N. Walters - Quinn's Quest

The sheets swished behind him. “Sure.” He could hear the uncertainty in her voice and hated it. He might not be able to offer her forever, but he could make her feel better about what had just happened between them.

He turned, caught her face in his hands and kissed her. He’d planned to keep it light and teasing. But one taste of her changed everything. He deepened the kiss, tasting, taking, until they were both out of breath. He broke away and dropped another hard kiss on her lips. “We’ll figure it out.” He wasn’t sure what he meant by that but he had to say something.

She offered him a tentative smile as she stood and padded off to the bathroom. The sheet she was wearing dipped slightly, giving him a tantalizing view of her supple spine, but stopping short of letting him see her perfect ass.

If the start was any indication, today was going to be a good day. Energized and renewed, he dragged on his jeans and went to find his brother to see what he’d discovered.

Chrissten didn’t know if it was morning or night. It was all the same to her. Hours bled into hours. Days passed in a sameness that made her lose hope. They’d moved her again and she had no idea where she was. Not that she’d known before, but at least Bethany had.

Now she was alone. Again.

She closed her eyes to shut out her dismal surroundings. The room was tiny, barely large enough for a cot, a toilet and a sink. It was more like a prison cell than a room. The fact that her wrists were manacled to the sides of the bed completed the image. Her arms ached and she knew her wrists were rubbed raw from her desperate attempts to free herself. The metal had held but her skin had torn. The ripe scent of blood filled the air around her.

She was trapped. And like many creatures who found themselves in such dire straits she was tempted to chew her own hands off if she could free herself. It was probably just as well she was too weak to summon her wolf form or she’d have been sorely tempted to try. Of course, if her weakness hadn’t impeded her, the fact the manacles were coated in silver would have. Either way she was screwed.

Her brain was still foggy from the drug the doctor had pumped into her. Her body grew weaker with each passing day. Her strength waned.

She honestly didn’t know how much longer she could go on fighting. It had been so long. She could barely remember the carefree woman she’d been before. Her biggest worries had been paying the rent and keeping her nosy brothers out of her business.

Craig and Quinn. Their faces filled her mind and brought an ache to her heart. She missed them both. Oh God, how she missed them. She missed Quinn worrying about her, warning her to be careful riding the subway. She missed Craig asking her what was for supper. As a teenager, he’d been a bottomless pit. He was twenty now. A man.

She’d missed so much. She worried about them both, wondered how they were coping with her disappearance. One thing she knew for certain was they were searching for her. They were a loyal, loving family, depending on one another for support in everything. They wouldn’t stop looking until they found her body.

Chrissten worried that might happen sooner rather than later. The lack of food, the constant testing and, worst of all, the constant attempts to fight off Brian were slowly killing her. She’d lost weight and muscle tone. That combined with the silver-coated shackles made it impossible for her to summon her wolf.

She swallowed hard and ignored the growl of her empty stomach. The cold and damp sank into her bones and she wrapped her arms around herself to try to keep warm. There was just enough give in the chains attached to the manacles to allow the motion. It didn’t help.

She tried to picture herself in a cozy bed with about a dozen comforters thrown over her. She wiggled around slightly, trying to find a comfortable spot. When she found the sweet spot she sighed with relief.

With her eyes closed she could pretend she was somewhere else. It was the only way to get any relief from the unrelenting depression that threatened to crush her.

Strong male arms wrapped around her. Protecting her. Quinn, she thought at first. Then she frowned. No, it wasn’t her twin or Craig. The phantom male she’d created in her mind smelled delicious and he was so warm, almost hot. She was drawn to his strength, his heat.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

The fantasy was so tangible she could almost believe it was real. Then the sound of metal scraping yanked her from her waking dream and reality came crashing back down.

“Good, you’re awake.” The doctor strode into the room, a frown on his face. “It was quite a disruption to my schedule having to move so suddenly.”

As if she cared about his schedule.

He withdrew a needle from his pocket. “Let’s get some fresh blood so I can make sure the drugs have had no lingering effect on you.”

Chrissten didn’t speak to him. There was no point. She’d spent the first three months of her captivity desperately trying to reason with the man. But there was no reasoning with someone who was insane.

She wanted to lunge for his throat, but her own weakness and the manacles kept her at bay. He jabbed the needle in her arm. She didn’t even flinch. It would bruise, but it would heal. It always did. Or at least it had. The process was getting slower and slower each time. Another sign her body was wearing out. She still sported bruises from her escape attempt. If she were healthy they’d have been almost healed by now.

He took three vials before he withdrew the needle. He muttered to himself as he left, shutting the door behind him. Several bolts slammed home and she knew she was locked in again.

She closed her eyes, trying to recapture her earlier daydream. But it was impossible. It was gone.

A lone tear escaped the corner of one eye. It trickled over her skin, disappearing into the hair at her temple. She ignored it and began to count backward from a million, praying she’d fall asleep so she could escape her cell if only in her dreams.

Bethany couldn’t help thinking about Chrissten, wishing her friend were here. Guilt was eating at her, reminding her she’d failed. She was free and Chrissten was still a captive. It wasn’t fair. But in her experience, little in life was.

She ran her thumb over the edge of her mug of coffee and watched the large group interact with one another. No, not group. Pack. This was a pack of werewolves and half-breeds. It had taken her some time but she’d finally put names to the faces of everyone here.

Michael and Benjamin were arguing over hockey scores from the night before while Kevin and Meredith discussed shipments for the bar. Teague teased a smile from Neema, promising he’d take her to see the latest werewolf flick at the theatre as soon as possible. The humor in that struck her and she almost grinned as she imagined the two half-breed werewolves critiquing the movie over popcorn and soda. It was all so bloody normal.

It hurt to watch them, but it fascinated her as well. They were a loud and boisterous lot. And they loved to eat.

Several tables had been pulled together in the bar area and they were all seated around eating piles of pancakes, bacon, eggs and toast. There was a ton of food but it was quickly disappearing.

Sharing the meal gave her the opportunity to sit back and study all of them. These people were different than anyone she’d ever met. Of course, they weren’t totally human, but werewolf. But it was more than that. It was the way they interacted with one another. Totally at ease. Individuals, yet somehow a unit.

Isaiah and Meredith were the alphas of this pack and both of them were incredibly memorable. Isaiah commanded attention simply by stepping into a room. The fact that he stood six and a half feet tall, all of it solid muscle didn’t hurt, but it went much deeper than simply physical. The man oozed power and testosterone. It radiated from his rugged face and dark eyes. Meredith was just as compelling, the perfect female counterpart, with her long black hair and blue eyes that reflected deep wisdom and love toward her family.