N. Walters - Quinn's Quest

Craig was yelling at him, but Quinn couldn’t make out the words. In spite of all the problems in his life and all the horrific memories that stained his tattered soul, he felt whole for the first time in years. Having Bethany in his arms soothed the aching void within him.

Everything inside him settled and sounds began to seep back into his consciousness. Craig was yelling at him to let her go. Bethany was all but gasping for air, her hands pushing and shoving against his chest. But it was the low sob from deep in her throat that broke him loose from the strange thrall encasing him.

Shame washed over him, quickly followed by a wave of remorse and he loosened his hold. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. “I’m sorry.” He whispered the words in her ear. “I won’t hurt you. Not ever.” That’s a promise he could easily keep. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to hurt her either. This woman was precious, and not just because she had information he needed.

He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. His hold turned from a prison to one of shelter against the world. He rubbed one hand up and down her back and used the other to cup her face. There were no tears on her cheeks, but her face was pale, her eyes luminous.

She tried to pull away but he held her there, needing the physical contact with her. “Talk to me.” He needed to know everything she did. “Help me understand.”

She stopped struggling and took a calming breath. Her jacket was open and the motion pushed her breasts against the front of her top. He tried not to notice the way the worn material cupped the substantial mounds.

His dick flexed again. He ignored it, never taking his eyes from her face. “Tell me about this doctor.”

Craig interrupted before she could begin. “I think everyone should hear this.”

Bethany tensed in his arms. “Everyone?” Fear strained her voice and he didn’t blame her in the least. She was a woman alone with strangers. And if she’d been kidnapped and held with Chris, as she claimed, then God only knew what she’d been through these past few weeks. What Chris had been through these long months.

His arms tightened reflexively around her and he had to force himself to relax. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to relax his knotted biceps. “It’s okay. They’re friends and they want to help.”

He knew Isaiah and the rest of them had been listening, waiting for their cue when he heard footsteps on the stairs. They all filed into the room and were an intimidating group, large and lethal. Bethany sidled a bit closer to him. Pleasure at the small action filled him even though he knew it was only because he was one of the two people she knew so he was better than nothing.

“I’m Isaiah Striker.” Isaiah studied Bethany and the way she was sitting in Quinn’s lap. Quinn didn’t care. Crazy and irrational as it was, he’d staked his claim and wasn’t about to take a step back. “Welcome to Haven. Our home.”

Bethany fought to keep from being totally overwhelmed by the group of people surrounding her. There were seven men and two women, besides Quinn, in the room. They were all tall and moved with grace and ease. But it was the big man in front who scared the crap out of her. He reminded her of Brian in the way he moved, in the animalistic grace of his movements. A sense of power, of barely leashed strength surrounded him.

She took a deep breath and froze. Terror flooded into her veins as a musky scent filled her nostrils. He was one of them too. A werewolf. She sniffed again, certain she had to be mistaken. How many werewolves could there be running around the city? Many scents struck her at once, all individual, and only some were partly human. There were several more of them who had the same underlying natural perfume to their skin that Brian had.

All of these people were werewolves, or at least part. She frowned and sniffed again. Except for maybe Craig. She didn’t get the same scent from him as she did from the others. He smelled totally normal. Totally human.

And the fact she was now smelling people for identification and could differentiate between human and nonhuman told her she was in very unfamiliar territory. She’d never done anything like this in her life, at least not on purpose. Not until Chrissten had nagged her into trying. She’d humored the other woman, putting off the difference in scents between them and Brian and the doctor as normal, even though she’d never smelled anything like it in her life until then. She’d always had a keen sense of smell but hadn’t thought anything of it until two weeks ago.

The big man with the shaggy brown hair was still waiting patiently for her reply. “Thank you.” What else could she say? She was beginning to think she should have done all of this over the phone.

No. That was the cowardly way. She had to make certain they rescued Chrissten. This wasn’t about her.

She looked down at her lap, at her clasped hands, and launched into her story. “I was taken about two weeks ago by two men—Doctor Phillip Morton and Brian. I don’t know his last name. They used some sort of drug to knock me out and when I came around I was in a room with another woman. She said her name was Chrissten Lawton.”

“Chris.” The word was barely a breath on Quinn’s lips, but Bethany could hear the depth of emotions, the love that existed between brother and sister. It gave her the courage to continue sharing her horrific memories.

She told them about the testing and how the doctor had kept them both weak, practically starving them. She didn’t talk about the rapes that Chrissten had been subjected to. That was Chrissten’s story to either tell or to keep to herself, as she chose.

“How did you escape and not her?” The question from Isaiah was mild, but she flinched, sensing the anger, the mistrust beneath it. She did not want this man for an enemy.

“Bethany?” The quiet questioning in Quinn’s voice gave her the courage to continue. He deserved to know about his sister.

“The doctor came to take blood from both of us, but Brian was agitated. He had…other things on his mind.” She didn’t want to tell them that he’d wanted Chrissten and her. She shivered at the memory. Quinn’s arms tightened around her, warming her chilled body.

A low growl came from one of the males. “He’s a werewolf, isn’t he?”

“Michael.” Isaiah snapped at him and the male subsided.

Bethany nodded. “You have to understand. Until two weeks ago I had no idea there was such a thing as a werewolf, or a half-breed, for that matter. Chrissten talked about such things but I figured she’d been held captive so long she was beginning to believe the crazy doctor.”

“You didn’t know what you were?” The disbelief in Quinn’s voice slammed into her, hurting her more than she’d thought possible.

Something inside her snapped and she bolted from the dubious safety of his lap. The shelter, the support he’d offered her wasn’t real. All he wanted from her was information. If she hadn’t been so tired and confused she would never have forgotten that. She’d had enough of this interrogation, this mistrust. She’d been through hell. Had lost her entire life. Her identity.

“How could I have known?” She stared at them all one by one. “My entire life my mother dragged me around from city to city, never settling, never staying. I’d never lived anywhere longer than six or eight months until my mother died six years ago. Maybe she knew something I didn’t, but she never told me anything. She wouldn’t talk about my father at all. Forgive me if I never figured out I’m supposed to be a half-breed werewolf, whatever the hell that is.”

The last of her anger drained away and, with it, her energy. She swayed but stepped away when Quinn reached for her. She couldn’t depend on anyone else for help. As always, she was alone. She locked her knees and stood straight, facing all of them. Who the hell were they to judge her?