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Butch gave her a severe look, making it clear she hadn't had leave to offer that, but she nodded to him. "That doesn't cut into the amount we agreed I would give you as part of your territory."
"Which is irrelevant if you are coming home with me, as you will be," Laurent snapped.
Butch brought his attention back to Laurent. "My guys and their guns are here to even the playing field. To make it a fair fight. You're all about beating up on a girl when you outnumber her four to one. Or torturing a human, which takes as much effort as kicking a puppy or drowning a newborn."
Quinn would have taken offense, but even in his disoriented mind, he realized Butch must have a purpose for goading the other vampire. It had worked. Laurent flushed red over his pale features. Butch glanced back at his men, his tone becoming conversational.
"One of my favorite entertainments is to draw down with another vampire. Old west roleplaying. See whose fastest and all that. You'd say it was just more of my Texan fascination with firearms, but it's a game, which means I only do it with friends. What I want is to mess up that pretty face of yours with my fists. A bullet wouldn't be anywhere near as satisfying."
Laurent was rallying, his arrogant expression back in place. "I see no point to a fight between us. The nature of our disagreement is more contractual."
"Here's the deal." Butch pressed on as if he hadn't spoken. "You and I do a hand-to-hand bout. If I win, Quinn goes free and clear back to his Mistress. The Region Masters' decision is their decision. That will stand either way."
Laurent's brow creased. "While I'm enjoying the diversion of Selene's servant, I'm not about to get into a barroom brawl over owning him. An unwashed cowboy isn't that appealing to me. I see no benefit."
"I'll draw you a picture then. It's pretty much carte blanche what we want to do to our servants." Butch's gaze swept Quinn indifferently, though he thought he might have detected a minor flinch from the vampire overlord when he noted the state of his cock and testicles, wrapped in the barbed wire. "But Region Masters and the Council feel a little differently when it's happening to the vampires in your own territory. I had my servant do a little checking. There are lines, and you like crossing them. Cross them enough, they become straws on a camel's back. Dix has talked to enough of those straws in the past several hours to make me think that if I registered a few complaints on their behalf, the Council might wonder if you should be an overlord after all."
"The Council won't hear the whining complaints of a backwoods territory overlord. I hold far more weight than you do."
Butch's dark eyes glinted with malice. "It's not where you live, Laurent, but the friends you have. And I have a particular friend. Lady Lyssa."
That gave Laurent pause. Quinn was having trouble focusing on the dialogue, because the pain was rising again, a throb oozing back into the cracks of that wall around his mind. But he realized a new tension had gripped the New York overlord. He was distantly glad for that, but to manage the agony in his body, he looked toward his Mistress, stared at her beloved face. Quinn felt Selene's awareness of him, though like most everyone else, her eyes remained on Laurent and Butch.
"You've heard of her, right?" Butch lifted a brow, his tone deceptively mild. "Not only the last surviving member of our royal clans, she was the former Southern Region Master until she changed jobs. What's she doing now, Dix? I forget." He glanced at Dix, standing just behind him to his right.
"Currently head of the Vampire Council, my lord," Dix said formally. Butch gave him a wry look, maybe because of Dix's use of his title, but he lifted a shoulder.
"She likes me. At least enough to spend some time on the phone listening to what I have to say. I think you're familiar enough with her reputation to know she's not a big fan of pointless brutality, especially toward the vampires you're supposed to be governing."
Laurent's expression flickered at that, and though he quickly masked it, Butch let out a chuckle. "You just might get busted back down to peon level. That'd be a real shame. You'd have to work for a living instead of enjoying those juicy tithes you extort out of your vampires. So, what do you say to my 'deal' now?"
When Laurent said nothing, Butch added, "If I lose, your secrets are safe with me and you can continue to play your sick little games with Quinn. Though I'm telling you, this kind of shit makes the rest of us think you're compensating for some little boy vampire sense of inadequacy."
Selene made a noise of protest, but Butch shot her a sharp look. She subsided, though the effort obviously cost her. Quinn was on Butch's side. As long as he took care of Selene, his fate didn't matter to him.
With a snarl, Laurent turned away, stripping off his coat. Making a satisfied nod, Butch started unbuttoning his shirt. When he shrugged out of it, he revealed a body as powerful-looking as the fit of the clothes had suggested, roped with hard muscle, but Quinn now knew firsthand that strength for vampires was linked to age. Laurent had a hundred years on Butch. Maybe that was why Laurent didn't look the least worried about the challenge. He appeared mostly annoyed, probably because they'd interrupted his plan and he might have to get his clothes dirty.
As Claudio took the coat Laurent shed, the vampire addressed Butch again. He'd dropped the scorn and arrogance, leaving pure malice in his tone. "When I win, I will kill him here and now, in front of her. In front of you, Dorn. Since a human life bothers you."
Butch shrugged. "The human life doesn't matter to me. What matters is getting the chance to beat the shit out of you. Quinn's a happy means to that end."
As the two vampires prepared and exchanged barbs, Quinn's attention moved to Dorn's men. All of their faces were somber, eyes serious and alert. Dix drew Selene closer to Quinn, but Laurent stabbed a finger in that direction.
"No. She doesn't touch him until the fight is resolved. In fact..." His gaze lighted with pleasure and he tossed the whip to Mike. "He will continue his punishment until the matter is resolved."
"No." Selene stepped forward then, her jaw set. "You bastard."
"Selene." Butch gave her an even look, then shifted his gaze to Quinn. His tone was deceptively mild. "I expect it's going to be a short fight, Quinn."
Quinn shook his head. "Take your time," he rasped. "They can't hurt me. Not as long as my Mistress is safe."
Her features became even tighter, but she reached out to him in his mind. Hold on, Quinn.
It was like a simple handclasp, more precious to him right now than even a full embrace.
We're going to owe this guy our firstborn if he wins, you know that, right?
I think he's counting on it.
The dr
y note laced with the tension helped him lift his gaze, hold on to hers. Even as he sensed Mike drawing closer, drawing back that whip. Her jaw tightened such that he feared the tension would break it, her blue eyes filled with emotions that destroyed him.
He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't.
The bubble burst, all that pain flooding through him with the first strike. He wrenched his head back as far as his bonds would allow, his body going rigid, fighting the inevitable. He was vaguely aware of Butch and Laurent circling one another, then the ground vibrated as they charged and slammed into one another like a car crash. A blink later the fence shuddered under the impact of their bodies and he saw it splinter, give way three sections down. The whip fell again and his body contorted against his bonds, red fire washing through him.
In the haze of pain he realized the combatants were moving so fast the only way to track them was by the trail they left. Earth furrowed as they rolled down the short hill into the retention pond. The flash of the water against the moonlight showed their movements. He had a brief impression of Laurent landing a blow in Butch's rib cage that should have broken bone like matchsticks, but Butch roared and Laurent was airborne, thudding back onto the bank.
Quinn lost track of them then because agony took over again. The blows were landing one after another, no pause between. Mike was taking his pound of flesh. Maybe a hell of a lot more than that. The pain didn't ebb and flow. It was a crescendo, and Quinn couldn't get above it or around it this time. He'd never experienced such agony in his life. He struggled to get back to that place deep inside, but it was too far to reach. He was being dragged down into another kind of dark place, one way too much like being buried alive to allow him to hold on to his courage.
No, he had to hold on. For her. Selene was watching. He had to prove he was worthy of her, even if he'd been the dumbass shit who'd screwed all this up.
The whip struck his shoulder, but this time it didn't slice and pull back. It fell, rolling along his torn back and catching on the split rail by his bound ankle. He heard what had to be a scuffle behind him, a crack and then a thump. He lifted his head enough to try to find Selene, see if he could figure out what had happened, but she wasn't there.
