by Zoe Perdita
Well, none of that had done Montgomery senior any good in the long run. He’d died like all the others. After so many years, he finally stumbled upon Quinn during a full moon. At that point, it didn’t take much to push him over the edge—his truth was as rotting and diseased as his corpse. Still, Quinn was bound to the family who captured him. The ones who locked him up and kept him as a caged animal for their own gain.
“Do you have violent thoughts of Bradley?”
“Most of all, but I can’t act on them so you don’t need to worry,” Quinn said and grinned mildly. He tapped one foot against the wall and hoped it left an unsightly black smudge from the underside of his shoe.
“What sort of thoughts do you have about Bradley?” Dr. Ross asked and his mouth pinched.
Quinn studied the window he leaned against. They were nailed shut and double paned, probably to prevent someone crazy from leaping to their death. Well, it wasn’t really crazy to want to get away from Dr. Ross since he was nearly as insufferable as Bradley. “Drawing and quartering sounds fun. Medieval, but I like the fact that he’d really suffer through the whole process. I found pictures of that in the library. Illustrations, really, but they were graphic. Very bloody.”
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“Have you been taking your medication?”
On the street below, Quinn watched the cement darken with rain and those who walked freely going about their day. Did they take that freedom for granted or did they relish in it the way he would? Difficult to tell.
One person in particular caught Quinn’s attention—a young man with bright blue tips of hair. He wore a black jacket and jeans, and a trail of smoke snaked behind him. Quinn watched him bend and pick up an umbrella that a woman dropped and hand it back to her, and then he crossed the street, turned the corner and disappeared.
“Quinn?” Dr. Ross said, his pen smacked the paper, and his brow furrowed.
“Hm? I’m bored. The people outside are more interesting than you,” Quinn said and pressed his nose into the glass, like he could melt into it and find that man again.
He couldn’t.
“Your medications?”
“Oh. I toss them out. I’m not as crazy as you think. Or delusional. Or narcissistic,” Quinn said with a heavy sigh.
Dr. Ross frowned and covered the paper with his hands. “Leave the diagnosis up to me. You know what’ll happen if you want to harm others, Quinn? Do you understand the consequences for those actions?”
“I don’t want to harm anyone but Bradley and you, to a lesser extent. Mostly out of spite for making me sit here for an hour and torture me with this view. I want to try ice cream. I have to watch people go into that shop and come out with brightly colored things on delicate cones, and they all look so happy. What does it taste like?”
Dr. Ross blinked. “You’ve had ice cream before, I’m sure. We’re not making a lot of progress today, Quinn. Do you see that? You’ll never make progress until you realize the truth—the Montgomery family is trying to help you. You’re very sick and you need to start taking your medications and living in this reality, not the one in your mind.”
Quinn snorted and crossed his arms.
“However,” Dr. Ross said, wilting under Quinn’s gaze, “you haven’t asked to make a bargain with me in a long time. That’s progress, in a way.”
“Making a bargain with you is an act of stupidity because you couldn’t fulfill your end of it,” Quinn said and studied his nails. His foot tapped faster now.
Dr. Ross opened his mouth, but the phone rang and cut him off. He held up a finger and rose to his desk.
Quinn heard the voice on the other end—his sense of hearing was sharper than normal humans since he was a shifter. Different sorts of shifters had different senses. His were scent and hearing, but others had increased sight as well. Not that it mattered. He could do something no other shifter could, and that’s why the Montgomery family kept him locked up.
Because he was a monster—one to be feared in the depth of the night. Though, most people who laid eyes on him wouldn’t believe that until he acted.
It was Bradley on the phone, and though his voice was distant, Quinn still heard bits of the conversation. Bradley said something about the institution—was it really a good idea?
Dr. Ross hardly hesitated. “We’ve tried almost everything else. No matter what, he retreats from me.”
On the other end, Bradley huffed and grumbled something crude.
Dr. Ross looked at Quinn. “Can you wait in the lobby for a moment? Merci is coming to get you now.”
Quinn nodded and left quietly, his heart pounding.
Sarah was on the phone, her eyes turned away from Dr. Ross’s office. No one else was in the waiting room, and if Merci, the raccoon shifter who doubled as Montgomery’s driver, wasn’t there yet, that gave Quinn a unique opportunity.
He didn’t stop to think. He slid out of the door and stepped down the hall. Quinn half expected someone to charge after him.
They didn’t.
He got to the elevator without anyone from Dr. Ross’s office noticing his absence. It wouldn’t last long, so he pressed the ‘down’ button and trotted to the stairway instead.
Stepping out into the cool spring evening, without Dr. Ross, Merci or Bradley and his fetid stench at Quinn’s side was as close to freedom as he’d had in over twenty years. Even with the weight of the necklace and his bonds tying him down, he had this moment to do whatever he wanted.
So, Quinn turned in the direction the blue-haired man had gone and walked.
None of the people on the streets knew he was supposed to be crazy, and they cast him curious glances. Many smiled, and Quinn smiled back. The air was cool and seemed to drift under the collar of his shirt and up his long sleeves, but it was better than the stuffy air in an office that smelled like leather and Dr. Ross’s pungent aftershave.
As evening darkened into night, Quinn found himself walking with a crowd of people down the side of the river. The water, though murky, still sparkled with the golden lights from the street lamps and the shops on the other side of the road.
Most people had umbrellas, and even though the rain wasn’t particularly hard, it was steady enough to soak into his shirt and mat the pale hair to his head. A shiver shot up his spine, and Quinn ignored it.
It didn’t matter how far away he got—Bradley would find him eventually. The tether that held him in place would tighten, and he’d be punished for this infraction. Painfully, no doubt. Yet none of that dampened Quinn’s mood. He hadn’t escaped since he was much younger, and at that time Haven City looked too big and intimidating to be much fun.
Now, all he saw were people enjoying themselves. Lively music poured from the buildings on his left, a war between the steady thump that shook the sidewalk under his feet and the voices that rose on the street.
People spoke to him as he passed them. One group of women invited him to get a meal with them, and Quinn agreed. It was something in his eyes or his looks that drew them in since he hadn’t spoken. Some people, those with weak minds, could be nudged gently from his voice when he spoke the truth, but he didn’t try that now.
He didn’t have to.
The food was good even if he didn’t remember much else besides several of them touching his legs. When he told them he wasn’t interested in sex, they got a little annoyed and Quinn made a hasty exit.
The moon hung high in the sky by then, her light kind and familiar. Quinn smiled at her as he strolled on.
Finally he stumbled upon a cinderblock building that looked like all the others along the street. A rainbow flag fluttered over the entrance. Inside, besides the scent of alcohol and humans, he caught the hint of others like him—shadow folk.
The burly man at the door who smelled like magic of some kind (not rotten magic, like Bradley, but a cool clean scent) asked Quinn for money, which Quinn didn’t have. Unfortunate, since the inside of the building looked better than the outside with all those fl
ashing lights, and the constant noise that could drown out anything.
Another group of people came up behind him and made some negotiation with the burly man, who finally let them all in.
Once inside, they handed Quinn drink after drink, usually brightly colored and fruity with the bite of bitterness underneath. Some even had punctured fruit inside them, and those were his favorite.
Between each drink he got pulled onto the dance floor, and everything turned into a wonderful sweaty mess of bodies pressed together. Hands wandered over his arms and chest. Fingers flicked his shirt open, and that was soon lost somewhere. Another set of hands rested on his hips. At some point, a group of helpful young women gave him a band to keep the hair off his neck.
The only problem was no one listened to him.
Quinn tried to talk to the shadow folk who were there, but none of them seemed to understand his plight. He couldn’t flat out ask for help, of course, the spell that bound him prevented that. But even having a conversation beyond “what do you want to drink” or “let’s dance” seemed impossible.
At one point he even spotted a flash of blue hair across the room. The man attached to it stood at the bar, a bottle clenched in his fist. Shadows pinched his dark eyes, and he stared right at Quinn.
The slight scent of wolf musk met Quinn’s nose, and he wondered if that was whom he smelled. An alpha—a hungry one.
Then the crowd swept in the way and the wolf disappeared from his view.
Quinn frowned. If Bradley let Dr. Ross lock Quinn in a mental institution, he’d never find someone who could break his spell. And if this was Quinn’s last night—his only night—of freedom, he swore he’d make it better than all the others.
He wasn’t going back to the Montgomery prison.
He’d either find someone to help him break his bonds, or he’d free himself in another way.
2
Tyler Harrison tongued his lip ring and leaned against the bar. His body bristled with restless energy – the kind the begged him to down more than a beer and find something harder than ecstasy. Well, if he did ecstasy and his sponsor, Felan Cage, found out, they’d put him back into rehab.
So Tyler declined the drug the twink in the skintight purple tank top offered and nursed his beer instead. His fist tightened on the bottle, and he loosened his hold before it cracked.
Wolf strength was a motherfucking bitch.
The Pit throbbed around him. Patrons gathered on the dance floor, gyrating to the music that pounded from the center of the stage where some local band, whom Tyler never heard of, played. Rory probably knew who the fuck they were, but Rory wasn’t there. He’d sent a text at the last minute that he had to cover for his twin sister at Sullivan’s that night. Of course, Tyler didn’t get the text until he was already outside the club. By then, he wasn’t going to turn around and go back to his empty apartment.
If he did that, he’d have to be there when his brother, Davis and Davis’s boyfriend Ken, showed up to make him dinner.
Again.
As if he couldn’t cook on his own or some shit.
Even worse, they’d been talking with Cage behind Tyler’s back again like he wasn’t twenty-five years old but some little kid that needed constant supervision. They came to the conclusion, without his input by the fucking way, that NA meetings two times a week weren’t enough.
Fuck no.
Now they wanted Tyler to attend some other kind of support group for people dealing with depression and suicidal tendencies. Like he’d done anything that desperate lately. And the time he almost – fuck! It was a mistake, not a real attempt to kill himself.
Well, that’s what he told everyone back then. In truth, he hardly remembered that night, only what happened afterward when he woke up in the hospital.
Davis wasn’t around at the time, so Ken was the one who got Tyler into rehab and footed the bill. Someday, Tyler would pay him back even if Ken said it wasn’t necessary.
Now, Ken and Davis shacked up as mates, and they acted like a pair of annoying newlyweds.
Tyler took a deep breath and caught the different odors of musk on the air. The place was crowded with humans, but there were plenty of shadow folk there too – shifters and humans with magical powers. They lived under the noses of normal humans, inhabiting the world with them yet keeping to the darkness all the same. Tyler himself was an alpha wolf, like his older brother, though they didn’t have a proper pack since both of their parents died. Davis was supposed to form one, but he hadn’t done that yet.
And Tyler wasn’t even sure he wanted to be part of Davis’s pack. Tyler saw Davis and Ken enough as it was, no way in hell he wanted to live near them too.
The lights flashed purple and blue. Even in the chaos of colors and music, Tyler picked out those of his kind – a few female cats clung to the corners with a few magic users – probably mages from the elemental scents wafting from them.
A bear shifter stood at the end of the bar opposite Tyler next to an elf. They were always easy to spot since their skin was slightly pearlescent and their features were very fine. This one was dark and on the small side with large eyes that it turned toward the bear more often than not.
Most of the couples at the Pit were gay or at the very least, sexually ambiguous, but Tyler didn’t mind. Rory usually came here to dance, and it was as good a place as any for Tyler to forget who he was for a few hours and all the shit he’d have to deal with when he got home.
Plus, it was a surprisingly good place to pick up girls—the mostly straight girls anyway. They came to The Pit to dance, and when they met a guy like Tyler, they were more than eager to fall into bed with him.
The alpha paced in the back of his mind, and getting laid would put it at ease for a few days.
His phone buzzed, and he frowned at the text that popped up.
It was from Ken.
Obviously.
We brought spaghetti and meatballs. Where are you?
Tyler thought about ignoring it or just not answering at all, but that would bring up a whole new set of problems. They already didn’t trust him because of the past. Ken would think he’d either died or been arrested again, and they’d spend the whole damn night looking for him.
Went out. Forgot you were coming over. Don’t wait up. He texted and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He’d have to listen to one of Ken’s lectures later, but maybe if he drank enough booze he could drown out the pit in his gut that dreaded the inevitable and made him feel guilty about ditching them.
Like he should be the one feeling guilty after all the shit Davis put them through.
Yeah, they were just trying to help and all that bullshit. Davis was doing his best to make up for the last fifteen years, but that didn’t mean Tyler had to sit back and forgive him just like that. Why the fuck did it take so long for him to stop being a useless fuck-up and realize he was in love with Ken?
And why did Ken put up with it when he deserved something better?
Still, it was none of his business.
Since Davis got back, Tyler even got a better tattoo parlor and apartment out of it due to some strings Davis pulled with the Triad. Though Tyler didn’t think for one minute that Davis actually paid for it. There was some shady stuff going on with the head of the Triad, Jin Yue, and they kept Tyler in the dark because they thought he couldn’t deal, which was stupid, but that’s the way it was.
To both Ken and Davis, Tyler was still a little kid. Never mind that he actually ran his own goddamn business. Lived on his own just fine. Went to NA meetings (with Cage, usually). Or that he was just as much an alpha as Davis—maybe more so.
Sure, he hadn’t formed his own pack, but every alpha didn’t need a pack to prove their rank. He hadn’t bailed like Davis. He got clean. More importantly, he stayed clean—even when the desire to relapse smacked him in the face.
Thankfully, Ken didn’t text him back, so Tyler finished his beer and was about to order a shot when he spotted a flash of pale hair at
the edge of the dance floor.
A man stood there, his hair so blond it was nearly silver, though he was young – probably no older than Tyler himself. It was long enough that it hung to his chin, and most of it was pulled into a knot at the back of his head. He was tall and well-built, his finely sculpted chest on full display since he wore nothing but fitted jeans that hugged his ass so well it should be illegal.
His face was angular and just shy of pretty—with a slight crook in his nose and a point to his chin. His cat-like eyes locked on Tyler.
And, shit, Tyler wasn’t even gay. Sure, he wasn’t the straightest straight guy to ever straight – a mouth was a mouth, and a suck job was a suck job – but the stirring in his groin never happened just from looking at someone like it did at that moment. Well, unless he was on so much ecstasy nothing mattered except getting laid.
But he wasn’t. Not now.
He’d only finished one beer and hadn’t even moved on to the hard alcohol yet.
Lust at first sight happened to him plenty of times before, but they’d all been pretty girls with their tits spilling out of their dresses. This was different in so many ways.
Tyler stared, his heart thumping. What the fuck kind of shifter was this guy?
On the air, he pinpointed a distinct musk. Freshly grown mint with the hint of lilac just underneath. It was tinged strongly with the scent of burning leaves – magic. However, he had nothing to compare it to. No other shifter he’d ever met smelled a damn thing like that because shifters weren’t, by their very nature, magic. That was reserved for other shadow folk like mages, wizards and enchanters.
Then, the crowd surged and the blond man disappeared from view.
Tyler shook his head and scowled at the overwhelming sensation that passed over him – like he should stalk after some guy he spotted from across the room and. . . and. . . do what, exactly?
He turned back to the bar and put up his hand. He wasn’t going to fall prey to that kind of instinct, whatever it meant. He came here with one goal – to drink and relax and possibly get a blowjob in the bathroom if anyone was offering. He wasn’t here to chase after some mystery shifter.
