Page 37 of Quintus

“I stay away from supernaturals whenever possible. Especially wolves and witches. I could navigate the vampires. I’d wear glamour. My energy is usually weak. I could have easily been human or psychic. They didn’t know the difference.”

“You may have done a good job avoiding the wrong vampires…most of them anyway. But I knew within seconds you weren’t human. Or psychic.” He placed his hand on her thigh, and but for a second, he recalled her taste on his lips, making love to her. Blood rushed to his cock at the thought and he sucked a breath, willing his erection to subside.

“My wolf. You’re the first person I’ve ever shown,” she admitted.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Is she?” Gabriella asked.

“You’re always beautiful. Both as witch and wolf. You don’t have to hide anymore.”

“I’m not so sure,” she hedged.

“It’s up here,” he interrupted. Quintus glanced to Gabriella whose eyes widened at the spectacular stone building. “It used to be a sugar refinery. Built in the 1800s.”

“The get together is in there? It’s so big.”

“Whatever happened to renting a ballroom at the Four Seasons?” Viktor commented with a smirk.

“Not exactly the right crowd.” Quintus looked to Gabriella. “It’s not that certain groups don’t meet in…how would I say? A more typical establishment.”

“These partyers are anything but…I mean a few of the wolves are well cultured but you see, many of us…paranormals, we prefer a setting where we can let our inhibitions loose,” Viktor added.

“You’ve seen my club. They crave the darkness of the night and in their souls,” Quintus explained.

“Yeah, I’d say everyone’s going to be revved when they see Quint tonight, so buckle up, sweetheart.” Viktor raised his eyebrows and gave a devious smile.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“It means my boy doesn’t get out often and when they do see him, they all know some shit’s about to go down.”

“Is he serious?” As the car slowed and the dim factory lights lining the entrance came into view, she reached for his hand.

“I prefer my solitude. I keep my vampires in line. That’s all that matters,” Quintus explained.

“He’s what they call in celebrity circles…reclusive.”

“I’m not into the bullshit. I’m good without it.” Quintus didn’t see the point of mingling on a regular basis with supernaturals who weren’t friends.

“How long has it been since you’ve gone to one of these things?” she asked.

“Twenty years give or take. New York City isn’t that old when you look at it in the grand scheme of things. Look…up there. That’s where we’re going.” Quintus slid his arm around her, and pulled her close. “Just breathe.”

“What is that?” she gasped.

The body of a beheaded man sat on a barrel, illuminated by red candlelight. Rats scurried around the body as partygoers milled toward the entrance.

“If it’s a vampire, he’s rogue. Not one of ours,” Viktor said.

“They just leave him out there?” Her face wrinkled in disgust.

“It’s a warning. Although it’s a party, there’re dangerous individuals in attendance,” Quintus told her.

He sensed her fear as it rolled off her, and although he wished he could comfort her, the emotion would serve her well. They needed to exercise extreme caution, and this would provide a lesson in her practice, controlling impulses when faced with danger.

The car rolled to a stop, and he nodded at Viktor. “An hour tops. I address the community and speak with Absinthe. Got me? Stay with Gabriella.”

“You ready?” Quintus asked her. She nodded and he briefly brushed his lips to hers, tasting her honeyed mouth. No time to be distracted; he wore a mask of indifference and readied to exit the car.