Page 14 of Cultivating Caden
“And tell them if he tries, to let me know and I’ll sedate him if I have to.”
“Let’s go,” Quade snarled.
“No, leave him rest. You know he’s going to sense your emotions, and he’ll try to do something about them.”
“But—”
“We have this, Quade. Let us take care of him.” He turned back to the others. “Go.”
The two men gave a brisk nod, then whisked Ten from the room, followed shortly after by the doctor.
Quade scrubbed a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh when the door closed. He turned to Caden and groaned. “I’m sorry I yelled, and I’m sorry I grabbed you.”
“No problem.”
“No, I shouldn’t have. My kind is… quick to anger. Ten’s been helping me with that for the last two years. You should have seen me back then. You looked at me funny and I might rip your throat out. Now I might say ‘nice shoes’ before I kill you.”
“God, you mean Ten’s been helping people since he was a little boy?”
“He was working with folks before I got here, so he’s probably been doing it since he was about six years old.”
“What about his parents?”
Quade’s chin dropped to his chest. “Murdered by someone we trusted. He threatened to hurt Ten, and the kid’s father went after him. The bastard shot him in the face. His mother shielded Ten with her body, and he put three bullets into her back.”
Caden couldn’t repress his shudder. He could understand why Quade was protective of Ten. He seemed so fragile, but at the same time, showed a strength Caden rarely saw in people twice his age.
“I’m sorry. Can I ask what happened to the guy?”
A look of rage came over Quade’s face that chilled Caden to the bone. “He’s never going to hurt anyone again, I can promise you that.” He slumped back and sighed. “Ten was lost. He couldn’t function at all. One day he did something to himself and removed the painful memories. We’re not sure how, but he became the Ten we know today. We all work hard to make him feel like he belongs. Still, none of us really understand how he does what he does.”
“He talks to the door.”
Quade waved a hand. “See? That’s what I mean.” He pointed to the seat that Ten had occupied. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Quade sat, and Caden took a moment to look him over. His ebony hair was cut to the scalp in a harsh buzz, his eyes were dark, almost black, and his skin reminded Caden of the sandy color he’d seen on the side of a cliff, and was almost as rough. He might not like Quade much, but Caden had to admit, he was a very handsome man.
“Most of us who live here have definable abilities. Mine is due to my lycan half. Jack, our director, is a half giant, and his wife is a brownie. But then we have people who have gifts that are psychic in nature, and we don’t really understand those.”
They sat quietly for a while, each lost in his own thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” Quade said again, the words so soft, Caden wasn’t sure he’d heard them.
“Just for the record, what are you sorry for this time? Kidnapping me? Throwing me in here without so much as an explanation? What exactly are you sorry for, Quade?”
Quade winced. “I deserved that, I suppose. You have every right to be angry. Normally one of our counselors would talk with you to smooth your integration into Sanctuary, but maybe I should be the one who tells you.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Could I get a beer?”
“I don’t have…. Wait. Do I?”
Quade gave a wolfish grin. “On the second shelf, you’ll find bottles of Farmhouse Pale Ale.”
“My favorite.”
“I know. Ten pulled it from your memories and had the kitchen stocked with things you like. As you grow accustomed to Sanctuary, you’ll discover many artisans craft their own beer. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find something in there you like as well.”
“So you have my favorite beer, and this room is amazing, but I don’t want to be comfortable here. I want to go. Help me understand why I can’t leave.”
