41. Simon
Thunderous stomps rattle the decking outside, and I race toward the back door to prevent whoever it is from getting to Isobel. The wooden barrier flies open before I can reach it, but it doesn’t matter. The person standing there has me skidding to a halt in shock.
“Qu… Quin?” I stammer before I’m launched across the room and into the wall.
“Quin?” Isobel gasps as six feet of fury flies toward me, his face a mask of murderous intent.
Fuck. What’s the matter with Quin?
Although he seems intent on erasing me from existence, I don’t want to hurt my brother. To do so would hurt Isobel and Arina, and I’d rather cut my own arm off than make them suffer like that. So, I concentrate on blocking his blows, setting myself between him and our girls to keep them safe, because I know he’d never forgive himself if he harmed them, even accidentally. Fur begins to sprout from Quin’s skin, which should be impossible. Mundane shifters can’t initiate partial shifts. Something has changed in him, something I’m going to place square at the feet of his parents and O’Hare.
I focus my efforts on pushing him back through the door and outside the house. If he’s going to shift, it won’t be in here, that’s for sure. Plus, Tál is champing at the bit to be let off his leash. He won’t kill Quin, just as I won’t, but he does appreciate a challenge, and this new version of Quin appears to be just that.
“Quin Basset, you quit your fighting right this instant! I won’t have you upsetting our daughter or trashing this house just because you’ve got a hair up your heiny about something!”
I flinch at the anger in Isobel’s voice, and almost pay for that moment of distraction with a paw to the throat. I quickly duck out of the way, Quin’s claws raking across my cheekbone instead of tearing out my jugular.
“QUINTAS MAGNUS BASSET, HOW DARE YOU!?”
Frigid wetness suddenly coats both Quin and me, and it’s enough to get him to stop fighting me. My heart is racing, not from exertion, but from adrenaline. Whatever O’Hare has done to my brother since I last saw him, it’s pushed him into a whole new level of fury. This Quin feels full of rage and unpredictability.
Tálstrom is impressed.
I’m worried.
“What in the hockey-sticks do you think you’re playing at, Quin? You break down the back door for no reason, throw your blood brother into the wall, scare the poop out of your daughter, and then have the absolute gall to ignore me in my own home when I tell you to stop? Do I need to call Mama to come and send you out to pick a switch? Or how about I call Da to have words with you instead? I know for darn sure you don’t want me to bring Paw Paw into this!”
A furious Isobel is a sight to see. She’s all righteous vengeance and glory, her fiery curls flying in a halo around her head. Her eyes flash with ire, and she’s how I imagine the Celtic goddesses of old would appear to us mere mortals when readying for battle.
“Izzy, he was touching you! What was I supposed to think?”
I palm my face. He’s in for it now.
“Oh, you did not just imply that I was cheating on you, Quintas Magnus Basset! Not that you have any high ground to perch on with that high horse of yours, no sirree! You left me. You hid the truth of your past from me. You never even thought of confiding in me, Paw Paw, or anyone else who could’ve helped you, and because of that, they took you from me!”
I don’t feel comfortable witnessing this. My gaze darts around the room but I can’t see Arina anywhere. Slowly edging out of the room, I leave Isobel alone to tear strips from her mate. I’m not worried, not about her at least. Quin, though?
Yeah. He’s fucked.
As I exit the kitchen, Arina’s furious wailing reaches my ears.
Uh oh.
I quickly make my way over to the portable bassinet that’s set up in the lounge, the movements and cries emerging from it a neon sign lighting up Arina’s location. The moment I peek over the side and down to her angry red face, she calms.
“Hey there, my little angel. What’s all this fussing about? Did you not get to finish your dinner? Come on, I’ll take you back to Mama so you can feed. Plus, there’s someone special who would love to meet you. Yes, he would.”
My rough crooning works. The moment I lift Arina into my arms she settles, the fading redness in her cheeks the only traces of her previous fury.
I slowly make my way back to the kitchen, where Isobel has moved her scolding of Quin away from the door and over to the table. He’s slumped in a chair as she looms over him, a finger in his face as she lectures him for essentially running away in the night.
I enter her periphery and Isobel pauses as she sees who I have in my arms.
“Although I think you two need to have a long, serious talk about your past, the present, and how your future together should look, I also think that there’s a meeting that needs to take place. I’m happy to leave you guys to it if you want, but this little angel needs to meet her daddy and then finish her dinner.”
Quin’s eyes follow my progress over to where he’s sitting, unwavering in their stare as he greedily drinks in the sight of his daughter. I pass Arina over to Isobel, and she starts to fuss again. Arina flails for a moment before I offer her a finger. She latches on like a limpet, that contact enough to have her settling back down in Isobel’s arms.
Looks like I’m sticking around for their conversation, then.
Isobel shifts Arina in her arms so that she’s sitting more upright. Quin’s gaze turns reverent as Isobel softly murmurs, “Quin, this is Arina Lenore Basset, your daughter. She was born a healthy eight pounds, four ounces, has had no health issues, is adored by her extended family, and takes after her father. She’ll one day shift into a little tigress. Arina, this is your daddy.”
Quin tentatively reaches out a hand, stroking his finger along the downy-soft skin on the back of the hand wrapped around my finger. I ease my digit from her grip, allowing Quin’s to take its place.
I clear my throat, hoping to get some answers now that things have calmed down somewhat. I’ve always held out hope that Quin survived the razing of the facility we’d been held in, reassuring Isobel to keep faith, to search out the ties tethering them to each other, and encouraging her to push her love and longing for Quin’s return down their bond. It would have broken me had she lost her faith in Quin or truly believed him gone.
“Why was me touching Isobel’s shoulder such a trigger for you, Quin? Why would you believe that I would betray you like that? I thought after all we’ve gone through, knowing how important Isobel is to you… I mean, she’s your fated mate and carried your cub. I thought you know me better than that, that you’d trust me implicitly to care for them until your return.”
Quin grimaces, shamefaced in the wake of my words.
“I do trust you, Simon, despite my actions implying the contrary. You have no idea the sense of relief I’ve felt at the thought of you being here, protecting Izzy and keeping her company in my absence. It’s just that O’Hare and the rest, they’ve all taken turns messing with my head. You old paramour, Catherine L?nnberg, she was the worst. She reveled in disparaging you, often making spurious accusations about your lack of honor and honesty, and how you’ll willingly turn your back on your friends the moment you’re in the firing line.” Quin looks at me, his eyes brimming with remorse and sorrow.
“I know she lied, Simon. I know this, deep inside, because I’ve seen you in action. The way you sacrifice yourself for your friends, the lengths you’ll go to protect them. I’m honestly astonished that you survived your time with O’Hare, especially after you faced him down. But there’s still that repugnant voice niggling away in the back of my mind, making me doubt everything.”
“Catherine? As in the Catherine that was once pretty much engaged to Simon, who then behaved unconscionably toward Sila, causing her to lose her lioness? That Catherine?” Isobel cuts through Quin’s apology, her voice sharp with anger and suspicion.
“Yes, Izzy. That Catherine. She, her father, and their old Leo are all up to their necks in my parents’ nefarious schemes, along with their pet doctor, O’Hare.”
Isobel sits back down, shuffling Arina in her arms until the little tigress is able to latch on to her mother’s breast for a feed. While Isobel nurses, Quin fills us both in with a brief account of why he was removed from the ward at the facility, what occurred to him while he was in his parents’ clutches, and his journey back to Louisiana only to kick down the back door in order to kick the shit out of me.
“I’m sorry I doubted you both. I’m sorry I implied—no, accused—that either of you would ever betray me in that way. I was scared that you’d think I’d died, and that it was time to move on. I was terrified I’d come home to find you in love with each other.”
A lead ball forms in my gut. I can’t lie to my brother, not after all we’ve endured.
“Quin,” I begin, bracing myself for the worst, “you’re not entirely wrong. I do love Isobel and Arina, it would be impossible for a person not to. But no matter the depths of my own feelings, I’d never do that to you or your memory.” I look my brother dead in the eye as I expose the deepest, darkest corners of my soul.
“I resigned myself a long time ago that I’d never have a mate. Tálstrom disagreed with me for a long time, because he wanted to find a true mate and have a family. Then we met Isobel. We didn’t fall for her, we leapt. But Tál and I both agreed that we would never be anything more than her friend and protector. It was the quickest accord we’ve ever reached. I adore your daughter. I call her my ‘little angel’ because she makes my world a better place. I will give my life to protect them both and can only hope for friendship in return. That’s all I ask. Nothing more. I don’t have that right.”
Quin glares at me, his stare boring into my soul.
“You’re in love with me? Since when, Simon?”
Oh.
Fuck.