“We end this.”
Chapter 76
The room was frozen in a strange, jilted stillness.
Shock seeped from the men holding Quentin, their grips loosening by just a hair. A few of the others palmed their rapiers with wide eyes.
Quentin, though, was not surprised.
No, instead, all he felt was wild, crazed pride. His lips tugged into a fierce smile, a low chuckle burning up his throat.
The massive cream and red wolf snarled, the sound rumbling through the small room, and his chuckle turned into a laugh.
The wolf—Delaynie—crouched back onto her hindquarters, muscles bunching beneath her fur as her hackles rose along her shoulders. The air was taut, a bowstring about to snap?—
“Quentin!”
A presence slammed into his mind. The voice was weak, as if calling from a great distance, but he knew it. He would always know it. It was as tied to him as he was to it, as much a part of him as his daggers or his scars.
But gods, could her timing have been any worse?
“Queenie? Fuck, is that really you?”Yes, he was annoyed. His relief was genuine, though. It had been so long since he’dheard Mariah’s voice; he wasn’t too proud to admit how much he missed it.
“It’s me. Where are you? What’s happening?”
“Um…”
Delaynie growled again, this time deeper. More menacing. It snapped a few of the men out from their stupor, and they jumped forward, their blades extended. Quentin gritted his teeth, yanking against his captors.
“It’s a bit hard to explain at the moment. Not exactly a good time.”
One of the men inched closer to Delaynie. With a booming growl, she lunged, snapping with moon-pale teeth. The flurry of movement was just the diversion Quentin needed; with a final, desperate shove, he freed himself from his distracted captors, eyes landing on his baldric discarded on the floor. “Chat later, maybe?”
He dropped to the ground, evading the pirates’ grasping hands, lunging for his knives. If he could just get to them…
“Protect Delaynie. And protect yourself. And when you can, come back to Onita.”
His fingers wrapped around familiar, worn leather just as a hand grabbed his bicep. With a wild grin, he yanked one of the blades from the baldric, whirling with a speed that came from unending practice and instinct honed from survival.
His blade sank into his assailant's throat before the man even had a chance to blink.
Quentin yanked the dagger free. Blood pooled down the front of the man's chest. He sank to his knees, collapsing on the floor.
Quentin quickly surveyed the room. A cool calmness fell over him, even though it was tinged with just a bit more fear than usual.
Delaynie was pressed into the corner, jaws snapping. One of the men lunged again, blade swiping far too close to all that creamy fur.
Quentin opened his mouth to yell, to tell her to fight, that he was coming?—
Delaynie launched in a blur of cream and red. Her maw opened, eyes flashing as her teeth sank into the shoulder of the man who’d gotten a touch too close. Blood burst over her snout. The man screamed, his cries hoarse and ragged.
She violently shook her head, tearing his arm from his body.
Quentin couldn’t deny how fucking hot that was, even if it made him a little twisted.
He could still feel Mariah’s presence there, waiting for a response.
“Sure thing—” He doubled over, grunting at the force that slammed into his stomach. Drawing shallow breaths, he let instinct take control.
