A Blood Seduction (Vamp City #1)(89)

Arturo's voice sounded in her head. Hold on, cara. Then take the horses and go.

What in the hell did he have in mind?

Suddenly, he was no longer behind her, no longer holding on to her, and she grabbed for the horse's neck, nearly slipping off his back before she managed to right herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something large and round go airborne in a spray of . . . blood. As the thing landed on the ground in front of her, she stared in horror at Ivan's head. Her eyes went wide as vampire warfare erupted around her, flashes of movement, cries of fury and pain, splashes of blood.

Her horse spooked and began to run, with her barely half-on. Oh, hell.

Struggling against the awkward skirt, she somehow managed to fling her leg astride the saddle, shoving her feet in the stirrups even as she clung to the horse's mane.

"Quinn! This way!" Zack was motioning her to follow.

A moment's thrill that Zack seemed to have snapped out of his depression gave way to frustration. She was all for following him, dammit, but how? Her shaking fingers closed around the leather reins, and she gathered them up and pulled to one side, trying to turn the animal. But the horse took the bit in its teeth and fought her.

"Fine! Go where you want to, just go!"

Zack made some kind of clicking noise with his tongue. She watched with surprise as her horse's ears perked up, then she gasped and grabbed the reins and mane as he lunged forward to follow her brother and his mount. Where in the hell had Zack learned that trick? Where'd he learn to ride, for that matter? Probably at one of those expensive summer camps Angela was always sending him to.

She caught up with Zack quickly, and, together, they raced in the direction they'd been traveling earlier, toward the fog and the Boundary Circle. Could she get herself and Zack through that barrier just as she had the sunbeams? There was only one way to find out.

Behind her, she heard the grunts and yells and occasional clang of steel that told her the battle continued to rage. Don't die, Vampire. He had his faults, a ton of them, but there was decency in him, and a gentleness that she never would have expected from such a dangerous creature.

As her horse flew over the soft earth, Quinn hung on for dear life, her heart pounding to the beat of the horse's hooves. Though the unpaved streets remained in this part of the city, whatever buildings had once existed were gone, replaced by thickets of dead trees. As they rode, the fog grew thicker, ghostly fingers probing around them, breaking through here and there to reveal the Potomac gleaming on the left, far closer than it should have been. At the corner where the river turned north would lie the Kennedy Center in her world. And the Boundary Circle in this. They had to reach that point of land before the vampires turned their attention to the escaped slaves. To the escaped sorceress.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, hands gripped her waist as if the fingers of mist had turned real. She cried out with surprise. The reins were ripped from her hands and her body hurled off the horse to land on something hard and narrow. A shoulder. Her forehead cracked against his backbone. "Ow."

She smelled vampire. Not Arturo, which meant she'd been caught by one of Ivan's guards! He must have flown at her on foot, no horse able to carry him as fast as he could move on his own.

Dizzily, she craned her head up to see that Zack, still mounted, was swinging around and heading back to her. What was he planning to do, try to save her? She shook her head at him. He needed to keep going, to run! But he continued toward her as if he meant to rescue her from a freaking vampire.

That tingling, useless heat began to flow up into her arms, and she pointed her palms toward her captor's butt, willing him to fall or go flying . . . preferably dropping her first. But, as before, nothing happened. Her power was useless!

If only she could reach her weapons, but they were in her pockets, beneath her dress, and her dress was firmly pinned to her thighs by her captor's arm. Maybe she could make him shift his hold enough for her to get to the stake in her pants pocket.

"Let me go!" she screamed, and began pounding his back and kicking her feet, accidentally . . . brilliantly . . . landing a direct hit to his crotch with the toe of her boot.

"Fuck!" the vamp cried out, jerking her legs around one of his hips so she couldn't kick him again, his movement grinding to a halt as he bent over in pain. Apparently, even vampires could be brought low by a swift kick to the family jewels.

Unfortunately, he didn't loosen his grip on her enough for her to lift her dress, but she spied the hilt of a knife at his hip. Vamps were too damn fast. Then again, this one was a bit preoccupied.

She went for it, amazed when she was able to snatch the blade from its sheath. With no time to hesitate, she whipped the knife out and down into the bastard's thigh. He yelled a vicious curse in some language she didn't understand and tossed her onto the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

Beneath her, she felt the vibration of pounding hooves. Through the swirling mist, she saw Zack racing toward her on horseback. She scrambled to her feet, but the vamp had already recovered and was stalking her, his fangs long, his eyes white with hunger and blazing with a fury that told her his hunger was for revenge.

Taunting heat crawled beneath her flesh.

She glanced toward Zack, who was bearing down on them, inadvertently drawing the vamp's attention to her brother. With the swish of metal, the vamp drew his sword. He'd kill Zack with one quick, careless swing!

"No!" The heat flamed inside of her, pulsing, pounding, as if trying to get out. A memory flashed, a dream of a door buckling beneath the weight of the light trying to escape, a light . . . power . . . she'd desperately sought to keep contained. Hidden. From Zack.