by Rebecca Main
“I sleep naked,” he tells me cheekily. Point Ryatt.
“Well,” I sputter, still hypnotized by his languid movements, “you’re not sleeping here.” I can feel the weight of his gaze from across the room and fight the urge to throw myself at his feet. Have some control, I scold myself. No mixing business with pleasure.
“Is that what you really want?” I nod my head quickly. “Do you want to know what I want?”
My breath hitches at his baritone. I stop nodding, and my moment's hesitation is all that Ryatt needs to cross the distance between us. A blink of an eye and he is before me. His swiftness is unnerving, and I find myself laying a hand on his chest to stop the dizzying sensation that assaults me.
A warm presence falls to my waist as he steadies me. All the while those stormy eyes bore into me. With a gulp, I stare resolutely at his collarbone. I'm all too aware of how my breathing has turned irrationally erratic at our nearness. With a tug, I stumble into his body and feel his breath ghosting over my ear.
“I want you,” he whispers, lips brushing against my ear. “And not just because of the soulmark, Quinn. And I think you want me too.”
I jerk my head back to look up at him, eyes wide in confusion. “What?”
“You’re an impressive woman, Quinn Montgomery. Entrepreneur. Clever. Witty. Beautiful. And quite the actress. What's not to like? I consider myself quite lucky to have you as my soulmark."
"Oh." A sudden warmth flows through my veins, and I feel another stone being taken from my wall. I had not been prepared for this Ryatt. All charming and seductive. Silence falls thickly between us. My rapid heartbeat sounding like a heavy drum in my ear as I will my eyes to stay trained upon his collarbone. One look into his eyes and I was sure to be ruined. I try to think back on last night’s encounter. The anger I felt, and how finding release on my own had been less than satisfying. But all I can seem to concentrate on is the scent of his shampoo. It’s almost hypnotic, with its earthy undertones and hints of spice.
I should have bunked with Irina.
Ryatt slowly pulls back, his breath fanning across my cheek. The sensation curls my toes and kindles a fire inside me. I'm all too aware of the gentle throbbing of the soulmark against my nape. The effect that it seems to have over me when Ryatt is within reach. Though he might be certain of his feelings for me, I wasn't so sure I could say the same for him. Not with my entire being at conflict. The soulmark only made my feelings more confusing, for I didn't know what was real and what wasn't. Or was it all real? I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, head swimming as I spiral suddenly downwards. The fire simmers to a halt.
“Where’s your soulmark?” I murmur, shifting back and out of his hold. He releases me reluctantly, trying to catch my eye—something I resolutely ignore. Sensing the odd shift in my mood, he promptly lets his towel fall to the floor. “Ryatt!”
His laughter fills the air while my face burns brighter and brighter. “You can look.”
“You’re naked!”
“I am,” he affirms. “I've also turned around. Do you want to see the mark or not?” I crack one eye open slowly, waiting for the hazy outline of his body to subside before zeroing in on his butt. A giggle bursts from my lips.
“It’s on your butt?” I sputter.
Ryatt sends a wink over his shoulder, glancing down at his backside and giving it flex. Another giggle shoots forth. “Indeed, it seems it is.”
I bite my lip to stifle the laughter that dares to burst forward. A sudden wish to have met Ryatt under different circumstances hits me hard. The smile on my face fades at the thought. As does super sober Sophie to be replaced with a much too vulnerable Quinn.
“You should go,” I say and take a few more steps back.
He frowns back at me, “I know you have your doubts about all of this, but I should tell you that the wolf inside of me is all in Quinn. He’s serious about you. He makes it so that all I can think about is you. About us. So I want you to know I’m willing to go all in too if you are. It’s a risk, but it could be the best risk we ever take. Just think of how electric it could be. You and I together.”
“Don’t!" I beg, though my heart yearns to give in. To jump head first into all his promises and never look back. Luckily, all of my old heartaches rear their heads and squash the feelings away. "Just…don't. I want to sleep alone tonight, okay?” He seems torn, the frown on his face reading as frustration and disappointment.
“You can’t keep pushing me away, Quinn. You can’t keep playing all these different parts like it’s some game,” he says, dangerously soft. He picks up the towel and walks towards the bedroom door. “Your acts might fool the others, but I see you, Quinn. Little bits and pieces of the real you keep slipping through, and when you’re finally ready to let her out I’ll be here waiting.” He departs with a sigh, the door closing behind him with a decisive snap.
Chapter 8
Quinn
There’s nothing more annoying the morning after a night out than having to deal with someone who is annoyingly chipper. Ryatt and Atticus, who I learn is the Beta of the Adolphus Pack, send me and Zoelle cheerful smiles as they chat away like school girls. When Irina makes her entrance and sees our bleak faces, she turns back around and grumbles something about coffee to go. I cannot contain my look of envy.
“Buck up, darling. I’m sure Zoelle can cook up some hangover potion, can’t you, soon-to-be-sister?” Zoelle gives a pathetic shrug but takes the bait and scampers off to the kitchen.
“Sweet dreams last night, Quinn?” Ryatt asks innocently.
“I slept fine,” I inform him tartly.
“Ryatt told me you ladies got in fairly late last night,” Atticus says brightly.
I spear him with a dry look. “I would never have guessed.”
“She's kinda cute when she’s grumpy, man,” Atticus says to Ryatt. The men clink coffee mugs.
“She is, isn’t she. Her nose gets all scrunched up, and her lips do the most adorable pout. I can never take her too seriously,” Ryatt responds.
“She is right here,” I growl, “and she does not appreciate being talked about like I’m not.” Atticus and Ryatt both chuckle. Atticus sends me a warm smile that has the irritating effect of softening my ire. He’s a handsome man, in a very all-American kind of way.
“I want one,” he says with a plaintive sigh.
Ryatt scoffs, “You have one, and come the new year she’ll be here.” I frown at the turn of conversation.
“What are you talking about?”
Atticus grins happily, “My soulmark was identified when I was eight, and she was five. Her name is Winter, and she’s from one of the old Canadian packs. The packs knew we were both too young to do the full binding, and agreed that upon Winter’s 25th birthday we could proceed.”
“Oh,” I try to inflect some enthusiasm into my voice, refilling my coffee. “That’s good. Good for you Atticus.”
“I’m pretty excited about it,” he admits, completely oblivious to my forced enthusiasm. I smother a laugh with my fist. Excited was certainly one way to describe it. Thrilled, overly enthusiastic, and ecstatic would have also worked.
“I wouldn’t be too excited about have the Blancs as in-laws,” Ryatt informs me candidly.
Atticus flushes and shoots Ryatt a glare. "They’re just a bit over protective of her. She’s the last of the Blanc line, and I don’t think they’re too pleased that she’ll be marrying a nobody like me.”
Ryatt rolls his eyes, “All communication between the two of you has to be read and approved by her family first. That seems more than ‘a bit over protective’ to me. And do refrain from attempting to bad mouth yourself. You're the Beta of one of the fastest-growing packs in North America. One, I might add, that is growing stronger every day. You’re a bona fide catch.”
Atticus cracks a smile. “If I’m a bona fide catch, what are you?”
“A gift to the female race,” Ryatt scoffs good-naturedly and sends me a wink. “Obviously.”
/> “Is there a return policy I should be aware of?” I ask dryly.
“Have you finished your 30-day trial?” Atticus rebuts, crossing his arms over his chest. I give him a small grin.
“No, but—” Ryatt wears a satisfied smirk and shakes his head at me.
“Sorry, darling. Seems like you're stuck with me for another three weeks at least.” I feel a small fluttering in my stomach at our relaxed banter and blame it on remnants of last night’s drinking. Giving myself an internal shake, I hold back my retort and give them a strained smile instead. Sipping my coffee slowly, I sink back into my chair as the men continue the conversation between them.
My mind drifts. Treading softly over dangerous territory: Ryatt’s promises. Old Quinn was trying to make some kind of comeback, and I was putting the blame on the soulmark, and Ryatt. His words had done a number on her heart and I could feel her presence lurking at every corner of my mind whispering at me to take a chance. That wasn’t going to happen. All last night had ensured was that I needed to get a message out to my contacts and secure an exit plan. Ryatt would be lucky if I didn't find some way to leave once I had finished getting the crystal. The threat of going mad was somewhat more attractive when hungover, and my righteous anger from the other night finally found once more.
“Quinn?”
“Hmm?” I look sharply back at Atticus, who wears a charmingly small smile.
“Just wanted to say good luck today.”
“Oh, thanks. You have a good day too.” Atticus claps Ryatt on the shoulder as he stands, the action jolting him forward. His coffee spills across his emptied plate and Ryatt passes the Beta a scowl over his shoulder as he leaves.
“Shall we?” Ryatt asks.
“I’m sorry, what are we doing today exactly?"
“I’ve taken that pesky virus off your laptop. Today you can reach out to your contacts, and we can start planning how we’ll tackle the artist premiere on Saturday. Remember, we only have five days.”
I nod my head, closing my eyes as I set down my coffee and take a large breath. Just another job, and then I would find a way to move on. Figure out how to put a stopper on these feelings and just go. No looking back. Just like always. My eyes snap open, an easy smile on my face as I drown the feeling of anxiety that swells in my heart until it's only a distant murmur.
“Let’s get this over with.”
+++
We’ve taken up residence in a dark little room tucked away on the second floor filled with computer monitors and a number of fans. The sound of my clipped typing fills the silence between us. We don’t speak as I work, but I am keenly aware of Ryatt’s gaze. I try to slip in a couple of code phrases to Big Bear, my contact, as we communicate. Letting him know as discreetly as I can that I need my past deeds buried and to find me an exit after this job. One that would leave little trace of my existence.
“Okay, he should be sending me schematics of the loft sometime this evening. He was also able to track down an order for a jewelry safe from the company Brown Safe. It will have a key code pad, so I’ll need an external EMF monitor or a black box. Those, and potentially something to dust the keyboard with, in case the latter doesn't work…wait, do vampires secrete oil?”
“I can get you the black box and dust by Wednesday,” comes his soft reply. “And yes, they do. You said he was slightly cool to the touch before. I take that to mean he has a heart stone ring. A vampire without is quite startling to the touch.” I nod and take a large breath before continuing.
“Alright. Once we get the schematics, I’ll need to reach out to a few other people to see if I can’t secure the guest list to see who’s catering.”
“Mhmm,” his hand reaches out to tuck an errant hair behind my ear.
“Are you paying attention to anything I'm saying?” I swat his hand away. Fighting the sharp urge to lean into his outstretched hand and find comfort in its warmth. Damn this soulmark and its plaguing hope and need.
The color of his eyes is like some kind of coming storm. A dramatic mix of pale and deep blues that lock me in place when I dare attempt to stare him down. “I’ve been paying more attention than you might give me credit for,” he murmurs.
I swallow. Keep it professional, Quinn. “Do you have any questions?”
“I’ve copies of your history on at least two external hard drives. What good will come of you covering your tracks now?” Point to Ryatt, but at least he hadn’t been able to understand my other coded messages. The ones to plan an exit strategy for myself.
“I don’t want to make a habit of finding myself in this type of scenario again,” I reply briskly, hackles raised.
“I doubt you’ll be finding another soulmark,” he counters. “There’s only two to a set, after all.”
“Yes, but who knows whose cock will be in my mouth next and proclaiming their undying love for me after?” Ryatt’s jaw clenches at my blasé tone. “Or locking me in a kinky secret sex dungeon.”
“You won’t be leaving once the job is finished, Quinn. Surely you must have realized that by now. It won't be safe for you out there. Vrana will track you down faster than you can blink, and drain you dry. You’ll stay here, in Branson Falls, and be safe. No one will be able to harm you once we have the crystals united and a protective border raised across our territory.”
“And what, live here in domesticated bliss?” Tempting thoughts of a future with Ryatt strike at my heart. We would live together in some cabin. Deep in the woods. Surviving off an endless supply of champagne and fine foods as we indulge in each other's bodies. Again and again and again. Damnit. I cross my legs and stuff the image away. The only future ahead of me was comprised of me, myself, and I.
“You don’t have to live here,” he tells me, “but you won’t be able to stay too far away without some discomfort. Not with the soulmark—”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think you quite understand the profound impact a soulmark has,” he persists through gritted teeth.
“No,” I respond in kind, blood beginning to boil. How could one man get under my skin so easily? “I do. Between that neat family dinner and girls’ day yesterday, I’m very knowledgeable on the subject now. I have half a soul; you have half a soul. They belong together, blah blah blah, eternal happiness, blah blah blah, or become sick with grief and madness. That about sums it up, right?”
“Don’t forget the blinding pleasure of it all,” he mentions, a chilling smile on his face.
I shrug. “Sorry, Ry-Ry, but it’s already forgotten.” My last comment seems to break the last vestiges of Ryatt’s control. He darts forward, caging me in my seat with his arms. A devilish look on his face. My heart catches in my throat at the expression he wears as I steel my nerves for his retort.
+++
Ryatt
Who knew this little lamb would have such teeth? Maybe she was more wolf than she let on? The wolf liked the thought of that—very much.
It's a tiresome effort, but I manage to rein back the wolf as it prowls forward to the forefront of my mind. It has always laid a mite too close to the surface, but it had never bothered me much before. Yet ever since Quinn had entered my life—a flurry of golden curls, coy smiles, and designer shoes—it challenged my control every day. The wolf drove my possessive streak and my somewhat erratic and wild nature. At the moment the wolf didn’t appreciate being reined back. It had gone from utterly smitten to crazy in love in a matter of days. And it wanted me to take her. To lay the mark and bind her to me—to us. Though my infatuation remains, I can’t deny the prospect of something more pleases something deep inside of me.