Chapter Eleven #16
Their eyes met as Quinn began to push inside, both of them breathing hard. The stretch was intense, a delicious burn that made Sasha’s toes curl. Quinn moved with excruciating slowness, giving Sasha time to adjust to each inch.
When he was fully seated, Quinn paused, his body trembling with the effort of holding still. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his jaw clenched as he fought for control.
“Move,” Sasha urged, lifting his hips slightly to take Quinn even deeper.
Quinn needed no further encouragement. He withdrew almost completely before sliding back in, establishing a rhythm that had Sasha seeing stars. Each thrust was measured, angled to hit that spot inside him that made coherent thought impossible.
Sasha’s cast bumped awkwardly against Quinn’s side, but neither of them cared. The discomfort in his ribs faded to background noise, overwhelmed by the pleasure building at the base of his spine. His cock lay untouched against his stomach, leaking pre-cum onto his skin.
“God, look at you,” Quinn murmured, his pace increasing slightly. “So fucking beautiful.”
Sasha would have laughed at being called beautiful—him, with his nerdy glasses and skinny frame—but the reverence in Quinn’s voice left no room for doubt. Quinn truly saw him that way, and the realization was almost as overwhelming as the physical pleasure.
Quinn shifted, changing the angle of his thrusts, and Sasha cried out as his prostate was hit dead-on.
His vision blurred at the edges, pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.
Quinn’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, and Sasha knew he wouldn't last much longer.
“Quinn, I’m close,” he gasped, fingers digging into Quinn’s shoulder hard enough to leave marks.
“Me too,” Quinn growled, his rhythm becoming more urgent. His face lowered to Sasha’s neck, breath hot against the sensitive skin where neck met shoulder. “When you come, I need to bite you. Here.” His tongue traced the spot. “It will seal our bond.”
Under normal circumstances, Sasha might’ve had questions about this particular detail of wolf mating rituals, but with Quinn inside him, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the specifics.
“Do it,” he panted, tilting his head to give Quinn better access.
Quinn’s hand moved faster on his cock, twisting slightly at the head in a way that made Sasha see stars. His thrusts became more erratic, deeper, harder, the sound of skin against skin filling the room along with their mingled breaths.
The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter at the base of Sasha’s spine until it was almost unbearable.
When it finally broke, it was like nothing he'd ever experienced. His orgasm crashed through him in waves, his cock pulsing in Quinn’s grip as he came across his stomach and chest. At the peak of his release, Quinn’s teeth sank into the juncture of his neck and shoulder—not breaking the skin, but applying firm pressure that sent another jolt of pleasure through Sasha’s already overwhelmed system.
As Quinn’s teeth locked into place, something strange happened. Sasha’s heartbeat, which had been racing with exertion, suddenly synced with another rhythm—Quinn’s, he realized with startling clarity. He could feel it as surely as his own, beating in perfect tandem.
“What the fuck,” Sasha breathed, watching in astonishment as a pale yellow mist rose from his chest, hovering in the air before his eyes. Beside it, a similar ribbon of mist, this one a deep forest green, emerged from Quinn’s chest.
The two ribbons twisted around each other, dancing in the air like living things, before shooting forward—the blue into Quinn, the green into Sasha.
There was no pain, just a sense of completion so profound it brought tears to Sasha’s eyes, like they’d been waiting since the dawn of time to find each other.
“Holy shit,” Sasha whispered as the sensation settled into his bones. He could feel Quinn—not just physically where they were still joined but inside him, a presence in his mind and heart that hadn’t been there before.
Quinn’s arms tightened around him, his face buried in the crook of Sasha’s neck. “Mine,” he murmured against the bite mark, his voice thick with emotion. “My mate.”
Sasha twisted to look at Quinn, wincing slightly as his ribs protested the movement. “What just happened?”
“The mating bond,” Quinn explained, his expression one of wonder and satisfaction. “Our souls just became linked. Forever.”
“Forever, huh?” Sasha should have been terrified by the concept—forever was a long time to be tied to anyone—but instead, a sense of rightness settled over him. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”
Quinn laughed, the sound vibrating through Sasha’s back. “Best thing that's ever happened to me.”
He carefully pulled out, both of them hissing at the sensitivity, before helping Sasha settle. Quinn’s eyes roamed over him, taking in the flush that had spread across his chest, the bite mark already darkening on his neck.
“How do you feel?” Quinn asked, tracing a finger along the bite.
“Like I just had mind-blowing sex and then experienced some supernatural light show,” Sasha replied dryly. “So, you know, a typical Monday.”
Quinn snorted, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Sasha’s lips. “Smartass.”
“Your smartass now.” Sasha reached up with his good hand to touch Quinn’s face, marveling at the connection humming between them. Then he burrowed against Quinn’s chest with a contented sigh.
Chapter Eleven
Quinn chuckled as his mate held up both arms, the cast gone. Sasha’s liberated left arm looked pale and thin, the skin slightly wrinkled where the cast had been. Atrophied muscles made it appear almost childlike compared to his right arm.
“Look at this pathetic noodle,” Sasha said, flexing his fingers experimentally. “I could probably snap it with a harsh word. It looks like someone left a chicken wing in milk for a week.”
“Appetizing comparison.” Quinn gently took Sasha’s arm, running his thumb across the newly exposed skin.
The afternoon sun felt good against Quinn’s face as they crossed the clinic parking lot.
Sasha practically bounced with each step, joy radiating from him in a way Quinn hadn't seen since before the attack.
His mate's happiness hit something primal inside Quinn, a satisfaction so deep it bordered on physical pleasure.
“We should celebrate,” he suggested, fishing his keys from his pocket. “Anywhere you want to go.”
“Anywhere?” Sasha’s eyebrows shot up above the rim of his glasses. “That’s a dangerous offer to make to a man who’s been cooped up for too long.”
“I mean it.” Quinn unlocked the truck, watching Sasha’s exuberance with a quiet joy of his own. His mate was healing—not just physically but mentally too. The nightmares had become less frequent, the startled reactions to loud noises less severe.
“Lunch,” Sasha said. “I’m starving.”
“Then lunch it is,” Quinn replied.
“When we get home, I’m taking a proper shower without plastic bags and tape. Then I’m going to tie my own shoes. Maybe type with both hands. The possibilities are endless.”
“I had some two-handed activities in mind myself,” Quinn murmured, earning a playful smack from Sasha’s newly liberated hand.
“Such a perv.” His mate grinned.
“Never gonna change. You’re stuck with this perv.” Quinn pressed the key fob, unlocking the doors with a chirp. They were almost at the truck when a figure stepped from between two parked cars.
Marcus.
Quinn’s muscles coiled as Marcus moved into their path, blocking access to the passenger door. His face looked thinner than Quinn remembered, with hollow cheeks and dark circles under bloodshot eyes.
The glint of metal stopped Quinn cold. A gun, pressed against Sasha’s ribs before either of them could react.
“Hey, cuz.” Marcus smiled, revealing teeth that needed serious dental work. “Nice of you to finally get that cast off. Makes this whole thing easier.”
Sasha froze, his earlier joy evaporating like morning dew under summer sun. His pale face went whiter, freckles standing out like flecks of copper against snow.
“Get that gun away from my mate, or I’ll peel you from this world like rot from flesh,” Quinn said with a low growl.
“Pretty nice truck you got here,” Marcus said, tapping the barrel against Sasha’s side, forcing him to take a step back. “Bet it cost a pretty penny. Which means you can afford to pay me what you owe me.”
Quinn calculated distances, angles, the likelihood of reaching Marcus before he could pull the trigger. Not good odds. Not with Sasha caught in the middle.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Sasha said, voice tight but steady. “You’re the one who owes me money, if we’re being honest.”
Marcus laughed, an ugly sound that scraped against Quinn’s ears. “That's not how I remember it. And now the price has gone up. Ten grand ought to cover it.”
“Ten grand?” Sasha’s voice cracked. “Are you insane? It was a thousand dollars!”
“Interest is a bitch.” Marcus dug the gun harder into Sasha’s side. “And so am I when I don’t get paid.”
“You’re a lowbrow bad guy,” Sasha muttered.
Quinn kept his voice deceptively calm. “Take the gun off him, and we can talk about this like reasonable people.” Or I can rip your throat out like the reasonable wolf I am.
“No talking needed. Just money.” Marcus jerked his head toward the truck. “Get in. We’re going to make a withdrawal.”
Movement caught Quinn’s eye as two figures emerged from behind the clinic building. Quinn recognized them instantly—the coyotes from the waterfall. Lanky approached with a swagger, while Scarface hung back slightly, his face twisted into that permanent sneer.
“Took you long enough to find them,” Lanky called to Marcus.
“Had to wait for the perfect moment,” Marcus replied, not taking his eyes off Sasha. “Hard to catch someone surrounded by wolves all the time.”