by Addison Fox
Quinn reached for the buzzing device. “Sorry, Montana, but that excuse isn’t fucking good enough for me.”
“You’re not infallible and neither are your brothers.”
“I should be. We all should be. Otherwise what the hell good are we?”
She eyed the BlackBerry as a slow boil began in her veins. “Would you get the hell off that thing?”
“Why? So you can lecture me on how wrong I am? I know what I know, Montana. I have a job to do. We all do. And we let one of our own fucking betray us. And if that weren’t enough, he hurt you. Wants to hurt you more. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?”
His words echoed between them, reverberating off the surfaces of the kitchen.
Tossing the hand towel she still held onto the counter, she stormed toward the living room, hollering over her shoulder as she went, “I don’t care what Arturo’s done. Frankly, I don’t even think most of this is about Arturo. You have this belief you can control everything. Well, I’ve got news for you, Quinn: You can’t. No one can.”
Frustration and fury kept time with her stomping feet as she stalked into the living room and up the stairs. Her bathrobe flared around her ankles as she moved, whipping against her calves.
Stubborn, asshole jerk. That’s what he was.
Thought he could do everything himself.
Thought he was infallible. Or needed to be.
Thought the weight of the world rested on his fucking shoulders.
She stalked through the bedroom door and ran head first into Quinn. “Fuck! What the hell did you do that for?”
“You’re mad.”
“No, Quinn. Not mad. Furious. There’s a huge difference.”
Quinn reached around her and closed the door. “If this little fight ends like I hope it does, we don’t need anyone walking by the door.”
The sly twirl of desire fluttered through her veins at his words, but she resolutely tamped down on it. She’d never been a prisoner to her body and damn well wasn’t going to start now.
She was pissed off and she was entitled to it. “Don’t you dare fuck me with your eyes and don’t think that just because I’m still horny from before I’m going to willingly forget this.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Good.”
A wicked smile spread across his face. “I’m still going to fuck you blind once we’re done fighting.”
Oh my.
Well.
Just…oh my.
“In the meantime, why are you mad?”
She scrambled to keep up, the thought of how she went blind in his arms not that many hours ago still too immediate for comfort. “You were acting like a jerk down there.”
“Rogan didn’t do his job. I was addressing that. Don’t you do that at work?”
“Yeah. But what does that have to do with this?”
“It has everything to do with this. This isn’t just a part of me, Montana. It’s my job, too. It’s how I live my days, years, centuries. I’m a Warrior, and along with my brothers we ensure the safety of humanity.”
“Fine, so it’s your job. It doesn’t change the fact that you lambasted Rogan because you were pissed he was talking to me.”
“You were laughing back.”
“Because he’s funny.”
Lines creased his forehead and his jaw was iron hard. “Rogan failed on this one, Montana. You, of all people, should understand that feeling. And the anger that comes when a job isn’t done right.”
“Yes, but aren’t you taking this a bit too far? He’s not beholden to you.”
“We’re all beholden to one another. That’s the only way we work. I failed and I’ve paid the price. He should, too.”
And that’s where she heard it. The telltale thread of frustration underlying his words that had absolutely nothing to do with Rogan, or Arturo, or even her.
It had to do with Quinn.
“Want to tell me about it?”
His dark eyes shuttered, going all hard and flinty. “Not particularly.”
“Too bad. Spill it.”
Montana took his hand and walked them both over to a small sitting area on the far side of the room. Tugging on his hand, she sat on one end of an overstuffed love seat. “Come on, Quinn. Tell me about it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Quinn felt the pull of her hand in his. He felt the insistent tug of his heart even more.
Did he dare tell her? Did he dare admit his failure? Could he show weakness in front of the woman he loved?
Loved?
Quinn’s gaze roamed over Montana as he took the seat next to her. Her long, lush red hair curled about her shoulders and her blue gaze was quietly trusting.
She believed in him.
And in that moment, it all came clear. The last six months tiptoeing around his Warrior brothers. Castigating himself for his decision to leave Kane and Ilsa at the entrance to the Underworld. The pain and embarrassment of watching the Scorp and his woman as they both desperately tried to show him they didn’t hold what happened against him.
Was that love too?
Maybe it was. And sometimes you did things to each other that you not only had to ask forgiveness for.
But you had to accept the forgiveness when it was given.
“Last spring Kane found Ilsa again.”
“Again? She didn’t mention that.”
Quinn caught her up to speed on Ilsa’s history, the goddess’s role as Hades’ deliverer of souls and her own poor choices prior to meeting Kane.
“Well, it’s clear they’re in love with each other,” Montana said as he finished the story of how Kane and Ilsa met, remet and fell in love. “All’s well that ends well there.”
“It did end well.”
“But you can’t help being mad at yourself.”
The gentle, dulcet tones of her voice scraped at him. At the image he held of himself since the incident. “I didn’t help them when they needed it most. And I did it out of stubborn, arrogant pride. Arrogance they had to pay the price for.”
“It sounds to me like Kane and Ilsa have come out the other side just fine. It’s you who keeps paying the price.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? I left them in a place they might never have come out of.”
“But they did come out of it. Rose above it, too, if the way they look at each other is any indication.”
Why didn’t she understand? Why couldn’t she see it from his point of view? And who was she to even suggest he couldn’t see reason? “You haven’t done anything to your mother, yet you persist in believing you did something to drive her away.”
Montana’s spine went rail-straight and whatever gentleness underlying her previous words evaporated. “That’s different.”
“Is it? Because from my point of view, you’re pretty damn innocent, yourself.”
Her sky-blue eyes went as blank as glass. “She’s my mother, Quinn. And she left me. I hardly think it’s the same thing.”
“Are you sure, Montana? Because you sit there with this big huge blind spot of your own you’re unwilling to look past, yet you have no problem poking at mine.”
Fuck. Did he even say that out loud? What the hell was this, share your feelings with Oprah?
Quinn leaped off the couch and paced across the room. His heart raced from anger, from panic, hell—from pure unadulterated embarrassment at admitting his feelings.
“You have no idea what I feel like. You can’t possibly know what it is to be abandoned. By your own mother, no less!” Montana’s voice punched at him in loud waves, rising to match the same volume she’d used in the kitchen.
But this time, there was pain lancing through each and every word.
Pain he had caused by going down this road and poking a wound that would not heal for her.
“The one person in the entire world who is supposed to love you unconditionally.”
“She loves you. It’s clear to anyone who has seen the two of you.”
And he couldn’t.
He could tell her over and over what he thought. He could even tell her what he saw when Eirene looked at her.
But he couldn’t give her any reason—anything with substance—the explained why Eirene had chosen to go away.
“Ah. See. Now you’re quiet. Damn fucking straight. I can’t believe you even think it’s remotely the same. Especially when your anger over Kane and Ilsa is so stupid and pointless!”
“Pointless?” Quinn felt as stupid as she accused as the words sputtered from his lips. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. No idea how it went down.”
“Based on your stubborn behavior, I have a pretty good idea. You’re a great, huge, overgrown ass hat, just like the women said you were!”
Quinn wanted to hold on to his anger. Wanted to keep it held tight in his palms, like a hot coal, just as he’d done for the last six months.
But the anger wouldn’t stay put and he found the urge to make a fist and hold it all tightly against himself was gone. In that moment, standing before this amazing, incredible, infuriated woman, whatever was left of his anger simply floated away.
“Stupid?”
With slow, measured movements, he crossed the room, his eyes never leaving Montana’s.
How could this one tiny woman have shown him the way? Pointed him toward the path to forgiveness, to absolution, to…love.
Because that’s what she’d found a way to do.
In only a few short days, she’d gotten under his skin and changed everything.
Everything.
“That’s really the argument you’re going to use?”
“If the shoe fits.”
Quinn leaned over and placed his hands on the slender width of her shoulders, pulling her forward to stand before him.
He ran one finger down the curve of her cheek, then pulled that lock of hair that mesmerized him so between thumb and forefinger. “Let it go, Montana. It’s the only way.”
“What if I can’t?”
“Of course you can. And I’ll be right here to help you.”
Montana wanted to believe him, but the hurt she’d held for so very long wasn’t quite ready to release her.
Adopting her most petulant voice, she added, “You can’t even wear my shoes. And for the record, I don’t think Prada heels would look all that good on you anyway.”
The edges of his eyes creased with the sweetest crinkles as Quinn added, “Maybe not heels, but Grey insisted I own a pair of their dress shoes. For men. Claims he’s going to instill some bit of fashion in me somewhere, even if it’s just my feet.”
“If you’re trying to be funny…” She broke off, not sure where she was going.
Could he be right? And could she really live a life where she felt as adequate as the next person?
A life where she believed she could be loved.
“I’m trying to make you smile. And make sure that you’re not only listening to me, but hearing me as well. You’re an amazing woman and I believe the person who knows that most of all is your mother. It was her mistake, Montana.”
Montana knew he was right. She’d spent the last few days trying desperately to work that out in her mind.
“The people we love have the power to hurt us. But it’s not a reflection of us.”
The urge to rant and rail had passed and Montana found curiosity took its place. “Are you still talking about yourself?”
“I’m actually talking about my father.”
“Oh.” The idea of Quinn having a father was an odd thought.
“Oh shit is probably more like it. He had his fair share of problems, amazingly accurate visions at the top of the heap.”
“Visions? Like a seer of some kind?”
“Exactly like that.”
“When did he live?” Had she really just asked that question? Maybe it was starting to get easier, believing in this world that was rapidly coming to claim her.
“He was born around 550 BC. I was born almost twenty-five years later.”
“Oh my God.” The man was over twenty-five hundred years old? Montana reached out and ran a finger down his cheek, unable to keep from touching him. “But you…you look like you.”
“Perpetually thirty-six.” Quinn smiled. “And I was an old man for my day.”
“It’s not possible.” Montana shook her head. “I mean, I understand what immortal means. But to think you were born then. That you’ve existed for that long.”
“And I’m quite young compared to many of my brothers.”
“How old are they?”
“Several are upwards of ten thousand years old.”
Montana fought to grasp it, the insane idea that these people had lived so many lifetimes. “How did you become a Warrior?”
“Themis’s agreement with Zeus allowed for the development of twelve sets of thirteen Warriors each. And she hit a wall after a while. She just couldn’t find enough men. She’d had several defectors by the time the Greek empire was developing and had become selective about who she pulled into service.”
“But she saw something in you.”
Quinn nodded. “Apparently so. I was one of the generals in the Greek army who fought in the Battle of Marathon. Late after the battle, she found my body. I was close to my last breath, but she found me and offered me a choice.”
“And you took it.”
“I did.”
“But why?”
“I’d survived my father’s words and fists so many years, until making my own way. I was proud of that. Proud of my strength. I guess I just didn’t want to give it up yet.”
“You’re a leader.”
“I’m a Warrior.”
Montana smiled, the modesty of his words in direct opposition to his behavior. “You’re a leader among leaders, Quinn Tanner. Clearly Themis saw that.”
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. “I see it.”
Quinn’s arms banded around her as his mouth pressed to hers. She opened for him; the long, slow sweep of his tongue was an exquisite brand. Immediately, she felt her body respond, arousal burning a fire low in her belly.
What was this? She’d been in love before—had even thought to marry someone—but even with Stephen, it had never been like this. She hadn’t wanted this badly. Hadn’t needed.
She hadn’t craved.
Opening herself up to what only Quinn could offer her, Montana allowed him to walk her backward toward the bed. As they fell on top of it, a heap of giggling limbs, Quinn whispered against her throat, “Now I have a promise to keep.”
Quinn pressed Montana back against the mattress, need and longing already pumping through his veins. She made him want to the exclusion of anything—of everything—else.
The desire—bone deep and seemingly endless—that welled up inside of him made him desperate for her.
His woman.
His Montana.
Where their lovemaking earlier had been slow and measured, all he could think about now was taking her. Driving her to the peak and back again. Burying himself so deeply inside of her he could brand her as his mate.
Montana’s need was as frenzied as his own. She already had the T-shirt he wore up and over his head and was clawing at the jeans he’d put on before breakfast.
“I want to feel you. Now.”
He smiled against her neck. “That’s an awfully tempting invitation.”
Her answering smile had a world of promise in the curve of her lips and the light in her eyes. “Actually, I have a far more tempting idea.”
With surprising speed, Montana levered herself under him and had him on his back in moments. As he gazed up at her he saw the blue of her eyes had darkened in sensual invitation. “Tempting?”
“Very much so.”
Before he could maintain the witty repartee—or hell—even a coherent thought, Quinn’s
world tilted on its axis as her hand snaked between them to make a tight fist around his cock.
The epitome of every fantasy he’d ever had—and a few he’d never even thought of until right now—was the responsive woman in his arms. She drove him wild and by the seductive smile on her face, she damn well knew it.
“I believe you said something about going blind, Mr. Tanner?”
The long lines of her body rose up from where she straddled his thighs. The perfect curve of her breasts, the slender arch of her waist where it met gorgeous, lush hips. His voice strangled, he struggled to focus on her words and not on the distracting sight of her body. “I might have mentioned something like that.”
“Well, then, I guess I’d best get to it.”
All Quinn could do was offer up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods had brought her to him—and sit back and enjoy the ride.
And what a ride it was.
Her hands were everywhere at once, over his shoulders, across his chest where her fingers set off a shock wave of sensations as she brushed against his nipple, down the length of his rib cage. Sensation after sensation filled him as she took him along on the most passionate ride of his life.
Quinn felt his body falling deeper under her spell, his body separating from his mind as she lavished herself on him.
Over him.
Around him.
With a light push, she forced him onto his side and, before he understood her intention, he felt the light, questing touch of her fingertips as they traced the outline of his bull tattoo. He stiffened, immediately concerned the bull would come to life under her touch. Although he could hold it within his aura, it wasn’t always so easy to keep it from moving.
“It’s beautiful.”
Quinn didn’t know what to say; didn’t know how to react. So he said nothing as she continued her ministrations.
Her breath feathered across his back as she spoke. “I had no idea. And I’m so sorry for what I said.”
“It’s a lot to take in.”
“You’re too kind.” On those words, Montana leaned in and pressed her lips over the smooth skin of his back, right above the head of the bull.
He didn’t think it was kindness when he was just being honest, but the words never made it. Instead, she turned the tables on him again as her hand snaked down the front of his body.
