Page 95 of The Enemy to the Living
Quinn frowns at me. He opens his mouth, and that’s when I realise what’s wrong.
The living room door is shut. I never close it. Leaving it open lets more light into the flat and keeps the room aired.
I reach out with my blessing, then tighten my grip on Quinn’s wrists. He looks at me in question.
“Fae,” I murmur, pressing my lips to his ear.
I told Vlad earlier that Sorrel escaped. They’re all out looking for him now. The only reason I’m not is that Vlad insisted I go sleep—he wanted me to stay at the base, but Quinn’s never been there, and part of me wondered if he might come…
I push Quinn towards the door, but he shifts his weight and shakes his head. His hands flex. Claws erupt from the ends of his fingers.
I shake my head. We had trouble enough with these fae earlier today, and there were three of us then, including Sparrow. I try to push him towards the door again, but he doesn’t budge.
“Qui—”
I don’t get the word out. Apparently, Sorrel is not that patient. He bursts through the living room door, and his first blast of magic hits Quinn right in the side. It tears him from my grip, and he hits the door hard, letting out a pained groan.
I move in front of him, and when Sorrel’s magic flies out again, my blessing rises to meet it. All that energy crashes in the centre of the room, and my blessing makes a valiant attempt to protect me—protect us both—but Sorrel’s magic shatters it, some getting through.
I brace myself against the pain. He’s injured, at least, breathing hard and looking suspiciously peaky. Fury swirls in his dark eyes. “You killed my brother,” he snarls.
Quinn’s still breathing behind me. Standing, even. I’m not going to let Sorrel hurt him.
Sorrel doesn’t get the memo. He sends more magic flying at me again, another blast, then another that follows it too quickly. Quinn darts around me when I go crashing into the wall.
“Quinn, don’t!”
Sorrel snarls, turning his attention from me. “What are you going to do, little—”
Quinn shifts. From one second to the next, he’s his wolf, stepping out of his clothes, and he’smagnificent. Tawny furripples as he stalks Sorrel, whose expression finally wavers. A low, dangerous growl fills the air. I shake off the pain of that last magical hit and prepare my blessing.
I don’t need to. Sorrel lifts his hands and Quinn strikes. He’s deadly. Precise. Teeth clamp down on Sorrel’s throat as Quinn uses his bulk and the momentum of his leap to bring him to the ground. Sorrel cries out—a scream that becomes a gurgle as Quinn jerks his head and the scent of blood fills the air.
It’s over in seconds. I lean back against the wall again, breathing hard. That’s why they fear wolves, isn’t it? Sorrel’s magic hardly even slowed Quinn down.
“Quinn?” I murmur when he steps away from Sorrel’s corpse, letting out a little huff. “Quinn, are you—”
He flinches away when I come close, showing me his teeth. I scowl and drop to my knees. “None of that now,” I say sharply, injecting all the power I can muster into my tone.
Quinn whimpers. Blood paints his muzzle and paws. It’s spreading in a slow pool across my kitchen floor.
“Come here.”
I don’t care about the sticky warmth of it as Quinn presses his muzzle to my throat. He collapses against me—more for comfort than due to any injury, I think—and I push my face into his fur.
“You did so well, darling,” I murmur. “Not just tonight. Fuck, you’ve done so well.”
Quinn whines. I shove my hands deep into his fur, letting out my own shaky breath. They’re gone. They’re gone, and we’re here, and we are, for now, the safest we will ever be.
“Shift back for me?”
Quinn lifts his big head, and his dark eyes linger on me for a moment. He steps out of my embrace and from one breath to the next, he’s a man again. He presses his lips together.
“Here.” I hold out my arms. “Here, please.”
Quinn almost bowls me over, the way he leaps into the embrace. He shivers in my arms, but he’s not crying. “I thought you would—Did I go too far?”
“No, pup. No. You protected me. You saved me.” I kiss his temple, uncaring of the blood right now. I don’t remember the last time anyone truly did that. We look out for each other in the Hunt, but we work alone so often… Sorrel would have killed me, if not for Quinn.
