“This place feels strange,” Peter muttered. His deep voice tugged at Quain as if wrapping him in comfortingwarmth.
“Why?” another man’s tenor voice replied outside of Quain’ssight.
Peter frowned. “I don’t know. It’s as if something I’ve been waiting for is inside. I’m hoping my mate is there, but I can’t be sure. Anthony’s contacts said they have someone inside, but they couldn’t say who. They don’t expect us to come again, not after Oliver’s last visit. This will let them know we are watching them and their actions. Oliver said they needed a reminder since they’re trying to meddle in shifterpolitics.”
“I don’t know if this will help, but hopefully, they will take it as a warning not to mess with the Moon Pack. I don’t really care what they do with the other packs. They left us to deal with the mutants. They can deal with thewizards.”
Peter made a scoffing sound. “Shifters need to stick together. Just because they were too cowardly to help, doesn’t mean we should do less than our best to assist when wecan.”
“Well, either way, we need to keep the wizards in check, especially if they’re kidnapping shifters. Hopefully, we can find yourmate.”
I’m here!Quain wanted to shout, but this vision appeared to be like his usual ones. No interaction would be possible between him and the people hewatched.
Peter nodded. “Me too. I also hope these are the rightwizards.”
“Anthony said he felt the signature of a shifter inside,” the tenor voicesaid.
“That’s why I’m hoping he’s right. Not that I wouldn’t save other shifters, but I want my mate.” The low growl underlying Peter’s voice sent a shaft of warmth throughQuain.
His mate wantedhim!
Despite their meeting in the vision, Quain hadn’t had much hope Peter would do anything to find him. Not all shifters were eager to find their other half. That Peter had not only sought him out but got help to search for him told Quain that Peter really wantedhim.
Silence fell between the two for several minutes before the one Quain didn’t recognize spoke again in a soft, hushed voice. “What was itlike?”
“What?” Peter turned his head, and Quain saw his startling aquamarine eyes. Even in the dark, they gleamed like the Caribbean Sea. He couldn’t wait to see them everymorning.
“Being amutant.”
Quain wished this wasn’t a vision. He had never wanted to punch someone so much before. A low growl built in this throat. What kind of fucked-up question was that? How would Peter even know such athing?
There was a long pause before Peter replied. “It was hell.” His sexy mouth hardened in a firm line, and his jaw tightened as he turned back to watch thehouse.
Oh! PoorPeter.
“Sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Remorse filled the man’svoice.
“Damn right,” Quainfumed.
Peter shrugged off the apology. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’m out of there, and they can’t change me again even if they tried. Anthony made it so the mutation can’t be applied twice even if there was someone to doit.”
Before Quain could hear anything more, Peter tapped his ear. For the first time, Quain noticed an earpiece tucked inside. “Understood. We’re headingout.”
Peter walked away, and Quain’s vision darkened before returning to the dim room inside which he lay. He knew deep down his fated mate would be coming for him. Instinct had shaped Quain’s life until now, and he saw no reason to doubt it at this point. Maybe he was expecting too much from a complete stranger, mate or not, but he would cling to hope with the tips of his mangled fingernails until provenotherwise.
Worry wrinkled his brow and a headache pressed against his temples. What if his mate was injured entering the mansion? The wizards had no problem using force against shifters. Quain was example enough. Assuming it was where Quain was being held, why was the group trying to infiltrate it anyway? It was clear Peter didn’t know where he was, and he doubted they were attacking random wizard homes to find him. When they met, he would make sure to add that to his questions forPeter.
He rubbed his forehead, digging his fingers into his temples to ease the sore points as his mind ached from having two visions so close together. There was little he could do now except wait and see. His sights had never been wrong before. Misinterpreted, yes, but never wrong. He had to cling to the belief that everything would work out and he would be reunited with his mate soon. If only he could communicate telepathically with Peter and share his thoughts. Weakness sank into his limbs and fine tremors shook his body. He didn’t bother trying to suppress them. Between the beatings and the visions, Quain was running on no energy. As his body tried to heal without his full shifter abilities, the magic in the bracelet fought back. The two forces were attacking each other. Much more of this and it wouldn’t matter if Quain wanted to help the wizards or not, he would be dead. Despair sank its greedy claws into his chestagain.
Chapter 2
Two weeks later,Quain still hadn’t seen Peter in real life, and his visions had abandoned him. The lack of any psychic activity caused his captors to be particularly vicious. Apparently if he saw the future but didn’t share his visions with them, it was still better than not having them at all. He couldn’t figure out their logic, but it did lead to greaterpunishment.
Curled into a ball on his cot, breathing took more effort, and he was almost certain one of his lungs had a puncture hole the size of a baseball. The occasional coughing up of blood encouraged that thinking. Every day or so one of the wizards would cast a spell, healing him just enough to prevent death. They appeared to enjoy his pain and refused to do more than the bare minimum to keep him breathing. In his darkest moments, Quain thought it would serve them right if he died onthem.
“I’m never getting out of here,” Quain whispered. Between injuries and depression, rolling out of his cot to pace his cage took more energy than hehad.
A new, low buzzing tingled through his senses and jolted him to alertness. Someone magically powerful had entered the building. Quain eased his body upright as anticipation overtook him. He struggled to his feet and stretched out in slow, cautious movements, cracking his spine to work out the kinks, an action more satisfying in his lynx form and without broken bones. A frown pushed his lips downward. He glared at the demon-spawned bracelet stealing his shape-shifting ability. Damn, he missed his lynx half. This would remain as a lesson to appreciate his other form more. Too much time had passed since he’d last transformed. Even without the bracelet, he worried he would never merge with his inner lynx again. Damage from the spell could have caused permanentissues.
