Butch stepped back. Not too far, close enough the pallor of Laurent's face stayed a few shades too light. But Selene's former overlord proved, shaken or not, he hadn't abandoned his own interests.
"Selene was a valuable asset, financially speaking. I assume the Region Masters have ruled on compensation for my loss?"
"They have." Butch gave a short nod. "Twenty-five percent of her profits for the next five years."
It was less than she'd feared. Quinn saw her shoulders ease down even as Laurent's tightened up. He frowned. "Then I wish you good use of her until she turns on you."
As Claudio moved toward the cabin, Laurent turned to follow him, but he paused, finding Selene through the cluster of men protecting her. Lifting her chin, she stepped forward, touching the two in front of her so they stepped aside, though they looked toward Butch, waiting for his nod.
After that brief pause they shifted, and Selene took up a stance in front of them, nothing between her and Laurent but space.
It put her in front of Quinn as well. He might have felt strange about it, but he understood the message she was sending. Laurent had tied her up, beaten her, but she'd won in the end, because she had what he didn't. The type of character that commanded respect from others.
Maybe that wasn't obvious to a lowlife like Laurent, but it was to Quinn, and he saw it reflected in Butch's face as he glanced her way. The overlord confirmed it, shifting his sharp gaze and sharper tone onto Laurent again.
"She turned on you because you weren't the type of overlord who deserved her respect." Butch gave the other male vampire an even look. "I believe in protecting my people more than exploiting them. If they need an ass kicking, I'll give it to them, but to underscore a point, no more, no less. Difference between a parent and a sociopath."
"A parent can be overindulgent. And humans are not our children. They're our slaves. It's something turned vampires never learn." Laurent tilted his head, tossing a look full of sadistic promise toward Dix, standing at Butch's shoulder. "If ever a Gathering provides the opportunity, my lord, I will fuck your servant in front of you to prove the point."
Butch bared his teeth in a feral grin that held no humor, only death. "You're assuming my respect for our rules is why you're alive. You ever come after me or mine again, you're ever in my territory again, you'll disappear, Laurent. One of those vampires that just drifted away, lost to the sun. Count on it. Now get your things." Butch returned to a tone of cool courtesy, the abrupt transition as chilling as the threat. "I'll give you an escort to the airport."
Laurent managed another contemptuous sneer, one more malevolent look toward Selene, but then he turned toward Mike and Ernesto. "Let's get out of this godforsaken part of the world and back to civilization," he snapped.
As they disappeared in the cabin and the men relaxed marginally, Quinn realized it was over. That they'd won, sort of. An elation came with that, a shot of adrenaline, but behind that was the downside. Everything that had happened, what Laurent had done to her, what could have happened...what had happened, all of that was waiting to be faced. On top of that, he hurt, everywhere.
Then there was the fact an overlord had just fought to the death on their behalf. That was a big thought on his Mistress' mind as well, for she squeezed his hand, squared her shoulders. As she moved toward Butch, Quinn followed. No matter that his body screamed all the way to the bone from every twitch he made, he wasn't going to be farther than a cloth yard from her as long as Laurent was in the vicinity. Even if the only thing he was capable of doing was being a whipping boy in her stead. The thought made him wince, but he pushed it away with all those other horrible thoughts waiting to grip him in some post-traumatic bullshit that he was sure was going to drown him and turn him into a weeping baby if he gave in to it.
Butch was leaning against the SUV again, taking a healthy shot straight from a bottle of Jack Daniel's that Dix had produced for him. Giving it to Dix, indicating he should pass it around, Butch looked toward Selene. "Thank God vampires can drink," he said.
Selene stared up at the tall man without responding. When Butch straightened from the grill and faced her, she sank to her knees, startling Quinn. "My lord, there is no way for me to repay you," she said with quiet formality. "Everything you ever ask of me, from this day forward...my blood, my life and my loyalty are yours. I will sign it as an unbreakable oath and give it into your keeping."
Dix had moved to Quinn's side, drawn him back a pace or two, giving the two vampires a circle of space. "That's an oath Laurent would have given his left nut to get from her lips," Dix muttered. "When a vampire comes into their territory, they offer tribute to the overlord as a matter of course, but when they speak those words, it means a hell of a lot more. It means she'll give him anything he demands without complaint or hesitation. Body, blood, life. Every cent she earns. Because of that oath, if he even wants to take her life, he can do so with no penalty from any Region Master."
"What? But--" When Quinn started forward, Dix held him with one hand and a head shake.
"It's important to let them finish."
Butch reached down then, took her hands. Bringing Selene to her feet, he tipped her chin up in his big hand so she met his eyes. "What I demand, youngling, is that you stay in Nightfall and run that bar you love to the best of your ability. You pay your twenty-five percent to that viper for the next five years, then twenty-five percent to me for the five years after that. Then we'll do the standard ten percent." His lip had split and bled during the fight and, perhaps because he'd not yet partaken from his own servant's blood, it still looked raw, but it only added to the rugged appeal of his handsome face when he smiled. "And I expect you and your servant to join us for the weekend at least once a quarter so we can see how he's coming along in your service. Watch him evolve."
Christ. Quinn heard Dix's chuckle, got an elbow in his sore ribs. "I sense more wrestling matches in our future," the ranch manager said.
"Bite me."
"You sure about that? Given where my mouth ended up last time we had dinner?"
Jesus. He wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to this.
Butch sobered, touching her face. "You should have informed me what Laurent might do to you. You're brave as hell, and I appreciate that quality, in man or woman. But going forward, I expect you to learn the lesson you're trying to teach your servant. You belong to me and my territory, and I take care of my own."
"I didn't wish to presume." Selene had the grace to flush. "I wasn't yet an accepted member of your territory and I didn't want to take advantage."
"Hmm. Because this worked out so much better, your servant flying off the handle and trying to get himself killed."
Quinn did step forward then, despite the warning note Dix made. "She had no control over that."
Butch's gaze shifted to him. An instant later, he was in front of Quinn, those dark, glittering eyes pinning him with the full force of a three-hundred-year-old vampire. Anything affable in the expression he'd given Selene was entirely absent now. In fact, it was only a notch or two less intimidating than what he'd thrown toward Laurent. "If you learn nothing else today, Quinn, learn this one thing. Your obedience to her will, especially in dealing with vampires, is not about swallowing your pride or being less of a man. It's about serving her. Learn what serving her means, or you're no good to her at all. Do you understand?"
The force of the words alone might have knocked him back on his ass if Dix hadn't shifted, formed a bulwark behind Quinn. Probably to make sure he stayed upright for his Master, but Quinn still appreciated the salve to his dignity. Butch didn't move, holding Quinn in that unbreakable gaze as he waited for what damn sure better be the right response. Quinn didn't back down from any man, but he realized that wasn't what Butch was demanding now. He was demanding what he'd earned from Quinn. Respect.
"Yes sir."
Butch gave him a curt nod. Pivoting on his heel, he strode back to his vehicle. "Jim, you and Moe take Quinn, Selene and the other back
home. We'll provide the escort to Laurent and then head for home. I intend to be in my own bed by dawn."
When Dix reached him, Butch caught his servant in a headlock, one far more affable than what Laurent had experienced. He bumped against the male's body before Dix shoved him away with an annoyed look. But Quinn noticed the servant beat him to the door, opened it for him.
Butch gave him a sardonic look, as if it wasn't something his servant usually did for him or that he demanded, but whatever he saw in Dix's eyes made his mouth ease fractionally. "Asshole," he said affectionately.
"Pigheaded mule," Dix responded. With a snort, Butch climbed in and Dix closed the door. As he turned to circle the front of the car, the servant nodded deferentially to Selene, then met Quinn's gaze. Pausing, Dix offered his hand and Quinn clasped it, a gentlemen's accord.
"Remember, one day at a time, Quinn. Thank God for every one of them you get with her. Don't ask for more. Nobody likes a greedy bastard."
Chapter Seventeen
Those words stuck with Quinn. He didn't think about who Butch meant by "the other", until he climbed into the backseat of the large SUV after giving Selene a hand up into the vehicle. She'd paused as if she'd help him, but he wasn't having any of that. Her narrow look said she didn't have much patience for indulging his need to prove his manhood, but since she allowed it this time, that was fine. He was sure he'd collapse soon so she could tsk all she wanted about misguided testosterone over his unconscious body.
Don't think I won't, cowboy.
Though it was an effort to pull himself up after her, the sound of her voice in his head was almost as much help in getting there as the blood she'd given him. Instead of feeling like he'd been run over by a truck multiple times, now he just felt like he'd been dragged behind one for about fifty miles. His skin was still in pretty gruesome shape, but he was thinking a shower that took away the crust of blood and sand would help that, as well as the throbbing all-over ache the brutal experience had inflicted on him.
Being a third mark apparently didn't give him healing powers as rapid as Selene's, but he could already tell the stripes Laurent had placed on him were knitting, which explained why each move felt as if he was ripping them anew, even if he wasn't.
When he fell into the seat, feeling the weight of exhaustion and stress pulling down on him, as well as a hundred things he didn't want to relive in his mind, he discovered a welcome distraction.
Sam.
The SUV was a custom setup, with seats facing one another like a limo, so the shaman was across from him, dressed in his usual faded jeans and a T-shirt with a Starbuck's logo. The guy always had possessed a wicked sense of irony. "Sam."
That one word, and it meant everything.
When Sam met his gaze, Quinn saw a weariness in his face that matched his own. It flooded back to him then--the feeling of being pulled away from the mind-shattering pain, Laurent's hesitation, his puzzled look as he reached out, as if to touch some invisible force around Quinn. The way Quinn had stopped feeling the whip at a certain point, thinking that maybe he'd just gotten so lost in the pain haze that it all felt the same. He remembered Selene, the night she'd third marked him, talking about how he'd already been marked by someone else for his own protection...
How had Sam known? But there was probably no straight answer to that question, any more than there had been to the ones he'd asked in his youth. He just pushed them out of his mind and embraced the tranquility the man infused him with.
"Sam. God." He clasped the man's hand with both his own and Sam's face creased into a tired smile. "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"
"I had a sense you needed me. I was a little late. Sometimes I think the spirits are in the wrong time zone when they give me visions. Perhaps they're on Eastern Standard Time." The shaman frowned, as if he actually intended to take up that grievance with the spirit world. "But fortunately, your lady was just waking when I got to the bar. Your friends intercepted us along the way." He nodded out the window toward Butch and Dix, who were sitting in the other SUV with the windows down, waiting on Laurent and company to be loaded up.
Quinn looked at Selene, who nodded. "He said he could help."
"He did. Christ, he did. I...I was about to lose my mind."
"It was awful." Selene shook her head, the falter in her voice saying that didn't even cover it. Quinn had to agree with that, but all he cared about was her touch as she closed her hands around his arm, a link of love and comradeship. "The pain you were feeling..."
Oh God, he hadn't even thought about it. She would have felt all of it because of their link. Unless she'd blocked it, and he knew she wouldn't have. She'd experienced his every thought, every feeling. Letting go of Sam, he covered her hands with one of his.
"It wasn't the pain that broke me, Mistress. It was knowing I'd betrayed you."
Her head snapped up as if he'd struck her. "What?"
"I didn't trust you, like you said I should." Quinn forced out the words, swallowing a boatload of pride. "I was going to be the typical guy, running off to avenge your honor. Dix tried to tell me, to help me to understand. But I failed you in every way. If it wasn't for Butch and Dix, Sam--hell, your own courage and smarts--you would have ended up back under the thumb of that bastard, thanks to me. The exact opposite of what I intended."
"Oh Quinn." Reaching up, she cupped his jaw. "Yes, you fucked up. But so did I. We're still learning how all this works, you and me. In our world, our world," she emphasized, making it clear she considered him part of it too, "things like this happen. It's awful, and terrible, but we learn. You saw it, between Butch and Laurent. Laurent would have killed him if he could, but when Butch won, it was over. Laurent was angry, but he accepted the verdict. The Region Masters have made their decision. I won't ever risk going into Laurent's territory again," she made a face at that, "but he won't be coming after me outside it."
"There goes my lifelong dream to see the Rockettes."
Selene slanted him a glance. Though her eyes softened marginally at his weak attempt at humor, when she spoke, her voice was firm. "The matter is over."
He looked toward Sam. "Just like that."
"You will grieve for what you have lost," the old man said quietly. "Whenever a soul is brutalized, cleansing and healing must happen. But you are strong, Quinn. You learn from the past and the present, but you do not let it dictate your future. You let it guide you, inspire you and instruct you only. You know where to go to find the quiet you need."
Quinn met his gaze. "Yeah. I do. But what about you?"
The man's face creased in a smile. "When we get to the ranch, I will tell Annette to put me up in a guestroom for a couple days and feed me. That you said it must be so."
Quinn snorted, though the chuckle hurt his ribs. "As much as I'd like to be a fly on the wall to see that conversation," his attention turned to Selene, "you're right. There's somewhere else I need to go. Will you come with me, Mistress?"
When he offered her the image in his head, it wasn't a place she'd seen before, but her response was immediate.
"Yes, Quinn."
A gaping hole was in his heart right now, but the gift of her trust spread out over it like a healing balm. He tightened his hand on hers.
"Good."
*
A hundred years ago, one of the earliest owners of the Last Chance Ranch had built the first structure on it, a little two-room cabin located on the western edge of the property, near a pretty watering hole. It had never been torn down, occasionally used as a line shack for the cowboys working the land. But when Quinn bought the ranch and discovered it, he'd had it restored and upgraded so that he could stay there sometimes. Sam had pointed out it could be his private place to go when he needed a place away from everything. It just so happened to rest on that magical fault line. Maybe that was why it always felt so peaceful there.
Even better for Quinn's current purposes, the cabin had a cool cellar beneath it that he was sure had once been used to s
tore perishable foods or allow working cowboys a place of respite from the summer heat. With the latter idea guiding him, he'd had the cellar turned into an additional living space. The walls were finished and sealed, but the area always smelled pleasantly of cool earth.
He'd put a cot and a reading chair down there, while the upper floor had a more cozy bed and a functioning kitchen with some basic supplies. A generator supplied electricity that fueled the small bathroom and shower.
They'd dropped Sam off at the main house as planned. That was when Quinn realized he didn't have the energy to get out of the vehicle. It was more than the physical toll. He didn't want to see anyone else right now. But he needed to get some basic supplies to ensure his Mistress' comfort at the cabin.
About the time he was about to kick himself in the ass to get it out of the car, Selene placed a quelling hand on his thigh, a nonverbal gesture to stay. As if his Mistress read his mind--and he guessed she'd had--she opened her car door. Before he could protest, she was gone. Jim and Moe fiddled with the radio, talking quietly. Obviously used to displays of vampire speed, they accepted her flash disappearance without comment. Less than a couple minutes later she was back, Quinn's overnight bag from his closet on the floorboards between them.
"Annette will have one of the hands drive a vehicle down to leave for you when you're ready to return. Sam is going to handle filling her in on the things she needs to know."
It was new, her caring for him. Well, maybe not. In a way, she'd been caring for him from the first, helping him with needs he hadn't known how to express. Right now, though, a numbness was settling on him, preferable to feeling or awareness, because whenever he reached for awareness, he saw too many bad things. Selene beaten beyond what anyone should endure... Laurent reaching for Quinn's cock, his breath on Quinn's jaw. Quinn's inability to prevent his own orgasm. Laurent's erection pressed firmly against Quinn's bare thigh, the vampire almost humping his leg while he came.
He shuddered. "Stop the car."
He barely made it out, retching out everything he expected he'd eaten for days. The violence of his convulsions, the agony they shot through him, drove him to his knees. When he surfaced, Selene was there, her hand on his head, stroking his hair. He felt her pain for him, for all of it. When he was all done, his head was down and he was trembling. He was better than this, stronger than this. He needed to get up. He should be able to do it, with the blood she'd given him.