A Kiss of Blood(33)

The vampire master appeared to be in his early forties though she knew he must be far, far older. He had a pinched face and a bald pate around which hung, like a fringe, thin salt-and-pepper hair. But his eyes were sharp and assessing, gleaming with intelligence and power, and Quinn had little doubt he was a very dangerous male despite the uninspiring appearance.

Wearing only a pair of bright blue pajama pants, Fabian held a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand as he fondled the bare breast of one of the six Slava females who surrounded him. The women wore long, skimpy dresses of sheer, bright color that revealed far more than they hid. And every one of them had her hands on Fabian somewhere. While one ran her fingers through his hair, two massaged his bare feet, two caressed his arms and bare chest from either side. And one had her hand down the front of his pants almost certainly playing with, or stroking, his jewels.

Clearly, the pleasure-feeder enjoyed his own pleasure.

"Come in, come in," Fabian said. "Join me, Arturo Mazza."

Arturo stepped forward without giving Quinn any signal or apparent thought, but they'd discussed this on the ride, how she must act. Arturo had warned her to always follow him, to stand behind him when he sat, to remain silent, and to keep her eyes downcast at all times. Apparently, looking a vampire in the eye was a good way to catch his attention. Something few Slavas did willingly. And while she supposedly belonged to Arturo, the last thing they wanted was for Arturo to have to wage a battle over her.

Quinn followed Arturo up the steps. When he took a seat on the yellow chaise at Fabian's right, she moved to stand behind him, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes downcast.

"Your drink of choice?" Fabian asked Arturo. "I have a fine whiskey. An excellent Macallan."

"A man after my own heart," Arturo said warmly, his voice and attitude embracing his diplomatic role. "You have always had the best whiskey, Fabian."

Two Slavas darted from Fabian's side, one pouring a splash of whiskey into a tumbler while a voluptuous blonde with breasts spilling out of her gown made a beeline directly for Arturo. She knelt on the chaise beside him and began to run her fingers through his hair, and over his face and neck, as the other handed him the tumbler.

Quinn clenched her teeth with annoyance.

Fabian's eyelids lowered to half-staff, a small smile lifting his mouth, then dying as his eyes opened with disappointment. "No pleasure, Mazza? And why is this? Have you taken a liking to men?" He lifted his hand as if to call one.

"No, Fabian. I simply have more pressing concerns."

"Nonsense. I've felt your pleasure before, my friend, and fed well from it. I would do so again."

Quinn felt the vamp master's curious gaze turn on her.

"Your Slava is quite attractive, Mazza. Perhaps it is her touch you enjoy?" When Arturo said nothing, Fabian pressed. "What is your name, lovely?"

"She is Jillian," Arturo answered for her.

"Touch him, Jillian. I would know if it's your touch he seeks these days."

Keep your touch light, cara, Arturo's voice whispered in her head. As impersonal as possible. And think of unpleasant things. Your fear would be welcome, now, if you can keep it from triggering your magic. Your fear sours my stomach.

Quinn swallowed hard, remembering Micah's warning. The passion that rose between her and Arturo was strong and heady. One Fabian should not experience. That shouldn't be too much of a problem. She doubted she could forget her surroundings or her audience long enough to feel true desire here, no matter who she touched.

Sliding her hands across Arturo's shoulders, the black silk of his shirt molded to his muscular form. He felt good, smelled good. But while she enjoyed the feel of him, nothing crazy stirred inside of her. Not with everyone watching. She could do this.

"Come now!" Fabian chastised. "Remove your shirt, Mazza. What is this false modesty? Do you intentionally try me?"

"Of course not, Fabian," Arturo said smoothly, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, revealing his beautiful male back and a fine set of shoulders dusted in Mediterranean sunshine.

Quinn slid her hands over that cool, gorgeous skin, struggling to cling to her indifference, but as Arturo settled back, as her cheek brushed against the soft springiness of his hair, as his intoxicating scent filled her lungs, her blood began to heat. He affected her too strongly and always had, and it was clear her body didn't care that they had an audience.

"That's better. Still . . ." Fabian waved his hand at his Slavas. "Fetch the elixir! They will both drink."

Arturo's shoulders stiffened. Quinn stilled as she watched two of Fabian's Slavas rise and snatch a pitcher of bright green liquid and two glasses from a table against the wall.

"Elixir?" Quinn whispered.

It will not harm you, cara. And we have no choice.

"Now, tell me this news of the sorceress, Mazza. Word reaches us that one was found, then lost. Some claim that she has no power. Others say she is powerful indeed."

"The rumors are true, Fabian. She is powerful, able to hide her magic. And she is missing. I know her smell and would search your stronghold to find her. That is why I have come."

The Slavas stopped in front of Arturo, one woman pouring the green liquid into the glasses the other held. Then both were offered to Arturo.

"You think I have her?" The vampire master's voice rose with indignation and something stronger. A trace of alarm. "If that witch darkened my doors, I would send for Cristoff immediately. You know that."

"Of course, my friend," Arturo said, his voice soothing. "Cristoff knows well that you take no sides. But it is possible the sorceress has breached your walls without your knowing."

The vampire master scoffed. "Impossible."

Arturo handed Quinn one of the glasses of green liquid. "Drink," he said. Then tipped back his head and downed his own.

Quinn took the glass, eyeing the strange liquid warily. An elixir, the vampire called it. And what in the hell did that mean?

"If the sorceress were here, I would know," Fabian argued.

Quinn hesitated a moment longer before downing the glassful without taking a breath. A lemon-lime sweetness lingered on her tongue as she handed the glass back to Arturo, wondering just what she'd swallowed. And how badly they'd just been drugged.

"The woman has magic, Fabian. I have seen it with my own eyes. It is not beyond reason that she is here, and we need to find her, do you not agree?"

As if on cue, the ground began to shake, the crystal tinkling and rattling, one hurricane glass falling and shattering on the tiled portion of the floor. The couple on one of the few occupied chaises cried out, the glass just missing them. Through one of the dark windows, light erupted, though a distance away. Sunbeams breaking through from the real world.

Arturo glanced back at Quinn, but she hadn't been the cause of this one. Her eyes weren't glowing.

"Very well," Fabian conceded when the rattling had ceased. "You may explore my castle to your heart's content. After tonight's banquet."

"Time grows short, my friend." Arturo's tone remained affable. "Perhaps . . ."

Fabian's hand sliced through the air, a hard look crossing his face, one that reminded Quinn the male was probably a vampire master for a reason. One not to be crossed lightly. "You will remain until I say otherwise," he snapped. His expression eased, and he was once more the gracious host. "I wish you to enjoy the pleasures my golden palace has to offer. And I wish to enjoy your own pleasure." He made a quick move with his hand, motioning Quinn toward Arturo. "Come, come, Slava. Touch him, wrap yourself around him. Please us both."

Feel nothing, feel nothing, she told herself as she stepped forward and slid her palms, once more, over Arturo's strong shoulders. She forced her mind to another place, Cristoff's castle the day Arturo handed her back to her master, and Cristoff knocked her to the floor. But the feel of cool flesh beneath her fingertips combined with Arturo's warm, masculine fragrance sent pleasure rippling down into her body. Memories rose past her defenses, erotic memories of the last time she'd touched him like this, of the incredible heat, the blazing passion.

Cara. Even telepathic, his voice sounded breathless, as if he felt her body's reaction and shared it. Her pulse began to increase, her own breath growing shallow.

"Can't help it," she whispered. A strange warmth began to flow through Quinn's veins and down deep into her body, setting up a throbbing pulse between her legs.

The drink was a powerful aphrodisiac, cara. Fight it as much as you are able, as will I.

"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.