by LAURA HARNER
I hadn’t looked at the third body yet. I couldn’t. Not now. I knew who it was, and any help was a long ways off, if I couldn’t get the situation with the werewolf under control.
The wolf moved slowly toward me, blue eyes grown dark with hunger, maw gaping, growl constant. Another quick glance at Gabrielle and Raymond confirmed I was on my own. I shivered. There were already enough bodies on the ground. Goddamn Merkham for putting us all in this situation. It wasn’t Stevie’s fault he’d been turned or that Jason had discovered the wolves. He shouldn’t have to pay with his life. I kept my gun at my side.
“Stevie…you’re Stevie, right? You don’t need to do this. You can control your wolf,” I said.
I was relieved to note that my voice sounded confident. I was about to run the most important con of my life. If I wanted to sell it to Stevie, then I needed to sound as if I believed it, too.
Raymond and Gabrielle were coming home with me—that made them mine. Following that logic, since Raymond was the pack’s alpha, meant that in a twisted way, all of the werewolves were mine.
My heart filled again with the certain knowledge that I was supposed to protect what was mine. I would not kill Stevie. Power welled up within me with that thought. I gasped at the sensation of heat that spread through me. It was as though my blood now pumped ten degrees warmer. I was here as protector.
Stevie lunged, shattering my newly inflated sense of well-being as I scrambled to get out of his way. He leaped again and this time he caught a scrap of my sleeve as his paw brushed against my arm. He landed on all fours and turned to face me. The wolf snarled, jaws snapping, and he came at me a third time.
I turned, twisted, and moved out of his path with ease. With a jolt, I realized the wolf was too slow for me. Too slow? How is that possible?
A low growl raised the hair on the back of my neck as he started toward me again, belly slung low to the ground. He was stalking me.
Without thinking, I used the inner voice, the one I’d used just minutes ago to converse mind-to-mind with Raymond.
“Stevie! No more. You will not attack,” I shouted with my mind. “Back down. Now!”
With a whimper, Stevie dropped his head and cocked an ear to one side. He looked unsure as to how he was hearing my voice in his head. Who could blame him?
With his haunches quivering, he lowered his muzzle to the dirt. His eyes shifted down and away, glancing back up at me every few seconds. It was a posture of complete submission.
We needed help. I needed to get to someone’s cell phone and fast, but I couldn’t if I had to watch Stevie the whole time. I had to be sure he wouldn’t attack if I shifted my attention away from him.
I didn’t yell, just spoke quietly in his head. “Stevie, it’s going to be okay,” I thought. “Go to Raymond, to your alpha. Help Gabrielle. You’re going to be fine, no one will hurt you.”
Stevie rose with another whimper and slunk his way over to where Gabrielle was cradling Raymond in her lap. Stevie nuzzled at Raymond, his attention now completely focused on his injured pack leader. Gabrielle pulled Stevie’s head down closer to Raymond and I could finally run to where my heart wanted me to go all along. To where that third body lay too still on the ground. To Quinn.
Blood soaked Quinn’s chest, but I searched his pockets first, desperate to find his cell phone. Basic first aid: call for help. There wasn’t anything I could do for a chest wound, we needed an ambulance. Then a movement caught my eye and I looked across to Gabrielle surrounded by two giant wolves. Shit. The wolves would be in danger if I called the 9-1-1.
I found the phone and saw the missed call displayed on the small screen. Owen. The phone rang before I could dial for help.
I pressed the answer key, and Owen’s voice came in a rush. “Tell me where you are, KC,” he demanded.
“The Way They Were,” I answered. “Please hurry.” I resisted the urge to ask how he knew I was the one answering, since I was using Quinn’s phone.
“Is anyone armed?” Owen asked.
“Just me, now. Everyone else is down,” I answered. “Owen, hurry. Raymond and Quinn have both been shot. There’s a werewolf here, too. Or three of them, I guess. Gabrielle is in her human form, and Raymond and Stevie are wolves,” I said.
I closed my eyes, willing Owen not to ask any more questions.
“Keep your gun down,” Owen said and he stepped through the trees, not more than fifteen feet away from me.
I dropped the phone in relief and started removing Quinn’s shirt, looking for the source of all that blood. Owen hurried across the lot, but Stevie pushed to his feet, clearly intending to protect the pack alpha. Stevie’s low growl carried clearly in the night air.
Speaking with my mind once more, I said, “Stevie, we need him. I need you to let him pass.” With another shake of his big head, the russet wolf circled back around to crouch next to Gabrielle and Raymond.
As soon as Stevie turned away, my attention shifted to the unconscious Quinn. His face was deathly pale, as the life force within him soaked onto the hard packed soil. Fear gave me a desperate strength and I ripped Quinn’s shirt from his body. I used the ruined cloth to wipe at all the blood, I needed to get a look at the wound.
“Come on, Quinn, stay with me. Come on, baby. I’m not going to let you go, now. You’re going to be okay. Hold on.”
I continued to murmur nonsense phrases as I explored the extent of his injuries. It looked as though there was one large hole, just above his left nipple. I needed to turn him, to see if the bullet had gone all the way through. I didn’t know if I was trying to staunch the blood from one wound or two. From the mount of blood, I knew we couldn’t have much time. We needed to get him to the hospital, now.
“Where’s your car, Owen? Or better yet, let’s take the patrol car. We don’t have time to wait for an ambulance.”
Owen looked at me for a long moment and I wanted to scream at him to hurry. I was not going to let him tell me that it was too late. I would not lose Quinn!
With a slight smile, Owen knelt beside me and passed a hand over Quinn’s chest. “You’ll heal now, Quinn,” he said and then he whispered some other words in a language I didn’t recognize.
Quinn’s eyes fluttered open, blinking rapidly as if he was trying to see something that wasn’t there. Owen pressed a hand to Quinn’s forehead, and said, “Heal, my friend. I must tend to the others, now.”
Owen stood, and said, “Gabrielle, I need to get to Raymond. Stevie, please. You must let me by.”
“Yes,” I added silently, and then I turned my attention from the wolves to focus on the honey gold eyes that were looking up at me.
“Quinn, I need to call an ambulance. I need to call the cops, too. Merkham’s dead.”
“Shhh, Katie. Just kiss me,” he whispered, and his hand reached for the front of my shirt to pull me down.
I pressed my lips softly against Quinn’s, a gentle touch to let him know I was glad he was alive. Quinn tangled his hand in my hair and pulled me against his lips in a hot, soul-claiming kiss that had nothing to do with gentle. His kiss was an affirmation of life. Quinn was alive. We would survive this night to fight another. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, drawing me in. It was as though he was feeding from me and I felt an energy flow between us. My newfound power was filling him, healing him.
One minute, Quinn was a bloody mess on the ground, the next he was savaging my mouth. I pulled back, breathless from the kiss, worried I might be hurting him. Quinn quirked his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Stopping now is probably a good idea,” he said a bit breathlessly. “I need to call this in, take care of business before we go any further.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “You need to be in the hospital. That wasn’t a bug bite, you’ve been shot!”
Quinn pushed to his knees, then stood up, pulling me with him, “Have I really?” he asked.
Owen joined us then, and ran his fingers over Quinn’s bloody but unblemished
chest. “Nicely healed, friend,” he said.
“Yes,” Quinn said, and to my complete shock, he planted a quick kiss on Owen’s mouth, and another on mine. “I owe both of you. Now, get out of here so I can do my job. There are things I must take care of, people I need to call.”
“Quinn,” I started to protest. He cut me off.
“Katie, I need your gun and your truck keys. Owen, I need your shirt. Take Katie home, and then go get Gregory,” he added and handed Owen a key. He turned back to me, and said, “I’ll stop by as soon as I can.”
Before I could protest further, a now naked-from-the-waist-up Owen wrapped me in his arms and the world as I knew it blinked away.
Chapter Twenty-three
Nonplussed. Bewildered. Flummoxed. How in the hell could I even begin to describe how I was feeling? I was sure that only a moment ago I’d been standing in the dirt lot that surrounded the office of The Way They Were, talking with Quinn and Owen. Now, I stood looking around my living room, trying to make sense of the world.
“Owen?” I began, my voice sounding shaky to my own ears. “How did we get here? What the fuck just happened?”
Owen gave me a sexy wink, and in an exaggerated Irish brogue said, “Aye, don’ be tellin’ me ye’ve ne’er heard of the wee folk and our nefarious ability to whisk young maidens away to do our bidding.”
“Not funny, Owen. How did we get here? Or, wait. Are we here? Is this some kind of mind game?” I asked. My mind didn’t find anything funny or game-like about the situation, but I knew my brain would struggle to try to make reason out of the existing insanity it was facing.
“KC, look around. Touch anything you like. This is your place. I wouldn’t have chosen to let you find out about me like this, except Quinn was right. This was an emergency and we needed to get you away from there.
“Raymond, Gabrielle, and Stevie will also be long gone before anyone else arrives. Quinn will make it look as though Merkham was trespassing and drew a weapon when confronted. It’s going to be a lot easier to explain a justified police shooting than it would be to explain that an armed civilian killed him. Even if the victim was an obnoxious member of the press.”
Owen stared off into the distance for a minute before continuing. “I’m afraid the story of the werewolves will still need to come out. We’ll need to expose the wolves to explain why Merkham killed Jason and Susan. Otherwise, Quinn would be vulnerable to charges of conspiracy and murder.”
I shook my head, trying to clear away Owen’s comments about the wolves. What I really needed to know right this minute was how I’d arrived at my house.
“Owen!” I shouted.
Owen’s head shot up and he just looked at me for a long moment before he crossed the floor to take me in his arms. Cradled against his chest, I could hear the steady beat of his heart.
“I’m sorry, KC. I was teasing you and then I got distracted. You deserve an answer.” He led us to the couch, and took my hands in his.
“I did answer your question, you know,” he said with a half smile.
“What? The wee folk bit? Right.” I snorted.
“Well not all of us are so very wee. You’ve already accepted that there are things in this world such as werewolves and witches. Is it such a stretch to imagine that the Fae are real, too?”
“Okay, wait. You’re a fairy?” I sputtered. I’d been through too much tonight to take any more of his teasing. I’d killed a man. I’d spoken to a wolf. Then my thoughts slowed as I put another piece of the puzzle together.
I’d watched Owen heal a man who should have died.
My gaze flashed upwards to meet his steady gray eyes. “You healed Quinn with some words and your hand.”
“Yes,” he said.
“And then you what? Just thought us here and so we were?” I asked, my voice rising with every impossible word.
“More or less,” he said.
“More or less? What the hell does that mean?” I was trying not to shout, but failing dismally.
“Look, KC, it’s just how we can move, that’s all. It’s like shifting a dimension. Not as complicated as a thought. I’m just one place and then I picture where I want to be next and I am. I don’t use it a whole lot because I’ve chosen to live here as a human. Sometimes, like tonight, it comes in handy. It’s how I was able to get to you, to get to Quinn so quickly.” He shrugged, and looked away for a minute.
When he turned back, his face was impassive, but his voice was gentle. “I need to go get Gregory. Do you want me to come back tonight to answer your questions? Or maybe a little time to process everything would be better?”
“Is Gregory—” I started, but Owen cut me off with a shake of his head.
“No, he’s a powerful witch. That’s enough for him. He knows what I am and he loves me anyway. I wonder…will love ever be enough for you, KC?” Owen softly asked.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, my anger spiking.
Owen stood and pulled me to my feet, before wrapping me in his arms once more. “Nothing. I just don’t want to see you push people away who would love you. I’m sorry, KC. I need to go get Gregory and you need rest after you get cleaned up. This will wait. Gregory and I will be here tomorrow. And KC?”
“Yes,” I answered automatically, my mind already shutting down against the impossibilities Owen was asking me to believe.
“Take the time to think about everything that’s happened. Everything that you’ve learned, everything that you’ve done and seen. It is important. Good night, sweetheart.” He kissed me lightly on top of the head, released me, and then with the lightest of pops, disappeared from the room.
****
Thinking about all that happened leant a nightmarish quality to the memories. Unfortunately, I knew it wasn’t a dream. As soon as Owen had popped out, or whatever it was fairies did, I’d thrown away my torn and bloody clothes, scrubbed until I was raw, and then waited. Waited to feel something for killing a man. Waited to feel shock that fairies existed. Waited for Quinn to come.
Nothing happened. After a while, I’d tried to sleep, but that didn’t happen either. So, I’d read Joanna’s diary, used my laptop to research the Fae, and finally sat on the back patio looking out at the moonlit landscape until dawn blushed the sky.
Now, I followed my usual routine, putting out fruit and yogurt, bagels and coffee, and generally bustled around the kitchen and dining room, feeling lost. I never heard the door open, but suddenly I knew he was there. I turned and saw Quinn, framed in the light, his sun-kissed hair loose around his shoulders.
“Katie,” he said, as he moved toward me.
Without any other words, Quinn swept me into his arms and carried me all the way through the House to my bedroom. Once there he held me up against his body, chest-to-chest. His arms wrapped around me, my arms were around his neck, and my feet dangled. Our gazes met, and I knew he was seeing the relief I felt at having him whole and unharmed. I felt the unfamiliar sting of tears and I looked away so he wouldn’t notice.
Damn the man, he noticed anyway. He slid me slowly down the front of his body so that his glorious erection rubbed against my belly as he lowered me to the floor. As soon as my feet were steady, Quinn dropped to his knees and pressed his head to my chest. With his strong arms around me and his silky hair caressing my skin, the enormity of what I’d nearly lost overwhelmed me and I began to cry in earnest.
I couldn’t explain the rush of emotions. Relationships were impossible without both trust and love. My ability to love died when I was three, along with my real family, so I knew I didn’t love Quinn. My ability to trust had died with the rapes when I was only thirteen, and I would never again trust anyone completely.
Maybe that’s what Owen had meant by his cryptic remarks. Even if I allowed myself to feel something for Quinn, I would never lower those shields enough. Maybe my tears were for myself.
“Shh, Katie, everything’s all right. We’re both safe,” he stroked my hair and looked up at me with
eyes that were liquid pools of gold. “We can talk later. I need to make love to you,” he said.
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
Quinn helped me to fall gently back onto the bed, and kept himself between my legs. He pulled his own clothes off first, so that I could see the perfection of his chest. The soft brown curls brushed like silk over golden velvet skin. There were no wounds, no scars where the bullet had bit into him the night before. Owen’s Fae powers were remarkable.
I sat up, lifted my shirt over my head, and then slid out of my shorts, taking my underwear with them. Quinn’s kiss was as gentle as a butterfly as he lightly brushed his lips against mine. His fingers traced over my mouth, across my jaw line, and over the contours of my cheeks. He cupped my face in his big hands, and I closed my eyes at the sensation.
The questions that plagued me through the night were washed away in a wave of desire. I was drowning in Quinn. My body felt alive, energized, and hungry. God, yes, that was the word…hungry. I was starved for a taste of the man.
Quinn pulled back slightly so he could look at me, which gave me the chance to study him in return. He was so beautiful, his strong face looked regal in the early morning light. The amber eyes were dark with passion, sculpted lips were parted, his full lower lip caught by his teeth. Oh yes, I wanted him and without a doubt, he wanted me, too.
His thumbs brushed at the remnants of my tears, then he kissed the tip of my nose, each eyelid, my forehead. The rough calluses of his hands were so at odds with the gentleness of his touch.
“Katie,” he said again, his voice a hoarse whisper. Then his mouth began to move. Down my neck, across my collarbone, lower to my breasts. He left a blazing trail of kisses, gentle bites, and velvety licks. His hands moved to cup my breasts, and when his mouth clamped on one nipple, his fingers rolled and pinched the other.
