Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and held it together as the other members of their group opened drawers, searching for clues. Quinn rifled through Doctor Morton’s desk, but it was empty except for some blank sheets of paper and a few disposable pens. Everything was gone.
“I’m sorry.” She blurted it out, unable to keep it inside her any longer. “It’s all my fault. If I’d acted quicker. Done more.” She really didn’t know what else to say. Chrissten was still missing, still held captive by a crazy man and a werewolf and it was all her fault.
Quinn crouched in front of a stainless-steel cabinet searching for clues. He stopped what he was doing, stood and came to her, his stride fluid, the lines of worry around his eyes deeper than they’d been only a few hours before. “It’s not your fault.” He cupped the side of her face and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. The small gesture of kindness almost broke her.
She sucked in a breath and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, not wanting to break down in front of everyone. “It is.”
“No. It’s the fault of a few crazy people. You’re an innocent victim too. We know more than we did before. We know she’s still alive. We can find out who owned this property and if they have more in the city and beyond. We have names to search. If there’s any records out there, Craig will find them.”
Isaiah walked over to stand beside them. His expression was grim. Fury emanated from him in waves even as his face remained a mask of outward control. “Damek will be able to help as soon as we get word to him about what we know. He has resources we can tap into.”
Bethany took a step away, not wanting to be so close to the angry werewolf. “Who is Damek?” Was he another werewolf? A human?
One corner of Isaiah’s mouth quirked upward. “I’m not sure you want to know.”
Chapter Four
The nightmare came slowly, creeping into his exhausted brain. He didn’t want to dream but he had no control over his sleeping hours. After having the nightmare so many times, it was almost like an old friend. Guilt was a powerful emotion and it clutched Quinn tight in its icy grip.
He crept along the narrow wood trail. Jones was on his right and Collins was farther ahead on the trail. They were tracking werewolves. Purebloods. Quinn would have been more than content to live and let live, but he knew his fellow bounty hunters wouldn’t see things his way. In their world, the only good wolf was a dead one.
The group was tight knit and existed only to kill the paranormal creatures they hated so much. They had no idea they had a half-breed in their midst. If they did, they’d kill him in a heartbeat. Quinn didn’t want to be here but he had no other choice. He had to find his sister. Any scrap of information that might lead him to her was worth pursuing.
“Up ahead,” Jones whispered.
Quinn knew he had to get his head back in the game. A pureblood werewolf was nothing to screw around with. This one was especially vicious. He’d killed a woman back in Kentucky. Quinn knew that for a fact so he wasn’t particularly upset about hunting him. He also knew this particular wolf belonged to a pack that believed anyone or anything other than a pureblooded werewolf was fair game. Quinn had hunted his kind before, and while he hated to kill another werewolf, sometimes there wasn’t any choice.
He moved his feet slowly, careful not to step on any twigs or dried leaves. Werewolves had exceptional hearing. He should know. He could hear Collins stomping around like an elephant up ahead.
Thankfully, they were downwind so their scent wouldn’t carry. Werewolves also had a superior sense of smell.
An eerie silence suddenly settled over the woods. Quinn froze and sank down behind an oak tree. He motioned to Jones to do the same. The birds had gone quiet around them. A sure sign a predator was nearby.
Quinn scanned the area, using his preternatural vision to try to find the wolf. The fine hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Instinct had Quinn rolling and firing his rifle at the same time. He hit the wolf straight in the chest with a powerful round, blowing a large hole in the beast.
It fell, hitting the dirt ground with a dull thud. The wolf growled as it started to bleed out. Quinn rolled to his feet, walked over to it and stared down into very familiar eyes. Sorrow hit him like a thunderbolt. He gave an anguished cry and dropped to his knees, gathering the wolf to him. “Chris?” The creature changed, morphing not back into a large male pureblooded werewolf but into his beloved sister.
He’d killed her.
“What the hell are you doing, Quinn?” Jones asked. “Finish the bitch off.”
The sound of a gun being cocked brought him to his feet. With a roar, he lunged at the other man, yanking at his clothing and changing as he flew through the air. His sharp fangs bit through bone. Blood splattered over him, coating his fur. Some hit his eyes, temporarily blinding him.
He blinked to clear his vision as Jones continued to struggle. But his attempts to free himself from Quinn’s strong jaws were feeble at best and eventually stopped all together.
The sound of boots hitting the hard-packed ground reached his ears. Quinn dropped Jones and let his body shift back to human form. He grabbed his rifle and shot Collins as he came through the trees.
“Quinn,” his sister called his name. He flung the rifle aside and fell to his knees beside her.
“You can’t die. I need you, Chris.” He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her familiar scent. It was tainted by the stench of blood and the other bodies that lay scattered around them.
“Too late.”
“No. It’s not too late. I promise. You’ll be fine.”
She shook her head and, as he held his sister, the life slowly drained from her body. He threw back his head and howled.
Quinn sat straight up in bed, sucking air into his lungs. The sheets fell to his waist and he stared down at his hands and chest, expecting them to be covered in the blood of his sister and the men he’d killed.
“Shit.” He dug the palms of his hands into his eyes, desperately trying to erase the memory of his dream. It was always the same. He was working with the bounty hunters, living a lie as he tried to find his sister. Somehow he always ended up killing everyone around him and Chris always ended up dead. It sure as hell didn’t take a psychologist to figure out the symbolism of the dream—Quinn had failed his sister and he was a ruthless killer. Plain and simple.
It was no surprise he’d had the dream tonight. He’d come so close to finding Chris, only to have her slip through his fingers. “I’ll find you,” he whispered his promise to the night.
Beside him, Bethany stirred but didn’t wake. He’d crawled in bed next to her, hoping to offer her some comfort. She’d taken not finding Chris almost as hard as he had. He could only imagine the horror she’d lived through over the past several weeks.
He had no right to be in bed with her, but he wasn’t about to leave. She needed his protection and whatever help and comfort he could give her.
Quinn settled back down and draped his arm over her waist. She was turned away from him, so he snuggled against her back. It occurred to him as he drifted off to sleep that he probably needed her comfort more than she needed his.
Bethany came awake slowly, fighting to reach consciousness through the layers of darkness that offered solace. She had a vague memory of crawling into bed after they’d returned from their failed attempt to find Chrissten. She’d been exhausted and disheartened and had barely managed to shower and eat most of the bowl of beef stew Meredith had pushed on her. Quinn had shown her to this room and urged her to try to sleep.
She’d been too tired to fight him. She knew she’d have to make some decisions today. Her part in this travesty was over and there was nothing else she could do to help. It was time for her to move forward and try to pick up the pieces of her own life.
As much as she had to do, she still made no move to leave the bed. She felt warm and safe and wanted to hold on to that feeling for just a few more moments. Once she left she’d never hav
e Quinn’s arms wrapped around her again.
She’d been left alone during the day, coming awake long enough to go to the bathroom and fall back in bed again, but some time during the night, he’d crawled into bed with her and pulled her into his arms. Her back was pressed against his chest, her backside snug against his rather impressive erection. She was wearing a warm flannel nightgown that Meredith had loaned her. She wasn’t certain if Quinn was wearing anything. From the feel of things, she didn’t think so.
He was still asleep and she didn’t want that to change. Not until she’d had time to think about what she wanted to do about the spark that sizzled between them. She’d never been this attracted to a man before. Already her body was reacting to the feel of his hard, muscled form against hers, the musky, masculine smell filling her nostrils. Her breasts were swollen, her nipples puckered. Her skin ached for his touch. Between her thighs a heavy throbbing began to pulse.
Now she knew that at least part of what was happening was due to her unique biology.
Going into heat. Just thinking about the term was enough to make her crazy. That was something animals did. Not thinking, reasoning human beings.
But then again, she wasn’t entirely human, was she?
She, more than most, knew how life could change in a split second. The kidnapping had brought that concept home to her in a brutal manner. She could have died in the hands of those men, or rather, one crazy man and an equally insane werewolf. She might never have had the opportunity to be with a man again, at least not one of her choosing.
Brian would have raped her. That was a fact. He’d wanted her. She’d seen it in his eyes that last day—the lust, the craving. He would have taken her if she hadn’t escaped when she did. And if it hadn’t been him, then it would have been another werewolf who was working with the good doctor. Chrissten had always suspected there was at least one other male besides Brian and Doctor Morton, and Bethany agreed with her. They’d both scented another male, even if they’d never seen him.
Bethany chewed on her bottom lip. What should she do? What did she want to do with the rest of her life? Did she want to go back home to Detroit? Did she want to go somewhere different? She honestly didn’t know.
And the biggest question of all, did she want to explore these new sexual urges that arose every time Quinn was near?
A large hand began to move over her stomach, making small, slow circles. “Stop thinking so hard.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” And she hadn’t. Now that he was awake she’d have to get up. Her time with Quinn was over. She decided to give herself one more minute. Just one more.
“It’s okay.” His hand began to move in larger circles over the flannel material, almost touching the undersides of her breasts and the top of her pubic bone. She sucked in her breath. Her nipples peaked and it took everything in her not to squirm, to shove her butt harder against Quinn’s erection.
Part of her hated how her body betrayed her, how it spun so out of control. It didn’t matter that she now knew it was biological, something preordained by nature. She’d always been in command of her own life. It was the only way she’d survived this long. This sexual longing was something over which she had no power.
She no longer knew herself. The woman she’d thought she was no longer existed. Bethany finally understood why she’d always felt out of step with the rest of the world, why she’d always been different. She now knew why men had never held much interest for her. She hadn’t really been ready for them yet. If Meredith was to be believed then she was hitting her first sexual peak. That was hard to fathom considering she was twenty-four.
Quinn’s breath warmed the back of her neck. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”
She closed her eyes and savored the brush of his lips against her nape. She licked her dry lips, longing to taste his mouth. “It would be easier to tell you what I wasn’t thinking about. My life is crazy.” Lying here together in the dark, with the silence of the early morning surrounding them, it was much easier to talk then it would have otherwise been.
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and kissed the hollow beneath it. “I know everything must seem so strange.” A river of heat snaked down her neck and blasted to her nipples before arrowing to between her thighs.
“Strange.” A low sob broke from her throat, but she quickly gained control. “That’s an understatement. I was kidnapped and held by crazy people for two weeks. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine. You just have to take things one day at a time.” Quinn continued to touch her. Nothing overtly sexual, but it was getting to her. He stroked her arm, her stomach, the long line of her neck and the edge of her jaw. “How are you feeling now?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. It was odd to have a man touching her like this, treating her as though she were special. She shoved aside that thought. This was only temporary and she’d better remember that.
Bethany took stock of her body. For the first time in weeks she felt almost normal, that is if she ignored the sexual desire pulsing through her. She was hungry, but the fatigue that had plagued her for several weeks was no longer dragging at her, thanks to the fact she’d slept for most of a day and an entire night. “Pretty good.” It would take her a while to put back on the weight she’d lost, but there were no lingering physical affects from her period of captivity.
“Good.” Quinn tugged on her shoulder until she was lying flat on her back with him looming large over her. “I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you.”
With that he leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t an overpowering kiss, but rather a sweet one. His lips grazed hers, his tongue tracing the bottom curve. His mouth was warm and gentle as he continued to coax her deeper.
She knew she should push him away. This was no time for her to become sexually involved with a man who was little more than a stranger to her. Just because she’d listened to Chrissten talking about him for days on end didn’t mean she really knew him.
Problem was Quinn didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt extremely familiar and very solid in a world gone mad.
He continued kissing her and the rest of the world faded away, leaving them alone, cocooned in their bed. She forgot her resolve to get up, her need to leave. Nothing mattered more than kissing Quinn.
She strained, wanting more from him. More contact. More heat.
Passion.
Her skin was slick with perspiration. The nightgown, which was such a comfort the night before, was now a hindrance, a barrier between her and what she wanted.
Bethany placed her hands on Quinn’s shoulders, loving the flex and play of his muscles beneath her palms. He was so alive. But there was also a heavy darkness around him, within him. She longed to soothe whatever pain he carried.
Which was totally crazy. This wasn’t about love or a long-term meaningful relationship. This was about sex. Pure and simple. This was nothing more than biology pushing her to be with a man. He was just as much a slave to his libido as she was. It was the way nature had made them.
But she didn’t care. Not when Quinn’s mouth was pressing down on hers, his tongue sliding inside to tease and tempt. She clasped the back of his head and dragged him even closer, and his rumble of pleasure set her pulse pounding.
She whimpered when his hand skimmed over the curve of her breast. He pushed his hand below the neckline of the nightgown, shoving it out of his way. His fingers were callused and rough against her skin and she loved it. He dragged his thumb over the puckered tip, drawing a deep groan.
Oh, this was lovely. Better than that. It was exquisite. She couldn’t get enough of his touch.
Quinn drew back and stared down at her. His lips were moist and his blond hair was tousled where she’d dragged her fingers through it. “Are you sure?”
Was she sure? No, she wasn’t. But she wanted him anyway.
“I won’t claim
you.” He skimmed his fingers over her jawline. The tender gesture made her want him even more. She’d never met anyone like Quinn. He was incredibly strong, yet he was so gentle with her. “Not a permanent claim. But I want to touch you, to feel your skin against mine. I want to take you slowly, to sink my cock into your hot pussy.”
Her inner muscles contracted. The erotic picture he was painting with his words mesmerized her. No man had ever said such things to her. And he wasn’t done yet.
“Then I want to take you hard and fast, driving into you over and over until you scream my name as you come.”
She could barely breathe, let alone speak. But she managed one word. “Yes.”
She could have died at any point these past few weeks. It was a miracle she was even alive. She was a half-breed werewolf and so was he. Quinn understood her far better than any other man ever had.
She was attracted to his strength and his sense of loyalty to his family. The fact that he looked like sex on a stick didn’t hurt either. The man pushed all her buttons without even trying. She’d been turned on since the moment she’d first laid eyes on him.
There was something about him that called to her. Her biology was pushing her hard, driving her to mate. Probably any male werewolf would do in this situation.
No. Something inside her rebelled and she knew it wasn’t true. There were other unattached males here. She’d met them all. But none of them revved her internal engine. Made her want them. Not the way Quinn did. She could look at them and think they were handsome, maybe even feel mild arousal. But when she looked at Quinn everything inside her exploded.
She should be scared out of her mind by the sensations, but right now, she didn’t care. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to celebrate life.
Quinn didn’t waste time talking. He swooped down and captured her lips in a torrid kiss. Here was the passion, the claiming she’d expected earlier. He tasted like rich, dark chocolate spiced with hot sauce.
Quinn's Quest: Legacy, Book 4 Page 7
