Chapter 1
Quain Ilves’svisions had always started the same way. Mist swirled across his dreamscape in silvery waves before sliding aside like curtains on a live theater stage. Years of seeing the future had stolen away the mystical joy of viewing potential events, only to leave behind hard bundles of nervous anticipation. Not all visions were of pretty rainbows and floppy puppies. The ones he had were more along the lines of horror shows with shades oftragedy.
Unfortunately, natural-born gifts weren’t returnable, and he refused to anger the fates by asking for a refund of his time or his sanity. His family had been the sentinels of the unwritten future as far back as they could trace, and the few who had spurned their talents had all come to a badend.
Quain floated in the soothing world of in between, enjoying his brief vacation from pain. Captivity had scraped away his natural optimism, and days of torture had worn him down bit by bit until hope disappeared like a forgotten memory. The charmed bracelet stuck on his wrist blocked his animal form and added to his depression. Falling into a vision was the best thing to happen to him in days, weeks, months—he didn’t even know any more. The basement where they kept him caged inside had no windows. His discernment of time had fallen to the pattern of his irregularmeals.
If he could breathe while in his seer world, he would be letting out a large sigh in sheer relief. The calm environment invigorated him and eliminated a bit of stress. Even if his anxiety returned as soon as he woke, the brief escape kept the rising panic atbay.
Broken bones and shredded skin had no place in his mental arena. Here, he remained whole and undamaged. Too bad injuries and pain awaited hisreturn.
“Hello.” A tall man with dark hair and bright aquamarine eyes appeared beforehim.
Quain jerked back at the stranger’s sudden entrance. There had been no fading in. How strange. Never in a lifetime of visions had anyone ever introduced themselves or seen him back. His sight normally worked more as a movie-watching experience, never interactive, untiltoday.
“Um, hi.” He examined the stranger, trying to remember each and every detail. The sheer anomaly of a conversation with one of his visions had thrown Quain off his game. How did he respond to someone walking around into his brain as if they were measuring the space for furnitureplacement?
“Who are you?” The six-foot, denim-and-leather-wrapped sex god asked. He towered easily over Quain’s more petite five-foot-sevenframe.
He grinned at the gorgeous intruder. If torture had finally broken his mind, for once, he didn’t care. Insanity had never looked sogood.
“I’m Quain Ilves. Who are you?” In the real world, he would’ve stumbled over his words when addressing a man this stunning. Here, there were no suchlimitations.
“I’m Peter . Where are we?” Peter looked around as if searching for a familiarlandmark.
“In my mind,” Quain blurted out. Surprise streaked through him. Only one person should be able to unknowingly breach his mentaldefenses.
Mate,his inner lynx whispered. Quain smiled. Despite his current captivity, fate had decided to grant him divinity in human form. A giddy wash of joy swept through him, followed by a shadow ofworry.
What if his lynx half was wrong? Being suppressed for so long could have ruined his inner animal instincts. His lynx had never claimed anyone before, but to believe his perfect match would just appear in front of him when he needed hope stretched the bounds of possibility into implausibility. None of the seers in his family had ever found their matches. What would make him special enough to be the exception? Would he be the first one to break that tradition? Did he want to be? Before he had had a chance to speak, Peter beat him toit.
“How did I gethere?”
Quain shrugged. “There are only a couple of possibilities. You are either my mate, or you have magic and have figured out how to break into my mind. I honestly don’t know any otheroptions.”
Peter offered him a crooked smile. “Hmm, I don’t have any special magical ability other than being able to turn into a wolf. I think that must make usmates.”
“Were you looking for a mate?” Quain dared to ask. A second later, he winced as pain lanced through him. Someone must be touching him in the real world enough to jar his injuries.Assholes.
“What’swrong?”
“My captors have returned. They like to keep my wounds fresh.” He winced when fury crossed Peter’sface.
“Where are you?” Peter demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll get you out ofthere.”
A shiver of dread went up and down his spine. He didn’t want Peter to get hurt, or worst, captured for experimentation. He didn’t have visions to keep him from permanent harm. “I don’t know exactly. Wizards kidnapped me. I was unconscious when I arrived. They keep me in a dark basement. I could be anywhere.” He tried to keep the depression out of his tone, but he doubted he did a good job. The idea of dying in the dark basement amidst his own sweat and blood ruined his joy at finding the one person fated to behis.
“Which wizards? Do you know theirname?”
“No.” Quain curled his fingers into fists as frustration filled his voice. “They never give their names or say anything personal. They are verycareful.”
“Why did they capture you? Are there any others there with you? Are they creatingmutants?”
“What? No! Why would you think that?” He had heard rumors about mutants but had never seen one. From Peter’s question, it seemed he had run into them before. “I’m a seer, and they want to use my abilities. I don’t know if there are other captives somewhere else here, but I’m the only person caged in this basement.” No sense in trying to hide the facts, future mate or not. Quain’s family prided themselves on being seers or relatives of seers. Not all lynx had the skill, but the Ilves had a higher percentage than most. He braced himself for rejection. Not all people accepted the possibility ofpsychics.
“Huh. I’ve never met a seer before.” Interest lit Peter’s eyes, instead ofrevulsion.
The tight knot of nerves in Quain’s chest eased. He had expected ridicule, disbelief, or maybe even disgust. Easy acceptance hadn’t been on his list of possible reactions. “Well, now youhave.”
