There were only seven vampires. And the eighth was the one she wanted. The client. The one who'd
hired Quinn and set up the feast.
Maybe it was one of these. Maybe that tall one with the dark skin and the look of authority. Or the
silvery blond with the odd smile....
No. Nobody really looks like a host. I think it's the one who's still missing.
But maybe she couldn't afford to wait. They might hear the powerboats leaving over the steady pounding
of the music. Maybe she should just...
Something grabbed her from behind.
This time she had no warning. And she wasn't surprised anymore. Her opinion of herself as a warrior
had plummeted.
She intended to fight, though. She went limp to loosen the grip, then reached between her own legs to
grab her attacker's ankle. A jerk up would throw him off balance....
Don't do it. I don't want to have to stun you, but I will.
Quinn.
She recognized the mental voice, and the hand clamped across her mouth. And both the telepathy and
the skin contact were having an effect on her.
It wasn't like before; no lightning bolts, no explosions. But she was overwhelmed with a sense of Quinn.
She seemed to feel his mind-and the feeling was one of drowning in dark chaos. A storm that seemed
just as likely to kill Quinn as anyone else.
He lifted her cleanly and backed out of the room with her, into the hall, then up a flight of stairs. Rashel
didn't fight. She tried to clear her head and wait for an opportunity.
By the time he'd pulled her into an upstairs room and shut the door, she realized that there wasn't going
to be an opportunity.
He was just too strong, and he could stun her telepathically the instant she moved to get away. The
tables had turned. There was nothing to do now but hope that she could face death as calmly as he had.
At least, she thought, it would put a stop to her confusion.
He let go of her and she slowly turned to look at him.
What she saw sent chills between her shoulder blades. His eyes were as dark and chaotic as the clouds
she'd sensed in his mind. It was scarier than the cold hunger she'd seen in the eyes of the seven guys
downstairs.
Then he smiled.
A smile that shed rainbows. Rashel pressed her back against the wall and tried to brace herself.
"Give me the knife."
She simply looked at him. He pulled it out of her waistband and tossed it on the bed.
"I don't like being knocked out," he said. "I don't know why, but something about it really bothers me."
"Quinn, just get it over with."
"And it took me a while to get myself untied.
Every time I meet you, I seem to end up hog-tied and unconscious. It's getting monotonous."
"Quinn... you're a vampire. I'm a vampire hunter. Do what you have to."
"We're also always threatening each other. Have you noticed that? Of course, everything we keep
saying is true. It is kill or be killed. And you've killed a lot of my people, Rashel the Cat."
"And you've killed a lot of mine, John Quinn."
He glanced away, looking into a middle distance. His pupils were enormous. "Less than you might think,
actually. I don't usually kill to feed. But, yes, I've done enough. I said before, I know what you think of
me."
Rashel said nothing. She was frightened and confused and had been under strain for quite a long time.
She felt that at any moment she could snap.
"We belong to two different races, races that hate each other. There's no way to get around that." He
turned his dark eyes back on her and gave her a brilliant smile. "Unless, of course, we change it."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm going to make you a vampire."
Something inside Rashel seemed to give way and fall. She felt as if her legs might collapse.
He couldn't mean it, he couldn't be serious. But he was. She could tell. There was a kind of surface
serenity pasted over the dark roiling clouds in his eyes.
So this was how he'd solved an unsolvable problem. He had snapped.
Rashel whispered, "You know you can't do that."
"I know I can do that. It's very simple, actually- all we have to do is exchange blood. And it's the only
way." He took hold of her arms just above the elbow. "Don't you understand? As long as you're human,
Night World law says you have to die if I love you."
Rashel stood stricken.
Quinn had stopped short, as if he were startled himself by what he'd said. Then he gave an odd laugh
and shook his head. "If I love you," he repeated. "And that's the problem, of course. I do love you."
Rashel leaned against the wall for support. She couldn't think anymore. She couldn't even breathe
properly. And somewhere deep inside her there was a trembling that wouldn't stop.
"I've loved you from that first night, Rashel the Cat. I didn't want to admit it, but it was true." He was still
gripping her tightly by the arms, leaning close to her, but his eyes were distant, lost in the past.
"I'd never met a human like you," he said softly, as if remembering. "You were strong, you weren't weak
and pathetic. You weren't looking for your own destruction. But you were going to let me go. Strength
and compassion. And... honor. Of course I loved you." His dark eyes focused again. He looked at her
sharply. "I'd have been crazy not to."
Falling into darkness... Rashel had a terrifying desire to simply collapse in his arms. Give in. He was so
strangely beautiful, and the power of his personality was overwhelming.
And of course she loved him, too.