“Then you’ll just have to settle for one. Nothing is going on with me.”
“If you say so,” he said, putting his mug down in the sink. “All right, let’s go.”
They headed outside and undressed, setting their clothes down on the bench for when they got back. Quintus loved the feeling of shifting from man to animal. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles, letting the magic take over. Within a second, he was in cheetah form.
Without waiting for Donald, he took off into the forest?—letting his legs carry him to their destination. Running in his cheetah always relaxed him, and at times, it seemed his worries were lifted off his shoulders the faster he ran.
With each pound of his paws against the dewy, morning grass, he lost himself to the sounds of the steady rhythm. The feel of the breeze whistling past his ears, and coursing over his fur. Quintus closed his eyes and let his senses take over. He knew the terrain of the forest having done the run countless of times.
Whenever he ran in his shifted form, he felt one with nature and wished he could stay in his cheetah form all the time, but knew it was a bad idea. Sooner or later, his mind would no longer be human, and he wouldn’t be able to even recognize anyone who meant a lot to him. But it didn’t stop Quintus from staying in his cheetah form as long as possible.
Other than having the recurring dreams lately, he’d been wondering if he would ever find his mate. Quintus wasn’t sure if his mate was already in Vale Valley or if they would be showing up soon, but someone was calling out to him. He could feel his cheetah searching for its alpha mate to claim him?—and its need to start a family.
It would have been great of Donald was his mate. They connected on so many levels, but they were nothing more than close friends. Other than Donald being a beta wolf, it seemed as if his friend had an invisible barrier around him that screamed “don’t touch.”
Quintus wasn’t sure if he could handle having a mate and cubs in his life at the moment. He loved children, but he was more bothered because of the dreams he was having. He hoped to the gods it was simply a passing moment in time, and soon things would get back to normal.
His Cherokee ancestors would say they were premonitions of things to come. Quintus wasn’t sure if it was good or bad he remembered what happened in the past, and wondered if he should speak to his mother about his dreams. She was more connected to her Native American values and beliefs than he was.
Elizabella believed dreams were a way to reveal what was to come—good or bad. Other than his mother, the only other person who knew what happened that night was Rosemary Vale. Arianna and Miya, his sisters, had been just babies, and he was thankful they knew nothing about what happened or what he’d done.
Maybe it's guilt for what I did that night.
There were things from his past he kept hidden. The guilt of lying to his friends about who he was after so many years, was starting to eat at him. He’d become an essential member of Vale Valley, and because of his business acumen, Rosemary Vale, or as he liked to call her Nana Rose, would seek him out for new ideas or thoughts on how to improve things around town.
Rosemary. Mom and I owe her so much.
Rosemary had been their saving grace when they’d arrived in town without a dime to their name and sleeping in their car. It’d been the dead of winter, and Quintus had thought they were going to freeze to death rather than starve. His mother Elizabella had been seven months pregnant and didn’t think anyone would hire her in such a state.
So, he had learned to play the cute kid who would beg for food for him and his family, bringing it back to the woods for his mom and sisters to eat. It’d happened for two weeks before someone had caught on to what he was doing, and that person had happened to be Rosemary. That day Quintus had no idea she’d followed him back into the woods where they were hiding. He had been meters away from his mother and sisters hiding spot when he’d heard her speak.
“You don’t need to beg for food, little cheetah.”
Quintus turned and looked up at the woman standing behind him. And even though she might have seemed imposing to him, Quintus wasn’t afraid.
“I have to,” he told her.
“Why?” She asked, kneeling in front of him.
He might not have been afraid, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust her.
“I promise, I won’t tell. You can trust me.”
Quintus snorted in his shifted form, thinking about her words of promise and trust.Those were to the famous last worst of every villain in movies. Trust me, the villain would tell their prey before they slashed their throats open.
But with Rosemary, she’d meant it. He’d scented the truth on her, which was why he had confessed and told her about his pregnant mother and baby sisters waiting for him to bring food to them. That day she’d taken them home with her, and for the first time in weeks, he’d been able to shower, eat, and rest—without worry.
Rosemary had given them a place to stay and had helped his mom get a job after the baby was born. Years later, his mom had saved up enough money to open her own bakery which later became the diner. Elizabella was known for her pies and strong coffee. According to his mother, it had been her pies that had helped seduce Gabriel. But Gabriel would correct her and say it had been her beauty and charm that had made him want to be with her always.
Quintus was happy that in their new life his mother had found love. He didn't want to question why his mother and Gabriel weren't mated. It brought up doubt and worry that his father was still alive. It wasn't something he wanted to think about.
Not now, not ever.
Quintus kept telling himself it wasn't his fault, he was protecting his mother and sisters. He hadn't known the gun was loaded. All he’d wanted was for his mother to stop screaming. And had only wanted to scare his father.
Quintus remembered the evil intent he’d felt coming off his father, and had known he couldn't trust his father’s words of love and forgiveness. He had felt, even at seven, their lives would forever be in danger. All his father had to do was leave the house and never come back.
Quintus couldn’t remember what else had happened before the gun went off. All he recalled was his father crying out “don't shoot” before he pulled the trigger, killing his father instantly.
