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Quinn stepped out of the shower, dried himself off and picked up his razor for a quick shave. The trip had been very successful, the bull all it was advertised to be. Dinner last night had been nice too, with old friends from the rodeo circuit. He had no desire to go back to it, certainly not with the present changes in his life. But he liked the gossip as well as the next man. He only wished Selene could have been with him so he could show her off. Let people know about the magic that had come into Quinn Pedraza's life. During dinner, he'd imagined her sitting next to him, that slim, proprietary hand of hers sliding along his thigh as he kept his arm stretched along the back of her chair. As he turned his head, nuzzled her hair... Christ, he had it bad.
Tomorrow the bull would arrive at the ranch, so as soon as he'd landed on his property, Quinn had radioed Johnny and they'd spent the afternoon preparing for the delivery. The foreman knew exactly how much area to fence off and how big a stall they needed when the brute was inside. The ranch would be breeding a whole new strain of cattle from that big son-of-a-bitch.
A quick bite of dinner after that and he'd headed for the shower, anxious to see Selene.
He studied himself as he shaved, noting the restlessness that plagued him for so long had disappeared from his eyes. Buying the ranch and the bar had only partially assuaged it. It had taken Selene, with her ability to connect with him on so many levels, to help him understand who he really was and feel comfortable in life. The crazy thing was how quick it had happened, but she'd implied sometimes it could be that way for a human meant to be a vampire's servant.
He thought of Sam Red Elk, who'd said he'd find his life intertwined with "the otherworld". He'd guided Quinn out of the troubled, lost teen he'd been in a loud, violent household, yes, but if the old man hadn't opened his mind to the impossible, would Quinn have been able to accept Selene and what she was? He had no idea, but he figured he owed the old shaman, big time. He was glad that the After Hours had been her chosen stop on the highway.
Last night before he dropped off to sleep, he'd tried headtalking with her, but got no response. Twice. It made him a bit uneasy, but the bar had been extremely busy. He assumed she was swamped with work and couldn't take the time to chat. Chat! What a word for it. During the day he knew she was sleeping, but when he tried her again before he jumped into the shower he still got no response. He halfway convinced himself she was punishing him in fun for leaving her overnight. Making him all the more eager to see her. He grinned at the thought. Could be a vampire thing, but that was definitely a woman thing as well. And a Mistress thing. Anticipation coiled in him at the thought.
Okay, he'd see her in person soon enough. That was better.
As he reached for the watch he'd placed on the counter his gaze fell on that bite-shaped mark on his wrist, the brand of the third mark. It was his talisman, his comfort icon. He touched it often during the day while he worked, rubbing his thumb over it or brushing it with the tip of his forefinger. Every contact reinforced his connection with his incredible vampire. His Mistress.
How did I get so goddamn lucky?
When he looked at the watch he realized it was after seven o'clock. Selene would have the bar open for the evening and everything humming along with her usual efficiency. His plan had been to get there before she opened and catch a few minutes alone with her, but getting ready for the new bull had taken much longer than he expected. His cock reminded him how long it had been since he'd seen her.
Oh yeah, a whole twenty-four hours. I'm getting to be a greedy son of a bitch.
Maybe he'd put on those shiny briefs she insisted on bringing back from Butch's. Haul her upstairs and give her a surprise.
I can't wait to see you.
He frowned when there was no answer forthcoming. Fun was fun, but usually she'd respond to something like that. She liked it when he reached out during the early opening hours. She'd said it was her way of keeping tabs on him. Making sure he'd survived his work day and wasn't overdoing, spending all that energy she intended to drain throughout the night. The grin the thought would normally inspire couldn't quite make it to his lips.
Mistress? Where are you? I miss you.
Still no answer.
His gut twisted in a double knot. She would never block him unless she thought his being with her would bring him into danger. Had that sick fuck Laurent shown up while he was away and taken out his anger on her? No, Dix had told him Butch would give her a heads-up before he called Laurent. But suddenly Quinn wondered if something had happened, the timetable accelerated. What would she do if that happened? She'd try to protect him. Goddamn it. He was an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking? He'd been so caught up in that fucking bull, pretending his life was like it always was, predictable ups and downs, the only dangers out there those that came with working a ranch...
He wiped his face quickly and had just grabbed the briefs and his jeans when his cell phone rang. The readout said After Hours. He stabbed the Talk button.
"Selene?"
"No, boss, it's me." Manuel's voice. "I think you'd better get down here."
Quinn's entire body froze, a terrible foreboding slicing through him. "What's up? Where's Selene?" He could hear voices in the background, the sounds of the early evening crowd.
"Uh, that's it, boss. I was a little late getting here and the place wasn't even open yet. We had folks at the door pounding to get in."
"Not open?" Bad. Very bad. "Where's Selene?" Quinn's tone was sharper this time.
"She left me a note on a bar napkin that says she's sick and we should handle the business tonight. Maria's here but I think I should call Carol to come in too. That okay?"
Quinn squeezed the phone so hard he was afraid it might crack. Sick? Vampires don't get sick. It's that bastard. I just know it.
"It's just not like her, boss. I thought I should call you. We're kind of worried."
Not alone in that. Quinn yanked his jeans on one-handed over his bare skin and reached for a shirt. "You did the right thing. Call Carol and put Maria behind the bar. I'm on my way."
He shoved sockless feet into his boots, grabbed his keys and wallet and was in his truck in less than two minutes. Whatever's happening, I'm on the way, Mistress. It's okay. I'm coming.
He hoped she was hearing the message. And that she was where he suspected she'd go if she was in distress. If she wasn't there, he wasn't sure where he'd look. He'd go
out of his mind.
He broke every speed limit getting to After Hours, pulling into the parking lot so fast his truck skidded sideways. Yanking out the keys, he ran across the lot and went in through the back entrance. He half hoped to see her in her office, but it was dark. He barreled toward the bar, barely managing to check himself in time to get under control. If this was as bad as he expected, Selene didn't need a maniac tending to her. Or alerting the others to what she was.
Carol spotted him as soon as he walked in and hurried over, carrying a tray full of empties.
"I don't know what's up, Quinn, but I think something's bad wrong with Selene. She never misses a night." She saw it in his face too, he was sure. Still, he put a hand on her arm in reassurance.
"You guys keep the place running. I'll go check on her. I'll take care of it." He hoped to Christ he could.
She wouldn't be in the upstairs apartment. She'd want the darkest place she could find. The converted storeroom at the back of the cellar.
The staff kept the cellar door locked except when pulling out supplies, but he had his keys. As he slipped the key into the lock and pushed it open, he concentrated, seeing if he could feel her in any way. She'd said that was a servant's skill that time would hone, until he'd be able to feel her nearby or in his mind before she said a word. Maybe he didn't have the skill yet, but he didn't feel her in any way. That worried him even more.
As he locked the door behind him, he noticed the bulb mounted to the right of the stairs had been broken, shards of glass on the top stair. The damn thing had always been in too low of a position, easy to hit with an armload of boxes. As he descended, he was thankful for those third mark senses that kept him from having to wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He could make out the outline of the shelving and kegs like they were cast in pre-dawn light, a mostly dark-gray room.
He wasn't grateful for the smell of blood those enhanced senses brought him. At the bottom of the stairs, he found a small lump of clothing. Lifting it in his hands, he discovered bloodstained fabric, torn panties and bra. Her delicate, lacy things, worn to please him and please herself. His gut twisted like a vise. Spattered blood lay beyond them with her shoes, dropped along that chilling path. If such a blood trail was here, it should have been upstairs too, but the aged wood floor had been stained by so many spilled drinks and drunken brawls--before Selene came--it would have blended.
