"Which means he'd first have to have possession of me." He'd force her to succeed in every way he could think of, and she had no doubt that sadistic monster would use pain, torture, and God only knew what else. Only once he was utterly unable to compel her might he consider destroying his precious sword.
Arturo's eyes darkened, his mouth hardening, his grip gentle yet firm when he grasped her jaw. "Promise me you will not even think about giving yourself up to him like that, Quinn. It would kill your brother to know what you suffered to save him. It would kill me."
"We'll find another way."
"Yes." The tension appeared to flow out of him, and he tipped his forehead to hers. "Yes, we will find another way."
His hand slid to the back of her neck, and he exerted just enough pressure to have her closing those last few inches between them, bringing their mouths together in a sweet, drugging kiss. The future loomed, dark and ominous, and time was undoubtedly short. But she needed his touch, she needed the soul-deep intimacy she'd only ever found in his arms.
Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, and he made a sound in his throat of agreement, of need. They undressed one another with unhurried movements, the passion that was always present between them simmering at a low burn as he laid her down, half-beneath him, and caressed her body with long, tender strokes.
She slid her hands over his strong shoulders, kissing his jaw, his chin, pressing her lips against the strong cords of his neck. For long, long minutes, they touched one another, kissed one another, reveling in the feel of flesh on flesh. His hand slid between her legs, making her gasp with pleasure and open to him. As she spread her thighs, welcoming him, he rolled onto her fully. Catching her gaze, he entered her slowly, lovingly, completely.
Being with him was right as being with a man had never been right before. Yet there was still so much between them.
When their passion was spent, Arturo rolled to his side and tucked her against him, holding her close. Exhaustion pulled at her. She'd slept so little since returning to Vamp City. That and the Focus had worn her out.
Arturo's hand, warm as the summer sun, stroked her arm, her hip, as gentle as a whisper. His lips pressed against her hair.
"Sleep, cara."
"We have to find Escalla."
"First you must sleep."
And held in the gentle warmth of his arms, she did.
Quinn awakened in the bed alone, feeling almost rested as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up. The room was dark but for the dim light from the oil lamps that lined the hallway and filtered beneath her door.
Rolling her shoulders, she glanced at the place where the lamp sat on the bedside table, imagined it igniting, and whispered, "Light." Nothing happened. Maybe calling fire would never be her thing, or maybe fire was just one of the many aspects of her gift she needed to learn how to control. The thought of the possibilities sent excitement winging through her blood.
Reaching for the Bic, she lit the lamp, then dressed quickly, needing to see Zack. Arturo's accusation that she thought of no one but Zack had cut too close to the bone. In some ways, he was probably right. Maybe in all ways. She'd never let anyone get close enough to see what she was, knowing they'd run.
But everyone here knew exactly what she was. And none of them had fled. Arturo, in fact, just kept coming back for more. He'd held her close most of the time she'd slept. Every time she'd awakened, he'd kissed her temple and told her to go back to sleep. Vampires needed no sleep. Yet he'd stayed with her, cradling her close, making her feel . . . cared for. It was a feeling, a softness, she couldn't afford. Certainly not from a vampire.
As she stepped toward the lamp, to douse it, she spied a wooden stake on the floor, which must have fallen out of her jacket. With a small smile, she lifted her hand and called it to her. It rose suddenly, wavered a moment in the air, then zinged straight to her hand. The practicing she'd done while Arturo visited Cristoff had paid off.
Slipping the stake into the breast pocket of her jacket, she went to search for Zack. She found him doing pull-ups on a bar hanging from the ceiling of the gym, his shirt off, the muscles of his chest gleaming with a fine sheen of perspiration. Muscles. Real, honest-to-goodness muscles. If it hadn't been for the bright red appearance of his usually pale skin, she'd have thought he looked wonderful.
He grinned when he saw her. "Hey, Quinn," he gasped between reps.
"That's twenty-five," Jason said, amazement in his tone. "Twenty-six," he added as Zack kept going. "Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight." At thirty-four, Zack finally dropped to the floor, barely winded.
Quinn stared at him. A Levenach sorcerer. Her little brother.
Jason tossed him a towel.
Zack took it, wiping the sweat from his face. "I heard the ritual was a bust."
"The curse is still holding back my magic. But I guess you heard that, too."
"Arturo told me."
"Is that all he said?"
The joy she'd seen in his eyes as he'd discovered what his body could do died a swift death. "He said they haven't found Lily." His mouth turned harder than she'd ever seen it. "I'm going to find her."
All he could think about was saving Lily, just as all she could think about was saving him. Stubborn, one-track minds apparently ran in the Lennox family.
"When you're ready," Jason said evenly, "we'll go out together and hunt for them both-my wife and your Lily."
Zack met the Marine's gaze with a certainty she could hardly credit, and nodded. He was changing before her eyes. In more ways than one.
She thought about telling him about the Levenach-Lennox tie, knowing how much that would probably delight him. But other than bulking up at a surprising rate, he'd never shown any sign of magic or power. And it worried her that knowing he had sorcerer's blood might send his confidence even higher. Maybe too high, making him reckless. The fewer people who knew Zack was a sorcerer, himself included, the safer he'd be.
She headed back into the main room to find Arturo and found the doctor instead. Arturo's words came back to her, that she could make friends if she wanted to.
"Amanda."
The woman turned, a professional smile on her face that turned serious an instant later. "Zack's holding his own, Quinn. That's all I can tell you."
Quinn hesitated. She briefly considered confiding in her about the Levenach blood, then pulled the secret close again. "I guess the magic sickness works differently in everyone."
Amanda nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose it does."
Quinn opened her mouth, looking for something friendly to say. When nothing came out, she shut it again. Now probably wasn't the time anyway. "Have you seen Arturo?"
"He's upstairs."
"Thanks."
She took the stairs two at a time and found the door partly open, the sign that it was safe to be on the main level. Slipping through, she followed the sound of raised male voices. Kassius's, if she wasn't mistaken. And Arturo's.
"You must," Kassius said.
"Never."
As she stepped into the kitchen, Arturo looked up. Kassius turned away, his mouth hard with frustration.
"Want to fill me in?" she said, her tone letting them know they weren't being given an option.
Suddenly, the house began to shake. A shout went up outside. Micah darted in through the back, slamming the door shut. Silence settled like a musty blanket as the world stood still. But Quinn saw no light filtering from beneath the edges of the room-darkening curtains that covered every window.
"Take a look, cara," Arturo requested. "Carefully, please."
Quinn crossed to the window and pulled back the drape only an inch. The sunbeams visible were faint and distant. "Nothing close."
Arturo joined her, pulling the thick drape aside, and together they looked out.
Neo's house sat in the middle of thick dead woods, but the sunbeams were easy to spy through them, and she counted no fewer than eleven in the distance.
"It's getting worse," Arturo murmured. If a sunbeam broke through in Neo's yard, the vampires would be taking their lives in their hands every time they walked outside.
"What's the plan, Ax?" Micah asked.
Quinn turned away from the window.
Arturo moved to the counter to pour himself a splash of whiskey. "I shall destroy the sword."
"How are you going to get it out of the case, let alone out of Gonzaga Castle?"
Arturo took a sip. "I'll think of something."
"You're not going alone," Micah said, at the exact moment Kassius said, "I'm going with you."
"You will both stay out of it. Cristoff has killed four of his own, and those are the ones I know of. Stay here. Protect Quinn."
His friends' expressions turned incredulous.
"Absolutely not."
"What if you need glamour?"
Quinn watched the way Arturo fought to protect his friends and how they refused to send him into the lion's den alone. She envied him that kind of friendship. But she understood all too well the willingness to sacrifice for those one cared about. And she understood, too, Micah's and Kassius's unwillingness to remain behind.
It wasn't in her nature to hide any more than it was in theirs. Nor was it in any of their best interests to leave her behind. Because there was no denying that Cristoff was powerful, and it might well take their combined skills to pull this off. Going in one at a time, and dying one at a time, would help no one. They might be vampires, but these three males, these men, were her friends. An extraordinary thought.