The next day Luke and his team had stripped every piece of audio and video equipment from the house. Whoever had set it up had gained access to both the upstairs and the down. A ball of rage had formed in his gut, knowing that the person responsible had had unfettered access to Quinn’s most private moments. Her face, when she realized she’d been spied on, had made Luke want to whisk her off somewhere where no one and nothing could ever scare or harm her. He realized at that moment, he would do anything to keep Quinn Orson safe, even if it meant sticking around to watch her marry someone else.
The ball of rage doubled as his wolf howled in frustrated anger. It didn’t understand why it couldn’t have its mate. Truthfully, on a primal level, Luke was fighting the same feelings. He’d found himself avoiding Quinn when he could and keeping the meetings short when he couldn’t. He might have to let her go, but it didn’t mean he had to like it, or worse, have his nose rubbed in it every two seconds.
He’d taken to applying the spray Mrs. Wilder had given him at least twice a day and spritzing on the bear scent when it would start to fade. He hated how it dulled his sense of smell though. He might as well be human for all the good his nose was doing him. Still, he took solace in the fact that it dulled Quinn’s scent as well. There was nothing better and nothing worse than walking into a room filled with her honey and spice aroma.
God, to have his mouth on her one more time. He still remembered the taste of her and relished the memory—that singular moment when she was his. After this weekend, he would return to the service. His old commander had called, asking for his help. If Luke couldn’t have Quinn, going back to his unit and fighting for a cause were the next best things.
An alarmed shout jerked him from his misery. His first thoughts were for Quinn’s safety as he rushed through the house toward the action. Rick called him over his ear piece. “Brandon’s room. Hurry.”
In the guest bedroom where Bennet had been recuperating, Marigold and Rick wrestled a large, stocky man to the ground amidst his bellows of anger.
Quinn and her sister Monica were helping Brandon up off the floor and back onto the bed. Bloody grooves marked his chest and shoulder. The new wounds would set his recovery back another couple of days.
“Who is this?” Luke asked Marigold.
“It’s John Wilkers,” Quinn said. She walked over to where Rick and Marigold held him and dropped down really close to the intruder. “He’s Trey’s lackey. Nothing more than a trained monkey.”
Wilkers lifted his chin. “I can’t wait for Trey to take you down, bitch.”
Quinn slapped him across the face. She snapped her fingers at him. “Until a new chief is named, I’m in charge of this clan, and don’t you ever forget it.” She looked at Marigold. “You want to be my second until Saturday?”
“It will by my honor, Ursula,” Marigold said, her eyes bright with a fire Luke had never seen before.
“Good. Take this piece of crap down to the cells in the basement. They haven’t been used in a long time, but I know my father kept them in good repair.”
Marigold bared her teeth in a feral grin. “As you command.” She nodded to Quinn, deep respect in her eyes. Rick helped her get John to his feet, and they both escorted him away.
Luke swelled with ten kinds of pride. That was his woman who’d taken charge like that, and he’d never seen anything more daring or sexy. Ever. Jesus, what he wouldn’t have given to be alone with her at this moment so he could do the most wicked and naughty things to her hot, curvy body.
Quinn gave him an odd look. She raised a brow. Then both brows. Damn, what an awful time to not be able to scent her emotions or feelings.
“Brandon, are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine, Quinn. Honest.” He groaned when he leaned back on the pillows. Monica was trying to clean his wounds. “I don’t need a nursemaid.”
Quinn’s tone grew fierce again. “The hell you don’t. I just had my hand in your chest not that long ago, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you mess up all my hard work. You get me?”
Brandon raised his hands. “I get you.”
“Awesome. Now let Monica clean your wounds.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Brandon said.
Monica smiled, and Luke finally got it. If Quinn was protective over Brandon Bennet, it was because her sister was in love with the man, even if he was too stupid to see it.
“Can I talk to you in private?” Quinn said to Luke.
The request surprised him. “Sure. When?”
“Now.” It was a firm command, and Luke could feel his alpha push back against the force of it. Damn, this woman had power in her.
Quinn left the room without even looking back to see if Luke followed, but no way in hell he was skipping this view. The guest bedroom was on the ground floor near the kitchen, which they passed through on the way to the pantry. Quinn did not stop walking until she got to the very back of the large room full of shelved dry goods.
She pulled a light switch over her head, and the bulb it was attached to swung freely as it flickered alive. Quinn, her voice raspy, said, “Close the door behind you.”
Luke kicked his foot back, slamming the door shut. He used long, quick stride to get to Quinn, and when he stood before her, his mouth watering with lust and need, he wrapped his arms around her and ravaged her with a kiss he knew was forbidden.
Her fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans, and when she unzipped his fly and grabbed his cock, Luke made a sound that was half pleasure, half relief. He turned Quinn away from him and pressed his groin into her back while he pulled up her shirt. He smoothed his hands up her curves, his palms finding her breast. He gave them a gentle squeeze, a rumble escaping his chest when she made mewling noises of pleasure.
Luke dipped one hand down the front of Quinn’s pants, stretching until the tips of his fingers brushed the lush vee of curls. She bent at the waist, her ass rubbing against his thighs. He moaned and reached down further, slipped his middle finger past her slick folds and massaged her clit. Quinn made more noises of pleasure as she wiggled herself against him. Luke’s cock, free of his jeans now, was captured between Quinn’s ample backside and his own abdomen.
“You’re so beautiful, Quinn.” Luke kissed the back of her neck, his tongue trailing a glistening line on his skin. “I can’t help but want to kiss you, to touch you, to make you mine.”
“Yes,” she said, her skin fevered with lust. “I want that. I want you.”
“Boss,” Marigold said. “Your still on coms.”
“Oh, shit.” Luke yanked the bud from his ear, but Quinn was already grabbing her shirt from the floor. “Quinn, don’t.”
“I…I don’t know what got into me.”
A few more seconds and it would have been me, he thought grumpily.
Quinn shook her head. “It’s so unfair to you. I’m so sorry, Luke. So sorry.”
After she fled the room. Luke slumped against a nearby shelve, the weight of him caused shaking, and a glass container of beets smashed at his feet. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”