Chapter Eleven #7
Sasha closed his eyes, finally letting the realization sink in. Scarface had every intention of fighting Quinn. The intention had been in his eyes. But Lanky, the way he’d looked at Sasha… There was no other way to interpret what he’d planned on doing.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Vaughn said next to him. “Deep breaths, hon.”
With a nod, Sasha drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before opening his eyes. “Quinn changed into a wolf and fought both of them.”
“That’s Quinn for you,” Bayne said with a warm smile. “Six-feet-five of pure badass.”
Sasha knew Bayne was saying that only to calm him down, but it was still true, regardless of how batshit crazy this entire situation was. “He saved me.”
“Are you hurt?” Bayne asked with concern in his eyes. “Any injuries we need to take care of?”
“No injuries.” But Sasha was not okay. Far from it.
Vaughn slid his arms under the wolf and deadlifted the massive form. Sasha’s jaw dropped. Quinn was a giant guy and even more behemoth in wolf form. And Vaughn had simply lifted the wolf like he was picking up a stack of newspapers.
“Wolf strength.” Bayne winked.
Sasha frowned. “Are you flirting with me?”
Bayne’s smile faltered. “No.”
The guy answered a little too quickly.
“I was merely comforting Quinn’s mate.”
“What’s a mate?” Sasha looked between them, remembering how Vaughn had used the same word on the phone.
“Asshole,” Vaugn muttered. “Quinn is going to beat your dumb ass into a coma.”
“Who spends the afternoon under a waterfall and doesn’t disclose everything?” Bayne argued. “It’s like the perfect confessional setup.”
“You’re gonna need a confessional,” Vaughn muttered. “Let’s get moving. Quinn isn’t exactly light. His heavy ass is making my back hurt.”
Bayne smirked. “Just have Newt use his magic to take away your pain.”
Vaughn stared incredulously at Bayne as Sasha’s mind fell over a cliff. Magic? Magic was real? “Wand or potion?” he heard himself ask like he was categorizing magic-delivery methods.
“Spell,” Bayne supplied.
“Dude!” Vaughn shook his head. “Get your ass on Quinn’s motorcycle and enjoy the ride while you still have precious hours to live, fucking moron.”
Sasha blinked. Oh, there was so much Quinn was going to explain when he was human again. Mate, magic, and men turning into animals…
As they began to walk, Sasha tried desperately to make the pieces click in his newfound reality.
Men changing into animals? Insane, but possible since he’d seen it with his own eyes. He was far from over the initial shock but dealing.
Magic? That went on the backburner for now, especially since Harry Potter kept popping into his mind. Sasha doubted there was an entire wizarding world tucked away somewhere, but at this point, that wouldn’t shock him.
Mates? Something told him that was the important puzzle piece to figure out. He doubted everyone was referring to him as a friend. He would’ve thought they meant partner or boyfriend, but these were wolves. In the wild, a mate was an animal’s sexual partner.
Sasha frowned, considered the implication for a split second, then dismissed it.
Only to circle right back to it. Was Quinn choosing him…as a sexual partner? It wasn’t as if Sasha could reproduce. He didn’t have the right parts.
By the time they reached a black pickup, Sasha had a brain cramp from trying to figure out what the word mate meant in Quinn’s world.
Vaughn heaved the wolf into the bed, careful as he settled Quinn. Sasha climbed into the passenger seat then buckled in before rubbing his temples.
How could this be his life right now? He’d gone from dealing with Marcus to having his entire world blown wide open in the span of a single day.
Chapter Five
Instead of going to Quinn’s, Sasha had asked Vaughn to drop him off at work so he could pick up his car. He’d needed time to think, but as soon as Vaughn drove away, Sasha felt like a part of him had gone with the wolf.
Now, he sat in the driver’s seat, staring at Cyril’s Café, but all he saw was Quinn shifting, those coyotes attacking, and Lanky staring at Sasha in a way that still made him feel queasy.
The sun had already begun to set, the gorgeous hues reflecting in the café window. “You should’ve gone with him just to make sure he’s okay.”
But Vaughn had reassured Sasha on the drive back that shifters healed in their animal form. That explained how the bleeding had slowed so quickly.
If he were being honest with himself, it wasn’t the fact Quinn could change into a wolf that was freaking him out. It was those two coyotes. Just thinking about them made Sasha shiver. He’d never been a part of such violence before, and it had left him shaken.
Now Sasha wished they were back in the mountains, minus the threat. He thought about the way Quinn had kissed him, like it was a need rather than an obligation. His lips still tingled at the remembrance.
The memory of Quinn’s voice wrapping around the word “firefly” echoed in his ears, and Sasha’s fingers itched with the need to trace the lines at the corners of those steel-gray eyes when they crinkled with a smile.
“Pull yourself together.” He cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the quiet car, and jabbed the key into the ignition.
The engine rumbled to life beneath him, vibrating through the worn leather seat.
Quinn would be fine. That's what he kept telling himself as he gripped the steering wheel, reversed with a crunch of gravel, and eased onto Main Street.
Maple trees cast dappled shadows across the windshield, their branches swaying gently above wrought-iron lampposts that glowed amber in the deepening twilight.
Couples with fingers intertwined and families with ice cream cones strolled by, all of them laughing and chatting, blissfully oblivious to the world right under their noses.
As he waited at the light, Sasha glanced around with a newfound perspective. Every person he glanced at made him wonder if they were human or an animal in disguise.
When the light turned green, instead of making a right, Sasha drove another block and parked on the side of Frothy Pine.
Maybe a drink or two would help calm his frazzled nerves. It couldn’t hurt.
Sasha headed inside. The tavern’s warmth hit him like a wall after the cool evening air, thick with the scents of beer and fried food.
Music blared from speakers mounted in the corners, some classic rock song he half recognized but couldn’t name.
Bodies packed the space, occupying about half the booths and tables, conversation flowing as freely as the alcohol.
Sasha weaved through the half-filled tables, dodging a server balancing a tray of neon-colored shots. His clothes had mostly dried on the drive over, though his jeans still clung uncomfortably to his thighs.
After the day he’d had, the normalcy felt almost surreal. Just hours ago, he’d watched a man transform into a wolf. Now he was contemplating whether to order cheese fries or regular. Life had a weird sense of humor.
Finding an empty spot at the bar, Sasha slid onto a stool and placed his phone on the counter, screen up in case Quinn called. Not that he expected him to. The guy was probably still healing. Not that Sasha knew how long that took.
A mountain of muscles approached from behind the bar, biceps straining against a black T-shirt that read “Frothy Pine” in faded letters. The bartender could’ve been a linebacker in another life, with forearms thick enough to snap baseball bats.
“What can I get you?” The question came with a practiced smile.
“Mojito and fries,” Sasha said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Extra mint in the mojito, extra salt on the fries.”
“Coming right up.”
While waiting for his order, Sasha fidgeted with a cardboard coaster, folding the edges until it resembled a tiny hat. His mind replayed the waterfall scene on loop—Quinn’s transformation, the fight, the blood. It all seemed impossible, yet he could still feel the wolf's fur beneath his fingertips.
“First time here?” A voice slid into his thoughts, smooth as expensive whiskey.
Sasha turned to find a guy had materialized on the stool beside him. Dark hair styled with enough product to survive a hurricane, teeth unnaturally white against tanned skin, cologne that probably cost more than Sasha’s monthly rent.
“That obvious?” Sasha asked, not really interested but too polite to ignore him completely.
“You’ve got that ‘where am I and why is everything sticky’ look.” The man’s smile widened as he extended a manicured hand. “I’m Derek.”
“Sasha.” He accepted the handshake, noting how Derek held on a beat too long.
“Sasha.” Derek repeated it like he was tasting the syllables. “Russian?”
“My grandmother was.” An answer he’d given a thousand times before.
Derek moved closer, the man’s knee brushing against his. “Well, Sasha, let me buy you a drink. Welcome you properly to Frothy Pine.”
“Thanks, but I’ve already ordered.” Sasha gestured toward Muscle Mountain, who was muddling mint with practiced efficiency.
“Next round then.” Derek didn’t seem deterred, his eyes traveling down Sasha’s neck to where his damp shirt still clung slightly. “You look like you’ve had an interesting day.”
If only he knew. Sasha almost laughed at the understatement. “You could say that.”
“I’d love to hear about it.” Derek’s voice dropped lower, his fingers “accidentally” brushing Sasha’s arm. “I’m a great listener.”
Under different circumstances—say, yesterday—Sasha might’ve been flattered by the attention. Derek wasn’t unattractive, and his confidence bordered on entertaining. But all Sasha could think about was steel-gray eyes and the feeling of Quinn’s lips against his under a waterfall.
The most perfect kiss of my life.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m just here to unwind.” Sasha offered a polite smile before turning back to grab another coaster.
The bartender placed his mojito on a napkin in front of him. “Fries’ll be out in a few.”