A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(41)

The blast happened suddenly, hitting him like an eighteen-wheeler. He went flying off his horse even as his mount stumbled and pranced, barely missing him. As his mount shied from the encroaching wolves, Arturo leaped to his feet and flew toward Quinn.

But so did the wolves.

Quinn lifted her gun and fired, but the sound spooked her already skittish horse, and it reared. Somehow, Quinn managed to hold on, but her control of the animal was negligible at best.

As Arturo started for her, a second power blast sent him tumbling back into the wolves. And this time when he rose, he was cut off. Twelve beasts stood between him and Quinn, half snarling at him, the other half circling her as if ready to pounce.

Quinn fired another shot. And another.

His head began to pound, his muscles tensing as he drew his sword and attacked the closest wolf. “She is the only one who can save Vamp City. Do not harm her!”

But the wolves reacted with only more relish, and his stomach twisted with the certainty that they’d heard . . . and likely believed . . . the old wives’ tale that consuming the flesh of a sorcerer would convey the power to the one who ate him. A wolf with a sorcerer’s power would have no reason to fear the demise of Vamp City. He would, presumably, walk away unscathed.

It was a foolish belief. And one that could get Quinn killed.

Hacking at the wolf in front of him, killing him, he pushed his way toward her, but two more leaped at him in wolf form. He fought them, too, crazed with fear that the beasts would begin to tear at Quinn’s flesh before he could reach her.

More shots rang out. He had no idea how full her magazine was when she started, but sooner or later, she would empty it.

Her emotions blasted him—fear, anger, determination. So far none of them included pain.

A second wolf’s blood spilled beneath his blade, and a third. But there were too many of them!

Once more, Quinn fired, but when her mount reared this time she lost her precarious hold.

Arturo went berserk as she fell, as he watched the wolves leap at her. He roared with fury, but as he attempted to fly to her, wolves tackled him from all sides, dragging him to the ground. As he fought them, one tore a chunk out of his leg, making him howl with pain and frustration. He swung his sword, finding flesh and fur before sharp teeth tore through the wrist of his sword hand. He moved to shift his sword to his left hand, but another huge furry body plowed into him, knocking him flat.

Before he could fight his way free, a chain slipped over his head, tightening around his neck.

Silver. The one thing that could render a vampire all but powerless. Mio dio. It didn’t burn him, didn’t physically hurt him. But already he could feel the strength flowing out of him and feel his senses dulling.

Quinn! he shouted telepathically. Fight them off. Find your power and save yourself. Run. You must run!

Instead, she fired another shot.

“We come in peace,” he said out loud, his voice low and hypnotic.

“Gag him,” a rough voice said nearby. “Silence his persuasion.”

A gag was forced into his mouth by a were now in human form, snagging on his fangs. Arturo tried to fight free, but with the silver around his neck, he was now powerless against the far greater strength of his captors. Several more of his attackers shifted into human form and began trussing him up like a lamb for slaughter.

Pain exploded in his head . . . Quinn’s pain . . . driving him mad in his need to reach her. A moment later, her emotion flickered out as she fell unconscious. He went feral, struggling against his bonds, to no avail.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arturo saw one of the now-human weres rise, flinging Quinn’s limp form over his shoulder. To his desperate eyes, she appeared whole. Unharmed.

His vampire heart began to beat again.

Several of the weres shifted human. “Let us eat her here!” one cried. “If we take her back, there won’t be enough to go around.”

“The alpha alone will decide her fate.” The one carrying her, the largest of the group, glanced at Arturo. “If you need a bite, take it from that one. Just don’t kill him. Yet.”

Arturo, too, was lifted and slung over a shoulder. His breath had returned with the evidence of Quinn’s survival, but his mind remained awash with disbelief. Never in six hundred years had he let himself be captured by werewolves.

But he’d been more concerned with Quinn’s safety than his own.

He still was.





Chapter Twelve

“There you are.”

At the sound of Jazlyn’s voice, Lily looked up from scrubbing the floor in one of the castle’s many bathrooms.

“Come on, girl. The vamps want all the freshies in the master’s hall right now. You don’t want to be the last human wandering around up here.”

No, she didn’t. Lily dropped the scrub brush in the bucket of soapy water and set the bucket under the sink, where no one would trip over it.

“Thanks, Jaz. What do they want?”

Jazlyn bit her lower lip. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good. Group gatherings aren’t ever a good thing.”

The two girls hurried downstairs, slipping into the gathering in the master’s hall along with half a dozen other stragglers.

The master’s hall looked much as the real Smithsonian Castle’s west wing did in the real world, with its high, vaulted ceiling and intricate woodwork. But the red sandstone walls were now brown with smoke, the once-lovely windows boarded over against errant sunbeams. Chaises covered in stained floral silks and worn brocades lined the walls upon which sat more than two dozen hungry vampires.