7. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Jacob
Only my years of training let me stay calm as I rip Quinn’s life to shreds, then give her a choice with no good answer. Gabriel told me delivering the news to Eve was the most difficult thing he’s ever done, and I can believe it. I don’t even know this girl, but it tugs at me to see the way her eyes flicker over the room, me, and the point where our hands meet.
She’s looking for an escape, but she won’t find one.
Honesty is the most important thing in the world to me. I’d rather give Quinn the brutal, bare version of the facts and then soften the sting a little afterward.
“Life as a Ward isn’t all servitude, though. You can pursue your own interests. Eve belongs to Gabriel but works in my lab because she’s a biochemist. She loves her work. We could find something similar for you.”
For some reason, out of everything I've said, that triggers the explosion. “I make fucking sandwiches for a living. What am I supposed to do here, work in the canteen? I’m not going to be anyone’s slave. And let go of my hand!”
She yanks on it, but I keep hold. I should feel bad about how much I like feeling her struggle, but there’s something electric about it. It’s been over a year since I had a woman. Too bloody long. Telling Quinn I’ll use her if she chooses me has opened the gate on desires I’ve kept shut for my own sanity.
She’ll fight me every step. And, wrong as it is, I’ll enjoy it.
Up until this very moment, a large part of me was hoping she’d choose Edward. I’d have assuaged my guilt and could go back to my carefully planned life with Suzy. Now, feeling Quinn’s useless attempts to retrieve her hand, I find myself hoping she’ll make a different decision.
I’ll enjoy teaching her some respect, and that skinny little arse of hers will fit perfectly over my knee.
Fuck. I take a deep breath. I need to watch myself.
“Let go, you crazy fucking asshole!” She slaps at my hand with her free one. Even with the chain restricting her movement, she manages to make it sting a little. I wonder if she knows how to fight. I’d like to teach her that, too.
Her head rears back, and I know she’s planning to launch herself at me. With her legs locked to the chair, all she’ll achieve is hurting herself, and I won’t allow that. I whip my free hand out and grip the bright pink mass of her hair, locking her in place just as she tries to fling herself forward. She yanks her hair hard, screams, tries again, then glares at me like it’s my fault.
“Stop it. You’ll hurt yourself. You can’t go anywhere, and attacking me isn’t going to do any good. Got it?”
She doesn’t answer, so I give her hair a tug, angling her face up to mine. “I said, got it?”
“Yes!” she shouts, and I can’t resist pulling her hair one last time before I let her go. I free her hand, too, and she twists her head around to rub at the sore spot, shooting daggers in my direction.
“Fucking prick,” she mutters.
“All you had to do was ask nicely. ‘Please let my hand go, Jacob.’”
She scoffs. “I’m not going to fucking beg.”
Oh yes you will.
The longer she looks at me with cold fire spitting from her eyes, the more I regret giving her a choice at all. God, I’m ready to spank that look off her face. To make her beg, then remind her of this very moment when she swore she wouldn’t.
She shifts on her chair, and I can feel her frustration. She wants to run. To fight. She’s electricity in a tiny bottle.
“I’m going to need a decision, Quinn. Edward, or me.”
Edward wouldn’t know how to train her. He’d bully and abuse her, and she’d hate him more and more each day. Maybe she’d kill him. It’s happened before. Fifteen times in the history of the Brotherhood, actually. Not a bad tally for five-hundred years, but still. It’s one of the reasons Kendrick always suggests choosing a sweet, submissive woman.
Something Quinn definitely isn’t.
“I don’t want either of you! I don’t want this!” She curls her hands into fists and slams them down on the table. Her anger is fracturing, and her eyes turn luminous with tears.
Bloody hell. I’m a soft touch for tears. It’s my one weak spot.
I cover her hands with mine again and rub my thumb over her knuckles gently. “Don’t cry, love. Most Wards end up happy. Look at Eve. Did she seem miserable to you?”
She sniffs and drops her head to hide her face but doesn’t try to pull her hands away. “She’s not me.”
A fair point. And I’m not Gabriel. She’d be a lot less intimidated if she was facing him across this table. Seb would probably have her laughing by now. Dealing with people, especially emotional ones, has never been my strong suit.
Her shoulders stiffen, and she faces me. A tear tracks a slow path down her cheek. I watch it, fascinated, fighting the strangest urge to taste it. That would really freak her out. “People will be looking for me. My friends. My…” She stumbles over something before managing, “The people I work with.”
No family? There’s a story there, evident in the way her mouth snaps shut. Something personal she’s not ready to reveal. I won’t press her yet.
“They’ll think you’re dead. We’ll stage something, a car crash maybe…”
Her eyes widen, and her pale face loses the shred of color it had. There I go, winning her over again with my honesty. And just when the fuck did this become about winning her over?
“No! Not a car crash. You can’t.”
Another weird reaction. Not “You can’t fake my death,” but an objection to the method. The analytical side of my mind jumps onto the puzzle. “And why not?”
She freezes, clearly unwilling to give up any personal information. I get it. In her position, I wouldn’t either. “Just not that. Please. Promise me.”
Jesus. Anything that makes her be that polite must be important. I want to say yes. Plenty of other ways to fake a death. But is it a promise I can keep? Kendrick might tell me it’s none of my business.
Fuck it, though. After today’s cock up, he owes me. This is one thing I’ll make sure to do for her.
“I promise. Not a car crash. Okay?”
Her body relaxes, shoulders dropping, eyes locked to mine. “Thank you.”
“And I’m going to need your answer. Who do you choose?”
Her eyes screw shut, and she chews her lower lip. She might think choosing Edward gives her a chance at escape. She’d be wrong—she’d never get past the perimeter fence, not to mention the tracker we’ll implant—but she doesn’t know that. She might picture herself getting some old geezer drunk then slipping away unnoticed.
I’m sure she’s already realized nothing like that would work on me.
The air vibrates, pressure building as I wait for her decision. I’m good at staying motionless. It’s one of the skills the army gives you before you even get close to the specials. Civilians are so bloody mobile. Always fidgeting around with something.
But shit, it’s hard to hold myself back from tapping my foot.
Her eyes snap open, icy gaze locked to mine. “You. I choose you.”
***
Two hours later, we finally finish all the administrative arsing about. First, Gabriel tried to talk me out of my decision, followed by Seb, and finally Kendrick. They all seem to think I’m doing this out of misplaced guilt. White-knight syndrome, saving the poor maiden, all that bollocks.
It proves none of them know what I’m really like.
No one in the Compound knew me before I got myself under control and channeled my energy into useful pursuits. If they’d met me a few years ago, they wouldn’t be so sure I’m doing Quinn a favor. They know Jacob West, esteemed biochemist and all-round kind and helpful guy. The person I want to be and am working to become.
Grandad saw the danger when I was young. He forced me into the army at sixteen, despite my teachers crying about what a waste it was. They barraged him with complaints, arguing I was a prodigy and needed to go to uni. If he’d listened to them, I’d be dead or in prison by now. Only the structure and discipline of the army kept me from going off the rails.
I can feel the beast inside me waking up, pulling at the chains I’ve wrapped it in. It’s going to feed soon.
Once everyone gave up trying to change my mind, the practicalities had to be dealt with. Kendrick wanted to rush Quinn to medical, but I put a stop to it. I’m not going to fuck her tonight, so all the tests can wait. Brackis wanted to keep her confined until she’d been thoroughly investigated, but I put a stop to that, too.
She’s staying with me tonight.
When I arrive to collect her, she’s slumped over the table, head resting on her folded arms. Fast asleep. I’ve always envied people who can fall asleep like that, curled up into strange positions. Even in a comfy king-size bed, I’m often restless.
I watch her for a while, taking in her fragile beauty. Asleep, her face has lost that tight, wary look, and one could be fooled into thinking she’s sweet. That would be a lie. I trace the line of her body, from the bulky hoodie down her skinny thighs. I’m going to make sure she eats properly. She looks like she bloody well needs it.
I open the door, expecting her to jump up, but she doesn’t. She’s out cold. Unbelievable. Quietly, I unlock her ankle restraints and consider what to do. She must be exhausted, and I’d like to let her catch up on some shut-eye, but I can’t leave her here. Carefully, I slide my hands under her arms and pick her up.
She mumbles something as I settle her against my chest but doesn’t wake. She’s lighter than any full-grown human has a right to be, and a protective ember comes to life. Thank fuck she chose me. Edward would have bullied her into oblivion.
Keeping her clutched tight, I exit detention, ignoring the shocked guard. It’s a short walk to the initiates’ quarters, and we’re almost there when a familiar, obnoxious voice scrapes against my ears. Fucking Edward.
“Jacob! So, this is the little bitch, is it? Kendrick said she was a spirited one. I can’t say I’m happy you claimed her out from under me, but more power to you. You’ll have your hands full.”
His ruddy face is pulled into an obsequious grin. He’d never dare fuck with me, but he’ll chat shit about me behind my back. Violence between Brothers is a very quick way to find yourself in detention for a long time. If the rules weren’t so strict, I’d wipe that smug bastard look right off his face.
“Call her a bitch one more time. See what happens.”
Edward’s eyes widen, and his hands come up, fending off an invisible blow. “Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I thought—”
“Piss off.”
He gapes, second chin wobbling, and narrows his mean little eyes. He’s too much of a coward to argue and stomps off, shoulders stiff. Good fucking riddance.
I’m distracted, not ready when Quinn springs to life like a sleeping cat woken by a bucket of water. Her head, which just a second ago was cuddled against my chest, twists, and her teeth sink into my shoulder through the shirt.
It’s just so bloody unexpected that my arms slacken for an instant, and it’s enough. She twists out of my grip and tears off running as soon as her feet hit the ground.
She’s running. From me.
The predator in me roars.
I wait, letting her get a good start. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. She’s pelting blindly into the open space at the heart of the compound, the manicured gardens and woods. At forty seconds, I take off after her.
Game on.