A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(58)

Clearly, the pleasure-feeder enjoyed his own pleasure.

“Come in, come in,” Fabian said. “Join me, Arturo Mazza.”

Arturo stepped forward without giving Quinn any signal or apparent thought, but they’d discussed this on the ride, how she must act. Arturo had warned her to always follow him, to stand behind him when he sat, to remain silent, and to keep her eyes downcast at all times. Apparently, looking a vampire in the eye was a good way to catch his attention. Something few Slavas did willingly. And while she supposedly belonged to Arturo, the last thing they wanted was for Arturo to have to wage a battle over her.

Quinn followed Arturo up the steps. When he took a seat on the yellow chaise at Fabian’s right, she moved to stand behind him, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes downcast.

“Your drink of choice?” Fabian asked Arturo. “I have a fine whiskey. An excellent Macallan.”

“A man after my own heart,” Arturo said warmly, his voice and attitude embracing his diplomatic role. “You have always had the best whiskey, Fabian.”

Two Slavas darted from Fabian’s side, one pouring a splash of whiskey into a tumbler while a voluptuous blonde with br**sts spilling out of her gown made a beeline directly for Arturo. She knelt on the chaise beside him and began to run her fingers through his hair, and over his face and neck, as the other handed him the tumbler.

Quinn clenched her teeth with annoyance.

Fabian’s eyelids lowered to half-staff, a small smile lifting his mouth, then dying as his eyes opened with disappointment. “No pleasure, Mazza? And why is this? Have you taken a liking to men?” He lifted his hand as if to call one.

“No, Fabian. I simply have more pressing concerns.”

“Nonsense. I’ve felt your pleasure before, my friend, and fed well from it. I would do so again.”

Quinn felt the vamp master’s curious gaze turn on her.

“Your Slava is quite attractive, Mazza. Perhaps it is her touch you enjoy?” When Arturo said nothing, Fabian pressed. “What is your name, lovely?”

“She is Jillian,” Arturo answered for her.

“Touch him, Jillian. I would know if it’s your touch he seeks these days.”

Keep your touch light, cara, Arturo’s voice whispered in her head. As impersonal as possible. And think of unpleasant things. Your fear would be welcome, now, if you can keep it from triggering your magic. Your fear sours my stomach.

Quinn swallowed hard, remembering Micah’s warning. The passion that rose between her and Arturo was strong and heady. One Fabian should not experience. That shouldn’t be too much of a problem. She doubted she could forget her surroundings or her audience long enough to feel true desire here, no matter who she touched.

Sliding her hands across Arturo’s shoulders, the black silk of his shirt molded to his muscular form. He felt good, smelled good. But while she enjoyed the feel of him, nothing crazy stirred inside of her. Not with everyone watching. She could do this.

“Come now!” Fabian chastised. “Remove your shirt, Mazza. What is this false modesty? Do you intentionally try me?”

“Of course not, Fabian,” Arturo said smoothly, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, revealing his beautiful male back and a fine set of shoulders dusted in Mediterranean sunshine.

Quinn slid her hands over that cool, gorgeous skin, struggling to cling to her indifference, but as Arturo settled back, as her cheek brushed against the soft springiness of his hair, as his intoxicating scent filled her lungs, her blood began to heat. He affected her too strongly and always had, and it was clear her body didn’t care that they had an audience.

“That’s better. Still . . .” Fabian waved his hand at his Slavas. “Fetch the elixir! They will both drink.”

Arturo’s shoulders stiffened. Quinn stilled as she watched two of Fabian’s Slavas rise and snatch a pitcher of bright green liquid and two glasses from a table against the wall.

“Elixir?” Quinn whispered.

It will not harm you, cara. And we have no choice.

“Now, tell me this news of the sorceress, Mazza. Word reaches us that one was found, then lost. Some claim that she has no power. Others say she is powerful indeed.”

“The rumors are true, Fabian. She is powerful, able to hide her magic. And she is missing. I know her smell and would search your stronghold to find her. That is why I have come.”

The Slavas stopped in front of Arturo, one woman pouring the green liquid into the glasses the other held. Then both were offered to Arturo.

“You think I have her?” The vampire master’s voice rose with indignation and something stronger. A trace of alarm. “If that witch darkened my doors, I would send for Cristoff immediately. You know that.”

“Of course, my friend,” Arturo said, his voice soothing. “Cristoff knows well that you take no sides. But it is possible the sorceress has breached your walls without your knowing.”

The vampire master scoffed. “Impossible.”

Arturo handed Quinn one of the glasses of green liquid. “Drink,” he said. Then tipped back his head and downed his own.

Quinn took the glass, eyeing the strange liquid warily. An elixir, the vampire called it. And what in the hell did that mean?

“If the sorceress were here, I would know,” Fabian argued.

Quinn hesitated a moment longer before downing the glassful without taking a breath. A lemon-lime sweetness lingered on her tongue as she handed the glass back to Arturo, wondering just what she’d swallowed. And how badly they’d just been drugged.