Another surge of energy swept through the room and tingled across his skin. The smell of ozone reached his nose. He sneezed. What the hell was that? Peter had claimed not to have magic. Did his companions? Was it even Peter? Fear iced over his veins. What if this newcomer tried to control him like the wizards? Was he just exchanging one cage for another? Memories of the handsome shifter who’d kindly listened to him in the vision evaporated some of his concern. No, Peter wouldn’t do anything like that. Pushing his worries away, Quain closed his eyes and tried to focus on theenergy.
Whatever had entered the building had more magic than the wizards responsible for his captivity. Electricity crackled across the bars of his cage and sparks sprayed from the door lock. Quain jumped back to avoid a serious burn. Was this Peter coming to his rescue or something more sinister? Quain rolled his eyes. He hadn’t even been rescued yet and he was worrying about the future; the downfalls to being aseer.
More magic crackled across his cage until the lock snapped off. Screeching, the door swung open, an obvious invitation toescape.
“Damn.” He whistled at the impressive show. Whatever, or whomever, had entered the mansion had overridden the wizards’ magic and broken the enchantments on his cage. “Thank you, whoever. I damn well better stay on your good side,” he added in a low voice in case this magical being could hearhim.
Gleeful, Quain grinned. If he were in better shape, he would be jumping up and down. He shuffled to the door and dared to press one finger against the closest bar, hoping it wouldn’t electrocute him. Nothing. A wide grin spread across hisface.
Freedom!
Giggling madly, he stumbled through the opening. Hope, an emotion he thought he had lost weeks ago, reappeared, bringing with it a hurricane of relief. Without electricity, the cameras would be down. Unless they came to check on him in person, they wouldn’t know of his escape right away. A quick glance to the corner of the room confirmed his belief. The camera light had gone out. Now he had to find a way to escape before they regained power. He had no intention of being inside when the power came backon.
Once cleared of the cage, he scanned the room. Whatever had entered the manor and saved him, intentionally or not, was keeping the wizards occupied. He absently tugged at the bracelet as he pondered hisoptions.
“I hope they can’t track me with this,” he muttered as he petulantly yanked at the ring of metal once again. He doubted the wizards had that capability since there were only so many enchantments that could be placed on one object and the bracelet practically oozed malevolentmagic.
He still didn’t understand his kidnapping. What had they thought he would see? Not once had they tried to guide his visions toward anything in particular or ask specific questions. Instead, they had tortured him over the random visions he had had while in captivity. Did they imagine keeping him under their control would eventually solve all their problems? He didn’t understand wizards or at least this group of them. The odds of Quain randomly seeing anything useful to them were astronomically low. After trying to explain over and over the intricacies of visions and having them ignore his words, he had given up trying to reason with hiscaptives.
Walking up the short set of stairs from the basement used up almost all of the little energy he had remaining. Pain radiated through every inch of his body, but he refused to let that stop him from getting the fuck out of there. Better a little pain now than a lot of pain later. When he finally reached the top of the stairs, he pressed his ear to the door and tried to hear over his wheezing breath. He no longer just wondered if he had a punctured lung. A quick swipe over his lips with the back of his hand revealed an uncomfortable amount ofblood.
“Fuck,” he whispered. He might escape, but would he survive freedom? No time for second-guessing. If they discovered he had left his cell, he definitely wouldn’t like therepercussions.
Listening hard didn’t reveal any sounds from the other side. Not that he expected the wizards to suddenly become chatty, but he had hoped to hear some hint of their movement. He clenched his fists and barely held back the growl threatening to roll up his throat. Freedom beckoned to him behind the door, he could almost taste it. After a few minutes with no guards rushing in or other sounds, he dared to turn the knob. He pulled the door open far enough to peer through the crack. There was no one standing on the otherside.
Tossing away discretion, he opened it wider before slipping through the gap. Out of habit, he sniffed the air for danger, but when he didn’t smell anyone, he questioned if he would even know without his lynx skills. Damn, he had to be careful. He couldn’t count on abilities he no longer had accessto.
Building pressure in his head urged him to hurry. Allowing a vision right now would be the worst thing possible, but the longer he waited, the more violent and uncomfortable the backlash. Once, when he was younger, he had thought to ignore his gift. The result of built-up visions had left him bedridden with migraines for three months while his family members scolded him about trying to avoid hisresponsibilities.
His family. Crap. They were going to skin his lynx hide and hang his pelt above the mantel as a warning to other family members about being aware of their environment. He should have spotted someone spying on him long enough to figure out his schedule. His family had taught him how to avoid capture, but after years with no attacks, he had paid the price for hislaxity.
A shudder went through his thin frame. Grandmother wouldn’t be pleased. The matriarch of his family insisted everyone call her weekly. As solitary shifters, they didn’t normally live close together, but they did keep open communication. If he got out of there, the wizards better hope his grandmother didn’t find them. She might be old, but she still had a tough lynx attitude whether shifted ornot.
He shook his head and shoved aside his concerns. He first needed to get out of this place, and then he could worry about his family. He hurried the rest of the way down the hall, only stopping when another door blocked his path. Despite his previous failure, he pressed his ear to the wood and tried to hear through to the otherside.
This time, soft murmurs reached him. He bit his lip as he considered his limited options. Deciding to chance it, he turned the doorknob in a slow, silent motion before pulling the door open just enough to peer through the crack. Electricity still worked in this part of the mansion. He hadn’t noticed this during his self-reflection, but the sconces in the hall were alsolit.
Over a dozen people filled the room, none that he recognized. Scents of vampires, shifters, and magic laced with lightning overwhelmed his nose. He barely held back the sneeze threatening to escape. Now wouldn’t be a good time to draw anyone’s attention. He didn’t know this group. They might not be on his side. Two people stepped forward and Quain spotted Peter in the mix. A quiet, relieved sigh lefthim.
His heart fluttered in his chest as he fought against the urge to run to his mate. For Peter’s safety, he had better stay away. The wizards wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all if they saw Quain escaping. Better to run off now and find Peter later. If the person who broke the cage door for him had wanted the wizards to know about freeing Quain, he or she would’ve come down and freed him in person. The subtlety of the act told Quain to keep things quiet and sneak away while they were alloccupied.
He absently yanked on the bracelet. If only he could change into his lynx form. Not only would he be able to run but also the shift would heal most of his injuries during transition. Instead, he stuck to the shadows and hoped the others were too invested in their conversation to notice him. He caught sight of a vampire and almost stumbled. He didn’t fear vamps, but he didn’t want one finding him either. The fewer people saw him, the better his chances ofescape.
Peter turned as if sensing him. Quain tilted his head toward the door and waved goodbye. His mate nodded but didn’t move from his spot, reinforcing Quain’s belief that they wanted him to use stealth. Deciding Peter understood the situation, he pushed away the mating instinct and slunk out of the mansion. He would prefer to at least be able to visit the shower and put on a fresh set of clothes before they officially met—so the first time he properly greeted his mate, it wouldn’t be while exhausted andstinky.
A trip home shouldn’t be too much trouble. He could be in and out with a shower, clothes, and cash without anyone the wiser. If only he could get the damn braceletoff.
Chapter 3
Anticipation thrummedthrough Peter as he turned the key. A huge grin crossed his face at the engine’s loud roar. After years of restoration, he’d finally gotten it working. He had dedicated months to his obsession, and it finally paid off. Granted, part of the delay had been due to his mutation and being under the control of a psychotic scientist. Now he had his own business and no more weird genetic shit. He was back to normal and he couldn’t behappier.
Only his missing mate stopped him from fully enjoying his life. Where had he gone? Was he really his mate? Peter had analyzed every minute of his dream meeting with Quain and, after deciding it must have been real, had taken his suspicions to his alpha. With Silver and Anthony’s help, they had gone to the wizards and created enough of a distraction to allow Quain tovanish.
When Quain didn’t show up by their cars when they were ready to leave Peter had almost turned back. He only stopped when Anthony convinced him that Quain would seek him out. Going back to the wizards would only increase suspicion over the pack’sactions.
Still, memories of Quain stuck inside his head. He had looked rough with his torn and blood-coated clothing. Peter had no way of knowing if Quain had got the medical attention he needed. Unfortunately, seeing his mate didn’t mean he could locate him later. As far as Peter knew, there was no magical seeking spell he could use to discover where Quain had gone, and if there was one, Peter wouldn’t be able to use itanyway.
When he’d seen Quain in person, it had taken all of his resolve not to rush over and claim him right away. The thought of the slim lynx shifter caged and tortured somewhere had led to many sleepless nights. It had taken too long to organize a way to free him and he still didn’t know if Quain had been recaptured. What if the wizards already had him back in their control? If he didn’t show up today, Peter would go back to the mansion and blow it up ifnecessary.
