by Zoe Perdita
His body bristled with energy, and Quinn noticed the alpha pacing inside him. “You’re not going to beat them up the way you did the others?”
“Not worth it,” Tyler said, his teeth gritted so tightly it looked like they’d shatter to pieces in his skull. “Plus, if I got spotted, I’d get arrested.”
Tyler stalked down the beach at that point, his body slipping out of Quinn’s hands like bits of sand.
Quinn fell in step behind him. He tried to whistle and offended the gulls that circled overhead, so he gave up and kicked a few rocks instead. “Did you have any luck with you know what?” he asked and pointed meaningfully at the chain.
Tyler shook his head, and he avoided Quinn’s eyes. “Not yet. Did a light mage cast it or someone else? Fuck, you probably can’t even tell me that, can you?”
Quinn fingered the chain.
It’d been so long now he hardly remembered much. He’d been too young, hardly six years old, but he did know that none of the Montgomery family placed the spell since it wasn’t in any of their books. He also remembered a woman in white. She was old and wrinkled and used to say things to Montgomery senior about strengthening the spell by ensuring Quinn’s nature ruled him – whatever that meant.
She didn’t smell like a light mage. No, she was something else. Maybe a witch or an enchanter.
“There was an old woman,” he said carefully. The necklace didn’t react, so Quinn continued. “She came to the house a lot, but she wasn’t part of the family, and she wasn’t a light mage. I think it’s her spell. Does that help?”
Tyler shrugged and glanced behind them. “A little. Do you have a name?”
“No, but she’s dead now,” Quinn said and looked at Tyler. “And I think the Hayward family knew her.”
Tyler tensed at that name. “Hayward, huh? I’ll look into it.”
Those men trailed them at a distance. They looked like they were pretending not to follow, and they weren’t doing a very good job of it. Quinn could do a better job of acting disinterested.
“Are they hunters?” Quinn asked.
“Not sure. They don’t act like it, unless they’re new at this and don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. They keep staying upwind of us like a bunch of idiot assholes.”
“They reek of silver,” Quinn said, though he knew Tyler smelled it too.
“No shit, that’s what makes me wonder who the fuck they are,” he grumbled and trotted up the stairs that led back to the street.
The men followed.
This part of the city reminded Quinn of a concrete forest—the buildings were bunched together and half of them were crumbling. Chain-link fences with signs that said “Danger” and “Keep Out” surrounded most of them. Weeds poked through cracks in the pavement and there wasn’t anyone else around, even at that time of day.
Tyler moved across the street and down an alley. They turned the corner and faced a fence at the end. The wolf scanned the walls and nodded, but Quinn had no idea what he found so agreeable.
The stout building that surrounded them was flat gray cement, and the only living things in that alley (besides them) were the ants that marched in the corner.
“What are we doing here?” Quinn asked, his voice dropped into a whisper.
Tyler showed his fangs. “We find out what those assholes want. I think I’ve seen them following me before.”
He didn’t offer further information, and Quinn never got the chance to ask for it. The steady stomp of footsteps came down the alley after them, and Tyler held up his fists.
It looked like he wasn’t worried about getting arrested as long as they weren’t out in the open.
Quinn kept that in mind. He didn’t want to be arrested either. Bradley would no doubt be furious, and a furious Bradley often left Quinn in serious pain.
As the first one rounded the corner, Tyler grabbed him and slammed him into the wall. The man coughed, his head cracked as it hit the concrete, and he yelped at the impact.
“Why the fuck are you following us?” Tyler growled, and his nails pressed into the man’s skin. He was the one with hair, and his beady eyes widened as he fumbled with something in his jacket.
The other two pulled guns and pointed them, hands trembling at Tyler and Quinn.
“Let him go or we shoot!” the one with his gun pointed at Tyler said. His face was longer and reminded Quinn of Bradley in an uncomfortable way.
The guy Tyler held yanked a gun free too and pressed it into Tyler’s stomach.
Tyler sneered at him and squeezed. “I can break your neck before you pull the trigger. Who the fuck sent you?”
Quinn stood so still he heard his heart move the blood through his veins.
The hunters (if that’s what they were) shook, while Tyler’s rage was the most pronounced of all. The alpha that roared inside him looked ready to jump free and rip the flesh from those men’s bones.
“You beat the shit out of Todd and wrecked his car. Word on the street was he wanted revenge and shit,” the guy Tyler held gasped.
“And the silver bullets in your guns?” Quinn asked, since that seemed to be the game they were playing.
Tyler’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t admonish Quinn for the question. Perhaps he hadn’t made a mistake in assessing the situation.
“We know what kind of monster he is,” the one with the long face snarled and his eyes met Quinn’s.
Quinn grinned. “Fair enough, but you don’t know what kind of monster I am, do you?”
The two men exchanged glances.
The man with the gun in Tyler’s gut snorted. “He’s just the faggot boyfriend.”
A sudden snap broke through the air, and the man with spiky hair crumpled to the ground and screamed. It tapered off into a gurgle, and his arm hung at a sickening angle that looked worse than any of the pain Quinn had endured.
Tyler nudged the gun out of that man’s reach and kicked him in the gut before the other two could respond.
A gunshot broke through the air, and the sting of silver slice Quinn’s flesh. He jolted and looked at the bright red spot of blood on his arm and the rip in his shirt. It felt like he studied it for an age, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Pain blossomed with it.
Next thing he knew, Tyler snarled wildly and bent forward. His clothes ripped—the black T-shirt with some logo on it shredded to rags and his jeans tore down the seams.
In place of a perfectly beautiful tattooed man stood a huge alpha wolf, his fur the same deep brown as tree bark, and his eyes a bright shining yellow. He lunged at the man with the long face, who fired with shaking hands as the wolf fell on him.
The hunter let out a gurgled scream as Tyler’s fangs sunk into the flesh of his forearm and the gun clattered to the ground.
The man crawled backwards, and a knife flashed in his good hand.
Before Tyler could turn, the blade dug into his shoulder, and he howled.
Quinn moved.
Physical fighting wasn’t something he excelled at, not in this form. He was tall and strong as most shifters, but he’d never thrown a punch in his life. However, he had other talents. Things the necklace didn’t dampen.
Tyler bit the man’s leg, and squeezed until the femur cracked—Quinn heard it, along with the pained cry that escaped the man’s lips before he toppled over backwards, bloody and unconscious.
The final hunter’s gun swung between Tyler and Quinn, his finger hovering over the trigger erratically.
Tyler growled at him, and Quinn stepped forward.
“You don’t want to do that,” Quinn said and kept his voice calm and light. Infused it with the cool spring breeze and peaceful things. It’s not that his kind could control people—no—but they could suggest the truth if that person were open to it. Weak minded. Though, in reality, it didn’t work on most people, especially shadow folk, and the necklace kept him from using that power on Bradley as well.
The man’s eyes were wide as the full moon and his lip curled i
nto a sneer. However, he didn’t fire the gun. Instead, he focused on Quinn. “Why not?”
“Because it won’t get you what you want. If you kill us, you’ll have to run from the police. People will hunt you down and any reward will be lost. You wanted a reward for this, didn’t you?”
Slowly, the man nodded. “You gonna give me cash? I need some motherfucking cash!”
Quinn stepped over the man’s comrade, making sure to avoid the puddle of blood.
Tyler growled low in his throat, but he didn’t stop Quinn.
Not yet.
“I can give you something better than cash. Better than money.”
The man lowered the gun slowly. His eyes turned hazy—distant—“What?”
Quinn leaned close and whispered into the man’s ear. He told the truth—all of it. It wasn’t as revealing as the mirror, nor as powerful, but for those driven by base instincts like greed, it was good enough.
The man nodded and dropped the gun. Then he turned and walked away, his hands limp at his sides and his steps rambling.
Quinn ignored his departure and rushed to Tyler, who still had that knife lodged in his shoulder. His hands shook and felt cold and hot all at once. His heart beat so quickly he thought it might leap onto the cement and flop around like a fish out of water.
Tyler got hurt trying to protect him, and he’d been too useless to stop it.
“Should I pull it out?”
Tyler stared at him for a moment before he nodded.
These sorts of shifters couldn’t speak, not even with their minds, while they were in animal form. Was that something they lost over the course of the last few thousand years or were they really lesser beings like Montgomery senior said? Quinn didn’t see how. Even in his true form, Quinn couldn’t have fought off the hunters the way Tyler had.
The man with the snapped forearm hunched in the corner whimpering, and they both ignored him. The other hunter was still unconscious.
The third, Quinn guessed, would be walking into the river soon and nature would take its course. He didn’t mention that to Tyler, however.
It might seem a cowardly way to behave according to a wolf.
Carefully, Quinn tugged the knife free.
Tyler yelped. His great alpha shape morphed back into a man, naked, bloody and bruised, on the alley floor.
“You got shot,” he said and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm.
The sting bit, but it wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever had. Quinn shrugged and gathered Tyler’s torn clothes. “It’s fine. I think it just scratched me.”
Tyler stumbled to his feet and slipped on the ripped jeans. They covered the most incriminating bits, but not much else. Still, Tyler didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped the shredded shirt around his shoulder. “Let me see it.”
Quinn flinched as he rolled up the sleeve and showed the cut. The blood dripped freely, and the odd tingle of silver ached deep into his bones, but it wasn’t enough silver to cause any lasting damage.
Tyler frowned. “Shit. Look, I know a healer. But if I call him—”
“I’m fine,” Quinn said and smiled. “That looks bad. Maybe you should go to that healer. I should head back before it gets too late.”
Grumbling, Tyler agreed.
On the short walk to the community center, Tyler didn’t say much.
The sun dipped low, bathing everything in a warm golden light. It may not have been their best day, but he saw Tyler shift, and it was more amazing than Quinn imagined.
He smiled and let Tyler lean on him.
“What did you do to that last guy?” Tyler asked as they neared the parking lot.
Merci hadn’t arrived yet, but a knot of darkness coiled in Quinn’s belly. He couldn’t lie about what he’d done, but if he told the real truth, what would Tyler think?
“I told him the truth, and he did what he thought was best,” Quinn said.
Tyler stared at him, his eyes narrowed. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Quinn’s forehead.
His nose.
His mouth.
Each kiss was as delicate as fine lace, as fleeting as time, and Quinn’s heart ached until he swore it would burst.
They left him breathless and hungry.
“Next time, we take a break in my apartment,” Tyler growled.
Quinn agreed.
The next three days took an age. Quinn had to pace around the house, worrying about Tyler’s wounds, and if he’d show up to the next meeting all while staying out of Bradley’s way. He didn’t think Tyler was going to die—wolves were stronger than that—but that didn’t stop the dread that crept over him at night while he watched the moon and asked her for news of him.
She ignored him, and Quinn pouted and turned his back on her.
He hadn’t told anyone about the cut on his arm or the ache that drilled into his bones. It wasn’t the worst pain, but it was the most persistent.
Merci smelled it, and she frowned at him as she cleaned it in the downstairs bathroom. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe bun and her bright eyes squinted. “This smells like silver. You’ll need salve to clean it out.”
Quinn smiled.
Bradley wouldn’t waste money on a healer for the likes of him, and he was about to say so when Merci pulled a jar of green goop from the medicine cabinet. She lathered it on his skin, and it cooled the overly hot flesh and numbed it.
“Do I want to know why you have a silver flesh wound?” she asked as she tied a piece of gauze around it.
“I don’t know. Do you?” Quinn asked and grinned. It felt strained, and it hurt his heart to do it.
“Did that wolf do it?”
“No,” Quinn said softly. “He’d never hurt me.” As the words slipped off his lips they burned his tongue. It was true—Tyler would never hurt him, and yet he was willing to (possibly) hurt Tyler for his own wellbeing.
His own life.
He was the monster Bradley thought he was, and Quinn had no clue what to do about it. Something delicate snapped inside of him, and the tattoo on his hip stung.
Quinn stalked outside after Merci finished and looked up at the sliver of silver light in the blue-black sky. His eyes stung and the cool air pricked his skin with goosebumps.
He sucked in several deep breaths, balled his hands, and asked: Why did I have to make a bargain with an alpha I couldn’t help falling in love with?
The moon didn’t answer.
10
The last thing Tyler wanted to do was take the bus to the healer’s house, but his arm ached too much and bled too heavily to put it off. Even worse, he had to march home nearly naked and hope the cops didn’t stop him for indecent exposure. He kept to the backstreets and avoided an unwanted confrontation.
He should’ve noticed those assholes sooner.
They were the same ones he’d spotted nearly a month before, and he hadn’t paid enough attention. Now, they’d almost killed him and Quinn—all for a motherfucking car and a bruised ego of some stupid brat.
After what happened today, Tyler figured they’d either leave him alone or come back with bigger guns next time.
He hoped it was the former.
The other problem came from deciding if he should call Davis or Cage for help. It was too early to call Ken, and riding the bus with blood dripping down his arm didn’t sound like the best plan of action.
Biting his lip ring, Tyler decided to call Ari directly and explain.
The healer was curt over the phone, but agreed to come over as soon as possible after telling Tyler to wrap the arm tightly and keep it elevated. He also suggested Tyler unlock the apartment door, in case he passed out before Ari arrived.
Luckily, that didn’t happen.
Twenty minutes later, the dark haired healer rushed into the room with his black leather bag clutched at his side.
Tyler heard Ari open the door and smelled the fresh scent of herbs. He sat on the side of the tub to prevent any unneeded blood stains on his floors. That would reall
y piss Ken off.
“You idiot. How did you get stabbed?” Ari asked as he set down his bag and arranged his bottled herbs and gauze on the counter.
“Wannabe hunters attacked me, and I defended myself,” Tyler said. His hair dripped into his eyes since he’d taken a quick shower before Ari got there.
Ari’s brows pinched together over his moss green eyes. They were a deeper shade of green than Quinn’s eyes, and comparing the two sent an uncomfortable jolt to Tyler’s gut. He should’ve forced Quinn to seek attention for that bullet wound. What if a fleck of silver was lodged inside him and Tyler never knew?
“If they stabbed you, I think they went from wannabe to real hunters,” Ari deadpanned and cleaned the wound with an astringent pad.
Tyler tried not to flinch and failed.
“You’ll need about ten stitches, and it’ll be sore for a few weeks, but you’ll live. Do you want to call Cage, or are you going to force me to do it?”
Right.
His sponsor would hear about this one way or another. Like Tyler needed another lecture about all the shit he was doing wrong. He’d already gotten an earful for missing several NA meetings, and that hadn’t gone over well.
Now this.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth as the needle poked into his skin. “He’d like it if you called him, but I’ll tell him.”
“Good,” Ari grumbled.
Tyler never asked what went on between the two of them in the past, or how it’d ended so badly. But the way Cage treated Ari made a lump form in Tyler’s throat. The alpha kind of acted like Ari was his mate, and Tyler now knew what that felt like.
It wasn’t entirely pleasant.
Tyler managed to avoid Cage for the next week, mostly because he was busy in the shop over the weekend and made sure to go to the NA meetings on his own.
Quinn came over Monday, and they ended up in the apartment checking each other’s wounds and falling onto the couch half-naked and hungry, fumbling with their pants in a mad rush to touch each other.
Then the Wednesday morning NA meeting rolled around, and Tyler couldn’t avoid Cage any longer, especially when the fellow alpha could smell the blood on his arm and knew Tyler’s sorted history. At least they couldn’t discuss it at the meeting, so Cage insisted they meet that night at his apartment.
