Nightfall (34 page)

He brought his wrist close again, tilting her head back so
the blood now free flowing from his wrist would obey the laws of gravity and
just trickle into her mouth. Some of the tightness in his gut loosened when she
finally swallowed. Her lips molded around the wound, and he felt the play of
her tongue over his skin as she started to actively feed. A little moan escaped
her again, as if the first active taste was so critical it almost added to her
pain. He kept his big hand supporting her head, his fingers stroking the
strands of blood-stiffened hair from her face.

Those tiny bites that had taken her skin had to be made with
a whip. Something with multiple barbed tips. The face was clearly knife work.
Her dress was torn down the front, such that it was more of a loose wrap than
clothing, one sleeve off her shoulder, the front gaping open to show the curves
of her breasts, also stained with blood.

Had Laurent done worse to her? Anguish and rage flooded him
at the thought. This was the world she inhabited? Where a fucking overlord was
allowed to torture and rape her? His mind worked at a hundred ways they could
escape such a life, such a world, but she’d made it clear that wasn’t an
option. You learned how to survive it, enjoy the times that weren’t about this.
That’s what she’d said. But right now all he could think about was whether it
had taken all sixty-two of her years to reach that level of acceptance, because
he sure as hell wasn’t there with it.

She made a noise as if picking up on his agitation, and he
tamped it down again. He reminded himself of the lesson she’d taught him, over
and over. Focus on serving her, caring for her, and let everything else go. For
now. He wasn’t the type of man who could let it go unanswered forever. Right or
wrong, he knew that about himself.

As his gaze roved over her face, it stilled there. The cuts
still crusted with blood were less angry-looking than they’d been a few minutes
before.

I will heal completely, cowboy. It will simply take a day’s
deep sleep after I feed. We’re resilient that way.

But how did you heal the heart and soul when it was torn
apart by such brutality? Did blood help with that?

No. You holding me does.

He met her gaze, her blue eyes beautiful to him even with
streaked makeup and one closed by the swollen flesh around it. “I don’t want to
hurt your back,” he rumbled.

She shook her head, a denial of that, and closed her eyes, a
silent reinforcement of what she wanted. He didn’t want to disrupt her feeding,
but she lifted her mouth from his skin herself, licking her lips. She’d closed
the wound for him as she always did, a courtesy that made his throat ache. When
she opened her eyes this time, he saw the swollen eye was now visible, the
tissues less engorged over her cheekbone. Bolstered by the further evidence of
her healing, he did what she wanted. Though he lifted her like porcelain, he
sat down on the bed, bracing himself against the wall and settling her into the
cradle of his lap. She let out a soft noise of relief so strong those unmanly
tears came to his eyes again. He fought them back, focused on tending her.

This time she did lift her mouth to his throat, and he was
ready for her. Her fangs cut against his flesh, a jagged and painful strike,
not her usual precise, quick penetration. When she made a frustrated noise, he
figured it out quick. Cupping his hand around the back of her head again, he
gave her the pressure strength she needed and the fangs broke through, sinking
into the artery, her lips sealing over his flesh.

He banded the other arm around her, holding her, trying not
to squeeze when all he wanted was to hold her so tightly and never let her go.

She drank until he was feeling lightheaded, but he wouldn’t
have said a word if she’d drained him dry. She eventually sensed it and started
to withdraw, but he tightened his hold on her head. “Take everything you need,
Selene,” he said roughly. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” she murmured against his skin. “But that
should be enough for now. Just hold me, Quinn. And…forgive me. Don’t speak for
a bit, all right?”

Hearing her speak aloud was a gift, but his brow creased,
uncertain of her meaning or why she was apologizing. Then it became clear. She
started to shake, badly. And cry.

She buried her face in his throat, not wanting him to see.
She could let him see where that bastard had hit her, but she was ashamed of
tears. Even though she’d held fast through all of it, he realized. Not trusting
herself to let it go until now, when he held her.

It amazed him, broke his heart. It also told him just how
much he loved her. Because of that he let himself trust her and cried a little
himself. While holding her, rocking her, murmuring to her in a broken tone,
telling her he was there.

At length, the shaking started to recede, and her sobs
became more muffled. She let out a deep, shuddering sigh.

“I’d really like a bath, Quinn. And a change of clothes.”

He wanted to do that for her too. Damn it, there was no way
from the cellar to the upstairs apartment except through the office entrance or
that hallway, and that required walking through the bar.

“It’s all right,” she said. “We’ll stay here until they
close.”

The bar wouldn’t close for hours. “Yeah, we will. But we’re
closing now.”

“No. You need the money and the customers…”

“Thought we talked about this long ago.” He touched her
chin, gave her his best attempt at a stern look. “You may be the boss of me
after quitting time, but when this bar’s open, I’m the boss. The boss says
we’re closing early.”

He eased her back to the blanket, humbled when her hands
tightened on him, an involuntary sign of her not wanting him to leave her.
“I’ll be right back, Mistress. Promise.”

It said a great deal that she didn’t argue further, lying
limp on the mattress in the way that drunks did, as if they were boneless. The
comparison didn’t reassure him. Kissing her hand, he folded it back against
her. It took an act of will to go, but he strode through the cellar, went
upstairs and locked the door firmly behind him. Taking a breath, he squared his
shoulders and went to find Manuel.

* * * * *

Thirty minutes later, every customer was out of the bar,
with the excuse that it was a family emergency. There was some grumbling from
non-regulars, but getting their meal and drinks on the house helped. As did the
regulars, bless their rowdy hearts, who helped him shepherd them out. He
reassured Manuel, Carol and Maria in low tones that all was well, but that
Selene needed quiet tonight. It said a great deal for their regard for Selene
that they were far more concerned about her well-being and helping him with
anything she needed than a work night cut short.

It didn’t matter though. He knew he’d pay them for their
time that night as if they’d worked the full shift. Loyalty deserved that.
Selene would agree. She’d probably bitch about the revenue they’d lost tonight,
but he’d look forward to that spirited argument when she was back on her feet.

Once he had the door locked and the shades pulled, he went
back to get her. She hadn’t moved, in the kind of somnolent doze she usually
only demonstrated right before dawn. But when he lifted her, she wound an arm
around his neck, let out that little relieved sigh again, like he was her
fucking savior instead of the guy who’d gotten here way too late.

You couldn’t have changed this, Quinn. It’s over.
The
lopsided smile looked like it pained her.
He had two of his territory
vampires with him, and Claudio, his servant. Otherwise I would have taken him.

Yeah, you would have kicked his ass all the way back to
the Statue of Liberty.
He wanted to howl when he looked at her.

The worst thing was, it was only over if the Region Masters
decided in her favor. Right then and there he realized if they didn’t, he’d
leave everything behind, do everything needed to help her run, hide. If they
couldn’t run and hide… His jaw tightened. He’d go back with her to New York. No
matter what she’d worked out with Butch, Quinn would be at her side through
anything she needed, no matter how horrible it got, and they’d figure out how
to get away from Laurent again, another way.

So many times, he’d questioned why he felt so strongly for
her so quickly, but in the end it didn’t really matter, did it? It was the way
he felt, and it wasn’t changing, even in the face of all this shit.

He carried her up the stairs. Though her petite body had
that dense weight thing happening that always surprised him, tonight she
weighed nothing to him. He’d have carried her to the ends of the earth. If
anything, it was like his feelings had expanded and grown three times since he
saw her crumpled on that cot.

Setting her down on a towel on a chair in the bathroom, he
started running the bath. Once it was warm enough, he stripped off all her
clothes gingerly, steeling himself for what else he might see. There was blood
on her thighs, but as he ran the pad of his thumb over her mound, he realized
it came from a cut over it.

“He didn’t…they didn’t…” He was kneeling before her, and she
reached out a hand quivering from physical stress, trailed it along his face.
“They didn’t do any of that.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. On
top of everything else, if that bastard had raped her—violated his
Mistress—he’d never be able to contain his rage. “I know it’s stupid, given
what else they did…”

“No it’s not. I felt the same way when I was afraid…that he
might. One is less…personal, if that makes sense. I didn’t want him where…I
only want you.” Her face creased with a personal pain. “Christ, I’m a terrible
vampire. The things I say to you, vampires aren’t supposed to say to humans.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he managed, his heart
clenching.

She nodded, lifting her arms in mute appeal. Rising, he
scooped her up, lowered her into the tub. Taking up the softest cloth he could
find, he began to sponge her off, finding he had to hold her steady with one
hand while he did it, like bathing a baby that couldn’t hold itself up. She
leaned against him, laid her cheek on his opposite shoulder. As he removed the
blood from her back, he revealed that pattern of pinpoints, but also saw they
were the first thing healing because of their size, many of them disappearing.
He shifted her to do her face with another clean cloth, and found the slices
there and on her breasts were closed and diminished as well.

They’ll all be gone by morning. A good nap solves everything…
She let out a snuffled sound, somewhere between a sob and a chuckle. He held
her again, bending his head protectively over her, heedless of his sleeves
getting soaked with blood-tinted water. She noticed though, her fingers moving
to the buttons, fumbling it until he took over, shrugging the shirt off his
broad shoulders so her hands could play over his skin, fingertips digging into
his flesh as if reassuring herself he was really there. He let the water drain
out, refilled it, keeping her warm with his arms around her until the clean
water helped with that again.

The tub was just a small thing for the efficiency apartment,
not big enough for them both, else he wouldn’t have quelled the temptation to
get in there with her. But she solved that one as well, lifting long-lashed
blue eyes to focus on him, since the one eye had improved enough she could use
both again.

“I’m strong enough for a shower now. I want you with me.”

He doubted that first part, but if he was in there with her,
he could help prop her up if a shower was what she wanted. Nodding, he guided
her hands to the tub edge to ensure she had something to hold on to. Rising, he
stripped off everything. As she lifted her hands to him, he stepped in, drew
her to her feet. She curled her hands around his waist, her cheek on his chest,
as he adjusted the water, held the spray away from her until the shower heated.
Then he let the water stream down on her.

She tilted her head back, eyes closed, still holding on to
him. He framed her face, kissed her cheeks gently, her forehead, her closed
eyes, even as the spray made him close his own. His thumbs slid over the knife
scars. In some way it seemed obscene that they were disappearing, as if
Laurent’s brutality could be dismissed so easily.

He ran his hands over her, sluicing off the remaining blood.
When she indicated she wanted him to wash her, he lathered up his hands with
her fragrant soap, the one with a honey vanilla smell, and washed her
thoroughly. He had no intentions of anything sexual at all. She could arouse
him with nothing more than a look, but all he wanted to do was care for her.
She had other ideas.

As she turned to lean back against him, letting him soap her
front, she molded her hands over his as he ran them over her breasts, keeping
them there, kneading. She rotated her hips against his cock and the mindless
thing immediately responded, starting to harden. “Selene…”

“I need you, Quinn. Make him go away. Drive him from my
head. From every part of me.”

As she rubbed herself against him, something surged up in
him. That rage he’d tamped down to care for her asserted itself in a glorious,
territorial haze. He hated that Laurent had hurt her, hated that he’d touched
her, torn off her clothes. And more, he felt something deep inside her that
matched his rage. Fury of her own. Fury at her helplessness, that she couldn’t
control that situation or this one, that her fate was out of her hands, his
proud Mistress who simply wanted to be free to command her own destiny.

He couldn’t be rough with her, but he sensed she wasn’t
seeking that. He crowded her face forward against the steam-slick shower wall,
pulling her hair to the side to kiss her neck, nip at her ear. Still cradling
her breasts, he teased the nipples with his fingers, pressing his cock to her
ass. She made a pleasurable sigh, a tremulous thing, her eyes shutting more
tightly. He saw her throat move as she swallowed and he wondered if it had a
hard ache like what was stuck in his own. Turning her to face him, he put his
hands to her waist, lifted her, adjusting his cock so it slid without any
resistance into her tight channel, slick and ready for him. She stared at him,
the one eye almost fully healed. Her fangs showed, and he kissed them, let her
scrape at his mouth as he tangled his fist in her hair, held her, pushed easy
inside her as her legs lifted, locked over his waist.