Then, Lucian had been killed and Drake had been so angry, so bitter that he had joined the Quest, and, despite Lenora’s best efforts, he would not be swayed from his course. She had lost track of him for a long time; her guilt that she had failed in her promise to her old friend eating her up inside, until the day that Drake arrived on her doorstep, a broken shadow of his former self. He had finally left Charlotte; his guilt that he had turned her into a monster crippling him. Slowly, Lenora had helped him to heal. They had a strong emotional connection and a brief physical attraction, but she had helped him through his darkest time. It eased her conscience somewhat when she finally convinced him to abandon the Quest.
“What did he want?” Nicholai demanded when she re-entered the house.
“That’s none of your business,” Lenora scolded, shutting the door and dropping the slip of a dress to the floor at her feet. Nicholai’s pupils dilated as he watched it slither over her smooth skin. “You are here for my pleasure,” Lenora reminded him, and Nicholai darted forward, eager to please.
Chapter 34
Quinn checked in regularly with Tristan during the two weeks that she was gone. Rafe had not left the house and Quinn consoled herself that, even if he wanted to, Tristan would not discover her hidden room while Rafe was there watching him.
The trip to the cottage proved futile – the crystal was not there, although Quinn searched everywhere – in every nook and cranny, missing nothing. The cottage was empty, as was the main house and Quinn was sad to learn from a neighbour that the elderly couple had passed away last spring. With no known relatives, the house had been vacant ever since.
The dusty cottage dredged up painful memories of the year that she and Avery had spent there. It had been one of the happiest times of Quinn’s life, but to remember it grieved her. After two full days of searching had unearthed nothing but cobwebs and disappointment, Quinn conceded defeat and headed back towards Brookfield, making a few stops on the way, as she searched any location she could think of that was remotely tied to Avery.
Arriving home after ten in the evening she was surprised to find a light still on, shining through the downstairs window. Opening the front door she tiptoed through the hall and, rounding the corner, she spotted Tristan on the sofa, staring unseeingly at the TV.
“Hey,” he whispered, switching the TV off. “You’re back.”
“I am,” she shrugged out of her coat and threw it over the back of the sofa, before collapsing beside him.
“How’d it go?” Tristan asked.
“No joy,” she admitted, feeling exhausted. She had accomplished nothing and the clock was ticking. She had just over a week before her month was up. “There are still a few places I want to check, but I had to come back.”
“Why?”
“Rafe,” she answered, without thinking. She didn’t notice his face fall. “The next full moon is just over a week away. We need a plan.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“We can’t keep him here – it’s too risky with Sarah right next door. I think we should take him out of town – somewhere remote. We can spend the night in the woods.”
“A camp-out. Sounds like fun,” he tried to make light of it but Quinn didn’t respond. “You okay?” he prompted after a long moment of silence.
“I’ll be fine,” she sighed. “I’m just tired.” Heaving herself off the sofa, she made her way to the stairs. “Goodnight, Tristan.”
Quinn took one look at Rafe the following morning as he shuffled down the stairs and her eyes widened in horror. Rafe looked even worse than before, the stubble of his beard flecked with grey. Rounding on him, her concern only fuelled her anger.
“Enough!” she thundered, so loudly that Tristan came sprinting down the stairs, a stake appearing in his hands as as if summoned from thin air. Quinn was so wound up she couldn’t appreciate his dexterity.
“What?” Rafe’s eyes darted around, sensing the cause of her aggravation.
“You look like crap,” Quinn stated bluntly. “Have you even had a shower since I’ve been gone?” Tristan visibly relaxed, stowing the stake into the back of his tracksuit pants. Quinn averted her eyes from his bare chest, staring at Rafe expectantly.
“I...” he stopped, his eyes narrowed in thought.
“The fact that you don’t remember is answer enough,” Quinn snapped.
“Why would I bother?” Rafe replied with far more attitude. “It’s hardly as if I have anyone to impress. I can’t even leave this blasted house!” Ignoring the blight against her home, Quinn rubbed her temples. Tristan shook his head at her, warning her to leave well alone, but she couldn’t bear to see Rafe so unhappy. An idea occurred to her, one that she would ordinarily have dismissed, but she knew that if they kept him cooped up much longer, Rafe would snap. He was a wolf, after all, and wolves couldn’t be caged.
Picking up her phone, before she could lose her nerve, she dialled Sarah’s number.
“Hey, you’re back!” Sarah’s permanently sunny disposition shone through in her voice, a stark contrast to the melancholic mood in Quinn’s house.
“I am. And I was wondering if we were still on for Wednesday?”
“Games night? Absolutely!”
“Fabulous. Do you mind if I bring my house guests?”
“They’re still there?” Sarah was surprised. “I haven’t seen anyone since you left.”
“You must have missed them. So, do you mind?”
“Of course not. The more the merrier. I’ll tell Todd to get some more beer.”
“You are a saint,” Quinn offered. “See you then.”
“We’re going out?” Tristan mused when she had hung up. Rafe tried to appear nonchalant, but Quinn could see the glimmer of hope in his eyes. He must be desperate to be looking forward to something as mundane as spending an evening with strangers.
“Yes,” she nodded, meeting Rafe’s gaze. “But you’re going to clean up before you’re allowed anywhere.”
“Okay,” he nodded, relenting.
On Wednesday night, true to his word, Rafe appeared in the living room looking like a different man. He had shaved, probably that morning, so only a dark shadow remained where a barbaric beard had been before. His hair was still wild, clearly not brushed, but at least it was clean, and his clothes were only slightly creased from being inside his suitcase for so long.
“No, we’ll all go,” Quinn replied to Tristan’s proposal that she only take Rafe along to Sarah’s for games night. There was no way she was leaving Tristan alone in her house for a few hours. Tristan was a Guardian, after all, and with Rafe not around he might well discover her hidden room.
“Hey!” Sarah opened the door and smiled at the three of them. She had a brown smudge under her left eye and blonde strands were escaping her ponytail. Quinn noticed the way her forehead creased slightly as her gaze fell upon Rafe. He may look a million times better than he had yesterday, but his eyes were hollow and his hair looked as though it hadn’t been brushed for weeks; which, of course, it hadn’t. Sarah then gave Tristan a very approving once over and Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes. Tristan had always been too good-looking for his own good.
“This is my friend, Tristan,” Quinn introduced quickly, “and this is Rafe.” Sarah extended her hand politely to both of them before ushering them all back into the house.
“I made dessert,” Sarah called as she led the way to the living-room.
“I can see that,” Quinn smiled, indicating the chocolate mousse smeared across her face.
“Oh! Whoops!” Sarah quickly rubbed at her cheek, laughing infectiously.
Todd eased himself off the sofa, shaking hands with Tristan and Rafe, while Sarah pulled Quinn into the kitchen.
“You could have mentioned your friend was young and marvellous-looking,” she scolded, rounding on Quinn, “I didn’t even brush my hair!” She frowned suddenly, the thought reminding her of Rafe’s dishevelled appearance and opened her mouth to question Quinn about
it
“You look fantastic,” Quinn said quickly, heading her off. It was a fact though. Sarah was adorable, no matter what she wore.
“You’re looking pretty glamorous yourself tonight,” Sarah eyed her speculatively. “You’re actually wearing make-up! Is there something you want to tell me?” she waggled her brows suggestively.
“Don’t even go there,” Quinn grinned. “It’s not like that.”
“It should be,” Sarah sighed dreamily.
“Should be what?” Todd’s voice from the doorway made them both jump.
“Nothing,” Sarah blushed scarlet.
“Sure,” Todd grinned, rubbing the back of his head so that his black hair stood up on end. “What are you girls doing in here anyway? We have a game to win!” he grabbed Sarah by the waist and pulled her against him. She emitted a soft “oomph” as she collided with his chest, but giggled as he planted a kiss full on her mouth.
“If you two don’t mind...” Quinn drawled, crossing her arms over her chest and tapping her foot. Todd grinned at her over the top of Sarah’s head.
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, taking Sarah’s hand and leading her back to the living-room. “Let the games begin!”
Chapter 35
“Geronimo!” Sarah yelled triumphantly and Todd fist-punched the air. Tristan met Quinn’s eye across the room, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Sarah and Todd’s good spirits were infectious - even Rafe seemed to have been roused from his usual melancholy, and was participating as best he could. Despite having three people on their team, they were losing badly.
“One of the downfalls of being a Guardian,” Tristan mumbled through a mouth full of potato crisps when Sarah and Todd went to fetch the dessert. “You don’t get to watch a lot of movies.”
“Try never watching any, ever,” Rafe countered, and Tristan looked horrified.
“I understand now why you left Summerfeld, Quinn,” Rafe continued, “you spent the last two years living like a normal person.”
“Raising two kids doesn’t exactly leave you much free time,” Quinn pointed out, without malice. The alcohol was warming her from the inside.
“It sucks to be us,” Rafe grumbled woefully, lifting his beer and examining its contents, while Quinn and Tristan tried to hide their amusement. The werewolf was very obviously drunk, and had become calmer, but infinitely more retrospective for it. “We should definitely have beer in Summer...”
“Let me help you with that!” Tristan interrupted, distracting Sarah who had just re-entered the room, carrying a tray of steaming coffee mugs. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief at his quick thinking, and shook her head at Rafe, who seemed oblivious to his near slip-up.
“Thank you,” Sarah breathed shyly, lowering her eyes as Tristan smiled down at her. Typical, Quinn thought. It takes him only one evening to utterly charm my closest friend. Briefly, her thoughts flitted to Piper from whom she had drifted so far apart. Piper was very like Sarah in so many ways and Quinn wondered idly if that was part of the reason she was so fond of her young neighbour. She would make it up to Piper, Quinn thought. After all, when she returned to the Guardians, she would probably never see Sarah again. The thought pained her, but it was the way of her world. Quinn had never had any human friends before – human lives were fleeting, and Quinn could think of nothing worse than watching those you cared about age and die.
“You guys ready to be annihilated?” Todd called confidently as he backed into the room, balancing two trays of plates laden with chocolate mousse on his arms.
“You haven’t won yet,” Quinn quipped, stepping forward and taking one of the trays from him.
“Oh, but we will,” he promised, winking at her.
And, of course, they did. Rafe was too drunk to even hazard a guess, and neither Tristan nor Quinn could make any sense of the titles they selected over the next few rounds. Todd and Sarah, on the other hand, operated like a finely-tuned machine, practically reading each other's minds.
“Annihilated,” Todd confirmed, nudging Quinn in the ribs as Sarah unnecessarily tallied up their scores.
“We won!” she announced, as though it surprised her, and Quinn laughed.
“I demand a recount,” she grinned. Meeting Tristan’s eyes, her smile slowly faded. Tristan was looking at her in a way that he hadn’t for years – in a way that she never dreamed he would look at her again. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest.
“I think we should take him home,” Quinn mumbled, turning her attention to Rafe in an effort to distract herself. Rafe was snoring quietly on the sofa in an upright position, his head drooping onto his chest. Sarah, who had been looking between Quinn and Tristan, immediately agreed.
“Why don’t you help Tristan, Todd?” she suggested, “Quinn, will you help me take these trays back to the kitchen.”
“Sure,” Quinn replied, puzzled. Sarah was no master of discretion, and it was apparent to everyone that she wanted to talk to Quinn in private. “What’s up?” she asked, the second they were out of earshot.
“Oh my God,” Sarah gushed, “did you see that?”
“See what?”
“Oh please, like you don’t know!” she scolded. “The way he was looking at you!” the gushing, simpering way that she said it made Quinn laugh, but she couldn’t deny it.
“We have a history,” she admitted.
“I knew it!” Sarah seized on this new piece of information with gusto. “He likes you, Quinn. You know that, right? Any fool could see that he’s into you.”
“He’s kind of out of bounds,” Quinn scraped the remnants of the tray she was holding into the bin. “It’s complicated; it can’t happen.”
“But you like him?” Sarah pressed, a small frown line appearing between her eyes.
“I...” Quinn paused, not sure how to answer the question. She had tried not to think about it.
“Quinn?” Todd’s voice in the hall was a welcome relief. “They’re home, safe and sound. Tristan said he’d see you there, and he said to thank you for a wonderful evening,” he added, speaking to Sarah.
“I better go,” Quinn dropped the tray back onto the counter and grabbed her purse. As much as she was nervous to face him after the look they had shared, it was even more important that he was not left alone in her house. “Thank you both so much. I’m heading out of town on Thursday,” she added, giving Sarah a quick squeeze. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, but I’ll call you.”
“Where are you going this time?” Sarah asked, but Quinn was already heading for the hall.
“I’ll call you!” she called over her shoulder.
The house was dark as she approached and the porch steps creaked as she climbed them. Quinn couldn’t explain why, but she was a bundle of nerves. Something had changed tonight between her and Tristan. The way he had looked at her had made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, things she had suppressed a long time ago, for the sake of her sister’s happiness.
“Avery would have wanted you to be happy,” Tristan had said. Was that true? Quinn couldn’t be sure, but a part of her suddenly desperately wanted to believe it. Letting herself into the house she locked the front door behind her and then leaned back against it, letting the hard wood against her spine steady her.
She knew he was there, only a few feet away. She could sense him, even though there was no light and he didn’t make a sound. He just stood, facing her, less than four yards away. Quinn took a few calming breaths, her eyes fixed on his silhouette. Neither of them spoke, but the more time that passed, the harder Quinn’s heart seemed to drum in her chest. She felt dizzy and guilty and exhilarated all at once.
“Quinn,” his low voice finally broke the silence, but Quinn didn’t hesitate, or give him a chance to say anything else. Determined, she took three strides towards him, stopping only when she was almost on top of him, and then she threw caution to the wind and her arms around his neck. As her mouth met his, Tristan needed no further invitation. His warm hands found her waist
, and then moved in unison up her sides, eliciting a shiver that coursed through her whole body as they continued up and under her shirt. Quinn lifted her arms as his hands roamed higher, and Tristan kept moving, lifting her shirt up and over her head, and above her arms, dropping it the second it came clear of her body.
Running his hands back down her arms, Quinn squirmed as his fingertips brushed the soft hollow beneath her arms and then grazed only the outermost curve of her breasts before settling on her waist. Remarkably steady, he slipped his right hand around her waist and, in one swift movement, he pulled her even closer, their bodies pressed together as closely as possible and yet nowhere near close enough. Through it all he didn’t stop kissing her – exploring her mouth, playfully at first, and then more intimately, until she thought she might faint with longing.
“Where’s Rafe,” she gasped, her voice the huskiest of whispers.
“Upstairs, sound asleep,” he assured her. His touch was exactly as she remembered; only now he was stronger and more confident. He had grown up; the boyish protector had become a fully-fledged Guardian. He was also far more controlled. The younger Tristan had loved to rough and tumble, but this new Tristan was keeping the situation tightly reined in. Quinn could sense the enormous restraint he was exerting and it made her heady. Wantonly, she tangled her hand in his thick, messy hair and tugged, hard enough to hurt, trying to elicit a physical response from him. Tristan chuckled against her mouth and then kissed her, more deeply than before, his tongue harder and more invasive.
Still holding her waist, he pushed her backward, steadying her as they backed up together. Only when Quinn’s back hit the front door did he stop, raising his head and gazing at her. Quinn’s eyes were slowly adjusting to the light and she could make out the contours of his face and the dark pools of his eyes which she knew, by heart, were the most exquisite shade of blue. Quinn groaned, resting her head back against the door, closing her eyes and exposing her throat. Tristan obliged her, lowering his handsome head and kissing the hollow of her throat before tracing a line down to the swell of flesh above the lace of her bra. Lifting both her hands, he trapped them above her head with his left hand, and Quinn sighed, keeping her eyes closed.
The Cathedral of Cliffdale Page 21