A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(59)



“The woman has magic, Fabian. I have seen it with my own eyes. It is not beyond reason that she is here, and we need to find her, do you not agree?”

As if on cue, the ground began to shake, the crystal tinkling and rattling, one hurricane glass falling and shattering on the tiled portion of the floor. The couple on one of the few occupied chaises cried out, the glass just missing them. Through one of the dark windows, light erupted, though a distance away. Sunbeams breaking through from the real world.

Arturo glanced back at Quinn, but she hadn’t been the cause of this one. Her eyes weren’t glowing.

“Very well,” Fabian conceded when the rattling had ceased. “You may explore my castle to your heart’s content. After tonight’s banquet.”

“Time grows short, my friend.” Arturo’s tone remained affable. “Perhaps . . .”

Fabian’s hand sliced through the air, a hard look crossing his face, one that reminded Quinn the male was probably a vampire master for a reason. One not to be crossed lightly. “You will remain until I say otherwise,” he snapped. His expression eased, and he was once more the gracious host. “I wish you to enjoy the pleasures my golden palace has to offer. And I wish to enjoy your own pleasure.” He made a quick move with his hand, motioning Quinn toward Arturo. “Come, come, Slava. Touch him, wrap yourself around him. Please us both.”

Feel nothing, feel nothing, she told herself as she stepped forward and slid her palms, once more, over Arturo’s strong shoulders. She forced her mind to another place, Cristoff’s castle the day Arturo handed her back to her master, and Cristoff knocked her to the floor. But the feel of cool flesh beneath her fingertips combined with Arturo’s warm, masculine fragrance sent pleasure rippling down into her body. Memories rose past her defenses, erotic memories of the last time she’d touched him like this, of the incredible heat, the blazing passion.

Cara. Even telepathic, his voice sounded breathless, as if he felt her body’s reaction and shared it. Her pulse began to increase, her own breath growing shallow.

“Can’t help it,” she whispered. A strange warmth began to flow through Quinn’s veins and down deep into her body, setting up a throbbing pulse between her legs.

The drink was a powerful aphrodisiac, cara. Fight it as much as you are able, as will I.

“You knew.”

I feared, yes.

“Much better,” Fabian said, a satisfied smile in his voice. “I wonder if I would rise to your Slava’s touch as you do, Mazza. She is quite beautiful.”

Arturo’s body went rigid.

Fabian made a tsking sound, his voice sharp. “You would deny me a taste of your Slava, my friend?”

Arturo stilled, his posture visibly calming, though Quinn felt no softening of the tension in his muscles. Or her own.

“You would not enjoy her touch,” her vampire said, his voice taking on the hypnotic quality of his persuasion. “She was broken early in her stay in Vamp City, and now accepts only me. The touch of another male, except for the most casual, often sickens her. Literally.”

Fabian nodded slowly, as if everything Arturo said were undeniably true. “That would indeed be unpleasant. I’ve no desire to touch her, then.” He shook his head as if trying to throw off the effects of the persuasion.

Fabian clapped his hands once. “Music! Come, my friends. Enjoy!”

People began to flow into the room from the various doors, most of them naked. Somewhere in the rafters above, a live band tuned up.

And still Quinn caressed Arturo’s shoulders, her fingers moving of their own accord, finding their way into his hair. Heat flushed her skin, desire shortened her breath—a desire she always felt when she was near Arturo, heightened by Fabian’s elixir.

In so many ways, they needed to get out of here. They had to find Vintry. But Arturo knew that as well as she did, and knew what risks he could and couldn’t take with Fabian. Pleasure-feeder or not, their host was quick-tempered and, she suspected, unpredictable. There was no telling what he would do.

Under the thrall of Fabian’s elixir, she had no idea what any of them would do.

Quinn was ready to crawl out of her skin.

Her br**sts ached, her ni**les were hard and sensitive, her blood pounded, her body pulsed with the need to feel Arturo’s hands on her in return, on her br**sts, her thighs, and stroking between her legs. The only time she’d ever felt anything like this fever of need had been when Arturo had made love to her after he’d saved Zack from the Games.

Her hands trembled as she stroked his bare chest, his shoulders, his neck and back. It took every ounce of control not to climb onto his lap and straddle him to try to find some small measure of release. And he was in no better shape. She could feel the tension in his shoulders and hear the harshness of his breath.

Of course, the entertainment Fabian provided did nothing to ease her growing carnal need. For more than an hour, the music had pounded with a deep, erotic beat, designed to whip the dancers on the mat into a hedonistic frenzy. And it had done just that. While some had danced, most had grabbed and groped the nearest flesh, fondling, caressing.

As Quinn had stared, they’d begun to merge into groups of two and three, cocks sliding into hands, into mouths, into bodies, both male and female. Half a dozen males had formed what looked like a conga line, each grasping the hips of the male in front of him, until Quinn realized the only movement any of them were making was hip thrusting.

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