A Blood Seduction (Vamp City #1)(37)

"Who do they guard the place from?"

"Everyone." His tone was short.

"Do the kovenas war against one another?"

"Of course," he snapped. He was getting testy. Why?

Rather than opening the massive gates, one of the guards opened a small door within the nearby wall for them to enter.

"Arturo," the guard said with a deference that surprised her. Her vampire master must carry some weight around here.

Arturo allowed her to precede him through. As the door clicked shut behind them, they started the long walk to the house. Shouts of laughter and gaiety filled the air as if a party were in full swing. She heard the splash of water. A pool? She'd imagined a vampire castle to be a dark, broody thing, but this one was lit up like an octogenarian's birthday cake.

As they climbed the brick steps, the massive front doors opened, two liveried butlers standing back to let them in.

"Arturo," the two said as one, bowing.

Arturo acknowledged them with a shallow nod. Taking her upper arm in a firm grip, he led her into a massive marble-and-ivory foyer the size of a small ballroom, in the center of which sat a mammoth black lacquer grand piano. There were vampires everywhere, holding drinks, fondling the Slava females who walked among them in what appeared to be a uniform of short skirts and low-cut peasant blouses. Along one of the walls sat a line of velvet benches, where two vampires appeared to be making out. Close by, a silk-robed vamp male grabbed one of the Slavas to him, pulling her back against him, baring and fondling her br**sts as he bit her. As Quinn watched in horrified fascination, his lashes swept up, his white-centered eyes spearing her as if imagining his fangs in her neck instead. As if promising her just that.

Quinn shivered and looked hurriedly away, her face flaming, her body flushed with intense discomfort. This place was like a playground for the depraved.

"Ax!" One of the male vamps, in blue jeans and a black silk shirt, strode toward them, a drink the color of whiskey in his hand. He had dark circles under his eyes, lines of strain along either side of his mouth. Despite that, he seemed genuinely glad to see Arturo.

The two vampires greeted one another warmly. "How do you fare, Bram?"

"Not well. I'm going f**king crazy in this place." He lowered his voice. "They lie around doing nothing but drinking and f**king as if there's nothing else to life. If the magic's going to kill me, I wish it would just do it and get it over with. Take me out of my misery."

"I've heard a rumor a solution may have been found."

Bram's eyes widened. "Pray you're right about that." He turned to Quinn. "Who's this?"

"My most recent acquisition," as if that were all she was.

She was tempted to thrust out her hand and introduce herself simply to make them acknowledge her as more than a slave. But an instinct for self-preservation warned her against drawing any more attention to herself in this place than she had to.

"Are you bringing her to Kassius?"

"No," Arturo replied slowly. "She's of Blackstone's ilk."

Bram's brows shot up, and he turned to stare at her as if she were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. Quinn turned to Arturo for explanation. But his attention was on the other man.

"Thank, God," Bram murmured, then frowned. "I don't smell it." Without warning, he leaned close to her, sniffing at her hair.

Quinn reared back. "What do you mean Blackstone's ilk?"

A bloodcurdling scream sliced the air, raising the hair on the back of Quinn's neck and lifting the heads of several vamps nearby. Bram stiffened, his breath turning suddenly short, and shallow. The screaming continued until Quinn wanted to cover her ears to shut it out. Someone was being tortured mercilessly. Killed. Her breath hitched. Half a dozen vamps disappeared in a blur of silk and velvet, reappearing at the top of the curved stairs.

Bram's expression grew pained, his eyes filling with misery. "I have to go." He shoved his glass into Arturo's hand, then turned and climbed the stairs, human pace, his shoulders bent as if he fought every step, and lost.

Arturo took her arm and steered her away from the stairs and out of the huge foyer, into an even larger room, but the change of rooms did little to dampen that horrible, continual scream. Vampires played billiards on one of the two tables, while others played poker at one of three gaming tables. At the far side of the room, an entire wall of glass doors had been opened to the outside and a swimming pool lit by torches.

None of the vampires appeared to even hear the woman's screams, let alone care. She glanced at Arturo. "How can you all ignore that?"

"Calm yourself, cara. Cristoff is a pain-feeder." He said it so matter-of-factly.

"And that makes it okay?"

His dark eyes flashed. "We are vampires, Quinn Lennox. One way or another, we feed off humans or we die. We're at the top of the food chain."

"So all we are to you is food?"

"To most vampires, yes. I am afraid so."

She wanted to ask if he felt the same and couldn't, afraid she didn't want to know. She had a feeling she wouldn't like his answer, not at all. "The vampires who ran for the stairs. They're pain-feeders, aren't they?"

"Yes. As is Bram, as much as he hates it."

And she'd seen that, Bram's misery, his reluctance to climb those stairs and join the others. She thought of Arturo's words to him. "What did you mean I'm of Blackstone's ilk?"