A Blood Seduction (Vamp City #1)(85)

Her brother moved suddenly, and she jerked back as he rolled over. He blinked sleepily. "Quinn." The word croaked in his sleep-roughened voice. Then, unaccountably, he rolled back over, giving her his back.

She sat on the bed beside him, struggling against the tears that refused to cease, her mind stunned, her heart soaring. Zack was alive!

He wore faded, worn black pants of some kind and nothing else, his torso and feet bare, lash marks crisscrossing his back every which way, making her ache. She reached for him, her fingers in his mop of red hair.

"Go away, Quinn," he muttered with an edge of temper that was so unlike her brother. His rejection stung, but it barely penetrated her euphoric relief.

Arturo's hand landed lightly on her shoulder. "Come, cara. Let him sleep."

The last thing she wanted to do was leave Zack when she'd just found him again. When she'd thought he was dead. But he clearly wanted to be alone, and she'd give him anything. Anything. Even that.

She turned away, and Arturo curled his arm around her shoulder as he walked her out the door, closing it behind them. She opened her mouth to speak, but he put a finger to his lips and led her into the room across the hall, closing the door behind him.

This room was decorated similarly to the one she'd been staying in, though it was slightly larger, the plain wood bed mahogany instead of maple, the floral bedspread and canopy a navy blue instead of beige.

"He's been through a lot, piccola," he said, turning to her. "Do not take it personally."

She nodded, her emotions a wild tangle. She didn't know how to feel.

"Your brother is ashamed," Arturo said quietly.

Her gaze jerked to his. "Of what?"

"Of not being able to rescue the women he cares about."

"But that's ridiculous. He's just a kid!"

"He is not a kid, cara. He is a man. And he would have died as one in the arena had I not intervened."

"You took him from the gladiator camp?"

Arturo nodded. "I did. I'm not always the monster you believe me to be."

Quinn pulled away. "I'm not so sure about that. You also do nothing without a reason, Vampire. Why did you free him after you told me so many times to forget about him?"

He curved his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him, hip to hip. "Perhaps I wanted your gratitude."

"Please. If you wanted my gratitude, why did you make me think he was dead? Why did you ask me about him and let me sob with grief over him, never telling me you'd saved him?"

He looked away, which wasn't like him.

"What aren't you telling me, Vampire?"

With a sigh, he turned back to her. "Nothing, cara. I saved him on a whim after watching Cristoff hit you. I felt . . . guilty. But I had not yet considered betraying my master. I thought only of saving your brother, not what I was going to do with him after I did."

"And what are you going to do with him?"

He shrugged. "Horace could use some help, perhaps." He nudged her back against the door and nuzzled her neck. "Are you grateful?"

Her hands went reflexively to his shoulders to hold him away, though, of course, she couldn't budge him. "You know I am."

Lifting his head, he peered into her eyes, his own smoky hot. "Show me."

Quinn met that smoky gaze, her emotions slowly untangling. She would never fully trust this man, but, dear God, he'd given her back her brother. At risk to himself. If that didn't balance the scales with his betrayals, it came damned close. Closing her eyes, she released her frustration, letting her immense joy and gratitude wash over her all over again. Then sharing it with him as she cupped his face and kissed him without reservation, holding nothing back. With a deep moan of satisfaction, he pulled her tight against him, slanting his head to kiss her back, deeply, thoroughly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, his lips drinking of her own. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed and laid her down gently. One by one, he removed her boots and dropped them to the floor, then he pulled off his shirt.

He was beautiful, his shoulders broad, his chest well muscled, his abs hard and lean. He made quick work of her clothes, leaving only her panties. Long fingers circled her thighs, caressing, teasing. "You're mine tonight." The faintest question laced his words. He wanted her acquiescence.

And she gave it to him. "Yes."

The smile that lit his eyes was hot and dangerous and very, very male. He crawled between her legs, leaning over her to claim one breast in his mouth as his hands pulled her panties down off her hips, and his hand slid between her legs.

She came up off the bed at the marvelous feel of those cool fingers sliding against her most private flesh, stroking, entering, claiming. Lifting his head, he kissed the skin between her br**sts, then took her other breast in his mouth, twirling the first nipple between his finger and thumb, weakening her body, making her hot and damp and needy.

Rising, he pulled off her panties completely, then spread her thighs and dipped his head, licking, sucking, stabbing inside her with his tongue as her fingers dove into his hair, silently begging him not to stop. When she was whimpering, rocking, crazed with need, he climbed off the bed and shucked off his pants to reveal strong legs, lean hips, and a long, thick, gorgeous penis.

When she glanced up at his face, she found him watching her with fangs elongated, his pupils stark white. She swallowed. He didn't move, just stood there watching her, waiting for her to accept him or to push him away.