Nightfall (39 page)

“When Mike started whipping you again, I told Dix that
wasn’t happening.” Selene’s voice was cold, drawing his attention back to her
face, the fierce light in her eyes as she stroked his jaw. “He agreed.”

Mike probably had a few decades on her, and yeah, she’d had
surprise on her side, but it was still frigging impressive, to Quinn’s way of
thinking. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

“It wouldn’t help,” she said shortly. “You’re too stubborn
to heed any warnings I give you.”

At another time, a far more pleasurable one, she might have
suggested using a whip to get him to listen. But he saw how she really felt
about that as she traced his wounds. Laurent had striped him down the front
mercilessly, and her tears were falling in his blood and torn flesh. He
couldn’t bear her tears, and managed to raise a shaking hand, cupping her jaw
so she drew her eyes from that to his face.

I’d beg for the touch of a whip from your hands,
Mistress.

That made her cry harder. He wanted to hold her, but he was
like a baby in truth, too weak to move. In the corner of his eye, he saw Dix
rise from where he’d been squatting within arm’s reach. Now that Quinn had been
freed, the ranch hand had one focus, and that was the battle going on in the
clearing.

With the pain ebbing to a dull roar, Quinn’s third mark
senses had sharpened, and he could follow the fight better himself, even though
there were still moments where Butch and Laurent were moving almost too fast
for him to see the details. Then they smashed into a tree so hard he heard a
crack. Laurent had Butch against the trunk. Both their faces were bloody, fangs
bared. Butch strained against the hold, broke it and landed a punch square on
Laurent’s nose. Quinn had the pleasure of hearing the cartilage break. But
Laurent barely registered it. He hammered Butch’s stomach, broke free, and they
were off spinning like a dervish again.

Dix’s fists clenched as if he could help his Master fight.
Watching the hand’s body canted toward them, Quinn realized this was more than
a pissing match to Dix. And not just to him.
Fuck.

Dix’s tension and the serious looks on the men’s faces
penetrated Quinn’s mind. Gelling with everything he now knew about Laurent,
from personal experience as well as seeing the beating his Mistress had taken
from him, the full impact of the decision Butch had made registered.

If Butch won, he’d said he’d let Laurent go his way, with
the terms of the agreement honored. If Laurent won this fight, Butch wasn’t
going to be alive. Neither would Dix. A servant died when the Master did.

But Quinn didn’t think that was why Dix looked so invested
in this. A person didn’t become a vampire’s servant if their own life was more
important to them than the vampire they served.

He realized Selene must know what might happen here as well,
because now that her servant was free, she’d gone still and tense, all her
attention on the combat. Helped by her strength, Quinn struggled up enough to
see more of what was going on.

As Butch and Laurent hit one of the SUVs, and it was clear
that Laurent was gaining the upper hand, Selene stiffened, began to rise. “No.”

Somewhere, Quinn found the strength to hold on to her.
“Mistress, no. If you step in at the wrong time, the distraction could get him
killed.”

Though he hated being on the sidelines as much as she did,
he knew it was true. He took that cue from Dix, the person who most wanted to
go to his Master’s aid but who was restraining himself. Barely.

If Butch did survive this, Quinn would owe Dix as big a debt
as Selene would owe Butch. “Mistress, give me blood.”

Startled, she looked down at him. “Yeah, I won’t heal as
fast, but it will get me on my feet.” He was gauging the stance of the silent
men watching. Unlike Ernesto and Mike, these men were bound to Butch and Dix by
true loyalty. If Butch lost and he and Dix died, this was going to get really
bloody. Mike was already back on his feet, standing next to Ernesto, the two of
them looking ready to fight if needed.

The good thing about being in each other’s heads was there
wasn’t a lot of explanation needed. In a blink, Selene saw his evaluation of
what might happen, understood why he was asking what he was asking. “From the
throat,” she said. “It’s richest there. Do you have the strength?”

He did. Especially when she leaned over him, cupping his
head, bringing it to her throat as she raised her chin to give him better
access. He didn’t like causing her more pain, but he also understood for
vampires, the bite of their servant was more of an erotic expression than a
functional pain. Though it would be hard to feel anything sexual in the current
setting, he wasn’t surprised at the flood of intimacy that came from the act.
In its way, it was as balancing as that chant that had come into his mind,
Sam’s wisdom helping him survive such a horrible ordeal.

Her blood flooded his mouth and he swallowed as fast as he
could. He’d been right. Because of their connection, the taste of her blood was
as welcome as whiskey, and his body recognized its need for it like mother’s
milk.

It didn’t take much. When she broke free with obvious
reluctance after he’d taken down about a cup, he could already feel vitality
coming back to him. He might not be tiptop for a while, and his skin looked
like a bloody patchwork quilt, but he could make it to his feet, especially
with her strength aiding him. Turning at a nudge, he found one of Butch’s men
holding out his jeans and boots, which Laurent’s men had apparently left in a
heap nearby. Hot damn. He might just feel human again.

He donned the clothes, despite wincing at the pain on his
abraded flesh. As he did, he stayed close to Selene’s side and kept an equally
close eye on the fight. Now it wasn’t so hard, either because he was feeling
better or because both vampires had slowed down. They were wearing each other
out, circling, looking for strategic advantages. A choreographed dance that
could end in death for one of them. One of Butch’s men called out, brandishing
his gun as if he was offering to take a few shots at Laurent.

Butch shook his head. “I said it’s a fair fight,” he
snapped. “No one does a damn thing. I can handle this bastard.”

A few feet from Quinn, Dix looked as if he was made of
stone. His concentration was so fixed on his Master, Quinn wondered if he was
like the coach in a boxer’s ring, anticipating Laurent’s moves, giving Butch a
further advantage. That was something a servant might do, having a wider view
of what was around them.

Laurent feinted forward then back. Butch met him, swung and
missed. Laurent kicked him in the knee. If it had connected, Quinn suspected it
would have broken. Instead Butch launched himself over the strike, a flat-out
tackle that banded his arms around Laurent’s torso and took them to the ground.
Laurent twisted fast as a serpent, but as he slipped out of Butch’s grip, Butch
got lucky and caught him in a headlock. He flung them both backward, Laurent on
top of him, the ground shaking with the force of their fall.

Laurent bucked and thrashed, kicked his legs, clawed at the
hold. Butch held on grimly. It reminded Quinn of holding a calf to the ground,
trying to stay clear of the kicking hooves, only Laurent was much more lethal
and strong. But despite the century difference in their ages, Butch was no
pushover. He tightened his hold and flipped them. Quicker even than Quinn could
follow, he’d rolled on top of Laurent, seized his shoulders, forced his knee
into his back. With a roar, the Texas overlord heaved upward. The crack of the
spine resounded through the clearing like a rifle shot.

As if a switch had been thrown, every one of Butch’s men had
the muzzles of their rifles up and pointed at Claudio, Ernesto and Mike.
Claudio had dropped to one knee as if the trauma had resounded through his own
body, so he wasn’t an immediate threat, but it was clear Mike and Ernesto were
on the fence about what to do.

Butch stumbled to his feet, straightened and backed away
from his opponent, his broad chest heaving in the aftermath of the exertion. He
knuckled blood away from his eye with an impatient gesture and shot a look
toward Laurent’s two vampires. “A hail of bullets won’t kill you, boys,” he
said hoarsely. “But if you give them a reason to shoot, I’ll make damn sure you
don’t get up. I’ll stake you where you lie. The law is on my side, killing
vampires outside my territory who threatened my life or those of the vampires I
protect.”

His gaze shifted to Selene, then moved to Laurent. The New
York overlord was still immobilized and in obvious, hideous discomfort, but the
eyes he kept trained on Butch were hate-filled. “Is that your plan for me?” he
managed with venom.

“It would give me more pleasure than you can imagine.” But
Butch glanced toward Claudio. “Give your Master blood so he can recover. Then I
expect the lot of you to pack up your outfit and get the hell out of here.” He
returned his attention to Laurent. “The Region Masters made their decision a
couple hours ago, which you’d have known if you’d checked your voicemail
instead of torturing Quinn here. Selene belongs to me, which means so does
Quinn.”

Selene’s arms tightened around Quinn. Relief flooded him so
strongly his knees almost buckled. Thank God. Though it couldn’t change the
mistakes he’d made, or what the past few hours had cost them, it sure went a
hell of a long way to making the future a damn sight more optimistic. Unless
Butch decided to kill him for causing all this trouble. Quinn wouldn’t blame
him a bit.

Only your Mistress gets to decide if you live or die,
Quinn. I’m not quite ready to be rid of you.

Her voice, gentle in his head but with a core of steel, was
almost as capable of making his knees go out from under him as Butch’s news. He
was so tired. A shower, a few days of sleep where he didn’t have to think of
anything but holding her—that was all he could ever want again.

Laurent curled his lip at Claudio when his servant
approached, but he didn’t refuse him when he cut a vein in his wrist, brought
it to his Master’s lips. While Laurent obviously didn’t relish being seen in
such a weakened position, he valued survival over appearances. For his part,
Butch turned away, moving through his men back to his vehicle. As he leaned his
hips against the grill, watching Claudio and Laurent with sharp eyes but a
weary expression, Dix brought out a couple towels and a bottle of water.

The moment the fight had concluded, Dix had been inside the
circle of men, standing at Butch’s back as he spoke to Laurent. Now, though the
two males exchanged no words, Quinn wondered how many things were being said
regardless. Dix gave Butch a damp towel so he could wipe the blood from his
face and chest, but his eyes never left his Master’s face.

Quinn suspected if they were alone, Dix would have done the
honors with the towel himself, needing to touch Butch. Even though Quinn and
Selene were a few yards away, Quinn could feel that need vibrating from Dix.
Which meant Butch was feeling it like a palpable force. Proving it, Butch
reached out, clasped Dix’s shoulder. Then he gave him a light shove, a gesture
that said clearly,
“Can’t believe you were worried I couldn’t take this
asshole.”

Quinn had never been much about watching two guys together.
No way, no how. But maybe because of the bond he felt with Selene,
understanding it better than ever before, Quinn couldn’t take his eyes away as
he watched Dix take the second towel, run it over Butch’s broad shoulder and
then linger there, his hand tightening on him. Butch’s head lifted, and he
murmured to his servant. Gave him a wry smile, then pushed him away again, an
obvious reproof not to be such a hen. Quinn’s sharpened hearing brought him
some the exchange.

“Ye of little faith,” the overlord said.

Dix gave him an even look. “I didn’t want to show up at the
Pearly Gates because you got your ass kicked by a city slicker.”

“Neither Heaven nor Hell would want us if that happened.
That’s why God was on our side.” Butch winked at him. Then he turned his
attention back to his opponent.

Quinn had kept a sharp eye on Laurent as well, and he wasn’t
alone. Most of Butch’s men had done the same, covering all three vampires and
the one servant, rifles still at the ready.

The age of the vampire must help the recovery time once a
servant’s blood was administered, for Laurent was already sitting up, albeit
gingerly. At his curt gesture, Ernesto and Mike came forward, taking over
getting him to his feet, since Laurent had pushed Claudio away impatiently
after he’d had the necessary nourishment from him. The New York overlord sent
Selene a sharp, sneering look.

Interestingly, Butch’s men closed ranks around Quinn and
Selene in direct response. Apparently Butch had given them pretty specific
orders about who to protect in this fight. Quinn saw Selene swallow at the
gesture, her gaze going to Butch. She didn’t have any precedent for an overlord
who thought of her protection as more than a personal benefit for himself. It
made Quinn realize there’d been things in his life that she’d rarely had in her
own. He hoped she had the chance to experience those better things for a good
long time. Maybe he’d get the chance to watch her do so, up close and personal.
Things were still too tense in the clearing for him to be entirely sure of
anything.

Laurent straightened, his eyes shooting sparks at the men
who’d circled them. His expression made it clear that, in different
circumstances, he’d dismember every human in the clearing who dared think they
could keep him from doing whatever he wanted. But that was another day. Right
now, he was paler than usual and having all he could do to stand on his own.
The sophisticated New York veneer was gone, stripped away like a custom
tailored suit. In a surprising move, Dix brought Claudio another bottle of
water and more towels. Claudio gave him a formal nod, then brought the items to
his Master, holding them patiently as Laurent cleaned up.