Delia led the way through the back alleys of Hong Kong, her feet flying across the murky filth that littered the way. Quinn’s nose wrinkled at the stench that permeated everywhere they went, his clothes would be fit for nothing after this but the garbage. No amount of cleaning could salvage them and he wouldn’t even try. His thousand dollar shoes would join his tux . . . the soil that now coated them was disgusting and he fought against his OCD and the need to stop and wipe them clean. Fuck, he’d be doing so every few seconds and he’d be left behind in moments because the aloof Italian certainly wouldn’t wait for him and she’d, no doubt, make scornful remarks about his vanity instead of understanding his deep-rooted need for cleanliness. He just wished he’d thought to bring a change of damn clothes with him, at least a pair of boots!

“Where exactly are we going?” he asked as they careened around a corner, almost taking out a group of old women huddled around an open coal brazier. They barely managed to swerve around them, their eyes wide and alarmed as they took in their group . . . Delia’s determined look, Quinn and Thorne’s formal dress and Ace and several of his men dressed for combat and looking scary as hell.

The women backed up against the wall, hands reaching for their chests or to cover their mouths as soft sounds of shock escaped as their group sped past. Delia finally answering curtly, “There’s a small temple nearby and we think she’s either there, or heading toward it. So that’s where we’re going.”

A temple? In these filthy surroundings? Quinn shook his head wondering what kind of place it could be situated in the backstreets of this rundown area. It was one of the worst parts of Hong Kong he’d ever seen and he’d been in some pretty awful places here, none quite as filthy nor as disgusting though. So, what was she doing here? If, in fact, she was.

This Henry guy seemed to be “talking in tongues” as far as he was concerned but if Jana thought he was the real deal then he’d go along with things. For now.

Up ahead there was a fork looming, Delia leading them to the right but as they neared it his steps slowed . . . a scent catching his attention and snatching his head to the left. His neck almost snapped off with the speed his head turned, his feet slowing to a near stop, Ace and his men tearing past with a confused look. He waved them on until it was only him and Thorne standing there, his friend looking at the retreating backs of the group nervously.

“Q? What’s wrong?”

“Shh,” he warned as he stepped over to the other lane, lifting his head and inhaling . . . there it was. A tantalizing scent invaded him, his belly flipped head over fucking heels and his heart thundered wildly in his chest at the aroma that flitted toward him . . . damn it to hell, it was impossible. Downright ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly be able to smell what he did. Not here. Not now. Not in this godforsaken shithole filled with filth, shit, and god knew what else . . . but there it was again . . . sweet as day and hitting him square in the damn chest; Scottish Heather like it smelled right after a rainfall and the sun beat down on his sprawling estate.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, his feet already moving toward it on their own volition. He had no choice. None whatsoever. He was pulled toward the scent with an invisible cord tied around him and someone on the other end was reeling him in . . . faster and faster his feet moved until he was racing toward it. He barely heard Thorne shout for Ace but he didn’t care, couldn’t register any concern as he sped through the dark alleys toward that enticing aroma with one thought careening around his brain: my Bloodmate.

It was true. It was fucking real. She was real. Holy fucking Christ. She was here and he was going to find her . . . and that’s when it happened. A terrible scream tore through the air. One that almost buckled his legs with the terror that filled the air. It was her! She was in danger and he had to reach her. Save her. He had to get to her. Now!

“Thorne . . . it’s her. She’s in danger . . . fucking move!”

“Shit!” Thorne sped up, catching up to him and they raced with all their might. “How? How do we know where she is?”

“I know! I can scent her,” Quinn told him, twisting and turning toward that precious Heather aroma.

“ACE!” Thorne yelled, guiding him and his men, yelling over and over to ensure they knew where they were going. Quinn only hoped they caught up to them quickly because he had no idea what they were running into.

Was it one or many that were attacking his mate? Fuck, it didn’t matter because he’d decimate whoever he came across. He’d tear them apart. Limb from limb and throw them far and wide for daring to touch her, daring to go fucking near her. He’d do whatever it took to get her and keep her safe . . . whatever it took.

A fleeting thought of Flint ran through his mind and now he knew how he’d felt. Truly knew what he’d experienced when his own Bloodmate had been in danger. Damn, he’d have to call and apologize for not understanding . . . let him know he now realized the agony he’d gone through.

They reached a corner but they were going so fast that he had to grasp the edge of the building to spin around and when he did his heart leaped into his throat at the sight before him. A young woman surrounded by a group of men, her face bloody and her left leg dragging, her arms up in a defensive position as she tried to fight them off. There were at least six attackers, each of them attempting to grab her, but she was valiantly fending them off. Barely.

“Back the fuck off,” she snarled, her eyes glowing brightly . . . Shifter, must be, he thought fleetingly.

That thought was backed up when she did a partial shift, her fingers extending into long, sharp claws that she held out menacingly. “Fucking bastards,” Quinn snarled, taking a step closer.

His eyes took every detail of her in . . . taking seconds to do so. Her hair that was dark as night, ebony was the word that flitted across his mind, her eyes just as dark but they had flecks of silver glinting in the moonlight as she bared her teeth at the men closing in on her. Fierce. She looked fierce as she faced off against insurmountable odds

“You’re coming with us, the Boss wants you alive so stop fighting us and we won’t hurt you,” a tall thickset man said with a thick Russian accent, holding his hands out to the side. He was a Vampire, for sure. Damn she’d got herself into a right hole. “I promise you won’t be harmed. He just wants to keep you for a while and use you as a bargaining tool.”

“For what?” she snarled. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about and I’m not going anywhere with you so back off or I’ll tear your eyes out, asshole.”

Before Quinn could take another step another group of men arrived. What the hell?

“She’s ours,” a small Asian man spat out . . . another Vampire. “Get out of here or you’ll all die.”

Thorne moved up next to him, whispering, “What the hell’s going on here?”

“I’ve no idea but she’s mine, Thorne, and I plan on killing them all.”

“That’s a lot of men to take on by ourselves, Q.” Thorne turned to look behind them. “We should wait for back-up.”

“What? Are you insane? She’s got two groups of men after her and you want me to wait?” Quinn’s body thrummed with fury at that thought. She was in danger for fuck’s sake. “I cannot. I have to help her, Thorne. I can’t stand here and do nothing.”

“I’m just saying . . . hold off for a few seconds. Give Ace and the rest a chance to get here,” Thorne whispered.

Quinn shook his head, hissing, “No!”

“Hold on!” Thorne grabbed his arm in a vice. “Let’s see how this plays out, Q, these assholes might take each other out . . . or at the very least give us a distraction so we can get in there and grab her. If you rush in there now we’ll have both of them on us in a heartbeat . . . think, Q, use your head and not your fucking heart!”

Thorne’s words sank in, and they made sense. He knew they did but he couldn’t just stand by while she was in the midst of such danger. Every last fiber of his body and soul screamed at him to go to her and snatch her from the jaws of danger. He’d never felt such emotions before raging through him. It was overwhelming him to the point of pain . . . extreme and excruciating agony roiled around inside him and his mind was a sea of anguish and torture. Never before had he felt such heartache as he did in this moment.

“Thorne, you don’t understand, I can’t help myself. I must help her. I can’t stop myself from going to her. I just can’t.” His jaw ached as he ground his teeth together, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to keep his feet still and his mouth from roaring to the men that threatened his Bloodmate.

He wanted nothing more than to tell them exactly what he was going to do to them for being near her, far less being a threat to her. That they dared to hurt her was their downfall. That he would tear their hearts out and stomp on them with glee as they turned to dust before him or shred them limb from limb for marring her beauty and causing her any kind of wounds to blemish her perfect silky skin. But . . . Thorne was the voice of reason and he knew he spoke the truth. If they tore in now there was a chance she would be harmed further in the vicious battle that would ensue with her in the middle of it.

“Fuck!” Quinn snapped. “I’ll wait for one more minute and then I’m going in.”

Angry voices shouting brought their attention back to the two groups of men facing off. The obvious leader of the group surrounding his Bloodmate cursing at the new arrivals.

“Who the fuck are you? Do you know who you’re fucking with?” His accent grew thicker as he snarled viciously, his fangs erupting in his mouth.

“I own these streets and she stole from me . . . so she’s mine, Russian. Back off.”

“No.” He shook his head slowly, an evil smirk on his face. “You’ve no fucking idea who you’re dealing with, asshole.”

And that’s when the shit hit the fan. The Russian made some kind of sign to his men and they pulled out damn guns and started to fire. Dirty fighting. Not the normal way of his kind and it was obvious by the damage being inflicted that the weapons were armed with silver bullets. Two of their opponents went down fast, disintegrating into dust as the others broke apart, using their phenomenal speed to evade the bullets as best they could. Some transformed to their beast form . . . several Wolves appearing but on the Russian’s side a massive Bear emerged, roaring wildly and heading toward a dark brown Wolf with a speed that seemed impossible for such a massive animal.

Quinn was taken aback at the swiftness of the fight that had progressed from nothing to such carnage within seconds and it wasn’t until he saw the large Russian darting toward his Bloodmate that his brain engaged. She’d shrunk away from the battle, her back against the wall of the building behind, her eyes on the Bear as it tore apart the Wolf with ease. Limbs flew this way and that, blood, gore and entrails littering the area and the Russian took advantage of the disarray around them and the fact her focus was elsewhere. One of his arms wrapped around her neck, savagely hauling her to his body and dragging her away. His voice almost lost in the noise of the fight going on around them . . . almost, but Quinn heard him as he spat out into her ear.

“If you fight me I’ll handcuff you with silver and add a lovely silver necklace too . . . that’ll hurt like a fucking bitch. Now move before I knock your teeth out for causing me this trouble. My boss is waiting and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Her feet dragged along the ground as he hauled her away and Quinn could wait not a second longer as white-hot anger coursed through him at the sight of his filthy hands on his Bloodmate. He shot off, his feet flying over the ground toward her and the fucker who dared harm her. He couldn’t wait to kill the bastard. Rip his heart from his chest and crush it in the palm of his hand. Watch as he turned to dust and take his Bloodmate to safety. That’s all he wanted . . . her in his arms and safe.

They were nearing a door, the Russian’s back to it, his foot kicking out and breaking the feeble wood before dragging the girl inside . . . but he wouldn’t escape. Not a damn chance. Quinn was right on his tail, rushing headlong through the opening a second after they did. His eyes adjusting to the darkness a moment too late . . . a flash of light and a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Damn it to hell. The fucker had shot him, and it was with a silver bullet! At least his aim was off and it hadn’t reached his heart.

“Stop!” Quinn snarled. “She’s mine and you’re taking her nowhere.”

“So, you’re the lucky Vampire,” he chuckled. “I’ll be happy to tell my boss that . . . what’s your name? So he’ll know where to send his demands.”

“I said . . . stop,” Quinn growled, his skin on fire with the need to reach her. Her eyes locking with his . . . she recognized him. He knew she did. That look was all it took for him to know.

Her lip tugged up at the side, giving him a tiny smile. Her eyes sparkling as her beast called out to him. It tore at his heart. Literally tore at his insides to see her so vulnerable, injured and caught in that bastard’s arms. He was ready to attack when he did the one thing that would halt him. The only possible thing that would stop him in his tracks, as Thorne careened in beside him, his friend snarling and ready to fight.

The Russian moved the gun in his hand, the muzzle now touching her temple. “If you take one more step I’ll blow her brains out. Remember, it’s loaded with silver. There’s not a fucking chance she’ll survive. A silver bullet to her brain . . . not even a Shifter can live through that.”

Thorne tensed and Quinn knew he was going to go for it. His hand shot out, holding him in place. “No. Don’t move, Thorne.”

“Q! I can make it.”

“No. I can’t take the chance.”

“Glad you’re not as stupid as you look,” the Russian smirked. “Now, tell me your name and I’ll be on my way. My boss will be in touch on how you can get her back.”

Quinn’s eyes went to hers, ignoring the man completely. He gave her a nod, trying to let her know that he’d do whatever it took to rescue her. Let her know that he wouldn’t leave her in the clutches of these bastards . . . and he thought he’d succeeded. Her eyes glinted, her resolve seemed to harden and she did something completely unexpected. She gave him a wink. A damn wink. Fuck, she was glorious.

“My name is Quinn Alexander. That should suffice for your boss. But tell him if she is further harmed that I’ll hunt him down and end him. When he finds out who I am, I’m sure he’ll figure out I keep my word.”

Before the man could respond she opened her mouth, breathing. “Amaya, my name’s Amaya . . . Quinn.”

“Amaya.” He breathed. It was beautiful, exotic, and it suited her exactly. “I’ll come for you. Don’t ever doubt it. I’ll get you back.”

“I know you will.” She smiled sadly as the Russian hauled her away into the darkness.