A Blood Seduction (Vamp City #1)(45)

"You've felt the pleasure of a vampire's bite, piccola," Arturo said quietly, a silken sensuality to his tone.

She swallowed and looked at him. "Aren't you going to join them?"

"My assignment is to guard you."

"Just . . . guard me?"

"Just guard you." A teasing light entered his eyes. A decidedly hot teasing light. "Do you wish more?"

"No." She was in no mood for teasing. Not here.

A movement caught her eye, a man moving toward them, dressed not in a gown but in the same jeans and shirt she'd seen him in before. Arturo's friend, Bram.

"Ax," he said, sliding onto the chaise beside Arturo. He nodded to her. "Sorceress." Unlike the other vampires, his expression was closed and rigid, revealing not a whiff of excitement or pleasure though he must be feeling it. "Cristoff is one sick f**ker," he said quietly, pain, not pleasure in his words.

How terrible it must be for a moral man, a doctor no less, to be forced to watch people suffer for the pleasure of others.

"How are you holding up?" Arturo asked his friend.

"How do you think?" He leaned forward, pinning Quinn with hard eyes that reeked of desperation. "You've got to fix the magic."

"I'll try." Though wouldn't it be far better if this place failed? If all within Vamp City died? Perhaps not all. Bram seemed decent enough. Perhaps Kassius, too. She hadn't decided about Arturo. But what of the Slavas who'd been captured and forced to live out their lives here? Did they deserve to die? Did Susie? And Horace? Then again, Horace had been alive far longer than any human should ever live. Death for many of the Slavas was long overdue.

Bram rose. "I've had enough. I'm getting out of here."

When he'd left, Quinn turned to Arturo. "When will I have to renew the magic?"

"I do not know. Magic is always strongest on the power days - the solstices, the equinoxes. There are others. A powerful sorcerer could call the magic even on a null day. I know not if Cristoff intends to wait for the equinox or test you on a null."

Would it matter either way? She had no clue how to do what they wanted. Regardless which day they tried, she'd almost certainly fail.

The poor woman's screams ratcheted, clawing at Quinn until she felt like she was going to crawl out of her flesh.

"You need to calm down, cara."

"How?" She didn't know what Cristoff was doing to his victim and had no desire to know. But the screams were cutting into her eardrums until she wanted to cover her ears and hide her face and try to make it all go away. And the smell. God. Sex and blood and raw, blinding fear. "I'm not sure how much of this I can stand. He's going to kill her. As we sit here."

"Doubtful."

She cut him a disbelieving look.

"Terese has been with us decades, long enough to be immortal and to know that the worst thing a Slava can do is lose her nerve in front of Cristoff."

"So she'll . . . what? Heal anything he does to her?"

"Yes, unless he chooses for her to die, but that is unlikely to happen."

Quinn frowned. "What about the woman with the burns who was in the throne room when we first got here?"

"Healed."

"Physically."

"And mentally. The Slavas are glamoured the moment the abuse ends. The memory taken. She does not remember any of it. Neither will Terese."

Quinn thought about that. The fact that they wouldn't remember, and wouldn't suffer any consequences, didn't mean the torture hadn't happened. It didn't excuse it. And yet, the knowledge eased something tight and pained inside her.

"That's a gift . . . to be able to forget."

He nodded slowly. "One denied to you unless someone else has better luck controlling your mind than I did."

"I don't want to forget." What if they took her memories of her previous life? Of Zack? Of her very reason for living?

He gave her a look that said he expected her to be saying otherwise soon enough.

"Would you want to forget?" she asked.

He turned away, looking out over the gathering. "Yes. There are things I would prefer to forget. Your life has been too short and too protected to feel the same."

She snorted. Her childhood had certainly been no trip to Disney World. Then again, it could have been worse. Much worse.

Without meaning to, she glanced at the horror unfolding in the center of the room, then desperately wished she hadn't. Her conversation with Arturo had helped her focus on something other than the screaming. But that quick glance was all it took to permanently imprint the horrific scene on the backs of her eyes - vampires lying around the basin, drinking blood from the spigots as the woman lay inside, spread-eagled on her back. Her wrists and ankles had been tied with barbed wire until the blood ran down her arms. More barbed wire wrapped around her head, the blood soaking her hair as it ran in rivulets from her scalp. Worst of all was the picture of Cristoff standing naked between the woman's spread legs, fastening a spiked band around his engorged penis.

The blood rushed from Quinn's head.

Arturo pushed her head between her knees. "Deep breaths," he said, his words low and urgent. "If he knows you're this sickened, he'll force you to watch every time."