget your role, tesoro."
"I won't screw this up, Vampire. Not in that way, at least."
"I usually feel when the magic begins to claim you, but tell me early, yes? And I will try to help you keep it in check."
She glanced at him. "How?"
A smile claimed his mouth, leaping into his dark eyes, stealing her breath. "Distraction."
Quinn laughed. "I'm sure."
His smile softened. "How I like the sound of your laughter." Slowly, that smile of his died, his expression turning serious. "If you are in danger, do whatever you must to protect yourself. If you have to use your magic, do so. It is better for you to be revealed than harmed."
Quinn nodded. "All right. But I'm not leaving until Vintry frees my magic."
Arturo eyed her thoughtfully, then nodded. As they neared the gates, he glanced at her. "Are you ready?"
Quinn swallowed. "Sure. What can go wrong?"
Their gazes met, the knowledge leaping between them with chilling resonance.
Anything. Everything.
Chapter Sixteen
As Quinn and Arturo rode closer to the stone wall, to the stronghold of yet another vampire master, Quinn's tension mounted, and the shiver that went through her had little to do with the cool temperature of the air. Fabian Neptune was a pleasure-feeder, not a pain-feeder like Cristoff, though she wasn't sure that was much comfort. Especially given the fact that Arturo hadn't wanted her anywhere near this place.
She glanced at Arturo. "Do none of you feed on happiness? On love or joy?"
"Some do, but it makes them no kinder, cara. I knew a vampire once who required the joy of children. She hid in the shadows feeding from their giggling laughter, then snatched them up and sucked the blood from their bodies."
"All of it?" Quinn asked, horrified.
"Too much for them to survive."
"That's terrible."
"Yes. She was a vampire with no heart and little conscience. A monster, no matter how she fed. Feeding on joy did not make her good any more than Bram's need for pain makes him a monster."
She'd met Bram on her first visit to Gonzaga Castle. A good friend of Arturo's, he'd spent most of his time in the real D.C. as an emergency-room surgeon, healing humans even as he fed from their agony. He'd been visiting V.C. the night Blackstone's trap sprung and was now trapped, unable to return to his job or to the life he desired. He'd been a man in torment when she'd met him, forced to feed on the torture his master, Cristoff, preferred.
"This place is in the middle of nowhere," she murmured. "Northeast D.C.?"
"Yes."
They grew silent as they rode up the dirt track to the huge wall where two guards stood, dressed in black, armed with what appeared to be semiautomatic assault weapons. For the werewolves or other vampires?
"Arturo Mazza requests an audience with Fabian Neptune," Arturo said formally, pulling up two dozen feet away from the armed men.
Quinn pulled up behind him like the good little Slava she was pretending to be. The walls of this place had to be thirty feet high. Maybe forty. Atop stood two more armed vamps.
"State your business," one of the guards called down.
"Diplomatic in nature," Arturo replied. "I have news of the sorceress."
No one replied, but a quick look up revealed that the one who'd asked the question was no longer there. For several minutes, nothing happened. And there was no peering in. The two wide gates within the rock walls appeared to be solid steel.
One of those gates began to swing open. The guard from the wall stood in the opening and motioned them in. "Fabian wishes to see you."
As they knew he would.
Arturo's horse moved forward without any visible signal on Arturo's part. Quinn's horse followed. As they cleared the gates, she stared at the structure rising before her. As big as Gonzaga Castle, it looked like a freaking wedding cake. The curved walls were white stucco, the levels in three distinct tiers, smaller as they rose. Each of the upper floors was ringed in intricate and swirling banisters lit by the torches standing in regular intervals around the whole.
The windows, instead of glass, appeared to be cut crystal. Even the front door appeared made with crystal panels. It must weigh a ton. Then again, a vampire could probably lift a ton.
"Wow," Quinn breathed.
"Fabian enjoys the finer things," Arturo replied quietly.
That was one way to put it.
At the base of the steps, Arturo dismounted, and Quinn followed. A Slava ran toward them to take their horses, and the guard led them up what appeared to be cut-crystal steps and into a foyer that was a fairyland of sparkling light. The foyer's massive chandelier supported no fewer than five dozen lit candles.
The floor, mosaic tiles in whites and golds, depicted . . . Quinn's eyes widened . . . a thoroughly pornographic scene. She cocked her head, trying to see it from a better angle. Was that position even possible? Tearing her gaze away, she admired the walls covered in gold-leafed flowering vines.
A wide stair rose from the foyer, fanning out as it went up, the steps crystal, the railings pure gold draped in filmy white ribbons. On either side sat beautiful fountains tinkling with water. Though the room certainly didn't run to her personal tastes, she could not deny it was a feast for the eyes.
The guard led them through the archway to the right and into a room of color and beauty. Yards and yards of white silk draped the windows and walls, which, considering the likelihood of spilled blood, didn't seem like the wisest decorating choice for a nest of vampires. But she didn't see any stains. The fixtures here, as in the foyer, were all crystal and gold. Flickering candles sat in hurricane glasses lining a shelf that ran around the entire room, some eight feet high. Large silk chaises in bright pastel prints lined every wall though most remained empty. There were flowers everywhere, filling vases, scattered on the chaises and the floors, their fragrance perfuming the air.
A bright blue mat covered the floor in the large pit in the center of the room, reminding her of the kind of springy mat she used to spar on in her Tae Kwon Do dojo. Behind the mat, the room rose several steps to a chaise that appeared to be made of pure gold, covered in black velvet. And on that chaise, lounged a man.
"Fabian," Arturo said by way of greeting.