Of Blood and Passion (17 page)

He stroked her hair with a gentle hand, his eyes tender, yet concerned. “You are unharmed?”

“I’m fine.” She frowned, thinking of all that had happened, of all she’d learned about him. “We need to talk.”

Arturo tipped his forehead against hers even as his hand slid down to curve around the back of her neck. “We need to do more than talk,
amore mio
. Much more.”

Chapter 19

“I
need you,” Arturo murmured, his forehead against Quinn’s as he drank in the warm scent of sunshine on her skin. He needed her kiss, needed to sink into her body until her cries of pleasure pushed away the icy cold that had invaded his soul in that moment when she’d appeared, suddenly, in Cristoff’s study.
Dio
, but his heart had nearly stopped.

He straightened to find Quinn watching him with heat in her eyes. “Let’s go, then.” She took his hand. “Goodnight, Mukdalla.”

“Goodnight, Quinn. Sleep well.”

Arturo smiled, squeezing Quinn’s hand as he followed her out of the kitchen, for he had no intention of letting her sleep. Not yet, certainly. Not until every hard kernel of ice had melted from his veins.

Quinn threw him a smile that said she knew exactly what he was thinking, and thoroughly approved. Yet shadows moved through her eyes and he knew she needed to forget the past hours as badly as he did.

She led him downstairs to her room and was pulling off her shirt before he even got the door closed. He closed his eyes, blocking out the falseness of the glamour, and took her into his arms where she was all Quinn. He pushed her gently back against the door, and kissed her, her warm lips a balm, a fire to a man dying of cold. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tasting sweetness. Chocolate chip cookies, if he wasn’t mistaken. His hands traced her precious head, her slender hips, her lovely breasts, as he reassured himself over and over that she was alive, that she was fine.

Love swept through him, at once fierce and achingly tender, yet he refused to say the words. He understood her well enough to be certain she was not ready to hear them, that she struggled not to care too deeply for him. And he knew this, because he felt her emotions, the swells of affection, and the small stabs of love that invariably sent her retreating from him. She could love him, if she let herself. And it was his greatest wish that she do so. Not only because he longed for her to return his feelings, but because she so badly needed to learn to open her heart, and to trust in that most vulnerable of emotions.

Until she was ready to do that, he would show her how he felt without words.

Quinn reached for him, curling her arms around his neck to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. As their mouths caressed and joined, heat built between them, a passion that quickly erupted into a blazing hot flame, one that threatened to consume them both. They tore at one another’s clothes, tossing them onto the floor, then fell to the bed in a tangle of bare limbs, greedy mouths and desperate, seeking hands. Arturo slid his hand between her legs, his fingers into her welcoming heat, and he found her more than ready for him. An instant later, he slid into her body at the same moment his fangs pierced her neck.

As her sweet blood flowed over his tongue, she gasped and cried out in pleasure. With keen anticipation, he took a single hard pull of her blood and rejoiced as she screamed her passion, as her body contracted hard around him, over and over and over.

Releasing her neck, he lifted his head to watch her face, forgetting she was glamoured. But even as he caught a glimpse of Grant’s face, it disappeared, the glamour dissolving. With joy, he drank in the play of passion over Quinn’s own beautiful features, loving the look of joy in her eyes as her gaze met his as he drove into her, faster and faster and faster. Together they rode the storm into a sky filled with warmth and life, as if they flew right up into the sun.

His own release tore through him like a wild storm made all the more perfect by the scream of pleasure that escaped Quinn’s throat, by the way her body pulled him deeper and deeper, contracting around him as if to milk every last drop of his essence from his body. In his mind, color exploded, the sun erupting into a brilliant, glorious fireball of powerful, benevolent heat.

Utterly sated, Arturo collapsed, burying his face against the satin of her neck. “
Bella,”
he murmured. “What you do to me.”

“And you to me,” she murmured, sounding delightfully like a satisfied cat. She ran her palms up and down his back as if enjoying the feel of his warm flesh beneath her hands. “Are you recovered, yet?”

“Your sunshine was all I needed.” And it was. He felt hale and hearty, hungry for blood, but not unduly so. And for nothing more. For a reason he didn’t understand, Quinn’s kiss, her touch, the warmth that seeped into him when they were together was physically changing him. Fear no longer fed him as it had for all of his long, long immortal life. He needed only blood and Quinn’s touch to survive.

“We need to talk, Turo.”

He lifted his head slowly, uncertain what she wished to discuss, but fairly certain it was not something he’d be happy to share. “You need to sleep.”

Her soft hands stroked his back, holding him fast with their gentle touch. “This can’t wait, Turo. I fed Kassius. We exchanged glimpses of one another’s pasts again.”

Inwardly, he grimaced. There were so many things he’d done in his long life, more than a few he was not proud of. “You have seen my misdeeds.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “No, fortunately. Nothing like that.”

Arturo pulled out of her and rolled to her side. “Tell me what you saw,
tesoro
. I would not have secrets between us.” At the lift of her brow, he added, “Any more secrets than necessary.” But when he would have pulled her against him and nestled her in his arms, she resisted, sitting up, peering down at him instead.

“As it happens, there might be fewer secrets between us than you think,” she said archly.

Arturo rolled onto his back, one hand behind his head, his other stroking her knee. “Tell me.”

She watched him with green eyes dancing with fascination. “I saw the battle in which you used your mind blast in front of Micah for the first time.”

He groaned, then thought back, recalling that day—his using the mind blast, Micah realizing he was Cristoff’s…

He went still. “What did you learn?”

“That you’re his son. For real. And that you inherited his mind blast.”

He met her gaze with a wry one of his own. “You are correct,
amore,
there are far fewer secrets between us. Those are the ones I refused to share with you. I regret that you’re burdened with this knowledge, now, too.”

“You know I won’t tell.”

He squeezed her knee. “Not intentionally, no. I do know that.”

Quinn compressed her mouth, watching him thoughtfully. “Have you used the mind blast much since that day?”

“Never.”

“Until today.”

“Yes.”

“You risked everything for me.”

Arturo sat up, facing her, then took her hands. “I always will.”

She squeezed his hands, her lovely brow knitting. “He didn’t know it was you.”

“No. I cannot target my blast easily. Fortunately, he couldn’t tell where it came from.”

“Did you
know
that he wouldn’t know it was you?”

Arturo shrugged. “No.”

Quinn stared at him, her mouth dropping open. “You didn’t simply give me a chance. You attacked him believing he’d attack you back, that you’d have to fight him to the death.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But though he possesses no ability to use his mind blast offensively against one he’s not touching, he apparently has the ability to counterattack. He hit me so hard and fast, I stood no chance against him.” Arturo released her hand to rake his own through his hair. “If he’d known it was me, I would be dead.”

“But he knows someone has the mind blast.”

“He believes it is you.” He squeezed her knee. “He believes you can do anything.”

“I wish. How did you get him to stop?”

He explained, then said, “There is one thing more,
cara
. Twice…” He hesitated. As much as he wanted to share his hope with her, he feared she’d not understand.

Quinn squeezed his hand. “Tell me.”

Looking into soft green eyes, he did. “Twice I saw a flicker of humanity spring to life in his eyes. Neither lasted long, but I believe his soul is beginning to reawaken.”

Quinn frowned. “Yet still you attacked him with the intent to kill him.”

His palm cupped her cheek and he wondered if she’d ever completely trust him. “I told you, I will never let him harm you again.”

Her breath left her on a hard exhale. “He’s your father.”

“Yes.” He lay back on the bed, tugging her down with him, pulling her into his arms. “And you are my sunshine.” His hand stroked her back. “You were not harmed unduly by my blast?”

“It hurt like hell, but no, I wasn’t hurt. The pain went away quickly enough.”

“I felt it, your pain. I am sorry for it.”

“I’m fine.” She ran her fingers along the plane of his chest. “You’re really his son?”

“I am. My mother called me Little Cristoff.”

“My mind is going to explode. And he doesn’t know?”

“He does not.”

“Did he ever know about you?”

Arturo lifted his hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes, he did,
piccola
. Once upon a time.”

Q
uinn snuggled against Arturo’s chest, his arm warm around her, as he spoke of a time so far in the past.

“My mother was sixteen, Cristoff only a few years older, when he seduced her. This was in Pavia, in what is now called Italy, in the early fifteenth century. Cristoff was a distant relative of the royal Gonzagas and his family was wealthy and powerful. My mother was a poor orphan living with her grandmother. When Cristoff learned she was with child, he supported her for a number of years. My earliest memories are of my father visiting us, bringing me a piece of fruit and playing with me. I adored him. My mother used to tell me that her greatest wish was that I would be just like him when I was grown—honorable and good and fine.” He sighed. “I know that does not describe the monster you know him to be, Quinn, but he was once all of those things.”

“Yet he didn’t marry your mother or, presumably, the other six girls/women he impregnated.”

Arturo shrugged. “It was a different time. And he did end up partially raising six of his seven children—all boys.”

“Tell me.”

“When I was nine, Cristoff disappeared. I believe that was when he was turned into a vampire. A small kovena of Emora vampires had moved into the area and I suspect they thought it prudent to recruit one of the village lords for their own. They chose Cristoff. When I was sixteen, Cristoff sent vampires to collect his bastard sons to be raised in the kovena and turned when they were grown. But the vampire sent to retrieve me, Raul, decided to steal me away in hopes that I would use my gift for his own purposes. He wanted to sire me himself someday. When he tried to take me, my mother attacked him and he killed her.”

It had happened so long ago, yet in his voice she heard a tiny break, an old, old pain. A wound that had never entirely healed.

“He took me to Venice and left me with a human male in need of an apprentice. I became a skilled blacksmith while Raul waited for me to grow up.”

When he didn’t continue, Quinn glanced at him. “You can’t stop now.”

“It is painful,
tesoro
.”

She laid her cheek against his chest, her arm tight around him. “I’m sorry, Turo. I’m sorry for what you suffered.”

His hand caressed her head. “I can regret nothing that has led me to this moment,
amore.
Nothing.”

She kissed his jaw. “Did Raul come back for you?”

“Yes. By the time he did, I was a widower with a seven-year-old daughter.” His voice caught. “Her name was Abrielle.”

Quinn tensed, knowing she wasn’t going to like what came next. But she kissed him, silently encouraging him to continue.

He did. “Raul informed me that it was time I came into my power and I refused. He overpowered me, drained me, fed me his own blood in order to turn me. Then he sat with me as I changed. I woke ravenous, as all new vampires do. The bloodlust was a fire within me. But there was only one human heart beating in my home.”

Abrielle’s. “Oh, Turo.”

“Even through the bloodlust, I refused to harm her,
amore,
but Raul knew love ties would only hamper my acceptance of what I was. So he took her from her bed, ripped open her throat with his fangs, and brought her to me. I was crazed, desperate to save her. But she was already bleeding out. She was dying. And the bloodlust was too powerful. I took her from him, held her in my arms, and drank her blood until her heart stopped beating. I killed her.”

Quinn lifted up, looking down into his face with a fierce tenderness. “You didn’t kill her, you know that. He did.”

“I killed her. And then I killed Raul. And I continued to kill vampires until I found another as desperate to destroy the blood-sucking race as I was. Bram and I nearly destroyed each other before we realized we were cut from the same cloth, both hating what we’d become. We traveled together, killed vampires together, until the day we faced a powerful werevamp who had been tracking the Vamp-slayers.”