by Rebecca Main
“Whether you believe me yet or not, the facts remain the same,” he finally tells me. “You have now found yourself a key player in our supernatural game. You’re going to work with us and get back the crystal, Quinn.”
“I can’t, Ryatt. I told you that already. A thousand times.”
“You can, and you will.”
I shake my head stubbornly. “I can’t get it back. I don’t know where it is. For all I know he’s shipped it away to some hiding spot or he had it destroyed.”
“He wouldn’t destroy it,” Ryatt comments, coming to a stop once more.
“You’re right. It’s not that pretty,” I tell him with a half smirk. Ryatt returns it, eyes sparkling. A flash of something stirs in my stomach at our matching looks. I swallow and douse the feeling out.
“It isn’t, but it’s not an ornament to be placed in a house. It’s a very powerful, magical artifact.”
An exasperated sigh slips out. “Of course. How could I forget about the witches?”
“Be careful what you say, darling. My soon-to-be sister-in-law just so happens to be a witch.”
“Oh really?” Not-werewolves and now witches? Did he seriously expect me to believe this crap?
“Really,” he says with a smirk. “You can thank her personally for the tea.”
“Maybe I will.” With my fist in her eye.
“No need to look so cross. It seems the effects have already worn off.” He raises an eyebrow challengingly that I don’t dignify with a response.
“If she’s a witch, can’t she just magic the crystal to herself or something? Why do I have to get it?”
“Certain properties of the crystal make it impossible to locate and summon. As to why you must be the one to get it, I thought that was obvious enough. You have a relationship with him. You have his trust.”
“He will kill me,” I tell him, voice cracking at the end. “I can’t steal the crystal back, but I bet I could find you a new one—”
“That’s not possible, I’m afraid,” he tells me tightly after my soft declaration. “But I promise you, Quinn: he will not harm you.” His impassioned words leave me slightly…breathless. Some stirring of feeling begins to grip my heart as I pull my refusal forward.
“I’m sorry,” I reiterate. “I just can’t.”
Ryatt frowns. “Then I suppose it’s time we spoke with my brother.”
Chapter 5
Ryatt
She casts a wary glance my way as I open the cell door with a thumb drive, features rearranging into something more neutral as she catches my stare. I plaster a smile on my face and swing my body to the side, gesturing ahead of me. Quinn straightens her back and walks past me purposefully towards the door I entered through, her entire body coiled with tension. A nervous lamb waiting for its chance to escape the big bad wolf.
“I wouldn’t try anything rash,” I warn her. A slight stiffening runs along her spine and raises the hair on the back of her neck. I chase it all with my eyes and focus on every infinitesimal stretch and pull of her muscles. She's plotting her escape, no doubt. I can hear the race of her heart in tune with each calculated step she takes. Through the air wafts the smell of both adrenaline and small spikes of fear.
She would run. I would give chase. Again.
A grim smile slants across my face. “Take a left at the door. On your right you’ll see a stairway. Go up.”
Her steps speed up a fraction as she opens and slips past the basement door. Though I’m only a hairsbreadth behind, she still manages to the slam the door halfway closed on me. I catch it and slip around ’til I’m flush behind her suddenly frozen form.
“Meet Keenan,” I whisper into her ear, eyeing the intimidating man. “Keenan, this is Quinn.” He grunts in response, arms folded across his broad chest and an unpleasant scowl on his face. His arms are littered with tattoos, which bulge with muscles.
“I didn’t realize you had reinforcements lurking about,” she tells me, disdain evident. The bitter scent of fear spills into the hallway. Keenan and I share a look, then his arms drop to his side and his scowl retreats. Somewhat, at least. Resting bitch face is just as common in men as it is in women.
“Good morning,” he rumbles. Then he tries for a smile. Quinn leans back slightly, breath held for one excruciating moment until it is released.
“Morning,” she replies, all false-cheer.
“We’re headed upstairs,” I tell Keenan. He raises a brow, goes to cross his arms once more, then stops. A weird spasm of emotions flits across his face: frustration, annoyance, embarrassment, and finally, grim acceptance. It’s always so amusing to watch him mind his manners. “To see Xander.”
Keenan looks to me, then Quinn. “Good luck,” he tells her, shooting a rather disarming grin her way as he relaxes. I send him a scowl over her shoulder, lightly pushing at her lower back to guide her forward and past Keenan.
“No need to be too friendly, brother” Keenan ducks his head sheepishly, though a sly smirk remains on his face.
“Good luck, brother,” he replies under his breath so that only I might hear as we travel upwards. “You’ll need it.”
I huff, half exasperated, half amused, and slow my pace to put some distance between us. My eyes drift lower, eyeing the black material that fits faithfully along her legs and ass. The soulmark tingles as my cock stirs at the sight. Watching her ascent is certainly a pleasurable experience.
“Excuse you,” she scolds, tossing a mean glare over her shoulder, though it doesn't quite meet her eyes. Her cheeks are fused with color, lips puckered into a delicious pout.
What a beauty.
“My apologies,” I declare. The frown she wears deepens momentarily before she sets her sights back on the upcoming open archway. Her steps quicken once more. No doubt to get away from my scrutiny. Or…my head ticks to the side, ears perking to the sudden crescendo of her heart. “Quinn—”
She darts up the last couple of steps and throws herself down the hallway. Her footfalls sound swiftly against the carpet runner, but they are drowned out by my own. I catch her easily, my arm slipping around her middle to propel her against the wall. She hits the wall with a yelp, my arm acting as a slight cushion as I push myself against her, trapping her body between my own and the wall.
“I thought I told you not to run,” I tell her calmly, letting her soft panting sound against my collarbone. Her eyes do not look up to meet mine. Instead, they stare determinedly through me.
“You said not to do anything rash,” she corrects.
“And running away isn’t rash?”
She shrugs, wiggling against my hold. I stifle a groan. Her thigh is sandwiched tightly between my own. “It seemed the most sensible option in my current predicament.” She peeks up at me. Pretty cerulean blue veiled against a stronghold of blonde lashes. Minx. She shifts her hips and places her hands tentatively against my chest. From runaway to coy damsel in under a minute. Impressive. Next she would be simpering out an apology before shoving against my chest to flee once more. I smile down at her.
I carefully peel off her hands and place them behind her into possession of one of mine. She glares up at me, fingernails biting into the flesh they can reach.
“Careful, Quinn. I’m beginning to think you want me to bend you over my knee right now.” Color rises to her cheeks, and her eyes dart away. The familiar scent of her arousal fills the space between us. I press more firmly against her. My half hard-on swells to a full as I feel the warmth of her curves. “Or are you the type who prefers to be tied down as your punishment is doled out?” I graze her cheekbone and across the way to her bottom lip with my fingertips. She shivers at my touch, eyelashes fluttering closed as I duck my head down closer to her neck. “No matter,” I whisper on, the husky timbre of my voice slipping between us, “you’ll be gagged.” Her eyes startle open, staring at me in scandal as her breath continues in little puffs of hot air. The scent of her arousal nearly doubles, forcing me to bite back a moan. “We wouldn’t want t
o disturb anyone with the noises you’d be making.”
“You’re vile,” she tells me, fire in her voice and pounding through her veins. I bury my nose in her neck and inhale deeply. I might be vile, but there’s no denying her reaction to my indecent proposals. She smells heavily of arousal and adrenaline. I let my nose slip farther back along her neck and smile as I feel her skin break out in goosebumps. The soulmark is so near; I could reach out my tongue and taste it. My hips give a small thrust forward, and I’m rewarded with one in kind. Her soft trembling moan fans my ear.
“We could be vile together,” I say, nipping at her earlobe before pulling back. “If you’d like.”
Her mouth opens and closes comically for a moment. Then a different flush rises to her cheeks. “Not likely,” she growls.
I raise a skeptical brow, “There’s nothing to say we can’t mix business with pleasure.” And then more pleasure. The wolf echoes its agreement in my head with a soft growl.
“I don’t think so.”
I hum knowingly, “And here I thought we had…chemistry.”
She smirks cruelly back at me. “I’ll take that as a compliment of doing my job well, but make no mistake, Ryatt, there is no chemistry between us.” Her heart gives a little skip as she gives her rebuttal. Liar.
“Then would you care to explain your obvious excitement?”
“I’m not excited,” she grinds out between her teeth, “just a decent actress.”
Ah, but the nose knows, darling. “Remember, Quinn,” I say lightly, “I’m of the lupine variety. Racing heart. Dilated eyes. That tempting moan and the smell of your arousal. They’re all signs to the opposite.”
“You’re crazy.” The scent of her embarrassment fills my nose. Time to turn it down a notch. No matter how hard it is to ignore the attraction between us. I can't recall Xander being so consumed by his soulmark so early on...I clearly hadn't given my Alpha enough credit.
“There’s no need to be ashamed of your attraction,” I tell her honestly and lick my lips a bit nervously. I remove all traces of humor from my voice. “I’ve certainly done a poor enough job of hiding my own. As it is,” I venture softly, “I don’t see why we might not take the chance to explore what could be between us after all this mess is sorted.”
Time stands still, and then she guffaws. She stares pointedly at the spot just over my shoulder. A sharp dagger of dread penetrates my heart as I try to ignore the sting of her response.
“I don’t think so,” she says cruelly. “What exactly did you think was going to happen? You locked me up in some weird basement prison, and now you’re trying to force me to steal back some stupid crystal. Not to mention the whole ‘I’m a werewolf’ angle you’re trying to pull—which is really weird, by the way. You should just stick with the ‘shallow playboy’ routine you had down in Mexico. Seems truer to form, don’t you think?”
Her aim is far too accurate. The words cut deep as intended, but I mask my pain with a menacing smile. “Let’s not pretend like you have even an inkling of who I am, little lamb.” She scowls at the endearment. “Other than the man who’s able to bring you undeniable pleasure—”
“Seriously?” she gripes.
“You’re right; how about a new topic? Rooming arrangements. This,” I reach out a hand and knock on the doorframe a foot away, “is my room. You’ll be staying in there with me. Ah, ah! No more talking, darling. You’ll be made to stay downstairs in the cell if you can’t manage to behave yourself. Besides, this way I can keep an eye on you. Make sure your wandering hands stay off all the precious cargo here. To be clear, I am speaking of myself.”
“You’re incorrigible.” She tugs her arms from my grasp and pushes me away. While straightening her clothes she loses all scent of her earlier arousal, to be replaced with cool control.
“Among other things,” I concur. “Shall we?” I point to a double door towards the end of the hall. She stalks past me without another word but stops just short of reaching them.
“Nice art collection,” she murmurs, folding her arms over her chest as she waits for me to either reach her side or open the door.
“Thank you,” I say somewhat stiffly, “it was my late mother’s.” Her eyes dart to my face, but I hold an unreadable expression.
“She had good taste. It’s not exactly to my taste,” she hedges somewhat kindly, “but beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that crap.”
“And your beauty is something akin to a Degas.”
She smooths down her braided hair carefully. “Something like that.”
+++
Quinn
I know my attention should be given fully to the situation at hand, but my mind keeps wandering back to the hallway. The way Ryatt had me pressed against the wall. His colorful descriptions of what he planned to do to me. The way my nipples had tightened almost painfully. How my panties still felt damp. Why did I feel such a strange pull towards him? It was as if my nervous system went up in smoke and flames every time he stepped too near. Maybe something more had been slipped into the tea than he let on? The attraction I felt wasn’t ordinary.
The door opens to reveal a woman with golden brown skin, and hair swept back behind a large headband. She carries a tray with a teapot and teacup on it, hips swaying gently from side to side as she comes forward. I wrinkle my nose.
“I’m not thirsty,” I tell them cheerfully, eyeing the singular teacup with distrust. “But thanks.”
The newcomer sends me a pitying glance and then looks towards Xander, the “Alpha.” He makes a study of me from behind his desk, eyes calculating my every movement. The weight of his regard is mildly stifling, a feat I had not thought possible after encountering Keenan.
“It’s either the tea or the syringe,” he tells me. My eyes dart over the tray once more and note the needle resting on a golden piece of cloth. I swallow.
“Tea.”
The woman passes me another sympathetic glance to which I roll my eyes. If she wanted to help, she could. She chose not to. I wonder, is this “the witch” Ryatt was talking about?
“There’s no need to be mad at her,” Xander tells me calmly. “Your anger is more aptly served at us.”
I scoff and take the proffered tea. “Please refrain from telling me who I should and should not be mad at. If I want to hate on the girl that’s pouring me the spiked tea, then I will.” I turn my steely gaze to the woman who stands serenely back. “Thanks, sweetheart.” She flinches as I slug back the scalding tea, tossing the teacup and saucer onto the desk with little regard.
“There’s no need to be crude, darling,” Ryatt cajoles from the chair next to mine.
“I’m not your fucking darling,” I snap back. The room goes silent at my outburst, while I attempt to curb my baser emotions.
I take in a deep breath to calm my hammering heart. There wasn’t anything I could do at the moment to get out of this. I just had to invest in the new game and let it play out. Maybe along the way, I could find a way to get the hell out, but for now, there would be no advantage to looking back. Once this was all over, I would take a new name, a new everything, and hope to God I would never be found again. After all, Ryatt said he would double my price, right? I take another deep breath.
“Well, safe to say we all know why you're here,” Ryatt starts, voice perfectly nonchalant. Xander sends his brother a short, but stern glare.
“Ryatt,” he says on an exhale, “it might be best if you didn’t talk.” Ryatt hardly looks offended, and upon catching my inspection he sends me a wink. Honestly. I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, dutifully ignoring the way I feel my cheeks fill with warmth at his flirtations.