Page 3 of Light Fae's Love

Quinn has duties to attend tonight, though; he bows over my hand then turns, moving away with Devi. As he goes, I take a moment to regroup, smoothing a hand down my sapphire blue and gold gown. The gown is Vampire-made and drapes low in the back, and the silk has a sleek 1930s cut, beaded across the shoulders with freshwater pearls that cling to my every move.

As I accept a fresh glass of wine from one of Quinn’s Vampire servers, glancing around the underground hall at the historical portraits of Vampires festooning every vault, my gaze lands on one nearby. As I migrate over to get a better look at it, however, the woman’s presence seems to drag me towards her. Though it’s just a portrait, I find I can’t look away, transfixed by her likeness. It’s as if the 1200s painting has been imbued with the Vampiress’ magic as I stare up at her sensual, belladonna beauty.

Dark-haired with eyes nearly as black as Quinn’s, she’s of Italian descent as she stares down at me as if she can see me watching. Though her features are perfect, her cheekbones wide and high, her lips full, and her mysterious poise statuesque like Elizabeth Taylor or Sophia Loren, something cruel lingers about her. Perhaps it’s in the eyes as I gaze up at her, unable to look away. Like the Mona Lisa but wicked, something evil is in her gaze as she stares down at me. Something that wants to kill me, if she could.

Or make me suffer—until everything good inside me dies.

“Emiliana DiClario.”

A clear tenor voice like silver bells makes me turn, and I see Quinn’s Third in the Dark Haven of Florence, Curio Silverfrost, gazing up at the portrait with me. Dressed in one of his elegant white and silver 1800s outfits, Curio looks like a Victorian gentleman about to go riding with his vest’s high collar and sleek silk cravat, silver-grey riding breeches, and tall boots.

Though Curio’s old Winter Fae wind swirls around me, brisk and pepperminty like always, I feel it lance like daggers now as his pale blue-white eyes stare up at the woman’s portrait.

Fury in his ancient, icy gaze.

“She was your Master also, wasn’t she? As well as Quinn’s?” I ask Curio now, a friend here at the Hotel and Dark Haven, and one of the people I trust most among Quinn’s Vampires.

“She was.” Curio is uncharacteristically solemn as he sips a red wine like me tonight, not blood. Pure, vicious hatred still seethes through him for the woman in the portrait, however, and I know why. Emiliana DiClario abused everyone in her Dark Haven, before Quinn killed her just over two hundred years ago.

And none suffered more than her favorite protégé and whipping-boy.

Quinn.

“How did she die?” I’ve never heard this story from anyone in Quinn’s Dark Haven, particularly not Quinn.

“Devilswood stake, enhanced by silver Faeanic runes.” Curio is brisk now as he turns to me with a wry smile, saluting the portrait as if toasting her death, then downing his wine. “Quinn had prepared it some time before he actually used it on her. They were Faeanic runes of his own design, based on ancient Summer Fae runes that would carry the power of pure sunlight directly into her heart when he staked her. You wouldn’t know it, but Quinn is an inventor, Ariana; he’s particularly good at inventing with Summer Fae runes, which shouldn’t be possible with him being a Vampire now. He should only be able to wield Vampire Bloodsigns. Quinn is an enigma in Vampire culture, however, and always has been.”

“He is.” I muse, thinking about all the ways my Master Vampire differs from other Vampires I’m surrounded by daily, living and working at the Red Letter Hotel Florence as I do now. “How did he find his moment?” I ask, wondering how Quinn got the drop on a Vampire many hundreds of years his elder, Quinn only six hundred years old and only four hundred in his Vampire life.

“She trusted him.” Curio shrugs now, a vicious but pleased gleam in his eyes. “And her trust undid her. Quinn was her top lieutenant, her Second in the Dark Haven of Florence before it became his. He was her utterly ruthless protégé, and she called him to her bed nearly every night when she was done tormenting others. She slept beside him when day came. Quinn can daywalk, though; his strength does not diminish with the sun’s rise, it strengthens. After countless mornings of laying awake as our Mistress slept, reliving all the horrible things she did to him and to everyone else around him… Quinn snapped. One day he just got that stake out of the bureau where he’d hidden it, walked over to her enormous bed, and thrust it right through her heart. That night, when the rest of us woke… we were liberated.”

“Only a few of you who were Emiliana’s became blood-oathed to Quinn after that, though, via his Master’s Kiss.” I note, knowing that part of the story at least.

“Yes.” Nodding, Curio gives me a dire eyebrow lift. “Many who enjoyed tormenting people left to go to other Dark Havens, ones that are not as egalitarian as Quinn’s. Several others who had been too abused simply left, unwilling to remain here where our lives had been such a nightmare. Those with grit and heart remained to build this place anew. With love, beauty, and most of all, consent. Which is how it is now, and forever more shall be.”

“As long as Quinn runs it.”

Another Master has joined our group now, and I glance over, knowing that ocean-smooth baritone voice. The Master Vampire-Siren Arturos Morregain has drifted to us, staring up at Emiliana’s portrait also as he sips from a chalice that is definitely blood, not wine.

Arturos is resplendent tonight in a modern pearl-white tux jacket with rounded midnight blue lapels and black pants. His platinum and pearl men’s cuff around his left wrist, the Vampire-Siren wears no bowtie but has the collar of his tux shirt open, an ornate torque of platinum and pearls curling around his collarbones to match his cuff.

Men’s rings of pearl and platinum are on a few fingers tonight. Combined with the rakish style of his tux, he looks like a prince of the waves striding right out of the sea as he comes to stand beside me.

Arturos’ ocean-blue eyes are deep as they pin me. His hair a dark chestnut, his features are such a handsome perfection, even far more than Quinn’s, that I can’t help but stare up at his tall gorgeousness.

As Arturos reaches out, lifting my hand and brushing the barest kiss over it, he keeps me locked in his gaze. His rolling oceans pummel me in his ancient, darkwater aura as it swirls and eddies all around me. Unlike he once did, Arturos doesn’t try to take me with his magic, or try to pull me away from Quinn. Desire is still in his gaze as it penetrates me, though. I shiver, caressed by his dark oceans.

And reclaim my hand, giving him a nod.

“Arturos.”

“Lady Ariana Summers.” He is formal with me, though I don’t deserve such a title. Arturos glances at Curio, then nods at the portrait. “Emiliana is dead and dusted, but we live on. Tonight is about solidifying allies to Quinn’s new way of leading his Dark Haven, and perhaps the world, if we can manage it. For it’s time Vampires came into a new age and Quinn is the one to lead us there. If he’s strong enough.”

I have no time to ask what Arturos means, however, as Quinn steps up to a podium erected in the center of the underground space. As he receives a chalice of blood now from Devi, rather than wine, the entire hall turns to him. Smiles are on most faces, or what can be called smiles, as most elder Master Vampires don’t smile anymore.

A few of Quinn’s allies beam at him as he takes center stage, though; most notably Curio, Devi, and the gorgeous Mistress of Britain, the Lady Eiseth Pendragon, standing near the podium in her bright silver armor and midnight blue Arthurian gown.

But the night is Quinn’s as he raises his chalice, gazing around the hall. Like living fire and wraith smoke, his tremendous magical aura seethes from him, boiling through the underground space. Like a lake of fire, it looks like oil curling with blazing flame as it spreads around us, shimmering with my dark rainbows in its depths. There’s also light from Lucca in Quinn’s power now, though, flickering like gold and silver sunlight as he takes us all in.

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