A Blood Seduction (Vamp City #1)(46)

The woman's screams turned bloodcurdling. Cold sweat broke out on every inch of Quinn's body. Bile rose in her throat. She wanted to vomit, to run away. She longed to tackle Cristoff and cut off his steel-clad dick. The barbarity. . .

Arturo's hand was at the back of her neck. "You must sit up, piccola. You cannot let him see you like this."

"I think he's a little busy to notice." But she took a deep breath and forced herself up, excruciatingly careful not to look toward the center of the room again.

"Watch the others, not Cristoff."

But the others . . . good grief. Sex and blood . . . everywhere. "How often does this happen?"

"Everyone together? At least once a month. But the torturing, the feeding, the sex, happens daily. It's how we feed, how we survive."

"That doesn't make it okay," she gasped. What if Zack and Lily . . .

She couldn't even go there. The thought of them suffering such torture had the blood draining from her head all over again, but she managed to stay upright this time.

"Quinn," the vampire at her side said warningly.

"I'm handling it." Breathing deeply through her mouth, trying to block out the thickening scent of blood and sex, she unfocused her eyes in the general direction of the nearest copulating couple. "I thought you only sensed my fear."

"I only feed on fear. But for some reason I keep getting blasts of your emotions, no matter what they are." He fished in his pocket for something and brought forth a half a roll of SweetTarts, offering her one.

Taking it gratefully, she popped the tart candy into her mouth. "How can you be loyal to such a monster?"

"He is my master. He cannot help what he is any more than I can help what I am."

She watched Arturo, his darkly handsome face by far the easiest thing to look at in the room. "There has to be another way for him to feed."

Arturo shrugged. "This is the way he prefers."

"Because he's a psychopath. And a sadist."

"Because he is a vampire who long ago disposed of his conscience."

"And you gave me to him."

His mouth tightened. "I had no choice. We have been searching for a sorcerer to save this city since the magic began to fail. You are the first we've found. Sorcerers are all but extinct."

She turned away, then quickly back again as she remembered why she'd been studiously pinning him with her gaze. "Am I going to survive this? The saving of V.C.? Tell me the truth, Vampire. You owe me the truth."

This time he was the one who looked away, his lips turning in, working, before he slowly met her gaze. "Your death is not needed to renew the magic, no."

"But . . . ? You left a huge but dangling at the end of that sentence."

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, as if deciding against the denial that threatened to roll off his tongue.

"One day at a time, cara. One day at a time."

His words were no comfort at all.

Chapter Nine

The screams of the woman had finally faded away to be replaced by . . . music? Quinn turned in surprise to find a balcony high above her, where a dozen Slava musicians struck up a lively and incongruous rock beat with piano, guitars, drums, and various brass instruments.

One by one, the vampires around the room rose, leaving their depleted human meals lying limp and pale on the brightly colored cushions, and filed down the stairs to the wide swath of floor that surrounded the vat where the tortured woman remained, presumably healing.

As the music rose, the vampires began to dance in a wild revelry, some jumping, hands in the air, others clinging to one another, kissing, fondling, more sex than dance. A vampire rave.

Quinn shook her head, trying to take it all in. "They never get tired, do they?"

"After a full meal, a human often feels lethargic." Arturo shrugged. "Not so a vampire. The blood energizes. Never do we feel more alive." He glanced at her, a hint of devilment in his eyes. "Would you care to dance?"

She looked at him askance. "You're kidding, right?"

"I tease you. Your dinner is being brought in. Once you've eaten, we can leave. Unless Cristoff demands you stay."

She shuddered. If she ever had to go near that monster again, it would be too soon. "Are you usually down there dancing with them? When you're not guarding prisoners."

"No. Not all enjoy the banquets. I avoid them whenever I can."

"So you're not as depraved as you like to let on."

"Have I shown you depravity, cara?"

"No. But you're always quick to defend it. 'We are what we are' and all that."

He shrugged. "It is best if you understand the nature of the beast. We are not human, cara. Our needs and our morality are very, very different from your own."

As he'd demonstrated with his betrayal. And yet . . . there was morality in this man though it might sometimes be buried deep.

"Here comes your dinner."

She followed his gaze to where a man climbed the stairs carrying a tray, dodging the gyrating vampires as he made his way up the rows toward them, striding as if he owned the place. He was dressed in what might have been considered nineteenth-century landowner casual - an ivory linen shirt, dark brown pants, boots - an anomaly in that room at the moment. His dark blond hair had the phosphorescent sheen of a Slava, but there was nothing cowed or subservient about the way he moved. With a close-cut beard skimming a strong jaw and bright blue eyes, he was strikingly good-looking.