by Rebecca Main
“Of course, your wish is my command, brother.”
Xander’s eyes return to me. “Quinn, you stole a crystal from Ryatt a week ago.”
“Six days ago.”
Xander’s furrowed brow does not break. “It was no ordinary crystal.”
“So I’ve been told,” I say with a smirk. “Something about witches and werewolves. If you ask me, it looks like one of those lamp things. You know, the ones that light up.” My eyes shut as I try to recall the name of the object I’m imagining.
“A rock salt lamp?” Ryatt offers.
I snap my fingers and my eyes open. “Yes!” I send Ryatt an appreciative smile before looking to Xander. “You can totally find a replacement on Amazon.”
“Is this a game to you?” Xander asks, voice unamused.
A smile treads carefully at the corner of my lips. “Most definitely.” A soft burst of laughter erupts from the woman, and Xander lets out a sigh of frustration.
“Not helping, Zoelle.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles, biting her lip to keep from smiling or laughing. Probably both.
“It’s alright,” I chime in before Xander can continue, “I usually have that effect on people.” I flutter my eyelashes enticingly at her and let my gaze sweep down her body.
“I didn’t realize she was going to be as bad as you,” bemoans Xander, glaring heartily at his brother. Ryatt is practically beaming at me, and I fight down the second wave of red that dares to rise. I just needed to outlast the effects of the tea. If that meant making a fool of myself and diverting attention accordingly, then so be it.
“Oh, she’s a very bad girl,” Ryatt claims proudly, his voice dipping dangerously low. “We’ve already discussed how we’ll rectify the situation, haven’t we, Quinn?”
“Incorrigible,” I growl, spearing him with a look of scorn. He sweeps my hand into his own and brings it to his lips.
“Always,” he promises, teeth grazing my knuckles for the briefest of moments before retreating and allowing me back my hand. A shiver breaks out across my body as an almost undeniable urge to place my hand back within his own overwhelms me. A dull throbbing pulses from the back of my neck, near the base of my skull where a tattoo and birthmark call home. This had to be a side effect of the drug.
“Can we continue?” Xander asks, words laced with amusement and vexation. When no one answers, he leans back into his chair with a roll of his eyes. “I need a drink,” he mutters just loud enough for us to hear.
“You should try the tea.” Ryatt and Zoelle both snicker at Xander’s groan. Then he straightens and pins his focus solely upon me.
“You stole the Wielding Crystal of Dan Furth,” the woman, Zoelle, tells me. “It’s an important artifact to my Coven.” Coven, right.
“Who was your employer?” Xander asks. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“Mr. Vrana,” I say after a painful moment's hesitation. The words burn a path on their way up and out my mouth. “Jesus Christ, how much of that Lunaria stuff did you put in there? Can I have some water?”
Zoelle blushes. “It’s probably because you drank it so fast,” she explains to me patiently. “It’ll fade. I think. For now the effects will most likely feel exacerbated.”
“Perfect,” I mutter.
“Quinn, focus.” The glower I shoot Xander’s way is perfectly icy, as it should be. I've had enough practice with it throughout my life. “Do you know who Mr. Vrana is?”
“Just another man drooling over someone else’s toy.”
“Do you know what he is?”
My eyes slip to Ryatt. “I’ve been told he’s a vampire.”
“And do you believe him?” I flounder for an answer, and my conflict gets stuck in my throat.
“I don’t know,” I finally say. “Not really, the concept is pretty out there.”
Xander nods and looks to Zoelle, his gaze softening so much that he looks like a different man. A man terribly in love. She reddens under his scrutiny but returns his love-filled look.
“Rather disgusting, aren’t they?” Ryatt asks softly, effectively killing their mood. I snort.
“Yes,” I respond resolutely.
“There’s no need to be rude,” Zoelle scolds Ryatt. “After all, she’s—” Zoelle cuts off at the precise shaking of both brothers’ heads.
“What? She’s what?” I ask, scooting to the edge of my seat and darting my gaze between the three.
“A thief,” Ryatt answers, slowly turning to face me. His face splits into a pleased grin. “Who stole my heart.”
Oh, Lord.
“You’ll get used to it,” Zoelle supplies at my incredulous look.
“I don’t plan on having to,” I tell her. My honesty places an uncomfortable look on their faces. “Am I missing something?”
“Only the important things,” Ryatt answers. I’m ready to bite back, snap some witty retort to put him in his place when Xander holds up a hand.
“Would it help if one of us drank some of the tea?” I frown back at him. Why would he offer me that? As if reading my mind he replies, “So that you might believe. And so that you’ll agree to help us get the crystal back.” I sit back in my velvet chair carefully and slip one leg over the other.
“I want everyone to drink the tea.”
He shakes his head. “Just one. You can choose.” A sigh falls past my lips. There was no way for me to know if any of the trio had built up an immunity to the drug used in the tea. Meaning they could all potentially still lie to me and keep spinning this strange web of supernatural stories. I scan their faces briefly. If anyone seemed most likely to have built up an immunity to the drug, it was Xander. Ryatt would have too much fun being honest. Which left Zoelle.
“Her.”
Zoelle straightens her shoulders a bit before pouring herself a cup of the now lukewarm tea. She drinks about half of it and then sets it down. Smart.
“It’ll take a minute or so before the effects kick in,” she explains to me, leaning against the desk as we all wait out the minute in silence. “Alright. It should be working now.”
“Good,” Xander says. “Zoelle, what are you?”
“A witch,” she says. I gaze on neutrally, ignoring the strong sound of my heart in my ears at her answer. Maybe she was a Wiccan. Wasn’t that a religion? There’s a long pause as all three turn expectant eyes towards me, but I refuse to pass along any sort of acknowledgment.
“And what are we?”
“You’re lycans.” Not-werewolves.
“And Mr. Vrana?” Her mouth opens then snaps shut as her face shifts to one of confusion.
“I’ve never met him. I wouldn’t know. I don’t know,” comes her staggered response. Her hand grazes her throat as she clears it gently. A rather annoyed look flashing over her face.
“Sorry, love. I forgot you didn’t know,” Xander croons. “For the record, he’s a vampire. And what does the crystal do?”
Zoelle takes a breath. “The crystal radiates a supernatural energy that stimulates the growth of the natural products of the land. It enhances their efficiency, potency, and power if they have it, tenfold. We already have one half,” she tells me, “but Mr. Vrana, as you’ve told us, has the other.” This was not good. Taking jobs knowing your employers are not quite right in the head always led to trouble.
“He might,” I finally caution. “I don’t know if he still has it. I mean,” I grit my teeth against the uncomfortable sensation gripping my throat, “I am nearly certain he has it, but I can’t know for sure. He made it seem like he wants it in his private collection. At least, somewhere out of reach of others.”
“Do you believe us?” Zoelle asks uncertainly. My stomach twists unpleasantly.
“This is crazy!” I blurt out, “How can there be vampires and witches and lycans? How is this possible?”
“We all have our origins. Old gods and meddling spirits are typically the answer.”
“Or witches hell-bent on revenge,” Ryatt offers.
; “We’re not all bad,” Zoelle grumbles.
“This is crazy,” I mutter once more. My head is spinning with uncertain revelations. “And you want me to steal back this crystal from a vampire? A hypothetical supernatural creature that kills people by drinking their blood—are you nuts?!”
“You’ve already stolen it once from a lycan,” Xander responds.
“I didn’t know he was a lycan!” I snap back.
Zoelle shifts uncomfortably. “I know it’s a lot to take in. When I was…brought into the fold, so to speak, it was a hard pill to swallow. I at least had my gran to help me adjust. This must be truly unbelievable to you.”
Empathy coats her words, soothing the slow swell of distrust building inside of me. “Yeah,” I hedge, “it is. Life isn’t some television show or movie. Things like this just don’t happen.”
She chews on her lip, eyeing me speculatively before responding. “All I can say is that the sooner you accept it, the easier it will be to move forward. There’s a lot more information and details to factor in when dealing with the supernatural. Trust me.” She shoots a pointed glance at Xander, who sends her a mild frown in response.
“I’m not that bad.”
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and take several deep breaths. There were some pretty undeniable facts I needed to deal with immediately. One, I wasn’t invincible. I had been caught. A trap had been neatly set, and I had fallen right into it. Two, I had been outsmarted. Plain and simple. The bruise to my ego would have to be nursed in private so that I could figure my way out of this mess. Three, an entire world had been hiding right under my nose. Lycans, witches, and vampires. Supposedly.
“Mr. Vrana…” his name tumbles from my mouth on an anxious breath, “he’ll kill me. He’s not the kind of man you cross and live to tell the tale. You have to understand. I just can’t—”
“Quinn,” Ryatt’s voice breaks my tangent. It is laden with assurance and a dark undertone of possessiveness. “He is just one vampire going against an entire pack of wolves. Nothing will happen to you. I swear to you,” he promises earnestly. My eyes slide open and turn to his steady gaze.
“I can’t know that,” I finally whisper. Vampire or not, Mr. Vrana was not a man to be crossed. This job wasn't worth my life. “I’m sorry, I—”
“I’m afraid we can’t accept ‘no’ as an answer,” Xander tells me, voice steady and unwavering. “If you don't help us we will be forced to alert the authorities of your presence and your past. All of which is on this flash drive.” Xander picks up a USB drive from the side of his desk.
“You can’t possibly—” I begin to protest, but his furious scowl quiets me.
“The Machon family heist, the Shorewood Cape Town scandal, the—” I hold up a hand and force my gaze to the ground, breathing harshly.
“How?” I look up to stare him down, and his eyes dart towards Ryatt. I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of the world fall upon my shoulders. I was damned if I didn’t, and damned if I did. Fuck. “Death or a jail cell,” I ponder morosely, “I suppose I’ll choose the jail cell.” I don’t bother trying to make eye contact with any of them, staring resolutely at the corner of the office instead.
“You’ll be paid accordingly,” Xander replies, “doubly so, of course.” I remain silent.
“How about I take you to the kitchen and get you something real to eat?” Zoelle suggests after a moment. I nod stiffly and stand, shooting around the chair and heading to the door before either male can protest.
“Remember, Quinn,” Ryatt calls over his shoulder, “don’t do anything rash.”
+++
Ryatt
“She’s a bit of a handful, isn’t she?” Xander asks, standing from behind his desk to pour us a drink.
“Isn’t she glorious? All that fire and drive in one small package. She’s smart too. She knows how to play the game. Knows how to control herself. The wolf is utterly smitten, and I’m infatuated,” I admit, a lazy smile stretching across my face. “I couldn’t have asked for a better soulmark. She’s just like me, but better.”
Xander hands me my glass of bourbon. “She doesn’t know about the soulmark, does she?”
I sip on my drink, enjoy its oaky flavor before responding. “No.” But she knows I can bring her pleasure, unlike anything she’s experienced before.
“Is that a good idea?” We catch each other’s eye. Each assessing the other.
“I don’t know,” I mutter around the rim of my glass. “I just want her to like me for me.”
My confession taints the air between us. I’m aware of the unusual streak of vulnerability I have laid bare before my Alpha and brother within the past week, but I can tell it brings us closer. I'm not the kind of wolf or man to share his feelings. In fact, I'm much more prone to acting in the moment and playing the crowd rather than letting on to my own emotions.
“I would rather not have our relationship, whatever it may be, revolve around it. I think we saw how tumultuous that could get.” Another look is shared.
“True,” Xander finally says, “but is kidnapping and blackmail any better? You’re too reckless, Ryatt.” I look away, the wolf and myself growing agitated. I shrug in response, not bothering to deny the observation. It was true. I had a bad habit of jumping into things head first without looking, but wasn’t finding your soulmark the perfect time to do just that? Granted, kidnapping and blackmail weren’t exactly ideal ways of keeping one's soulmark by their side. But what other choice did I have now? Quinn was a thief, and one needed to catch a thief in order to have them.
Chapter 6
Quinn
The Lunaria tea takes a long while to wear off. A fact Zoelle will not stop apologizing for, much to my annoyance. She rambles on and on, not letting me get a single word in as she fixes me the single best omelet I have ever eaten. By the time I finish the hearty breakfast, Zoelle has turned almost purple in the face. At least the Lunaria had worn off.
She ushers me back to Ryatt’s room, that monstrously sized man, Keenan, trailing slowly behind us. I don’t take too much offense when the lock shutters and snaps into place behind me, or when Keenan is instructed quietly to stand guard. I do, however, take offense when I see my two Bric’s suitcases and MCM weekender duffle nestled in the far corner of the room. I reach them in six large strides and kneel before them reverently.
These bags were my life. They were all I needed to get by. Clothes, shoes, toiletries, my encrypted laptop, and a few precious mementos. They had been in my car, ready and waiting for me to make my getaway. It takes me an hour to go through all of them, carefully cataloging every item to ensure nothing had been taken.
Everything was there. Minus one thing: my laptop charger. A quick check informs me that the laptop has an 11% charge left. It wasn’t a lot, but it could be just enough to do something. Being forced to take the job had left a bad taste in my mouth, and I was more inclined at the moment to find a way out than to stay and find a way to complete the job.
It’s only after I’m done cataloging that I make a thorough perusal of the room and all its exits. The door was a no go, obviously. I tried the handle experimentally only to be met with a predictable halt as I attempt to turn the knob. Keenan’s muted growl was unneeded to demonstrate the point further. Even if I could find the tools to pick the lock, he would still be out there. Asshat. A look out the windows reveals two other burly men standing below, casting the occasional glance up as I peer out. A sound of frustration boils in my chest. Scaling down the side of the house would be difficult with two men on guard and no trellis to guide me. I scour the room next, looking for any sign of technology outside my laptop, but find none.