“It’s not,” I snap harshly enough that Paxton looks over at me in surprise. I sigh when he raises his eyebrows. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
He turns his gaze back on the alley, and after a moment, says, “Jeremiah’s upset.”
“At me?”
“No. Of course not. He won’t—He’s not going to say it. But I know him. So do you.”
I exhale heavily. “He’s upset about the bond?”
“Yeah. He wants one, too.”
“I don’t think they work like that. I don’t know how Maurice and Njáll bonded at all.”
Paxton makes a sound of agreement. Is he upset, too? Maybe. It’s not like any of us think what they have is less than what’s between Maurice and Njáll. With the Huntsman’s blessing, Paxton will live a long, long life. And if they want more than that, then maybe Jeremiah can turn him.
“Well, it is what it is,” Paxton says. He looks at me again, smile smaller than usual but still present. “You should get back and rest. I don’t know if we’ll move on this place tonight, but we should be ready for it.”
I don’t want to go, but he’s right, and it’s not like we’ve heard a peep from the twins all night. “Call me if you spot anything, okay? Anything.”
“Aye, aye,” Paxton says, smile a little bigger, and I hit my shoulder against his before I walk away.
Mates. I never had a mate while I was a wolf, even though they seemed more common back then. Around half my pack found their mates, and I was looking forward to meeting my own.
When the Huntsman offered to save me, I was so focused on the loss of my wolf that I didn’t consider the rest of it. And even then, it didn’t occur to me for the longest time. We keep an eyeon the fae, which usually means keeping a distance from other wolves, and aside from Rook and Saide, all the rest of the Hunt were alone and…
I shake off those thoughts and take the tube back to my flat, but they’re still lurking there as I clamber into bed and try to fall asleep. Quinn was here. He still hasn’t called me back. He was upset, wasn’t he, and he could have—
I toss and turn and as soon as the sky begins to darken, I get ready and head out again. Vlad sends me a text to let me know I should be at the base later on tonight—he and Maurice are watching Mischief & Mayhem, looking out for any vampires who might go inside.
It’s hardly surprising then that I find myself waiting outside Kieran’s pack house. Is Quinn in there? I don’t think he’ll leave the city until whatever deal he struck with the twins has come to fruition, and I didn’t see him go to the pub last night.
An hour passes before Quinn sneaks out of the side of the building. He clambers down the fire escape, all hunched like the very first time I saw him, and at least he looks like he’s healed from his beating the other night.
I don’t let him out of my sight this time. Fuck knows how he managed to hide before. He hears me, though, and stops once we’re around the corner, eyeing me like he’s about to get into trouble.
Words fail me, at least for a second. The physical hurts have healed, sure, but Quinn’s dark eyes are wary, and he crosses his arms over his chest.
“How are you?” I ask.
He frowns. “Fine. I’m fine.” He turns to walk away, and I lunge forward and grab his wrist.
I don’t hold on tight, but he jerks to a stop and looks back at me.
“What are you doing, Asher?”
“You called me last night. You were upset.”
“Well, I’m fine now.”
“Quinn.”
His pulse jumps under my fingers, breath catching in his throat. He might be young, but there’s no denying the fact that the way I’m looking out for him is more than I’ve felt the need to look out for anyone else.
There’s a difference between the desire to protect a pack member that I feel when I look at Grant, for instance, and this urge I have now to tug Quinn closer and promise to keep him safe.
“I need to go,” he says, the words tight and fast. “I’m fine, okay? You don’t need to worry about me.”
I’m sure I’m wrong, but still. “Was it because of the kiss?”
