Bradley usually didn’t get visitors at home, so when the doorbell chimed on Saturday afternoon, Quinn perked up from the springy couch in the library and peeked out of the window at the front lawn.
An inconspicuous blue car was pulled into the driveway, past the large iron gates, and parked at a jaunty angle. While a magical barrier surrounded the house to keep Quinn inside the bounds, it didn’t seem to effect members of the old families – the prominent magical users who ran in Haven’s high society. Quinn read they were the ancestors of Haven City’s original founders, though he didn’t see what was so special about that.
However, the car wasn’t ostentations enough to belong to anyone who knew Bradley well.
His curiosity piqued, Quinn slipped out of the library and down the hall. He was given almost total free run of the prison most of the time, unless Bradley was in a particularly bad mood. Then he’d lock Quinn in the basement for a while, sometimes days, and those were the worst. There wasn’t much to do in that room surrounded by damp bricks and the oppressive sensation of earth piled above his head.
Lately, Bradley had been away from the house more than he’d been home, though he was here today. Except for Merci, the cook and the maid who cleaned twice a week, no one else came to the house regularly. Especially since Dick Hayward stopped his frequent visits after his family home burned down. Bradley didn’t want to have anything to do with the scandal that erupted in the wake of that disaster.
By the time Quinn got to the landing, he heard the doorbell chime a second time, and Bradley himself stalked across the gleaming hardwood entryway to answer it. His shoes clacked against the floor, and Quinn pressed himself into the shadows of the upper landing to see who it was.
His heart jumped into his throat as Bradley huffed and turned the handle. What if it was Tyler? What would Quinn do? Or Bradley himself?
Though, that thought was quickly squashed when a man with hair nearly as pale as Quinn’s own stepped inside. Even through Bradley’s fetid stench, Quinn caught the hint of magic on the air—spice mixed with the warmth of burning leaves. The man smelled like autumn, and Quinn had no clue what kind of magic that was.
“Brad! It’s been a long time,” the man said and his eyes wandered around the hall as he slid past Bradley’s arm.
“Seth,” Bradley said, his voice dropped low. From that angle Quinn could just make out the frown on Bradley’s lips. “What are you doing here?”
“This place hasn’t changed at all,” Seth said and whistled. He gazed up at the landing where Quinn hid, and for a moment Quinn swore the man saw him. His eyes were a bright shade of violet.
That meant he was a seer.
Interesting.
Quinn had read about them, and he remembered a young girl and boy who used to come to the house. They were also seers though that was years ago now. Perhaps this was that boy.
Quinn hardly remembered him since he hadn’t been allowed to play with the other children much on account of his ‘condition.’
Bradley blocked Seth’s way and crossed his arms. He was taller than the seer, though not domineeringly so. “What are you doing?”
“Nat just told me about your father, and I thought I’d pay my respects. I remember playing here when we were kids. Your nanny watched us sometimes,” Seth said.
Bradley’s eyes narrowed, and Quinn fought the urge to sneak closer or waltz down the stairs and make a scene. If he did that, his small piece of freedom would be undoubtedly snatched away. “I haven’t spoken to Natalie in years. She didn’t even attend the funeral. Why are you really here?”
Seth smiled and reached out his hand, which Bradley shrunk from as if Seth were a leper. “I told you. Nostalgia. Didn’t you used to have an adopted brother? What was his name?”
Quinn’s heart beat faster. That seer was looking for him! Did Tyler have something to do with this? No one else cared about Quinn’s enslavement, so that was the only explanation.
“Get out,” Bradley snarled and pointed at the door.
“Was it Quinn?” Seth said, ignoring Bradley’s order and moving toward the stairs. “I think that was his name. Does he still live here?”
“That’s none of your business,” Bradley said and moved to block Seth.
“So he does live here.”
Bradley didn’t answer, and Quinn balled his hands into tight fists.
Finally, Bradley let out a long breath. “He was committed after my father died. I have no legal reason to tell you where. He’s ill and a danger to himself, if you must know. Now get out before I call the police.”
Seth smiled thinly. “I am the police, Brad. But I’ll go. Nice to see you again,” he said and cast one last look at Quinn in the shadows before he stepped outside.
Bradley watched from the door as the car rumbled away.
Quinn didn’t move until Bradley stalked back to wherever he’d been, probably his study.
While the gesture was nice, the police couldn’t help. Only someone who broke the spell could do that.
By the time Thursday afternoon wound around, it felt like a year had gone by.
Quinn spent those two days pacing the vastly oversized Montgomery manor and using what little access he had to the outside world (his Internet usage was restricted to two hours a day, and he’d never mastered typing quickly) to find out what he could about Tyler.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much besides a link to his tattoo shop’s website with examples of his work and the phone number. Quinn thought about calling that number a hundred times, but if he did Bradley might find some excuse not to let him go back to the meeting.
It had been so long since he hadn’t had to ask permission to do things, he wondered what it would be like to actually be free. The twinge of pride in the back of his mind, the bit that never let him crumple under the Montgomery family’s rule, told Quinn he’d do well. He’d be able to get his long served revenge on those who imprisoned him.
Would he fall into the trap of his kind, like Montgomery senior warned? The man said it a lot back then – how evil Quinn was. How necessary it was to keep his power under control. Siphon it off for everyone’s safety.
The urge to do what his nature wanted him to do was irresistibly strong at times, and he saw no reason to hold back. His magic dealt in the truth, and if the one receiving it couldn’t handle the revelation, that had little to do with him.
Still, Quinn learned long ago to keep those kinds of thoughts to himself.
He also looked up Jin Yue, since it seemed important if the mere utterance of that name frightened Bradley. All Quinn found were a few articles about Jin’s businesses in Chinatown and the Flats, which told him absolutely nothing of any substance.
So Quinn asked Merci, and her eyes widened.
“He’s a dragon,” she hissed under her breath. She was the only person who spoke to Quinn regularly, besides Bradley himself.
Quinn sighed. “That’s not so impressive. Dragons lost their magic ages ago.”
Merci scrunched her cheeks and eyed him dubiously. “Magic? Shifters aren’t magic. Did one of those books tell you that?”
Since Quinn wasn’t given unrestricted access to the outside world, he had to make due with what was in his prison. Besides the rooms filled with frilly antique furniture and great relics of the magical past, the manor also had a fitting library that was extensive for light mages, full of ancient tomes with yellowing pages, but the information on shifters was much too limited.
The books filled a room the size of the parlor, floor to ceiling, but they all consisted of information like “shifters are the lowest form of the shadow folk” and detailed explanations of why shifters lost the Purging – a war between shifters and magic users that happened a few thousand years before.
But that wasn’t the truth, and Quinn knew it.
He sighed. “No. The moon said so. She’s seen everything since the beginning, so I believe her most of all. Those books are propaganda meant to appease mages.”
Merci snorted. “Did the moon tell you that too?”
Quinn shrugged. “I found the word ‘propaganda’ on my own.”
That didn’t seem to convince her, but there was nothing more Quinn could do.
That morning at breakfast, Bradley watched Quinn eat.
Quinn poked at his oatmeal with honey and a pile of raspberries on the side, and ignored Bradley’s dark gaze. He wore black for the day because if he was going back to the therapy group he may as well look as depressed as possible.
Plus, it reminded him of Tyler.
“That color suits your kind,” Bradley said, his voice detached. His face was on the thin side with little shape beyond that. He kept his hair clipped and maintained a neat beard to hide his receding chin.
Quinn thought Bradley had been getting thinner lately though he didn’t mention that. It’d probably be blamed on him for existing. If Bradley was withering away due to some aliment, Quinn would rather nature take its course and be free of the binds that held him.
Was that cruel and heartless, just like Quinn had been told? Perhaps, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“You know what my true form looks like. Even your magic can’t match my brilliance. You can’t even contain me without this,” Quinn said and smiled gently. His fingers tugged at the necklace.
The barb hit its mark, and Bradley sneered. “I’m only letting you go to that group because your power is waning lately, and I can’t have that.”
Quinn felt it. The years of enslavement caught up with him, but he saw no reason to mention it. If his power faded, Bradley would have no use for him. It felt different than it had at first. Back then, the binds felt like they were draining his magic, and it always replenished in a timely manner. Now, it felt more like the binds sucked his magic away, and he was left with a great pit in his chest where it had been.
If he didn’t break them soon, there may be nothing left.
“Really? I thought you were scared of a dragon. Is he the same dragon on the other side of the lake? I saw him the night Dick’s house burned down,” Quinn said and squeezed one of the raspberries between his fingers until the red juice stained them. He licked it off, and thought about what Tyler would look like doing it.
Beautiful, he guessed.
“That dragon is none of your business. If you say another word I’ll put you in the basement for the next year,” Bradley said.
The stench of his power filled the room.
Quinn sat back in his chair and wrinkled his nose. “If you do that, you know what’ll happen. My power will fade, but your desire for more will eat away at you until you come to see me. Then you’ll end up like your father.”
Bradley stood up so quickly his chair teetered several times and nearly fell over. His shoulders trembled, and his mouth curled into an ugly expression halfway between a frown and a snarl. “He’s dead because of you.”
“Prove it,” Quinn said and tilted his chin up.
His pride wouldn’t let him say more – tell Bradley what really happened that night. It was one of the few ways he had power even when bound. His secrets were his, no matter what the light mage did.
The pain engulfed him from all sides, wrapping around him like electrified wire that buzzed and burned all the nerves in his body at once. He didn’t remember falling out of the chair, but he hit the floor with a dull thud that caught him in the shoulder. Quinn bit back the scream threatening his lips.
Bradley liked it best when he screamed, and giving in always felt like he was losing. It was so difficult to keep fighting – pushing back – even with a glimmer of hope like Tyler so close to him.
The cry clawed out of Quinn’s throat, and he curled into a ball to keep from writhing madly on the ground.
Bradley bent over him. Fingers wound in his hair and lifted his head. “Don’t forget what I can do to you.”
Quinn coughed and forced himself to smile. “Look into my mirror at the next full moon, and I’ll show you what I can do to you.”
Bradley dropped his head and stepped back without another word.
Quinn waited until the retreating footsteps faded. He sucked in a breath and let it out, willing the pain to dull to an all over ache.
Bradley would never face Quinn in his true form, and they both knew it. No matter what sort of magic was used to bind him, they couldn’t keep him completely contained during the full moon. They could prevent him from breaking free, but his powers were his to control during those brief moments.
As the pain faded, Quinn reached onto the table and grabbed the bowl of raspberries. He huddled under the table and ate them, dreaming of that afternoon and Tyler and freedom.
* * *
“This place is a dump,” Merci said and brought the car to a stop. They didn’t take the Bentley – that was only used for Bradley himself. Instead, she drove one of the smaller cars that Quinn didn’t know the name of, but it was black like the rest of them.
Quinn wasn’t certain what she meant. The building didn’t look much different from its surroundings, concrete and squat with few windows. The first time he was there he noticed the dearth of greenery. The parking lot had a few trees and bushes, but that was it. It felt like the area was drowning in concrete and asphalt. Still, it was better than the Montgomery prison.
“Pick me up never. Tell him I died,” Quinn said as he climbed out of the car.
Merci gave him a pained smile. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll come in three hours. He won’t be home until around eight, so he’ll never know. Have fun.”
Fun?
That word was never directed at him, and Quinn nodded. His heart caught in his throat as he walked across the parking lot.
He’d spotted Tyler leaning against the side of the building when they arrived, a cigarette dangling from his lips, but he didn’t want to say anything to Merci to alert her to the alpha’s presence. If possible, he looked better than Quinn remembered, his brown hair with blue tips wild on his head and the sleeves of his jacket rolled up to show off the tattoos on his forearms.
Quinn’s fingers itched to touch them, and he grinned at how Tyler’s eyed him and the way he straightened his stance when Quinn approached. A slight hint of pink crept up Tyler’s cheeks.
“I hoped you’d be here,” Quinn said and moved toward the door.
A firm hand wrapped around his arm and held him still. “We’re not going to the meeting,” Tyler said, his voice tinged with something Quinn couldn’t place.
“I don’t need help?”
Tyler shook his head and blew smoke out of his nose. “Not the kind they can give. I gave you that stupid flyer because I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t even know if you’d show up last time.”
“But that dragon would’ve come to Bradley’s house if I hadn’t,” Quinn said. “Unless you were lying. I didn’t know wolves were so sneaky. I thought that was reserved for foxes and cats.”
The color on Tyler’s cheeks darkened, and he snubbed out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. “Anyone can be sneaky. Like you.”
“How am I sneaky?” Quinn said and didn’t dare move. Tyler’s hand still gripped him, not painfully so, but tight enough that it felt commanding. A tingle of excitement rushed through him with that touch. “Are you talking about that blowjob I gave you? I thought you enjoyed it.”
Tyler snorted and walked away from the building, pulling Quinn with him. “That’s an understatement. Come on.”
Quinn trotted next to him, his eyes sliding over Tyler’s white T-shirt that dipped into a V and showed off the hint of his toned pectorals and the tattoos that crawled up them – a swath of color that Quinn wanted to run his fingers over – or his tongue. “Where are we going?”
“Coffee, unless you’ve got a problem with that,” Tyler said and shoved his hands into his pockets.
A cool breeze bit through the air and stung Quinn’s cheeks. He didn’t have a proper jacket since the only clothes he got were ones Bradley no longer wanted, so he’d put on a black blazer. It was a bit snug considering their size difference.
Slate gray clouds covered the sky, but it wasn’t raining yet, though it smelled wet and reeked of humans and exhaust.
Quinn pressed his shoulder into Tyler’s. “I prefer tea.”
Tyler rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move away. “Of course you do.”
Quinn read about café’s in books and had seen a few examples on television shows. The reality wasn’t what he expected.
The café Tyler took him to was smaller and less colorful, though it had some mismatched furniture shoved into a corner, threadbare armchairs and a sagging couch. It smelled like the kitchen in the morning, and Quinn took a deep breath and stared longingly at the delicacies on display inside the glass case.
“What do you want?” Tyler asked.
“All of it, but I don’t have any money,” Quinn said.
Tyler shrugged. “Choose a couple things. I’ve got a fucking budget.”
Quinn picked the cake piled high with strawberries and a cup of rose tea. The young lady at the counter stared at him and fluttered her eyes madly while she prepared their order.
Quinn smiled at her pleasantly and wrapped his arm around Tyler’s broad shoulders.
The girl’s blush deepened.
Tyler got a cup of coffee and a sandwich with meat and cheese. He led Quinn outside and plopped down at one of the tables under a yellow and white striped awning. He chose the one farthest from the door and popped his collar.
While the warmth of the café’s interior and the group of humans (and one small wolf shifter that came in as they left) was appealing, being with Tyler was more so.
“Are you gay, bi, or just really touchy feely?” Tyler asked and sipped his drink. His brown eyes stared directly at Quinn. Unlike Bradley, Tyler didn’t look at Quinn like a stain that needed to be removed. Instead, Tyler’s brows knitted and he licked a drop of coffee from the edge of his cup.
“Gay, like you. I thought the blowjob I gave you was proof enough,” Quinn said and took a small swallow of his tea.
Tyler shrugged and bit into his sandwich. Crumbs rained onto his shirt, and he brushed them away carelessly. “I go to The Pit, but I’m not gay. It’s a good place to pick up chicks, actually.”
The cup warmed the palms of his hands, but a chill surged through the rest of Quinn’s body. The part of himself he could never escape begged him to come out and play – the part that Tyler hadn’t seen yet. The part the alpha probably wouldn’t like, but he’d have to show it to Tyler eventually as per their bargain. “You’re lying. I think you wanted it more than you realized, and I think you want more than a blowjob, wolf.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed as he swept the back of his hand over his mouth. His heart rate didn’t increase, but that only happened if the person lying knew they were lying. When someone lied to themselves, it was a different matter all together.
“I’m trying to help you, not—”
“Fuck me? I don’t believe you,” Quinn sing-songed and pressed the fork into a strawberry on the top of the cake.
“Is that what everyone else wants, or is that what you want?” Tyler asked and dropped his sandwich on the plate. It slid sideways and left a smear of mustard across the cheese.
Quinn froze, the strawberry an itch from his lips. The cream enticed him, but Tyler’s gaze was relentless and demanded attention. “I want to be able to live like I did the night I met you, and I like you. I think you’re different from everyone else. You actually listen to me. Believe me. Most people think I’m crazy – even other shifters.”
He chose his words carefully so the necklace didn’t choke him.
“You sound crazy, that’s why,” Tyler said with a huff and went back to his sandwich. “Now eat that cake before it melts or something.”
Quinn ran his tongue over the whipped cream with a sly smile. The pinch of color on Tyler’s cheeks made it all worthwhile. “A seer came to the house the other day. His name was Seth and he was also a police officer, I think.”
Tyler’s brows furrowed and he sat up straight. “What happened?”
Quinn’s lip curled and he chomped into the strawberry. The remaining cream turned pink. “He asked about me, but Bradley lied and said I was in an institution. Did you send him?”
That brought a deeper blush to Tyler’s cheeks, and he glowered at his coffee. “Yeah. If you were kidnapped, I thought they could help. But since there’s a spell and all that shit, I guess not.”
Quinn nodded thoughtfully and finished his cake.
The group therapy meetings continued for the next few weeks. Every time, Tyler would meet Quinn, and they’d retreat someplace else. Chinatown was within walking distance, and they ended up there twice with Tyler shoving steamed dumplings under Quinn’s nose and muttering that they were vegetarian. Another time they had noodles from a cart, and that was equally delicious.
Twice they took the tram downtown and visited the food carts that took up a whole city block.
Quinn always stared at them from the window when Merci drove him to Dr. Ross’s office, but Bradley never let him stop and get something. He complained about someone seeing him there and judging him, and his eyes got twitchy. At the time, Quinn mentioned he might want to speak to Dr. Ross about his mounting paranoia, and Bradley retaliated with a sharp blast of magically inflicted agony.
Still, it was worth it.
Visiting the food trucks with Tyler was much better. He didn’t say a thing as Quinn wandered by each one three times and finally decided on Indian food, which he’d never tried but the spices called out to him pleasantly.
Even with a gentle drizzle wetting their shoulders and shoes, it was still the best meal of Quinn’s life. Afterwards they got ice cream. Quinn chose the pink one—strawberry—and it was even better than he’d imagined.
They went to a huge book shop next that had maps at the front door to prevent one from getting lost. They were all human books, which meant they weren’t as interesting as they could be, but Quinn still enjoyed wandering the aisles with Tyler at his heels and the curious glances they received from both men and women.
While Tyler didn’t talk about himself without prompting, Quinn found out bits and pieces from the time they spent together. He learned Tyler had an older brother that he didn’t get along with from the tension in his voice when he said the wolf’s name: Davis. He knew Davis had a mate that Tyler was fond of, an omega named Ken, though Tyler still got annoyed when they visited him at home.
There was one other wolf Tyler mentioned, an alpha named Cage that took Tyler to meetings when things got bad. He didn’t say what kind of meetings they were, or what ‘bad’ meant besides the general, and Quinn didn’t ask.
Not yet.
Tyler was too strong minded to give much away.
While Tyler hadn’t broken the spell yet. Still, he’d sent a cop to the prison and kept his promise of showing up twice a week. As long as he figured out how to shatter the binds, Quinn would be free.
And Tyler was the only one strong enough to do it.
Like Bradley suspected, Quinn’s magical output increased with his newfound freedom, even if he was still a prisoner tethered to the Montgomery family. Even Dr. Ross noticed during their private sessions that Quinn didn’t seem as delusional and depressed as usual.
He said Quinn may have reached a breakthrough in his treatment and might be ready to give up on his make-believe world soon. Of course, Dr. Ross took all the credit for that revelation, though he had nothing to do with it.
“How does it feel to deal with your problems in a healthy way, Quinn, instead of hiding behind the fantasy?” he’d asked at their last therapy appointment.
Quinn grinned sunnily and pushed the hair behind his ears. “Better than you can imagine.”
When he was finally free, he’d show the doctor just how real his fantasy world was.
On Thursday, when Merci pulled the car to a stop at the community center, Quinn bristled restlessly.
She let out an exasperated huff. “Have fun with your therapy group. Or should I say your boyfriend?”
The word ‘boyfriend’ brought a grin to Quinn’s face. “What do you mean?” he asked and tried to look innocent.
He figured he failed from the look Merci gave him—an incredulous frown.
“I’m not stupid. I don’t even want to know if you go to those meetings or not, just be careful. I’ll be here in three hours. Don’t be late,” she said.
Quinn nodded and slipped out. The sun was actually shining today, and the spring flowers were in full bloom. A mass of purple tulips and yellow daffodils sprawled next to Tyler’s feet.
He wore the same kinds of clothes he usually did, but it was warm enough that he didn’t have on a jacket. His snug V-neck tee showed off the mass of tattoos that covered his arms, and the jeans begged Quinn to check out Tyler’s ass.
“Hey,” Tyler said, but the hint of a smile didn’t pull at his lips like it normally did. His shoulders hunched forward though the air was warm and the sun was bright and cheerful.
Quinn forced himself to smile and swallowed the pit in his gut that said perhaps he’d done something wrong and angered Tyler. Maybe this wolf couldn’t save him. Maybe the bargain they struck meant nothing, and he’d be trapped with the Montgomery family forever. He swept the thought from his mind and said the first thing that came to him.
“Merci thinks you’re my boyfriend.”
Tyler started and put out his cigarette. “After one blowjob? I think we’d have to fuck if we were boyfriends.”
“That can be arranged,” Quinn said and smirked.
Tyler raised an eyebrow, pushed himself off the wall and started walking like he knew Quinn would follow.
Quinn did. “Where are we going today?”
“My place – well, my shop. I can’t keep closing it in the middle of the day for three hours since it’s hurting my business and shit. I thought I could work during my normal meetings instead, but Cage got pissed so. . . .” Tyler’s voice trailed off into nothing, and he kicked a rock across the parking lot.
Quinn let out an internal sigh. “I don’t mind watching you work. Can I get a tattoo?”
“Can you pay for it?” Tyler asked.
“Maybe,” Quinn said and nudged Tyler’s shoulder. “But not with actual money.”
Tyler’s mouth twitched into a slight smile, and that was good enough for Quinn.