Page 47 of Light Fae's Love

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Page 47 of Light Fae's Love

“His Master is the golden ruffian of Monaco,” the Wanderer says now, making me startle. I had forgotten she was there in everything that had just happened.

“Florian.” Quinn’s tone is dark as his eyes flicker with a terrible fire now, though it’s far weaker than usual. “Then he did feel how compromised I was tonight. It’ll be all over Rome by sunup. If it isn’t already.”

“The Council is sure to be informed about it.” Arturos nods, his blue eyes so dark in the night they look black from rage. Currents surge around him now from his magic, seething like a maelstrom that swallows ships alive, pulling them down to their doom.

“It cannot be helped.” Quinn nods, though as he sighs, I feel how bone-tired he is. Even though he took some of his energy back from me, it was just enough to heal him from that deadly strike and nothing more.

Lucca’s light sears inside me now, Quinn’s darkness not enough to counter it. I feel what a shitshow we are in for when we have to face the Vampire Council. That time seems like sooner rather than later, based on what just happened. Vampires, it seems, love it when blood is in the water.

And Quinn’s blood is in the water now—along with the entire Dark Haven of Florence.

“Can you sense anything from the Council? Do they know of my predicament?” Quinn glances to the Wanderer now, though I feel how reticent he is to ask anything of her. With ancientness like hers comes unpredictability, I feel from him now through our connection. Though she has been nothing but pleasant tonight, like all Vampires, the Wanderer has a dark side.

And it isn’t pretty when it comes out, as Quinn must have seen before.

“Nothing that might be pertinent to you now.” She shrugs as if she doesn’t really care, watching a midnight flower as it blossoms beneath her fingertips. She strokes the petals, making them blossom under the full moon.

Then she causes them to wither, the dead petals and blossom dropping away from the desiccated stalk to her bare feet.

“The hour is late and I must wander.” She looks at me now, pinning me with her unfathomable, dark gaze. “Be cautious, child, for your lovers are not who they say they are, and the Golden Orbs is not your enemy. Provided you can use his machinations to your own advantage. Rather than his.”

With this cryptic piece of advice, she turns to Quinn next, nodding to him, then pinning Arturos with her formidable gaze. He quails before his Master, his blue eyes flinching as if she just read his very soul.

It seems Arturos’ decisions are his own, however, as she gives him a sad smile, then turns towards the Vampire assassin, still in his watery bonds. She is graceful as she picks up the Devilswood knife from the ground where Quinn discarded it. Extending it to the assassin, she pins him with her gaze.

“Take it. Kill yourself.”

He does. One moment, he’s held fast in Arturos’ bonds; the next, he’s using the entirety of his power to break one arm free, seizing the dagger and plunging it into his heart. His eyes bulge as all breath is driven from him; his undying life flickers out.

Arturos drops him to the ground as his blood stains the ground with Quinn’s.

Horror takes me as I see the Wanderer's capabilities. With one command, she made a Vampire drive a deadly knife right into his heart—a Vampire who wasn’t as strong a Master as Arturos or Quinn, but neither was he an underling to get the drop on Quinn like he did. As the Wanderer flickers out in a sigh of midnight mist, I know why Quinn is reticent to ask anything of her.

And why every other Master treats her with deep respect.

She is gone. We’re still there with the body, though, as light begins to rise on the margin of the sky. Arturos glances up at it, then nods to us. “I’m sure the party is long over. You two should come inside and get cleaned up; get some rest while you can. I’ll have my man Paulo come out here and get the body, then deliver it back to Florian with a warning about trying such stunts on my land.”

“Reasonable. The Council cannot fault you for that.” Quinn nods as he pushes to standing. I help him up, though both of us support each other since we’re still in a terrible state. Lucca feels far away, but his stored energy blazes inside me. I wonder how much he felt of all that happened just now, or if our trio’s psychic connection is too faded with the distance between us.

And Quinn’s and my weakness.

I feel a flicker of affirmation now, though, coming from Lucca far away. He can feel us and is relieved Quinn lives, though his connection is distant. I feel in his concentrated sending how weak he is also, missing most of his usual energy since he stored it inside me. A sudden thought comes from him. I will try to keep tabs on you as much as I can.

And then our connection flickers out, lost.

As dawn truly begins to rise now, Arturos hastens us back through the topiary maze and into the main house. Everyone is gone, only Arturos’ servants doing the last of the party cleanup, though I sense none of them are Vampires and will not fade during the light of day. They can continue their work, but Arturos needs to rest. I feel it, too, as I help Quinn up the grand stairs to the manor’s second level, then down the hall to an opulent guest suite made up for us.

I help Quinn into the grand four-post bed, getting him undressed and his blood sponged off before I strip and do the same. As I tumble into bed beside him, I’m grateful for Arturos’ sheets—a high thread count cotton that’s soft and silky as Quinn and I cuddle naked.

Quinn’s on his back with me tucked close to his side, curling around him like a monkey. His sigh is beyond exhausted as Arturos nods his goodbye and shuts the doors, moving off down the hall. I didn’t even realize I got naked in front of him. I’m that bone-tired.

As everything inside me yearns towards sleep.

Dawn rises, and I close my eyes. It feels like I’ve only been asleep for two minutes, though, when someone’s pounding on the doors. As Quinn groans and stirs, I come awake.

To see Arturos slipping into the room, dressed in a quilted blue men’s robe two centuries out of date.

“Ariana! Rouse Quinn. Quickly!” Arturos says, as he hustles to the closet, pulling out a long green silk robe for me, and a maroon quilted men’s robe for Quinn.




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