A Blood Seduction (Vamp City #1)(77)

Cautiously, she slipped inside, the old wood creaking beneath her feet. What little light the day provided barely penetrated the house, but she didn't dare turn on her flashlight with the vampires right across the street. And she could see well enough without it, well enough to make out the stairs to her right. From an upstairs window, she might have the best view. The treads appeared to be intact. Hopefully, they'd hold her weight.

She tried the first step, slowly. While it creaked, it held, and she moved up the stairs, keeping to the better-braced ends rather than the middle. The fourth step cracked, and she quickly moved on to the next, but the rest held. At the top of the stairs, she moved just as cautiously down the hall to the front bedroom, where the smell of mildew was rampant, the furniture crumbling and ghostly-looking in the dim light of day.

One of the windows was still intact but too thick with dirt to see through easily, so she moved to the broken one, where she discovered a clear view across the street. And into the surprisingly wide gates.

The interior of the camp was well lit, firelight and shadows dancing on the far walls. She could just glimpse one of the torches hanging in an iron holder.

Movement caught her eye through the bars, a line of bare-chested young men, marching as if in formation. A shout, and they dropped to do push-ups, sweat and blood gleaming on their backs. And that's when she saw him. Zack. She'd know that mop of curly red hair and that long, skinny back anywhere. That back, now crisscrossed with welts and straining with exertion.

Oh, Zack.

As she watched, a thick-armed brute strode up the line, cracking a whip seemingly at random, knocking one recruit onto his chest, then another. Several more withstood the flick of the whip, continuing with the push-ups as if nothing had happened. The whip scored Zack's flesh, and Quinn gasped. But though Zack's form wavered, he didn't crumble. Her own skin crawled with misery at what he suffered even as she cheered on his determination.

There were no women in the group even though a woman had been chosen to represent Cristoff's kovena. Then again, why bother training the ones who were only there to be slaughtered?

Another shout, and the line of men jumped to their feet. Zack rose a beat late, for which he earned another lash. Then they were marching off again, out of her sight.

She had to get him out of there. Getting in herself should be easy. It was getting back out again that was going to be the problem. But that was a worry for later. Right now, right this moment, all she cared about was reaching Zack.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, she retraced her path down the stairs, careful to avoid that missing step. But as she reached the back door, a shadow appeared in the doorway.

Her pulse leaped as a second joined it. And a third. All three male. All three with the faintly glowing orange eyes of Traders.

Her heart plummeted. She refused to return to that slave auction. No way in hell. Not when she was so close to reaching Zack.

Quinn flicked open her switchblade and took a step back. If she could make it out the front door and across the street, would the vampires snatch her from these vermin? Or would they let them take her? She didn't know and couldn't risk their choosing the latter. She was going to have to fight off this lot herself.

The Traders weren't particularly big men - no taller than she was, but they moved into the house with a wiry grace that boded ill for her ability to fight off any of them, let alone all three. She'd expected to have to deal with men today, probably even rape. But at the hands of vampires within the gladiator encampment. Not here!

"What do you want?" She tried to keep them in her sights, but the way they were circling her, it was impossible.

"You." The first one eased closer. "An escaped human fetches a higher price than a fresh one. Though you look plenty fresh." He lunged for her.

Quinn struck with her knife, slashing a bloody line across his arm. "Oh, I'm fresh all right."

"Bitch!"

The second two attacked at the same time, and she whirled, kicking back at one as she swung at the other, but this time they were prepared, and she missed on both counts. They circled her, laughing, as she crouched, waiting for their next attack, desperately trying to keep them all in sight.

The first one lunged again, and she struck out, but the moment her arm was extended, the other two pounced on her from behind, knocking the knife out of her hand. Quinn slammed her elbow back, connecting with a nose, and heard a satisfying crack. That attacker fell back with a yell as a second lunged. She lashed out with another back kick, but a hand gripped her ankle, a foot swiped her other foot out from under her, and she slammed onto the floor, back first, her head splintering wood behind her. Pain exploded, her sight shorting out for one terrifying moment before returning in sunburst flashes of pain.

Rough hands groped her br**sts as another pair pulled off her boots and reached for the waist of her pants. Terror burst inside her, and she struggled to fight them off, but a third set of hands grabbed her wrists and pinned them high over her head.

Heat began to crawl beneath her skin, rushing from her hands down through her body, an unnatural heat that neither warmed nor burned, reminding her of what she'd felt in the Crux when Grant and Sheridan took her hands. Except there was no pain this time, just a hot itchy feel. Of power? Could she do something this time?

She flattened her palms and pointed them toward the Trader who gripped her arms, imagining him flying backward, away from her, willing it with all her might.