Returning the book to its place, Quinn sat heavily in the armchair nearest the bookshelf, her hand clutched tightly around the crystal. No more tears would come, despite the fact that her whole world had been shattered.
“Quinn?” Daniel intruded on her private musings and Quinn glanced up to find him standing before her, a look of desolation on his face. Daniel had known Isaiah a lot longer than she had. “Is that...?” he trailed off, choked with emotion. Quinn nodded, opening her hand to reveal the crystal.
“A new Guardian will come for mine – or for whoever replaces me as a Hunter. Has anyone else been branded yet?” So many Guardians had fallen that she was losing track of which crystal belonged to who. The only thing that she was sure of was that this sapphire was now hers and hers alone. She longed for the days when her amber crystal had reflected the simple Guardian life she had led. It took a while before she realised that Daniel hadn’t answered her. “Daniel?”
“Braddon,” he relented. “Your father replaced you.”
Quinn sucked in astonished breath. “Where is he?”
“He’s upstairs. I think he found the crystal you hid up there.”
“Good. Someone will come for his. A new Guardian.”
“Perhaps we should wait until they do.”
“No, no more waiting. They will find us wherever we are. Braddon can hang on to both in the meantime.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
“Quinn!?” Braddon’s voice sounded in the hall and she heard his frantic footsteps approaching.
“In here,” she called back.
“Thank God, you’re okay,” he muttered the second he clapped eyes on her. In an uncharacteristically paternal gesture, he swept her up into a bone-crushing hug and Daniel averted his eyes, embarrassed. Braddon was followed by Avery, Piper, and then the rest of the Guardians.
“I’m fine,” Quinn murmured, extricating herself from his clutches. Braddon glanced discreetly at her wrist.
“How do you feel?
“I feel fine,” she insisted. The others continued to watch her carefully, not quite sure how to deal with her new status. Quinn couldn’t blame them. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it herself. “I need to clean up,” she confessed. Isaiah’s blood, and the blood of all the vampires she had killed tonight stained her hands and her body was filthy. Daniel faced the sea of faces.
“Everybody, stop what you’re doing. Take an hour to clean up, change your clothes, do what you need to do. I want everyone in the library at first light.”
Grateful for the reprieve, Quinn bolted up the stairs, shutting herself in her bedroom, finally alone with her thoughts.
Chapter 45
Mindlessly, Quinn stripped off her black pants, dropping them on the pale carpet. Crossing to the hand basin, she scrubbed her hands raw, watching as the water ran red with blood. She felt tainted and emotionally drained, but she also had a renewed sense of purpose. She knew, somehow, that this was meant to be. Isaiah’s death, her becoming the Slayer, it was all part of a greater plan. She would not fail the wards.
Thinking back to before she had picked up the sword, Quinn shivered as she remembered the moment in the stable when she had admitted her feelings for Drake. She had done the unthinkable when she had given him her blood. She knew the consequences, but still she prayed that the bond was a myth, another unfulfilled prophecy defined by the Sacred Book. Gazing at herself in the mirror of her dresser, she was surprised to see that she didn’t look any different. Her dark hair had grown, falling just below her shoulders, and her strange tanzanite eyes looked luminous in the fluorescent lightning, but she looked like the same person she had been yesterday, before she had broken the Taboo. There was no sign marking her as a traitor, but a traitor she was. She was paler than usual, which was understandable, given the events of this evening and the fact that Drake had drained her of a fair amount of blood.
Glancing down, she touched the two puncture wounds on her left wrist. They were almost healed, but for now, they were a painful reminder of Drake’s warm mouth on her skin, of his fangs piercing her flesh in excruciating ecstasy. Heaving a sigh, Quinn closed her eyes, tracing the small scars and allowing herself just a moment to recall how it felt to be so close to him, her body cradled into his, his breath on her skin. ‘How about I do it because I’m in love with you?’ her words echoed in her own head, so honest, so pure... and making absolutely no difference whatsoever. She was the Slayer and he was a vampire. There could be nothing between them. Ever.
“You’re wrong.” The words were softly spoken and Quinn opened her eyes, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. He was standing only a few feet behind her, in the same bloodstained clothes he was wearing earlier. A dark stain marked the place where Charlotte had run the stake through his chest, but through the hole in his shirt she could see the smooth skin beneath. Her blood had healed him. The blood of a Hunter. There were dark shadows under his green eyes, which were softer than she had ever seen them. He gazed at her in a way that made her blood sing and her heart beat faster in her chest.
Slowly, she turned to face him, tears pricking at her eyes as she thought the words she wasn’t yet ready to say. She had to send him away, there was no other way. She had made a terrible mistake. Drake saw the resolution in her eyes and he drew himself up to his full height. An unmistakeable anger flashed across his face, his mouth drawn into a furious line.
“No,” he growled, taking two huge steps toward her. Before she could react, he seized hold of her shoulders, yanking her toward him and his mouth crashed down on hers. She could only coil her arms around his neck and give in to his kiss, her heart thundering in her ears. It was as if time had stood still, and her body reacted with a passion that both terrified and exhilarated her. She wanted him and he wanted her. Dropping her hands, she placed them on his chest and then shoved him backward. Even the brief loss of contact was agony, and she charged at him, leaping up onto his waist, her legs curled around him. Drake held her weight easily, his strong arms locked below her. As she slipped her tongue into his mouth she felt the tips of his fangs, and the rigid tension in his body as he fought to contain his lust. Quinn ran her tongue over the sharp, deadly points and Drake groaned. Withdrawing his arms, letting her hold herself up, he grabbed the back of her shirt with both hands and ripped. The fabric cleaved away, falling in a crumpled heap on the carpet at their feet, leaving Quinn naked, save for her underwear, in his embrace.
Drake’s eyes feasted on her body, taking in every curve of her skin, every line of her face. Unable to contain himself any longer, his fangs emerged fully. Quinn smiled, the sight neither scaring her, nor diminishing her attraction. Drake’s eyes darkened and he nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent of her. His arms dropped to her waist, holding her still and at the same time assuring her that she could stop him any time she wanted. Quinn sagged against his chest, all thoughts of stopping this madness obliterated. She could sense how much he wanted her. Drake wanted to stay here, in this room, away from the Guardians, forever. He wanted to take her somewhere where no one would ever find them and...
“No!” Quinn gasped, pulling away from him and clutching her head. At the same time, Drake dropped to his knees, his hold on her slipping. Quinn tumbled to the floor. She peered through the fog of pain to see that he, too, was holding his own head, his face contorted in agony.
So many thoughts were running through Quinn’s mind that she couldn’t make out which were his and which were her own. As their eyes met, the pain peaked as a myriad of emotion surged through them. One in particular stood out, probably because they were both thinking it at exactly the same time. The bond is true.
Drake crawled toward her, his hands reaching desperately for her, but Quinn shook her head and cringed away from him.
“You have to go,” she hissed, through gritted teeth.
“No,” he shook his head, a spasm of pain contorting his body. “We can...”
“We can’t
!” she cried, retreating until her back hit the opposite wall. She clawed at her head, her fingers tangling in her hair. She thought she would die of the pain. “Please, Drake! Go!” Her worst fears had been confirmed. The bond was true – their minds linked through the blood she had willingly given him. She could hear his thoughts, and he could hear hers.
Finally, the agony became too much and Drake changed course, moving away from her, every moment more painful then the next. And Quinn felt it all, the coupling of both her own pain as well as his, far too powerful for one mind to endure. When he reached the window, he dragged himself up onto the sill, and then heaved his body over, dropping to the ground below. Quinn could not move, not even to see if he was all right. And then suddenly, the pain stopped, leaving only a blinding headache in its wake. She raced to the open window, sticking her head out and peering through the gloom to the lawn below. There was no sight of him. Drake was gone.
End of Book 3...
Book 4: The Balance of the Blood
Chapter 1
Quinn Harden stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sunlight streamed through the window behind her casting a rainbow of colour over the muted gold-papered walls and setting the glass sparkling. Everything about this house was understated and elegant... and no doubt expensive, but the beauty of the furnishings was lost on Quinn. Without taking her eyes off her reflection she reached behind her and yanked down the blind, blocking out the warming sunlight. She focused on trying to steady her breathing, trying to bring her frantic heartbeat under control. Her violet-blue eyes gazed back at her, her cheeks flushed. Only a few moments ago she had been in agony, the bond between her and the vampire, Drake, too painful to endure even being in the same room as him. Just moments before that she had been in ecstasy, his arms around her waist, his body pressed hard against hers. The memory of that moment was what had first raised the blood to her cheeks and set her heart pounding.
Quinn had never felt such a physical attraction to a man before, but she had given Drake her blood to save him, her Hunter’s blood. And in doing so, she had created a blood bond between them – a mind-link that she didn’t yet understand, but which prevented them from being together because it caused them both considerable pain. It was an unprecedented situation. While a Guardian’s blood was intoxicating to a vampire, and the Slayer’s blood would kill them, no vampire who had fed off a Hunter had ever been allowed to live, so the very existence of the bond had never been proven. Until now. The pain of the bond was excruciating, worse than Quinn could ever have imagined. The myth had been proved true.
What were the chances? Quinn thought, rubbing her temples. She had been a Hunter for only a few days and yet, in that short space of time, she had formed a bond. Now, she was no longer a Hunter but the bond remained. Her wrist still tingled, a reminder of the new burden she now carried. In the wake of Isaiah’s death she had taken his place as the Slayer, a vampire hunter so powerful that her very blood could kill them. The red tattoo emblazoned across her wrist validated her Slayer status, but it was not her wrist that Quinn focused on now. Instead, she kept her eyes on the reflection in the mirror, on the tanzanite eyes she had inherited from her father.
Quinn’s mother had died when she was only five years old, but a memory surfaced as she gazed at her reflection. A memory of a mother she had lost far too young.
“What is it, Quinn?” her mother asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head, forcing a smile. Mom was sick, she had been sick for a while, and Quinn didn’t want her to worry.
“Is it Avery? Did you two have a fight?”
“No. I’m fine, mama.”
At that her mother had lifted Quinn onto her lap, brushing back her dark hair. “I know you’re sad, baby.”
The words surprised Quinn. Her five-year old-self believed she hid her feelings well.
“How do you know?”
Her mother smiled then; a special, secret smile she reserved just for Quinn. “Because your eyes tell me,” she whispered, as though it was their little secret.
Only now did Quinn understand what her mother had meant - what she had always been able to see. Quinn had wiped away her tears and changed her bloodied clothing but she couldn’t disguise the haunted look in her eyes. The pain that shimmered there could not be hidden.
The battle that had waged through the night had taken so much from her. She had failed Anna and her friends – three women she had rescued from Charlotte’s dungeon prison. Quinn had promised them that they would be safe and yet Charlotte had found them. She had murdered them in cold blood while Quinn watched. Worse, Quinn had failed to kill Charlotte. The vampire had overpowered her and Drake had had to save her life, sacrificing his own in the process. Unable to bear the thought of losing him, Quinn had broken the Taboo – the most sacred law of the Fae - and had given him her blood. In doing so, she had gone against everything she believed in. Then, Charlotte had killed Isaiah – Quinn’s friend and mentor. Isaiah had been the Slayer for five hundred years. Upon his death, unbelievably, Quinn had taken his place.
But nothing that Charlotte had done compared to the torture of losing Drake. The bond had destroyed any chance they might have had of being together. It was simply too painful for both of them. Deep down, Quinn knew that the tortured look in her eyes was mostly due to the fact that, after weeks of denying it, she had finally allowed herself to admit that she was in love with him, only to have him ripped away from her by magic that was older than the Guardianship itself.
Shaking her head, she tried to put whatever hope she had had of a future with Drake behind her. She couldn’t think about him now - not when there was so much to be done. Lenora’s mansion had provided them with a safe haven after fleeing the City of Summerfeld, but last night the vampires had found them. They would have to leave. Quinn couldn’t wallow in self-pity, the wards needed her.
It was almost a relief when a gentle knock sounded on the door to her bedroom.
“Quinn, they’re all heading down to the library,” her father’s voice sounded oddly disconnected through the solid wooden door.
“I’ll be right there,” Quinn called. Savagely, she punched the mirror, shattering the glass, before she yanked open the faucet and splashed icy water on her face.
Chapter 2
Channon, the first female werewolf Alpha in history, watched as her mate, Rafe, loped across the lawn toward her. Channon was relieved he was back. He had gone up to the main house half an hour ago to check on the others while she had spent the better part of the last hour listening to the banter of the four young wolves who, along with her and Rafe, constituted the last of the Lunar pack. Of all the werewolves to have survived the battle of Summerfeld, Channon wondered what crimes she had committed to be left with the four youngsters who were currently playing a game of tag on the lawn as if they hadn’t spent the night in combat, killing and maiming, fighting for their lives. Even Dominic, who was still mourning the loss of Rayna, seemed to be in good spirits. Still, Channon thought, it could be worse. The six of them were the last surviving werewolves known to exist, and, by the grace of Eldon, none were related. They could repopulate. The werewolf line had a chance of surviving this tragedy.
“Daniel has asked us all to assemble in the library,” Rafe murmured when he got within earshot. Compared to Dominic and Sawyer, the young males gambolling behind her, Rafe’s calm maturity soothed Channon’s fears. Rafe was constant, assured and, without him, Channon didn’t know what she would have done. He had been the Alpha for years before Caleb, a werewolf planted inside the City by the vampire, Charlotte, had challenged him. Caleb had been a cruel, merciless brute, who had killed Rafe’s mother in retaliation when Channon had refused his advances. Caleb had lived his entire life in man’s realm and had been taken in by Charlotte, who had turned him against his own kind before enabling him to infiltrate the City. Under Caleb’s rule the pack had become aggressive and volatile. Rafe had taken refuge for a short time in man’s re
alm, believing that, if he was out of the picture, Caleb would be satisfied. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Caleb had murdered Vivienne and Rafe had returned to the City, to face him. In an unlikely turn of events, Quinn had killed Caleb and Channon had fought for the role of Alpha. Even more surprisingly, she had won. She wondered if she still would have done it had she known what was coming.
“Did Daniel say what the plan is?” she asked, but Rafe shook his head.
“I don’t actually think he has one.”
“We can’t stay here.”
“The Guardians know that. They’ll find somewhere safe for us to go.”
“We thought we’d be safe here,” Channon reminded him. She felt the burden of being Alpha weighing heavily on her chest. Since she had become their leader, the pack had almost been destroyed. By some miracle they had survived last night’s battle, but this was just the beginning. Now that they were no longer protected by Summerfeld’s enchantments, it was only a matter of time before the vampires found them again and Channon doubted they would be so lucky a second time. Would she go down in history as the Alpha who had led her people into extinction?
The sound of laughter reached her, contrasting starkly with her solemn mood, and Channon’s gaze shifted to Perry, a small, lithe she-wolf, who was being chased by Sawyer - an arrogant, cocky youth whose tongue was as sharp as his wit.
“You can act coy all you want,” Sawyer teased, picking Perry up as though she weighed nothing, “but face it, Per – the pickings are slim. There are only two of you,” he pointed at Perry and Reagan, the two she-wolves, “and two of us,” Sawyer added, indicating Dominic and himself. “We’re it. The fate of our species depends on you and me, baby!”
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