Quinn hadn’t lied. He couldn't lie – the magical rules that governed his kind forced him to always tell the truth. Whether others believed it was the truth or not was irrelevant, which came in handy with Bradley often enough.
However, that didn’t mean Quinn had to tell the whole truth at all times. He could slither out of it with some long winded answer, but that wasn’t what he did when he told Tyler what he thought about mates.
Quinn was talking about himself – the side Tyler only glimpsed from time to time and never really understood. The side he’d have to face every month if they were mates because the moon would force them to shift, and Tyler– well, he probably wouldn’t like it.
And that was on the optimistic side.
Like everyone else who faced him in that form, Tyler would grow to despise him. That’s the last thing Quinn wanted.
Sure, he was amazing to behold, like a creature created out of dreams and moonlight, but beneath the glossy surface was the darkness Quinn himself didn’t like to face – the thoughts that crowded his mind when the moon showed him the truth of the world. Shadow folk and hunters both persecuted his kind, and it wasn’t out of some misplaced fear.
Their fear was very rightfully placed.
If Tyler knew that, he wouldn’t want to help. He’d probably be as disgusted with Quinn as the Montgomery family was—like his very presence defiled things instead of showing them as they were.
Still, Quinn didn’t expect Tyler to sulk on the walk back to the community center because of his answer. He also hadn’t expected the bite on his collarbone to sting so badly.
Quinn touched it once and looked at the flakes of dried blood that came off on his fingers – like bits of rust. Hopefully, he’d be able to hide it before Bradley got a good look.
His chest clenched as he looked at Tyler. That alpha didn’t deserve a mate like Quinn—one who tricked him into a bargain for his own selfish gain. He needed someone better, yet the thought of Tyler with someone else sent a cold stab to Quinn’s heart.
When they got to the community center, Merci was waiting in the car and honked as he approached.
Tyler put up his hand in the weakest attempt at a goodbye ever. He hadn’t touched Quinn the entire walk back, and a chill settled on Quinn’s skin and sunk into his bones.
He’d probably done something wrong without realizing it. Isolated himself again because of whatever it was that made him like that. Still, he smiled and kissed Tyler gently on the cheek to hide it.
“See you next week.”
Tyler grabbed his hand. “I’ll see you after the full moon.”
Honk. Honk.
Merci leaned on the horn and yelled obscenities from the driver’s seat while he climbed into the backseat and stared at the wolf, his brown and blue hair surrounded in yellow light from the streetlamps.
“Do you know how late you are? We have to go straight to Mr. Montgomery’s office, and he’s going to wonder why you’re here,” she snarled. “Seriously, do you think of anyone but yourself?”
Quinn frowned and watched Tyler fade into the distance. “Not usually.”
Merci continued to rant as she sped away, and it all dissolved into background noise while Quinn watched the golden light dance across the river and sparkle in the skyscrapers that towered above downtown.
She lied easily about Quinn’s meeting running long.
Bradley frowned but didn’t ask any questions about it. Since Quinn’s magic prospered with his newfound slice of freedom, he hadn’t had many complaints about the twice weekly meetings. If he knew the real truth, Quinn doubted that would continue.
Bradley might want his magic, but he also didn’t want Quinn to be happy.
That also meant Bradley delighted in the ritual that happened every full moon. The walk into the woods. The chains. Quinn alone for a day and night beside his round pool of water with nothing but the moon for company.
Tyler didn’t show up and spoil everything, and a wave of relief rushed over Quinn. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved for his sake or Tyler’s. And that dim sensation of loneliness expanded with every minute until it was nearly unbearable.
He didn’t ask the moon what it was because he already knew the answer. He couldn’t even lie to himself, and that made it all worse.
But when they finally reunited on Thursday, the words clogged in Quinn’s throat and he swallowed them down. If Tyler survived the mirror, he’d tell the alpha how he felt. Before that, there wasn’t much point.
While they started out at Tyler’s tattoo parlor (the alpha had done some work and checked on Quinn’s tattoo with his rough fingers playing delicate), they took a break by walking down to a park by the river.
It was near the community center, and Tyler said that part of town was called the Flats (for reasons he didn’t explain—it wasn’t entirely flat). They had the place to themselves, and even with trash littering the shore and the grass, it was still better than being stuck in his prison all day.
The sun was actually out, and a breeze blew most of the stink of the water in another direction. Quinn stared at the muddy surface and wondered what was underneath. It was nothing like his water—clean and pure. Well, the water belonged to the pool and the stream, but he always thought of it as his since nothing else in the world really was.
Perhaps Tyler could be his—if they were mates then. . . .
He’d glanced at the alpha.
In the sunlight, Tyler squinted. His exposed skin golden tan under the mass of tattoos, and the longer wisps of his hair mussed by the wind. One hand was shoved into his pocket, and he leaned against a cement outcropping as he sucked on a cigarette. The smell of burning tobacco wasn’t as unpleasant as Quinn thought when they first met. Either he’d gotten used to it, or it suited Tyler.
Then, like a sudden stab to the gut, Quinn remembered that Tyler couldn’t be his in the end. If the bargain was fulfilled, anything might happen which was up to Tyler and not Quinn, so getting involved like this was the very worst idea imaginable.
Yet here he was, and the thought of giving up these bi-weekly visits sounded almost worse than being under Montgomery’s thumb for the rest of his life. Which was so stupid Quinn let out a bark of laughter.
That got Tyler’s attention. He raised an eyebrow—they were curved like the ears of a cat, and they always made him look just a little bit sarcastic even when he wasn’t. He didn’t ask what was so funny. Instead, he put out his cigarette and frowned.
A moment later, Quinn realized what Tyler was frowning at.
The overwhelming scent of silver stung his nose and the steady sound of footsteps stomped closer.
He turned around.
Tyler stood up straight. “Stay behind me and get ready to run,” he said, his voice a low grumble.
Three men walked through the trees that blocked the shore from the rest of the park. The area was secluded, for the most part, since there was nothing but warehouses and a storm drain on the other side of the river—which was at least a few hundred feet away.
The men were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, though they all wore jackets that were too heavy for such nice spring weather. Besides that, there was nothing distinguishable about them. Two of them had shaved heads and the third had short spiked brown hair. They were all young—younger than Quinn, at least, and their faces were the type that got lost in the crowd, bland but for the cruelty around their eyes.
They didn’t smell as bad as Bradley, though the vague hint of death surrounded them. The burning stench of silver was stronger, and Quinn narrowed his eyes.
Were these the hunters Merci warned him about? While most humans didn’t know about the shadow world around them, a few did. Many of those were the hunters who sought out and killed shadow folk, usually shifters but magic users could get caught in their sights as well.
But Merci also said Quinn probably wouldn’t have a problem, considering he was protected. She didn’t know the real reason Bradley kept Quinn, obviously, but that was almost too much. Protected? Quinn would rather face all the hunters in the world than stay under the Montgomery family’s protection a moment longer.
“Do you know them?” Quinn asked as he leaned close behind Tyler.
The wolf did say to stay behind him, and Quinn did. The urge to wrap his arms around Tyler’s waist overwhelmed him, and he did that too, his fingers creeping over Tyler’s shirt.
Tyler’s stomach tensed under his touch. “Not really, but I’ve seen them before.”
The men glanced at them and sneered. They muttered ugly things under their breath—things Quinn had heard plenty from Montgomery senior when the man learned that Quinn’s desires turned toward men. Even one of his lovers used language like that, and that bothered Quinn more than he let on. However, back talking an enchanter was one way to get your lips glued shut for the night, he’d learned.
But, no matter what they said, the men didn’t do anything outwardly aggressive. After a tense staring contest, they looked away, and Tyler moved.
His body bristled with energy, and Quinn noticed the alpha pacing inside him. “You’re not going to beat them up the way you did the others?”
“Not worth it,” Tyler said, his teeth gritted so tightly it looked like they’d shatter to pieces in his skull. “Plus, if I got spotted, I’d get arrested.”
Tyler stalked down the beach at that point, his body slipping out of Quinn’s hands like bits of sand.
Quinn fell in step behind him. He tried to whistle and offended the gulls that circled overhead, so he gave up and kicked a few rocks instead. “Did you have any luck with you know what?” he asked and pointed meaningfully at the chain.
Tyler shook his head, and he avoided Quinn’s eyes. “Not yet. Did a light mage cast it or someone else? Fuck, you probably can’t even tell me that, can you?”
Quinn fingered the chain.
It’d been so long now he hardly remembered much. He’d been too young, hardly six years old, but he did know that none of the Montgomery family placed the spell since it wasn’t in any of their books. He also remembered a woman in white. She was old and wrinkled and used to say things to Montgomery senior about strengthening the spell by ensuring Quinn’s nature ruled him – whatever that meant.
She didn’t smell like a light mage. No, she was something else. Maybe a witch or an enchanter.
“There was an old woman,” he said carefully. The necklace didn’t react, so Quinn continued. “She came to the house a lot, but she wasn’t part of the family, and she wasn’t a light mage. I think it’s her spell. Does that help?”
Tyler shrugged and glanced behind them. “A little. Do you have a name?”
“No, but she’s dead now,” Quinn said and looked at Tyler. “And I think the Hayward family knew her.”
Tyler tensed at that name. “Hayward, huh? I’ll look into it.”
Those men trailed them at a distance. They looked like they were pretending not to follow, and they weren’t doing a very good job of it. Quinn could do a better job of acting disinterested.
“Are they hunters?” Quinn asked.
“Not sure. They don’t act like it, unless they’re new at this and don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. They keep staying upwind of us like a bunch of idiot assholes.”
“They reek of silver,” Quinn said, though he knew Tyler smelled it too.
“No shit, that’s what makes me wonder who the fuck they are,” he grumbled and trotted up the stairs that led back to the street.
The men followed.
This part of the city reminded Quinn of a concrete forest—the buildings were bunched together and half of them were crumbling. Chain-link fences with signs that said “Danger” and “Keep Out” surrounded most of them. Weeds poked through cracks in the pavement and there wasn’t anyone else around, even at that time of day.
Tyler moved across the street and down an alley. They turned the corner and faced a fence at the end. The wolf scanned the walls and nodded, but Quinn had no idea what he found so agreeable.
The stout building that surrounded them was flat gray cement, and the only living things in that alley (besides them) were the ants that marched in the corner.
“What are we doing here?” Quinn asked, his voice dropped into a whisper.
Tyler showed his fangs. “We find out what those assholes want. I think I’ve seen them following me before.”
He didn’t offer further information, and Quinn never got the chance to ask for it. The steady stomp of footsteps came down the alley after them, and Tyler held up his fists.
It looked like he wasn’t worried about getting arrested as long as they weren’t out in the open.
Quinn kept that in mind. He didn’t want to be arrested either. Bradley would no doubt be furious, and a furious Bradley often left Quinn in serious pain.
As the first one rounded the corner, Tyler grabbed him and slammed him into the wall. The man coughed, his head cracked as it hit the concrete, and he yelped at the impact.
“Why the fuck are you following us?” Tyler growled, and his nails pressed into the man’s skin. He was the one with hair, and his beady eyes widened as he fumbled with something in his jacket.
The other two pulled guns and pointed them, hands trembling at Tyler and Quinn.
“Let him go or we shoot!” the one with his gun pointed at Tyler said. His face was longer and reminded Quinn of Bradley in an uncomfortable way.
The guy Tyler held yanked a gun free too and pressed it into Tyler’s stomach.
Tyler sneered at him and squeezed. “I can break your neck before you pull the trigger. Who the fuck sent you?”
Quinn stood so still he heard his heart move the blood through his veins.
The hunters (if that’s what they were) shook, while Tyler’s rage was the most pronounced of all. The alpha that roared inside him looked ready to jump free and rip the flesh from those men’s bones.
“You beat the shit out of Todd and wrecked his car. Word on the street was he wanted revenge and shit,” the guy Tyler held gasped.
“And the silver bullets in your guns?” Quinn asked, since that seemed to be the game they were playing.
Tyler’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t admonish Quinn for the question. Perhaps he hadn’t made a mistake in assessing the situation.
“We know what kind of monster he is,” the one with the long face snarled and his eyes met Quinn’s.
Quinn grinned. “Fair enough, but you don’t know what kind of monster I am, do you?”
The two men exchanged glances.
The man with the gun in Tyler’s gut snorted. “He’s just the faggot boyfriend.”
A sudden snap broke through the air, and the man with spiky hair crumpled to the ground and screamed. It tapered off into a gurgle, and his arm hung at a sickening angle that looked worse than any of the pain Quinn had endured.
Tyler nudged the gun out of that man’s reach and kicked him in the gut before the other two could respond.
A gunshot broke through the air, and the sting of silver slice Quinn’s flesh. He jolted and looked at the bright red spot of blood on his arm and the rip in his shirt. It felt like he studied it for an age, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Pain blossomed with it.
Next thing he knew, Tyler snarled wildly and bent forward. His clothes ripped—the black T-shirt with some logo on it shredded to rags and his jeans tore down the seams.
In place of a perfectly beautiful tattooed man stood a huge alpha wolf, his fur the same deep brown as tree bark, and his eyes a bright shining yellow. He lunged at the man with the long face, who fired with shaking hands as the wolf fell on him.
The hunter let out a gurgled scream as Tyler’s fangs sunk into the flesh of his forearm and the gun clattered to the ground.
The man crawled backwards, and a knife flashed in his good hand.
Before Tyler could turn, the blade dug into his shoulder, and he howled.
Quinn moved.
Physical fighting wasn’t something he excelled at, not in this form. He was tall and strong as most shifters, but he’d never thrown a punch in his life. However, he had other talents. Things the necklace didn’t dampen.
Tyler bit the man’s leg, and squeezed until the femur cracked—Quinn heard it, along with the pained cry that escaped the man’s lips before he toppled over backwards, bloody and unconscious.
The final hunter’s gun swung between Tyler and Quinn, his finger hovering over the trigger erratically.
Tyler growled at him, and Quinn stepped forward.
“You don’t want to do that,” Quinn said and kept his voice calm and light. Infused it with the cool spring breeze and peaceful things. It’s not that his kind could control people—no—but they could suggest the truth if that person were open to it. Weak minded. Though, in reality, it didn’t work on most people, especially shadow folk, and the necklace kept him from using that power on Bradley as well.
The man’s eyes were wide as the full moon and his lip curled into a sneer. However, he didn’t fire the gun. Instead, he focused on Quinn. “Why not?”
“Because it won’t get you what you want. If you kill us, you’ll have to run from the police. People will hunt you down and any reward will be lost. You wanted a reward for this, didn’t you?”
Slowly, the man nodded. “You gonna give me cash? I need some motherfucking cash!”
Quinn stepped over the man’s comrade, making sure to avoid the puddle of blood.
Tyler growled low in his throat, but he didn’t stop Quinn.
Not yet.
“I can give you something better than cash. Better than money.”
The man lowered the gun slowly. His eyes turned hazy—distant—“What?”
Quinn leaned close and whispered into the man’s ear. He told the truth—all of it. It wasn’t as revealing as the mirror, nor as powerful, but for those driven by base instincts like greed, it was good enough.
The man nodded and dropped the gun. Then he turned and walked away, his hands limp at his sides and his steps rambling.
Quinn ignored his departure and rushed to Tyler, who still had that knife lodged in his shoulder. His hands shook and felt cold and hot all at once. His heart beat so quickly he thought it might leap onto the cement and flop around like a fish out of water.
Tyler got hurt trying to protect him, and he’d been too useless to stop it.
“Should I pull it out?”
Tyler stared at him for a moment before he nodded.
These sorts of shifters couldn’t speak, not even with their minds, while they were in animal form. Was that something they lost over the course of the last few thousand years or were they really lesser beings like Montgomery senior said? Quinn didn’t see how. Even in his true form, Quinn couldn’t have fought off the hunters the way Tyler had.
The man with the snapped forearm hunched in the corner whimpering, and they both ignored him. The other hunter was still unconscious.
The third, Quinn guessed, would be walking into the river soon and nature would take its course. He didn’t mention that to Tyler, however.
It might seem a cowardly way to behave according to a wolf.
Carefully, Quinn tugged the knife free.
Tyler yelped. His great alpha shape morphed back into a man, naked, bloody and bruised, on the alley floor.
“You got shot,” he said and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm.
The sting bit, but it wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever had. Quinn shrugged and gathered Tyler’s torn clothes. “It’s fine. I think it just scratched me.”
Tyler stumbled to his feet and slipped on the ripped jeans. They covered the most incriminating bits, but not much else. Still, Tyler didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped the shredded shirt around his shoulder. “Let me see it.”
Quinn flinched as he rolled up the sleeve and showed the cut. The blood dripped freely, and the odd tingle of silver ached deep into his bones, but it wasn’t enough silver to cause any lasting damage.
Tyler frowned. “Shit. Look, I know a healer. But if I call him—”
“I’m fine,” Quinn said and smiled. “That looks bad. Maybe you should go to that healer. I should head back before it gets too late.”
Grumbling, Tyler agreed.
On the short walk to the community center, Tyler didn’t say much.
The sun dipped low, bathing everything in a warm golden light. It may not have been their best day, but he saw Tyler shift, and it was more amazing than Quinn imagined.
He smiled and let Tyler lean on him.
“What did you do to that last guy?” Tyler asked as they neared the parking lot.
Merci hadn’t arrived yet, but a knot of darkness coiled in Quinn’s belly. He couldn’t lie about what he’d done, but if he told the real truth, what would Tyler think?
“I told him the truth, and he did what he thought was best,” Quinn said.
Tyler stared at him, his eyes narrowed. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Quinn’s forehead.
His nose.
His mouth.
Each kiss was as delicate as fine lace, as fleeting as time, and Quinn’s heart ached until he swore it would burst.
They left him breathless and hungry.
“Next time, we take a break in my apartment,” Tyler growled.
Quinn agreed.
* * *
The next three days took an age. Quinn had to pace around the house, worrying about Tyler’s wounds, and if he’d show up to the next meeting all while staying out of Bradley’s way. He didn’t think Tyler was going to die—wolves were stronger than that—but that didn’t stop the dread that crept over him at night while he watched the moon and asked her for news of him.
She ignored him, and Quinn pouted and turned his back on her.
He hadn’t told anyone about the cut on his arm or the ache that drilled into his bones. It wasn’t the worst pain, but it was the most persistent.
Merci smelled it, and she frowned at him as she cleaned it in the downstairs bathroom. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe bun and her bright eyes squinted. “This smells like silver. You’ll need salve to clean it out.”
Quinn smiled.
Bradley wouldn’t waste money on a healer for the likes of him, and he was about to say so when Merci pulled a jar of green goop from the medicine cabinet. She lathered it on his skin, and it cooled the overly hot flesh and numbed it.
“Do I want to know why you have a silver flesh wound?” she asked as she tied a piece of gauze around it.
“I don’t know. Do you?” Quinn asked and grinned. It felt strained, and it hurt his heart to do it.
“Did that wolf do it?”
“No,” Quinn said softly. “He’d never hurt me.” As the words slipped off his lips they burned his tongue. It was true—Tyler would never hurt him, and yet he was willing to (possibly) hurt Tyler for his own wellbeing.
His own life.
He was the monster Bradley thought he was, and Quinn had no clue what to do about it. Something delicate snapped inside of him, and the tattoo on his hip stung.
Quinn stalked outside after Merci finished and looked up at the sliver of silver light in the blue-black sky. His eyes stung and the cool air pricked his skin with goose bumps.
He sucked in several deep breaths, balled his hands, and asked: Why did I have to make a bargain with an alpha I couldn’t help falling in love with?
The moon didn’t answer.