Quinn

by D. B. Reynolds

  For tonight, however, he and his people were safe, and he had a warm woman he intended to spend the rest of the night making love to. Assuming she’d still be in his bed after he finished reading her the riot act for firing that damn crossbow, he amended. Or maybe the riot act could wait until tomorrow night.

  “YOU’RE WITH ME,” Quinn told Eve, when they arrived at his place. He hooked his hand around her arm and walked her all the way through the house and out the back, heading for what looked like a completely separate wing. He was being pushy about it, and she was sure he was pissed because she’d shot that bastard Barrie. But she’d do the same thing all over again, given the chance, and once Quinn stopped dragging her around and listened, she was sure she could make him understand.

  At the time, her brain had been so jumbled, so filled with noise, that only one thought had managed to make itself heard. Kill Barrie Meaney. She could no more have pulled her shot in that moment than turned the bow on herself. It simply didn’t compute.

  But now, looking back, she saw details. Like when she’d first seen the gang of humans facing off against Sorley’s vampires, trapped between them and Quinn. She’d been sure the humans were done for, because she’d fully expected Quinn to side with his own kind. But Quinn had protected the humans, instead of killing them, especially the ones who’d been injured. He’d stood guard over their retreat and had been turning to confront Barrie when . . . She winced at the memory, knowing she’d rushed things when she’d killed the bastard, but she wasn’t sorry. She just wished the other killer, Cillian, had been there, too.

  She hoped Quinn would understand. Needed him to understand how important this was to her. But underneath all of that emotion was something else—the thrill of victory. The excitement, the sense of vengeance fulfilled after all this time, of knowing one of her brother’s killers was dead, was thrumming in her veins like the best drug imagin­able. She wanted to scream to the world, to shout at the heavens. She wanted to fuck. All she could think about was stripping off Quinn’s clothes and jumping onto his cock. She grimaced. Okay, that sounded painful. She’d slide slowly, deliciously onto his cock instead. She shivered in anticipation, riding her adrenaline high, as they reached the entrance to the separate house wing.

  Quinn tugged her up a short set of stairs, keyed in the door code too fast for her to catch, then pulled her inside and shut the door. She looked around, curious despite her impatience. The décor was much the same as the main part of the house—moneyed elegance—but it was obvious that this wing had been built decades later. The door jambs were all straight, the floor was even, and there wasn’t that indefinable scent of age that pervaded even the best-maintained old homes. She knew, because every place she’d ever lived had been at least a hundred years old. From the small house she’d grown up in, and where her mam still lived, to her Dublin flat during university, and now the tiny place she called home in Howth. The main part of Quinn’s house had that same feel, despite the money that had been spent to modernize it. But this place was newer. She could practically smell the new lumber, the fresh paint. Although, that might just be because Quinn and company had painted recently.

  “Does this connect to the main house?” she asked, looking around and running her fingers over the too-smooth plaster walls. They were in a wide hallway, with three widely-spaced doors to the right, and two to the left.

  He didn’t answer her question. “These are personal quarters. The rest of the house is for business.”

  “You have a business?” she asked, half joking.

  His response was perfectly serious. “I’ll soon be running a good part of Ireland, Eve. So, yes, I have a business. This way.” He gestured down the wide hall to the left, frustrating her curiosity.

  She glimpsed a very modern bathroom through the first door. More evidence that this wing was newer. Quinn didn’t offer her the facilities, didn’t even slow, but simply propelled her to the door at the end of the hall. It opened without a key, which she found curious. Shouldn’t personal quarters be locked?

  She had time to see that the room was a huge bedroom, saw the gleam of a gorgeous mahogany bed, and then Quinn was on her, one arm around her waist, the other hand twisted in her hair, dragging her head back to look up at him. “What’s it to be, darling Eve? Shall we talk, or. . . .” His eyes were shot through with shards of light, his mouth a sinful temptation as he bent to kiss her.

  Eve didn’t even try to resist. He was an addiction, and she wanted more. Straining upward against his grip on her hair, she put her mouth to his and kissed him, her lips pressed hard against his, her tongue sweeping in to invite more. He pretended to hold back, letting her do all the work, despite the erection she could feel rubbing against her belly with every move she made. Her teeth closed over his lower lip and bit down hard.

  He cursed and yanked back, but not fast enough. Blood flooded into her mouth, but she wasn’t worried. Vampirism wasn’t contagious. She knew that much. Creating a new vampire involved the complete exchange of blood.

  But that wasn’t the only effect of a vampire’s blood.

  QUINN SAW THE moment his blood hit Eve’s nervous system, the moment her brain reacted to its presence with an endorphin rush that piled onto her adrenaline high and shot her straight into an orgasmic bliss so intense, she collapsed in his arms, crying out in helpless pleasure. He scooped her up before she could hit the floor and laid her on the bed. He’d intended to have her there anyway, but not like this. Every encounter they’d had so far had involved tearing off each other’s clothes, and fucking hard and fast. He’d planned a slow seduction for tonight, his mouth on every inch of her delicious body, and her mouth on his cock . . . after which he’d spank her cute ass for shooting Barrie, and then fuck her again.

  But then she’d bitten him and the die was cast. He couldn’t resist the sight and feel of her climaxing in his arms. Her body writhed against his, her breasts rubbing against his chest, her nipples so hard, he could feel them despite the layers of clothing. Wanting more—her breast in his mouth, her nipple against his tongue—he shoved up her sweater and pulled down the sheer cup of her bra. Her breast burst free and he took it, sucking half the warm globe into his mouth, his tongue rasping over her nipple, while he freed the other breast and kneaded it with his fingers, until he switched breasts and gave the other one the same treat­ment. Pulling back, he bracketed her slim torso in his hands and admired his handiwork—her full breasts shining wet in the golden light of the overhead, her nipples swollen and flushed with blood. He leaned forward again and took a delicious nipple between his teeth this time, hearing her cries, her fingernails scraping his scalp, as he bit down and tugged lightly. And then he did what he’d been dying to do all evening, ever since they’d been interrupted by Garrick and had to rush into battle.

  His fangs slid out from his gums, and his hunger surged. Opening his mouth over the swell of her breast, he bit her again, harder this time, as he ever so slowly pulled away, letting his fangs scrape along her flesh, tasting the thin line of blood he left behind. Eve moaned and pressed the back of his head, asking for more. Quinn lapped up the droplets of blood and looked up, reading the desire in her dark eyes, as she thrust out her chest, angling her other breast into his mouth.

  He growled and slid his fangs into her flesh, triggering the euphoric in his bite, savoring her screams when she was thrown into another climax hard on the first. Dropping his hand between their bodies, his fingers slid under her skirt, over the silky skin of her thigh, until he felt the wet heat of her pussy through her panties. He tore the thin fabric impatiently, ripping it away from her hip to shove two of his fingers inside her at once. She was already so slick with arousal that she took his intrusion easily, her sheath still trembling with orgasm as it stretched to accommodate him. He began pumping his fingers in and out, while she tore at his shirt, yanking it over his head, until he had to slide his hand out of her sweet body in ord
er to get the rest of it off.

  Eve took advantage of his distraction, rubbing his erection through the fabric of his jeans, sliding down the zipper and freeing him from the painfully tight confinement. Shoving him hard over, she switched their positions and tried to straddle him, but he was stronger and had other plans. Rolling her beneath him, her skirt around her waist, her sweater pushed up with her breasts bare over the cups of her bra, he shoved his hips between her thighs and slammed his cock into her pussy as deeply as he could go. One long, hard stroke and she was his, her sheath trembling around him, her legs gripping his hips as she lifted hungrily to meet his thrusts.

  “Fuck,” he swore, taking her in a demanding embrace, crushing her lips beneath his, his tongue claiming every inch of her mouth. She met the demands of his kiss, just as she did his cock, vying for a control that he wouldn’t surrender, until her twisting tongue scraped his fang, and he groaned. Her blood was the sweetest confection, so unexpected from the fierce fighter she showed to the world. He sucked on that bit of blood, and his hunger roared. He wanted more. He could scent the warm seduction of her blood so close beneath her pale skin, could feel her veins plump and begging.

  “Eve,” he breathed. His lips skimmed the curve of her jaw, dipping briefly to the elegant sweep of her clavicle, licking the slick saltiness of her skin, before kissing his way up to her neck and the swollen line of her jugular. He was hungry. He’d used a lot of power over the last few days, and while he’d had a taste of Eve’s blood from the vein, he hadn’t fed. “Eve,” he said again, her name coming out on a growl as his control fractured.

  “Quinn,” she whispered, turning her head to one side and baring her neck in invitation. “It’s okay.”

  It was everything he could do not to rip into her neck and feed. But he was a vampire lord. Discipline and control defined him. He waited until her arousal soared again, until she was once more on the verge of climax, with her pounding heart matching the thrust of her urgent rocking against him. And then, with his cock sliding in and out of the warm, wet cleft between her thighs and her whispers a constant, soft plea in his ear, he sliced through her skin, felt the slight pop as his fangs sank into her vein, and then groaned in pleasure as her blood poured down his throat.

  Eve gave a low, moaning scream, her back arching against him, as the surge of chemicals hit her blood stream. Fangs still buried in her neck, Quinn clutched her to his chest, one hand on the back of her head and the other low on her hips, crushing her already sensitive clit against his groin every time he drove into her, going harder and deeper, until he felt her hot, slick channel clamp down, rippling along his length as she screamed his name. His own release surged, spilling into her body in a rush of heat, as he lifted his head and snarled, bloody fangs glistening. Only one word filled his head. Mine.

  THE RAIN WAS STILL coming down hard when Eve woke to Quinn’s voice telling her to sleep. Her bleary smile became a frown when she realized he was kissing her good-bye, tucking the blanket around her and climbing out of bed. She sat up, clutching the sheet over her naked breasts. “Where are you going? Did something happen?”

  He turned back, his eyes alight with that eerie shattered ice glow as they skimmed over the sheet she was gripping so tightly. He didn’t move, simply smiled, slow and seductive. Eve’s body remembered that smile, remembered what came after. Her nipples hardened and warmth pooled between her thighs, which were already sticky with arousal.

  Damn, she thought, not for the first time. No wonder women throw themselves at these guys. Hard on that thought was the image of women throwing themselves at Quinn. She didn’t like that one at all.

  “Sunrise is near,” he murmured, right against her ear, having some­how crossed the room to sit next to her, while she’d been having murderous thoughts about other women.

  She turned to study him, only inches away. Her body was urging her to grab him. To tumble him back to the bed and slide him into her body one more time. His words registered belatedly. She stared at the heavy drapes over the only window, then turned back to him with a frown. “What does that mean?”

  His head tilted, and he gave her a puzzled look. “Are you awake, sweetheart?”

  She scowled. “Of course. What does that have to do with—”

  “I’m a vampire, and the sun is about to rise. I’m going to sleep, whether I want to or not.”

  “Okay,” she said, still not understanding. “So, get back in bed!”

  “My daytime sleep is taken elsewhere. Stay as long as you want. The daylight guards know you’re here, and they’ll help, if you need anything.” His eyes went blank for an instant, as if his thoughts were far away. When his eyes focused again, he said only, “Time is short. I’ll see you tonight.”

  And, just like that, he was gone. No kiss good-bye, no explanation of why he had to sleep somewhere else when he had a dark room with a perfectly good bed right there, and with her in it. Bastard. He still didn’t trust her. Her lips twisted. She supposed she could understand why, but at some point, he was going to have to put the past behind them. Or walk away. Her heart ached at the thought. She didn’t want him to walk away. Didn’t want him to be able to. She already knew she couldn’t do it. How the hell had she gone from a hardened vampire killer to falling in love with one of them instead? And not just any one of them, but a vampire lord. The future ruler of all Ireland’s vampires, if he was to be believed. He sure as hell believed it, which meant she did, too. She’d never met a more determined man than Quinn Kavanagh, vampire or human.

  She sighed. So what to do now? She’d already slept a few hours after being fucked into unconsciousness by a certain vampire. She could stay in this room for a while, this very nice room with an intensely masculine vibe—heavy mahogany furniture that gleamed with deep red highlights, a central chandelier that was a fucking piece of art and sure as hell hadn’t been picked up at the local IKEA. The drapes were a heavy, deep- burnished gold, the bed linens a shade darker than that.

  But as nice as the room was, she didn’t feel like hanging around all day doing nothing. She didn’t even have her laptop with her, which meant she couldn’t get any work done. And she’d spent enough hours spying on Quinn’s estate that she knew the place closed down tight during the day. There was no activity at all, except for the daylight guards and their conscientious routines. She was going to be bored out of her damn mind.

  “All right, Eve,” she said, speaking out loud because everything was just so quiet. It was never this quiet at her flat. “Get your ass out of this bed, and get going. Right,” she added, as if answering herself. She threw the covers back and padded over to the most luxurious bathroom she’d ever seen. She’d seen the guest bath at Sorley’s mansion, which had a more prestigious address than Quinn’s. It had been nice enough, but the style had been old and fussy. Full of elaborate gold fixtures and mirror frames, with heavy, flocked wallpaper. It had all cost a fortune, she was sure, but it had none of the clean lines and welcoming luxury of Quinn’s. His was the kind of bath that made you want to fill the tub and soak for an hour. Maybe light some candles and drink a glass of wine while doing it.

  Of course, all that would be better if she had Quinn in the bathtub with her. Stupid vampire.

  She settled for a hot shower and clean hair. She didn’t have her hair dryer and couldn’t find one anywhere in the bedroom or bath, so she braided her wet hair away from her face instead. It would still be wet by the time she got home to Howth, and maybe she’d dry it then. Or maybe she wouldn’t bother. From the looks of things, she’d be spending more time facing down enemy vampires than enjoying romantic dinners over candlelight. At least, for the next few days.

  When she went to get dressed, she realized her panties were gone, courtesy of Quinn’s impatience, and her skirt was short. Nothing she could do about that. On the other hand, her car was still parked down the block, so at least she didn’t have to worry about
some pervert staring up her skirt while she sat on the train. Wearing her Nike trainers, which simply didn’t belong with the skirt, she made her way down the wood-floored hallway, noticing that all the other doors were closed, and the entire wing was perfectly silent. Did vampires sleep behind those other doors? A wicked voice inside her head told her to peek in and see, but she squashed that idea with little effort. Even if it was true, it struck her as beyond rude, more like a taboo or an intolerable perversion, to spy on vampires while they were helpless in sleep.

  She opened the outside door to a wet, winter’s morning. The rain had let up only a few minutes ago, but the grey sky and heavy clouds told her it could start again at any moment. Taking that as a sign she should get her ass in gear, she tightened her jacket and walked quickly towards the front gate.

  It took a few minutes. Quinn’s house was big, and she’d had to go all the way around. The main part of the house, which Quinn had referred to as a business office, was locked up tight, so she couldn’t cut through. There was a lovely path along the side yard, but it was meant for sunnier days meandering around. Still, she didn’t have much choice, and she walked along the path until she finally reached the front. One of Quinn’s guards was waiting for her when she emerged from the side yard.

  “Ms. Connelly.”

  She smiled, feeling awkward. There was only one reason for her to be slipping out with the sunrise, and that was because she’d been fucking one of the vamps the night before. The guard knew her name and probably which vampire she’d spent the night with, too. What was it the Americans called this? The walk of shame. Except she didn’t have anything to be ashamed about. She was young, single, and free, and she could fuck anyone she wanted, for as long as she wanted.