Page 3 of Quintus

Quintus’ gut clenched with concern as her panic ran through him as if it were his own, and he wondered how her blood had affected him. Terror. Pain. All her emotions pulsed in his mind, her quickening breath soon evolving into pants as she gasped for air.

“Easy now.” Quintus scooped her up into his arms and brought her to the bed. Aware he was nude, he considered covering to put her at ease, but as she continued to retch for breath, his only concern was for her safety. He lay back onto the bed bringing her with him, embracing her in his arms.

“No witches,” she repeated.

“No witches,” he told her, surprised at her fear.

“Promise me. Promise no witches.” She clutched at him. “They’ll…they’ll…”

“It’s all right.” She attempted to push away from him, but he held tight and brushed his palm over her silken hair. Quintus closed his eyes, and attempted to send a calming energy to her. “What happened to you?”

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice trailing off.

“Whoever did this to you? The pain. Let it go.” Quintus breathed away his anger. He saw flashes of her stolen innocence yet he couldn’t reach all her memories.

“Please don’t let them have me.” Her voice drifted to silence as she closed her eyes.

“You’re safe,” he assured his fragile savior. Quintus’ protective streak flared. Someone had hurt her badly.

She breathed softly in slumber, and Quintus relaxed, staring up at the tin ceiling. Despite his promise to the contrary, he considered calling the high priestess of New Orleans. But he’d given his word, so for at least the night, he’d honor her wishes. No witches.

Quintus ran his palm down her arm and gently inspected her skin. His lips tensed in a straight line at the sight of the needle marks. Having tasted her blood, he knew she hadn’t taken drugs. No, the telltale scars had been caused by bloodletting. Jesus fucking Christ, what in the hell had this witch gotten herself into? He recalled the plastic syringe she’d used to give him blood. Guilt rolled through him, aware she’d sacrificed herself to save him from death.

What trouble are you in, bella? He sighed. When she woke, they’d have a long conversation. Something about the magical woman drew him, and he couldn’t deny a connection. He swallowed the emotion, surrendered to the healing calm that washed over him as he rested with the lovely witch in his arms.

Chapter Two

The familiar nightmare stormed in her mind. Only thirteen years old, she clutched at the muddy earth. Her mother screamed as the cloaked witches tied her to the wooden stake. Gabriella watched helplessly as they set fire to the kindling, burning the only parent she’d known. Cries of terror resounded in the darkness, the stench of burnt flesh forever etched in her memory.

The clouds cleared from the sky, but they came for her once again. Gabriella had felt nothing but pain slicing through her as she’d shifted. Run, Gabby, run, the voice echoed in her mind. She never looked back, tearing through the woods as the witches attempted to break her with their dark magick. The moon and stars fed her strength as she escaped into the night. Lying in a cold Boston alleyway, she woke up in human form, shaking and crying for her mother.

“No!” Gabriella screamed. She jolted upward and sucked a breath, attempting to shove off the bed. Weakened, she fell backwards and curled into the warm blanket. Her eyes slowly blinked open, memories flooding her mind. Quintus.

As a child, her mother had told her of ancient vampires, their powers unmatched by all others. Rumors had circulated in the underground blood clubs that one of the most ancient vampires in the world had been spotted in the crypts. Poisoned. Dark magick. Some said witches had done this to him to punish him for sins of the past. Some pointed to an unleashed demon.

Gabriella had gone in search of the elusive vampire, convinced he could help her overturn the coven that sought her death. When she’d discovered him in the crypt, he’d laid unresponsive, barely breathing. Only the magick within her could save him. After the first feeding, she’d broken down in utter devastation when he’d failed to rally. Although tempted to leave him, she’d stayed by his side, talking to the handsome stranger. When he’d finally roused, she’d been terrified and elated all at once. With his help, she’d be free. But as he’d leapt and pinned her to the wall, she’d trembled underneath his touch. His extraordinary power drew her to him like a magnet, and her body had prickled with awareness.

Gabriella didn’t anticipate he’d dematerialize them away from the crypt. She suspected her hybrid nature and the trauma of her own blood loss had sickened her. For the brief seconds Quintus had wandered her psyche, his warmth had saturated her mind. The infusion of his powers had worked to calm her. With the horror that danced in her thoughts exposed, she’d briefly allowed him to peer into the nightmares.

Gabriella’s stomach clenched in hunger, drawing her out of her contemplation. As her mind drifted to her responsibilities, nausea rose in her gut. Her latest torturer, her blood runner, Ramiel, had been expecting a shipment. He’d threatened to expose her location to the coven if she didn’t deliver.

She glanced to the window, noting the sun hadn’t broken the horizon. If she made it to Ramiel within a few hours, he’d forgive her lateness. Gabriella swung her legs over the side of the bed and prayed her head would stop spinning.

A gentle hand settled on her shoulder, and her stomach flipped as she raised her gaze to meet Quintus’. His piercing dark eyes caught her attention and she struggled to find her words. “I…I…”

“You’re weak.”

“I’m fine. You shouldn’t have brought me here.” Her bravery rose, yet she remained captivated by his penetrating gaze.

In the crypt he’d been pale as a ghost, but as she studied his face, she noted his healthy olive-skinned complexion. At six-foot-four, the commanding vampire towered over her. With wavy dark brown hair and a strong jawline, he was strikingly handsome. She struggled not to stare at his rippled abs, and averted her gaze toward the floor. A muscular arm settled around her shoulders as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re going to be okay.” Quintus took a deep breath and sighed. “I know you’re in trouble.”

“What kind of vampire poisoned you?” She changed the subject, looking to her torn jeans. Her clothes reeked of the stench of death that lingered in the underground. A wave of embarrassment washed over her at her circumstances. She’d been living out of a seedy hotel room for months. With little to her name, she’d been selling herself to survive.

“She may have been a vampire,” he answered, “but she had some demon mojo going on. It wasn’t her bite that got me though, it was her talons. Not many things supernatural or otherwise have taken me down but this one…she was lethal. I tried to recover but I couldn’t drink human blood. Kept vomiting. I was starving to death. Until you.”

“I told you. I’m a witch,” she said.