Nightfall (40 page)

It’s common sense, most of it.
His Mistress sent him
the thought.
The full servant is the only one allowed to intimately attend
to the vampire, unless the vampire himself invites someone else to do so.

It’s not that. I was surprised they offered him any
courtesy at all.
But maybe in the vampire world, this was a minor disagreement.

Her look suggested, disturbingly enough, he wasn’t off
track. But then again…

“So you won our fight, fair and square.” Laurent conceded
that ungraciously, wiping his face and hands before taking his shirt back from
Claudio. “But I don’t understand why we had to stoop to that level if you
already knew the Region Masters’ decision. You weren’t fighting merely for the
well-being of one human servant. Or were you?” Laurent’s lip curled. “You were
once human yourself, after all. For some of you, the weakness for them never
leaves you.”

“You didn’t think I was weak a moment ago.” Butch shrugged
back into his own shirt. Leaving it open over his belted jeans, he took a swig
of the water Dix offered and spat it out onto the ground, clearing the taste of
blood from his mouth. “Yeah, I could have told you the decision, let it lie
there. But then you wouldn’t have known what you know now.”

Handing Dix back the water, he moved back through the circle
of men around Laurent, coming close enough there was only a pace between the
two vampires. As their gazes locked, Butch’s brows drew down, eyes sharpening.
He suddenly looked far more dangerous, the way he had right before he and
Laurent had clashed. What Quinn saw now was a vampire predator in truth, one
whose expression was enough to make the sarcastic cast of Laurent’s face
falter, the cynical twist to his lips thin.

“You’re in my territory,” Butch said, every syllable etched
with menace. “You entered it without invitation. Pretend all you want, your
fate rests squarely in my hands right now. At my order, every man here can fill
you and your rabble with holes. I will then personally cut you up into pieces
and scatter them on my spread for the jackals to eat. You’ll be meat, Laurent,
that’s all. No more memorable than the tumbleweeds that cross the highways when
the winds blow too hard. So let’s be civil and call this day’s work done. All
right?”

Quinn thought every living being in the clearing had stopped
breathing, waiting to see what would happen. Then Laurent offered a stiff,
dignified nod. He turned to Claudio. “Pack our belongings.”

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.”

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 store 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.

Instead she helped him to his feet, kept a steadying arm
around him until he was back in the car. “Keep going,” she told the men in the
front. “Get us where we need to go.”

He closed his eyes, his hand clasped with hers, her free
hand tracing circles over his knuckles as the SUV bumped along what was barely
a cow path, but Butch’s vehicles were outfitted for range driving.

When he realized the vehicle had stopped, he thought he
might have spaced out into some weird limbo state. Not a doze, but a trance of
not thinking, not doing, just existing. She helped him out again and thanked
the drivers, assured them they didn’t need anything further. Quinn rallied
enough to move forward then, put his hand on the driver’s open window. The two
men had the kind of tanned, creased faces he’d known all his life, the steady
eyes of ranch hands used to dealing with all sorts of unexpected things. Like
him, these guys had discovered how big a spectrum that could mean with
vampires.

“Thanks,” Quinn said. “Thanks for everything.”

They both nodded. “Would have been a much better day if that
piece of shit had given us an excuse to shoot,” Jim said.

“Yeah. Well, can’t have everything.”

Jim grinned. “Go get a shower.” His glance shifted
meaningfully. “If any of us were going home with her, we’d make an effort to
not look like shit.”

Quinn couldn’t pull off a smile, but he did well enough,
because the driver gave him an understanding nod, and then they were pulling
off.

Quinn turned to see Selene standing a few paces away. She
was studying the cabin, the watering hole and the land stretching out behind.
Her shoulders adjusted as she took a deep breath, tilted her head back, letting
it rest on her shoulders.

He managed to move the few steps necessary to be close to
her, standing at her back. He wanted to touch her, hold her, but he felt oddly
constrained. “What are you doing?” he asked instead.

“Tasting freedom.”

He nodded. He couldn’t stand anymore. Literally. Before he
could fight it, he’d dropped to his knees behind her. Just stayed that way,
head bowed. He couldn’t speak or do anything. He just wanted to be near her,
like this, making it clear to the whole world what she was to him, even as he
needed somehow, desperately, to ask her help to make him feel whole. Which made
him ashamed of himself. She’d been through as much and worse, not just today
but a lot of days before that, working for Laurent for all those years, dealing
with her sire’s murder, dealing with so much in sixty-plus years he couldn’t
comprehend. If he couldn’t even survive today, what good was he to her?

“You’re trying to make judgments that aren’t yours to make.”
She’d pivoted, and her hand touched his brow, stroking through the strands of
hair over it. “Dix was giving you a message, Quinn. Haven’t you learned you
slow-talking cowboys never say anything carelessly? This world is experienced
day by day. Learned, day by day. We have survived this one, enough to have the
pleasure of the night. My servant. My love,” she added softly, her fingers
stilling on his brow.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. Forgive me.”

They were almost the same words she’d said to him, back when
he’d tended to her at the bar, and he was somewhat horrified to know it was for
the same reason. The moment he said them, he started to shake. His throat ached
and burned even worse than his ass had earlier, and his heart swelled like it
was going to explode.

She dropped down to one knee, her slim arms circling his
shoulders, her cheek pressed against the side of his head. Despite her size,
she had a firm, strong grip. He didn’t care about the pressure against his
tender skin. She was the force holding him together as he shuddered, as the
images flashed through his head over and over again, overwhelming him.

“I love you, Quinn. I love you. I’m here.”

The words spread through him with an encompassing warmth,
cradling his heart and soothing his soul. He slid his arms around her awkwardly
but with purpose, toppling back so he was sitting on his ass and he’d pulled
her into his lap. He held her close as he could, pressing his face in her hair,
tasting her skin. It wasn’t sexual at all, not exactly. He wanted to rub
himself all over her, let her scent and her touch take everything else away.
Then he wanted to bury himself to the hilt in her, but not until he was clean.
He had to get clean. Wipe away every trace of Laurent’s filth.