“I killed a couple of men tonight.”
“But…if you had broken your promise, I would have known.”
“I didn’t kill them like that….by draining their blood. Hel, I would rather die than take a sip of Jagg’s blood.”
“Jagg,” she murmured. “You killed Jagg.”
Quinn nodded. “And one of his men.”
“Come in.” She closed the door behind him, then followed him into the living room. “I rarely say this about anyone, but I think that, after what Jagg did, he had it coming.”
“It didn’t bring my mother back.”
“Then you have learned an important lesson.”
“Yeah? What might that be?”
“Just what you said. Revenge doesn’t restore what you’ve lost. And rarely eases the pain.”
“You’re a wise and beautiful woman.” And she was beautiful, he thought as he stared at her in the flickering firelight. She wore a long white nightgown under a dark blue robe. White slippers peeked beneath the hem. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders.
She smiled, pleased by the compliment. “Would you care for a glass of wine?”
“Sure.” He followed her into the kitchen, stood with his back to the counter while she filled two goblets with dark-red liquid.
“What shall we drink to?” she asked, handing him one of the glasses.
His gaze met hers. “How about new beginnings, Red?”
#
Standing in the shadows, Serepta’s heart swelled with anger as she listened to the byplay between her mother and Quinn. When had the two of them become such intimate friends? And how dare they?
She called upon her power, but it was weak, so weak. She missed her magic, missed the spell that had allowed her to walk in the daylight, to eat mortal food. Vampires were supposed to love the taste of blood, but she loathed it. It was thick and warm and always the same. She wanted bread and meat and cake.
And Quinn’s head, on a platter.
Dissolving into mist, she drifted up to the kitchen window, her anger turning to rage when Quinn drew her mother into his arms. He would pay for his disloyalty, she vowed. In blood!
#
Quinn gazed into Seleena’s eyes. He had never known anyone with such beautiful eyes -- deep and gray and peaceful. Lowering his head, he whispered, “Are you going to tell me no again?” while he rained kisses along the side of her neck.
Seleena clung to him as he covered her mouth with his. Why was she fighting this? Why not surrender to the desire thrumming through her? Who would know? Who would care? “Quinn…”
He released her abruptly. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, he glanced around the room, then stared at the window.
“What is it?” Seleena asked, her gaze following his. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s out there.”
Chapter 11
Seleena stared at Quinn, her expression stricken. “She’s here? Now? Are you sure?”
“I can smell her.” The scent was faint but one he would never forget. It sparked memories best forgotten.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Seleena said, her voice trembling. “She can’t come in. I revoked her invitation after the last time I saw her.”
He nodded. And yet he couldn’t help wondering which of them would prevail in a fight. Serepta no longer had magic on her side. Physically, he was sure to be the more powerful of the two. But a vampire’s preternatural abilities grew stronger with age. Nardik had mentioned that Serepta had been a vampire for “several decades.” How many decades was that, exactly? Five? Ten? More?
“What are you thinking about?” Seleena asked.
“It’s said that vampires grow stronger as they age.”
“Yes. So?”
“So, she’s been a vampire longer than I have. But what if I inherited her strength when she turned me? What if we’re equally matched?”
“What if you’re not?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Seleena placed a staying hand on his arm. “You’re not thinking of going out to confront her, are you?”
“It’s tempting.”
“Are you out of your mind? That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Maybe,” Quinn allowed. “But how else are we ever going to defeat her?”
Seleena pulled a chair from the table and sat down. “I don’t know. I can’t help thinking there might still be a chance to save her.”
“I think that ship sailed long ago.”
Seleena slumped in the chair. “Is she still out there?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s she doing?”
“Watching us.”
She looked up, her gaze fixed on the window. “I don’t see her.”
“Do you see that faint, shadowy mist hovering near the top corner?”
Seleena nodded.
“That’s her.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of creepy, though. The first time I did it…Wait. She’s gone.”
“I don’t know whether to be sorry or relieved.”
“I don’t know how you can be sorry. She wants to kill you, remember? There’s not a doubt in my mind that she’d do it without a qualm.”
Rising, Seleena blinked away her tears. “I’m going back to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Quinn muttered an oath as he watched her go. Why the devil had he said anything? She was already hurting. All he’d done was make it worse.
Minutes passed.
And then he followed her.
#
Serepta floated away from the window, eased down to the ground, and resumed her mortal form. So, Quinn had murdered Jagg. That was an interesting piece of news. And she knew just what to do with it.
#
Seleena had barely settled into bed when there was a soft tap on her bedroom door.
“Seleena?”
Sitting up, she used the edge of the sheet to wipe the tears from her eyes before inviting him in. “Is something wrong?” She felt her heart skip a beat as he walked toward her, a tall, dark shape gliding silently across the floor.
From the foot of the bed, Freyja hissed at him.
Ignoring the cat, he sat on the edge of the mattress. “You tell me.”
“I’m fine. Just…” She wiped her eyes again. “You know.”
Nodding, he cradled her in his arms. “I’m here for you,” he said quietly.
She looked into his eyes, thinking she had never felt so safe. For the first time in her life, she had someone to turn to, someone she could trust. She closed her eyes as his hand lightly stroked her hair, let herself relax in his embrace.
The slow, steady sound of her breathing told Quinn she’d fallen asleep. Holding her close, knowing she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms, filled him with a surge of protectiveness he had never known before. She was a strong woman, a powerful witch, but still vulnerable to pain and heartache.
He had never worried about anyone else in his entire life. Never gave a damn about what people thought of him. He had lived his life with only one thought in mind -- survival. But now, for the first time, he cared more for someone else’s welfare than his own. And he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
He eased Seleena under the covers, removed his boots and shirt, and slid into bed beside her, his arm around her shoulders, the silk of her hair soft against his cheek.
Surprisingly, it turned out to be the best night’s sleep he had ever known.
#
Seleena woke slowly, her eyes widening when she realized she wasn’t alone in bed. Quinn lay to her right, sleeping soundly. Freyja lay on the other side, staring at her with disapproving yellow eyes.
Turning onto her side, Seleena studied Quinn. His expression was less harsh in repose. For a moment, she simply admired the sheer, masculine beauty of the man. The sheet was pooled at his waist, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. She was intrigued by the fact that the dragon on his s
houlder seemed to be asleep, as well.
After dislodging Freyja, Seleena eased out of bed, drew on her robe, stepped into her slippers, and went into the kitchen. While waiting for a pot of tea to steep, something compelled her to turn on the news channel, something she rarely did.
There were the usual reports of thefts in outlying areas, a photo of Queen Marri welcoming a dignitary from a nearby star system. Seleena spied Gryff and Nardik in the background.
She was about to shut down the receiver when the onscreen reporter mentioned a killing in Bosquetown. Seleena pressed a hand to her heart as the murdered man was identified as Jagg Corwinn, a local businessman. The killing had taken place in Corwinn’s tavern in front of two dozen witnesses, who had provided the culprit’s description to local law enforcement. Seleena gasped as a police sketch of the killer appeared onscreen. The resemblance to Quinn was unmistakable. A large reward was being offered for any information regarding his identity or whereabouts.
Behind her, a familiar male voice muttered, “Well, damn.”
Seleena glanced over her shoulder at his soft-spoken expletive. “At least they don’t know your name or where you live.”
“Yeah.” He dropped into the chair across from hers.
Her gaze slid away from his.
He didn’t have to read her mind to know she was embarrassed about letting him spend the night in her bed, even though nothing had happened between them. She had an old-fashioned sense of morality which he found faintly amusing and endearing at the same time.
“I was just about to fix breakfast,” she said, pushing away from the table. “Eggs and sausage. Would you like some?”
“Sure. Thanks.” Sitting back, he watched her move around the kitchen, gathering the things she needed. She didn’t drink coffee, and he couldn’t help smiling when she made a pot, knowing it was just for him.
His mother was the only other woman who had ever prepared a meal especially for him. Since his mother’s passing, he had eaten in taverns or café’s when he could afford it. When he’d been with Serepta, the maids had done the work.
Serepta. He would gladly give a year of his life to know where she holed up during the day.
Minutes later, Seleena put breakfast on the table. Still not meeting his eyes, she took her seat.
He stabbed a forkful of egg, then put it down. “You gonna look at me any time today, Red?”
“Quinn…”
“Hey, I get it. It makes you uncomfortable, having a man in your house. Having a vampire in your house. If you want me gone, just say the word.”
“No!” She looked up. “This is just all so new to me.”
“New?”
“I have never felt this way about anyone.”
“Never? What about Serepta’s father?”
“He taught me much of what I know. We shared a very brief relationship. It burned hot and quick and then it was over.”
“But you kept in touch.”
“How could we not?” she asked. “We had a child together.” She had been fond of Nardik. Untouched and curious. Flattered by his attention. But he had never touched her heart. Never made her feel the excitement, the anticipation, that Quinn stirred within her. Was it love? Or merely a stronger, deeper passion than what she had felt for Nardik? And how was she to know?
“So,” Quinn said, leaning across the table. “What now?”
“I guess that’s up to you. The village is my home, my life. It’s enough for me. Is it enough for you?”
Quinn leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. Was it enough for him? He had never had a home of his own. Never stayed in one place long enough to put down roots of any kind. Working for Jagg didn’t count. The year he had spent with Serepta was the longest he had lived in one place, but he hadn’t been there willingly.
“Quinn?”
“I don’t know, Red,” he admitted. “But I’m ready to try.”
#
Seleena thought about his words off and on the rest of the day, whether picking herbs to prepare a poultice for Nannie Bednar, or shopping for a roast for dinner. That night, sitting across from him at the table, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have Quinn stay with her indefinitely. To go to bed at night, knowing he was in the next room? How long before she surrendered to the desire in his eyes? To the yearning of her own heart?
How long would it take before he grew bored with her quiet life, before he grew restless and moved on? Did she want to enjoy his company for however long he stayed, knowing it would break her heart when he left?
“There are no guarantees in life,” she told the cat as she got ready for bed that night. “Better to snatch what happiness I can instead of worrying about what might never happen, don’t you think?”
Pleased with her decision, she crawled into bed and closed her eyes with Freyja’s disapproving hiss rumbling in her ears.
Chapter 12
The sound of breaking glass, grunts of pain, and Freyja’s urgent meows woke Seleena. Sitting up, she glanced around the room. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but her frantic cries grew louder.
Slipping out of bed, Seleena padded barefooted into the living room, only to come to an abrupt halt at the sight that met her eyes. Freyja, spitting and hissing, was trapped in a net. Bits of broken crockery littered the floor. Three Enforcers, all with long, bloody claw marks on his cheeks, were dragging three of their downed companions through the doorway. A half-dozen others, heavily armed, were in the act of restraining Quinn. His chest, neck, and hands were bound with thick silver restraints. She caught a quick glance of his bloodied face before they hustled him out the door.
“Here, now!” she exclaimed, hurrying after them. “What’s going on?”
One of the Enforcers turned to face her. “We received an anonymous report that a fugitive was staying here.”
“You had no right to barge into my house without my permission,” Seleena declared, arms akimbo. “Or a warrant, or something.”
The man reached into his pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper. “Got it right here,” he said, waving it in front of her face. “You’re lucky we don’t haul you in as an accomplice.”
For a brief moment, Seleena considered using her magic, but before she could conjure a spell that would effectively incapacitate almost a dozen men without the danger of doing any permanent harm, they were already out the door and speeding away.
She stared after them. There were times when having a conscience was a terrible inconvenience. Had she practiced Black Magic, she could simply have killed them all.
But that kind of violence was abhorrent.
As soon as they were gone, Seleena released Freyja. Meowing her thanks, the cat rubbed against her ankles.
“Not now,” Seleena said. “I need to get dressed and go after Quinn. I know, you think it’s dangerous. But I’ll be fine.”
In her room, she threw off her nightgown, pulled on a long black skirt and blouse, stepped into a pair of boots.
Going into Quinn’s room, she found one of his shirts, which she carried into the living room. After placing it in her cauldron, she lit a candle, picked up her wand, and invoked a location spell.
#
Quinn didn’t struggle as they hustled him into a LandSkiff, chained him to a bolt in the floor, and slammed the door behind him. The silver burned where it touched his skin. Worse, it weakened him, as he discovered when he tried to yank the bolt from the floor, something that should have been ridiculously easy. He tried dissolving into mist, but with no success.
Cursing softly, he sank down on his haunches, wondering where they were taking him. What would happen when they reached their destination. And why Seleena hadn’t worked a little magic and turned his captors into hop toads.
He leaned his head against the sidewall and closed his eyes. How had they found him? And how had they known he was a vampire and that silver would weaken him and render him incapable of dissolving into mist? “Serepta,” he muttered. Of course.
She had been prowling around Seleena’s place last night. No doubt she had overheard the news of Jagg’s death. Seen the sketch of his face.
He ground his teeth in anger.
Damn her black soul to Hel.
His only consolation was in knowing he had taken three of the Enforcers out of action before the others overpowered him.
He scrambled to his feet as the LandSkiff slowed to a stop. Hands clenched, he watched the door open. Three of the Enforcers waited outside. Big guys. Over six feet tall. Two-hundred-and-fifty pounds easy. One of them stepped inside. The other two covered him with their weapons.
Knowing that struggling would only get him shot, Quinn let himself be led outside, docile as a newborn colt.
He had never been inside the Bosquetown prison. It was a large, rectangular building made of solid gray stone. Armed guards patrolled the walls. His captors marched him into the precinct, demanded his personal information - name, date of birth, residence, employment.
The first two were easy. He had no residence. “And no employment at the moment,” he added with a wry grin.
The Enforcer taking his information snorted. “You should have thought of that before you killed your employer.”
“Who accused me of killing him?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
Serepta, again, Quinn thought. A short time later, he found himself inside a small, square cell, his hands and feet shackled with thick silver chains that blistered his flesh. Biting back a groan, he sank down on the stone floor, preferring it to the narrow, bug-infested cot against the wall.
Too bad he hadn’t killed Jagg in Brynn City, he thought ruefully. He had heard the jail there was something to see. Double beds with clean sheets. Hot and cold running water. Three good meals a day. Movies every night. Even a little female entertainment if you had the money to bribe the right people.
He looked up when one of the guards strolled by. “Hey!”
The man stopped, his expression surly. “What do you want?”
“How about some breakfast?”
The guard, whose name tag identified him as Ryann, snorted. “Sorry, we’re all out of blood.”
“How about some ham and eggs?”