“Max.” This time, Caius’ voice was sharp.
Max flinched, bracing himself for a blow as he was pulled to his feet.
“Quinn!”
Panic clawed up his throat, but he knew better than to fight. He was already caught. That had never stopped him before, but he knew at least his father’s men would never kill him without a direct order. He had no idea what Caius intended to do with him, other than bind him. And likely turn him into a sex slave.
He had to escape before that happened, but he had to get through the damn panic attack first, and whatever punishment they intended to deal out. He squeezed his eyes shut again, focusing on the chill from the water clinging to him and on not hyperventilating.
“The fuck did you do?”
“Nothing,” Caius said, sounding defensive.
“The hell you didn’t, he smells terrified. Get out.”
A pathetic whimper escaped Max when arms wrapped around him. A warm scent of cinnamon filled his nose, and he carefully blinked his eyes open when no attack came.
“You’re okay, Max. You’re safe.”
That wasn’t Caius. It sounded like the redhead. Max raised his arms to push away, but they found their way around the stranger instead.
“I’m Quinn, by the way. Kinda wish we were meeting under better circumstances. But I have a brilliant idea, if you wanna hear.” There was a hint of a lilting accent to his voice, but Max couldn’t focus enough to place it.
Max fought for two controlled breaths before he got his voice to work. “Sure.”
Quinn propped his chin on top of Max’s head. “Why don’t you take a shower and clean up any blood we missed while I find you some clean clothes, and then when you’re ready, I can make you some food? Be warned, I can only make eggs and bacon or a killer grilled cheese sandwich.”
His stomach rumbled and let them both know what it thought of that idea. “Okay.”
“Great,” Quinn said brightly.
Max expected Quinn to release him, but he didn’t, and it felt too nice for Max to move first. Several long moments ticked by before the awkwardness finally won out and he forced himself to let go.
Quinn smiled and stepped back. “You can toss your wet clothes in the sink. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” He closed the door behind him, leaving Max standing alone in the bathtub like a drowned rat.
What the fuck was his life? This had to be a lucid dream, but pinching himself didn’t accomplish anything but a bruise.
With a sigh, he peeled off the wet shirt and boxers and tossed them in the sink. He really wanted a hot shower, but the thought of his entire body catching fire was enough he set the water to lukewarm instead. Then he stood there, fighting the haze of shock and post-panic as he wondered what he was supposed to do.
He couldn’t possibly believe he was safe here, but… they’d healed his injuries. Even his father had never wasted the money for a mage to heal him before. If Caius intended to bind Max for his powers, he’d at least want Max alive. Which was more than his father apparently wanted.
It wasn’t much, but he could work with that.
The water went cold before he felt like himself again, but losing time was familiar enough to ignore. He found the clothes waiting for him and dressed in another too-large shirt and sweats, pulling the drawstrings tight.
He’d left his phone behind in the hopes he wouldn’t be tracked on his way to the airport, but his keys and wallet were on the nightstand. He shoved them in his pocket before he stopped near the bedroom door.
He could do this. He could figure out how to deal with being a mage. How to keep these shifters from binding him. How to keep the Order from getting hold of him.
He was so utterly fucked.
He let out a slow breath and descended the stairs, then lingered at the bottom as he breathed in the scent of cooking garlic. His stomach rumbled again, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in over a day.
“In here,” Quinn called.
With another breath, he forced one foot in front of the other as he followed the voice to the kitchen. There were no walls dividing the kitchen from the rest of the floor, and he could see out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. A rare, unobstructed view of the foothills stretched beyond the backyard, so different from his view of city buildings and the claustrophobic feeling of his own home. His feet itched to run into the forest and disappear despite the dusting of snow on the ground.
“Hungry?” Quinn patted the spot at the island counter next to Caius.
