Seven

Zaire battled between gnashing his teeth or surrendering to his stubborn dreamcaster and holding her captive in his arms, tight against his heart. With the exception of his former V’alkara master, he could count on one hand the occasions he’d failed to frighten another into submission. But Quinn refused to be moved. Instead, she added voltage to her compulsion voice to convince him, and for that, vexingly, he wanted her more.

“Now that we’re on the same page, I’d better clean up and pack.” Quinn shifted toward the cabin, only a few yards behind him. His escape attempt had flopped gloriously. “Isaac will be here soon. What about the corpse in the kitchen?”

“My mess. I’ll deal with it.” He closed his eyes, his determination crumbling beneath her will, under the burning instinct to remain close to her, no matter the consequences. Worse yet, her arguments held too much unyielding logic. If a woman half his size could take him down, he wouldn’t survive another attack. Still, he’d give her one last chance for a clean break, to return to life as she knew it.

“Leave me.” Since fear seemed wasted on her, he added harsh command to his tone, one proven to result in obedience. “I vow to survive. You need not let my fate weigh on your conscience.”

“Enough with the opposition.” She waved off his demand effortlessly, her signature sweetness of apples and autumn curling around him, tempting. “The pantry’s almost bare, and you’re not in hunting shape with your leg. The odds of a deer or elk or squirrel wandering within knife range of the cabin door suck.”

“I’ll manage.” He stared into the pine trees once again. Even if Quinn didn’t follow him, with his useless leg and inability to Change, he wouldn’t make it far before nightfall. Human vulnerability was almost as wretched as being chained to the Crows.

She huffed, stirring a dark curl close to her mouth. “Okay, now you’re just obstinately sticking to some ridiculous man-code. The snow won’t hide the bodies forever, and it won’t take a genius to figure out that you’d come here if you survived. This is the first place they’ll look for you.”

He glared at his numb leg, ordering it to move, long enough that a sweat broke out on his brow. Not a single twitch and he couldn’t deny her point. The Faction would come looking for their fallen. They’d investigate, search for signs of him, as would the Crows. Those bastards wouldn’t proclaim him dead without his cold corpse as proof, and they knew he’d never endanger Braden. Until they discovered the truth of whether he lived or died, Braden would be safe. Yet, until he healed, he was as vulnerable as his nephew. V’alkara weren’t known for compassion or sympathy, and whether or not the Crows’ leader wanted him alive, more than a few of his former brothers would rather see him dead and pay any potential consequences later. Loyalty was only as strong as personal gain.

And if either the Faction or the Crows—or both—had any suspicion that the owners of the cabin were involved, they’d explore all possibilities. If they discovered that Quinn was a dreamcaster...cold gripped his gut.

“You know I’m right.” Her gentle tone interrupted the potential horror movie scenario. “And I’ve thought it through. The only people who know I’m here are Isaac and Steph, and neither will rat me out if I give them a heads-up. We’ll stay off the radar for a time just in case, which isn’t uncommon for me anyway. No one will think twice about it, and Isaac’s a lawyer, which is the equivalent to an actor. He’d never be a weak link if questioned, and if I don’t tell him where we are, he won’t have any info anyway, right? I know the perfect place.”

“There is no we.” Adding a demon growl to his tone, he met her gaze.

She arched an eyebrow, utterly unfazed by his death threat. “There’s been a we since the moment you knocked on my door and faceplanted in my kitchen. You bled on my floor, and I had to clean it up. So, yeah. There’s a we.”

He limped closer to her, to demonstrate that the threat was real. “If you want to live, walk away and forget my name, my face, my very existence.”

Quinn went statue-still. She clasped her hands, hard enough that her knuckles turned bloodless. “Forgetting you,” she whispered, “would be like forgetting sunshine existed. Impossible.”

All the brightness of the winter wonderland narrowed to her. Something inside him fractured, and hairline cracks eroded his control and goals, opening that window from his childhood when he’d dreamed that she would find him and save him from his tortured life. Being close enough to feel her warmth, smell her sweetness, taste her skin only to let her go hammered at all his instincts in a dissonant rhythm.

“So you’re closer to a midnight sky, but the concept is the same.” Quinn shrugged and flashed her teeth, an insincere smile that didn’t fit on her face. Clearly, she took his silence as dismissive. “Either way, sunshine, you know I’m right. About going with me.”

Staying with her went against the few moral fibers he retained. If his enemies discovered their connection, she’d be their victim, too. The longer he remained with her, the more his discipline wavered, the more the old yearnings awakened, and he couldn’t have her, not as he had dreamed. But remaining here to be prey to whatever enemy found him first would be of no help to Braden, to breaking both their chains. And if he were with Quinn, at least she’d have a chance at survival if the Faction or the Crows sniffed around.

He nodded, hating his concession almost as much as he reveled in the wild electricity tumbling through his veins.

“Wait, what?” Her eyes went wide, teasing. “You’re being reasonable?”

He bared his teeth in a snarl and lurched back to the cabin.

***

A motor’s roar drifted to Quinn a second before Isaac driving the family Snowcat emerged from the tree line. The main roads were plowed, but after the heavy snowfall, the long, winding drive to the cabin required unique transportation. Snow sprayed behind the rotating belts, sparkling like glass in the sunshine. Quinn was out the door before he could park and crunched through the snow to meet him. Shades on, he gave her a brilliant smile through the window.

She wiggled her fingers in a little wave. Perfect. He was in a good mood. Maybe there was a rip in the universe today, and all men would be reasonable.

He swung open the door and picked her up in a bear hug. “Of course, big, bad Q survived the storm. I shouldn’t have worried.”

“Worry about what?” She laughed into his ski jacket, hoping it didn’t sound as high-pitched as she thought it did. “It’s not like any ax murderers or prison escapees or serial killers would brave a Montana mini-blizzard just to find me.”

“You forgot zombies. Snow wouldn’t stop them.” He set her down and tweaked her nose.

“My Walther would.” She offered up her best baby-sister grin. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

“Oh no. Did you set the kitchen on fire again?” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled toward the cabin, sniffing. “I don’t smell smoke.”

She groaned. “Burn one slice of toast and marked forever.”

“It was the cabinets on fire from the burnt toast that left the impression.”

“A matter of perspective.” She looped her arm through his, trying to slow him down. “Anyway, that favor—”

Isaac suddenly stopped, and Quinn didn’t need to look up to know that Zaire had made an appearance on the porch. Prickles of awareness scampered down her back.

“Quinn,” Isaac said in his low, take-no-crap interrogation voice. “Why is there a man who looks like a hardened prison inmate standing on the porch? And is he wearing my sweater?”

Her laugh, meant to sound casual, sounded more like a nervous witness gearing up to lie on the stand. “Funny story. Zaire—that’s his name—was in the woods…scouting, when the blizzard hit. He hurt his leg and couldn’t get out in time. It was pure luck that he made it to our cabin.”

“Luck,” Isaac said the word like a curse. “Right.”

So much for two reasonable men in one day. She planted a hand on her hip. “Yeah, luck. He would’ve died.”

“Q.” He shifted toward her, never taking his gaze from the porch where Zaire stood staring back with black menace. “What are the odds that an innocent person was here of all places, in timely need of shelter from a blizzard?”

“He’s been here a day and a half. I’m fine. He’s not.” She cleared her throat. “But helping him out isn’t the entire favor.”

His jaw tightened. “What does he want?”

She laughed again, and this time, it sounded natural. “It’s not what he wants. It’s what I want.” That got him to look at her again. “This favor I’m about to ask you is for me alone, and I need to know you trust me.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, the only change in expression. “You aren’t the one I don’t trust.”

“Do you remember when we were little and I’d sneak into your room?” she whispered. “After my nightmares?”

His eyes softened. “I still hate that Mother insisted you cry it out on your own.” He swiped his fingers through his hair. “All those times I’d find you huddled in the corner, shaking enough to jar every bone, sucking back terrified sobs so you wouldn’t wake up everyone else. That killed me.”

“You taught me to be strong.”

“You were always strong. I only taught you how to kick ass.”

One of the many reasons she adored him. “But there was something about my nightmares that I never told you, I never told anyone.” Besides the tidbits she shared with Steph, but even then, she colored them with more fantasy than nightmares. She didn’t need to be a complete freak. Quinn dropped her voice more. “He was there, in my dreams.”

Isaac blinked rapidly, like he didn’t understand. But she knew he did.

“He’s the best shot I have at understanding why I am how I am. What I am. Our meeting isn’t coincidence, not a chance encounter. I need to explore this.” Whatever the cost. Words her brother didn’t need to contemplate. “You know those unexplainable moments where you feel everything’s about to change? That serendipity is waiting right around the corner? That’s what this is, what he is. My life and future are tied to his somehow. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do.” She squeezed his forearm. “I have to figure this out.”

Isaac rubbed his clean-shaven jaw, his gaze again sliding to Zaire standing stone-faced and silent on the porch. At last, Isaac’s shoulders relaxed a degree, enough to know she’d won him over. “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

Quinn hugged him once, short and fierce. “Best brother ever.”

“Then why do I feel like I just lost a trial?”

“Don’t let Zaire scare you.” She ignored the strangled noise coming from Isaac as she pulled him to the cabin. “He promised not to do anything rash.”

Isaac muttered something under his breath.

She kept her smile bright as she stopped on the first cabin step. “Isaac, Zaire. Zaire, Isaac.” Hefting her duffel bag over her shoulder, she grabbed the cat carrier. If she moved fast and purposefully, maybe it would diffuse the sudden tension strung in every direction. “Let’s go.”

Five steps toward the Snowcat, only her boots made any noise in the snow, and she pivoted. Zaire and Isaac were in a silent looming contest, each of them wearing glares. Zaire was winning, but he had the advantage of standing on the porch.

“As the only impartial person here, I judge the silent male pissing contest as a tie.” She trudged back to them. “Can we go now?”

“He’s not going to be anywhere near you.” Isaac used a soft, soothing voice, as though talking his way out of a corner and past a slavering werewolf.

Using the porch post to lean on, Zaire folded his arms, and Isaac tensed. “I concur.”

“Don’t you even.” Quinn set Wolfgang’s carrier down and stomped up the steps toward Zaire, stopped short by Isaac’s firm grip on the back of her coat. The hold didn’t block the aim of her laser-beam glare. “You’re not using my brother’s resistance as an excuse to stay solo.” She jabbed her finger into his stomach, which was as high as she could reach. It was rock-hard, enough to make her fingertip ache and her pulse trip. He didn’t need to know that, though. She whirled on her brother. “Don’t go all soft on me, Isaac. Don’t let him manipulate you by intimidation. If he stays, I stay.”

“No,” the men snarled in unison.

She focused on undermining Isaac’s reservations. Once he was on board, Zaire would relent. She’d make sure of that. “His left leg is useless. He can’t walk. I won’t leave him up here to die, no matter how much he wants to.”

“He’s not a stray puppy.” A growl entered Isaac’s voice. “I’m sure there’s someone we can notify to collect him. Such as the local sheriff.”

“Stop it.” Quinn had only used her special voice on Isaac once. At least since she’d figured out she possessed a special voice. She’d plead ignorance on all the other occasions. Holding her brother’s gaze, she put on her best hurt expression. “Do you trust me or not?”

His features smoothed slightly from angry to grumpy. “You aren’t the issue.”

“How often do I hang out with dudes I just met?” She arched an eyebrow.

The growl, this time, rumbled at her back. Quinn pressed her lips together to hide a grin.

Isaac noticed, and his glare switched from overprotective to wary curiosity. “Never,” he admitted grudgingly. “Not even with ones I nudged in your direction.”

“Lawyers, doctors, and politicians. Yawn.” The prickling energy behind her calmed like an approaching lightning storm had blown out before reaching its destination. Amid everything else, she’d have to find out how Zaire did that. Smoothing ruffled feathers was a superpower that could come in handy, especially in her family’s social circles. “And how often have you turned someone away who needed help?”

The grumpy eyebrows stayed, but Isaac grimaced, which was equivalent to a reluctant never.

“Quinn refuses to acknowledge my rejection of help.” Zaire used an infuriatingly reasonable man tone, aimed at her brother, as if she were the irrational one. “I would prefer to make my own transportation arrangements.”

She rolled her eyes. “Crutches don’t count as transportation. You two should be BFFs. When it comes to needing help, you’re both the same—stubborn and unrealistic.” She glanced over her shoulder at Zaire. “Isaac tried to ski with crutches. He got about as far as you did.” She gave him a megawatt smile and turned it back on her brother. “I win. Let’s go.”

Isaac lifted his gaze to Zaire, and the initial hostility faded at the edges, enough to know that the scale tipped her way. “Mess with my sister, and I’ll make sure you’re locked away so deep you’ll never see daylight again.”

Zaire showed his teeth, but he didn’t snarl, so that was something.

“Good talk,” Quinn said brightly. “Let’s go.”