Chapter 13 #2
"Just curious about that little gal behind you." He leans against the bar, eyeing Quinn. "Read about her online. There was some mess up with the magazine. Rumors spread quick in the digital. I’m just wondering what some hotshot city critic is doing hiding out in the middle of nowhere."
She goes still beside me, shoulders hunching inward.
"You're drunk," I say flatly. "And you need to leave."
"I'm just making conversation." He grins, showing too many teeth. "Asking questions. Like, how does a food critic let someone else take credit for her work? Either you weren't paying attention, or you didn't have the backbone to fight for it...”
I move before I consciously decide to. One moment I'm just standing there and the next I'm putting myself fully between this asshole and Quinn. My protective fury surges so close to the surface my hands shake with the effort of holding it back.
"Get. Out." My voice comes out deeper, rougher. Not quite a growl, but close.
The drunk's eyes widen. He's too intoxicated to understand what he's seeing, but some primal part of his brain recognizes danger. "Hey, man, I was just...”
"You were just leaving." Beau appears at my shoulder, barely leashed fury in every line of his body. "Right now. Before this gets uglier."
The guy backs toward the door, hands up. "Jesus. Can't anyone take a joke anymore?"
The moment he's gone, I force myself to breathe. To push down the protective rage. To turn to Quinn with human hands instead of claws.
She's staring at me with wide eyes. Not afraid—analyzing. Seeing something she didn't fully understand before.
"You believe me," she says quietly. "About Vanessa. About what happened. You don't think I'm...”
"Of course I believe you." I sit back down, closer this time.
"I've read your food writing, Quinn. Seen the way you describe flavors and textures with perfect precision.
No one who writes like that would need to steal from someone else.
Vanessa saw your talent and took it because she couldn't create anything that good herself. "
A tear slips down her cheek. "No one's said that. Everyone just assumed—because she's established and I'm not, because she has the platform—they all just believed her version."
"Then they're idiots." I wipe the tear away with my thumb. "And they don't deserve you."
"But you do?"
"I don't know if I deserve you," I admit. "But I'll spend every day earning it. If you'll let me."
Quinn laughs wetly, shaking her head. "This is insane. All of it. Mate bonds and shapeshifters and magic towns. A week ago I was in the city, convinced my life was over. Now I'm sitting in a tavern with a man who turns into a bear, and somehow that's the sanest thing that's happened to me."
"Does that mean you're staying?"
"I don't know yet. I need—time. To figure out what staying means. What I want my life to look like if I'm not chasing the next magazine assignment or clawing back a reputation that someone I trusted ripped away from me."
It's not a yes. But it's not a no either.
"Take all the time you need," I tell her. "I'm not going anywhere."
She nods slowly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"If I stay—if I really stay, not just for two weeks but for good—what happens when the mate bond fully forms? Evelyn said something about a claiming. About it becoming permanent."
My breath catches. "The bond gets stronger when it's consummated. When both people accept it completely. It...” How do I explain this without scaring her? "It ties you together in a way that's hard to break. Not impossible, but difficult. Like...”
"Like marriage, but deeper," she finishes. "That's what Evelyn said. That it's a soul connection that goes beyond just legal or social bonds."
"Yeah." I watch her carefully. "Does that terrify you?"
"Yes." She doesn't hesitate. "But also...” She stops, biting her lip.
"Also what?"
"Also it sounds like exactly what I've always wanted and never thought I'd find.
" She looks at me then, vulnerable and brave all at once. "Someone who sees me. Really sees me, not just the critic or the writer or the idiot who didn’t see Vanessa’s betrayal coming.
Someone who wouldn't use that knowledge to hurt me. "
"I see you," I promise. "And I'd never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not ever."
She takes a shaky breath. "I need to go. Process. Think."
"Okay."
She stands, hesitates, then leans in and kisses me. Not a quick peck—a real kiss. Soft and grateful and full of unspoken promises. When she pulls back, her eyes are wet.
"Thank you," she whispers. "For believing me. For defending me."
"Always."
Then she's gone, the bell chiming as she slips out into the evening.
Beau appears at my side. "That went better than expected. Is she still thinking about leaving?"
"No." I shake my head. "She's thinking about staying. There's a difference."
I want to trust that Quinn choosing to come here tonight, to ask these questions, to let me see her fear—that it all means something.
But every protective instinct I have won't settle. Won't stop worrying until she's mine completely, until the bond is sealed and permanent and unbreakable.
Soon, I tell it. Let her have time. Let her choose us properly.
A grudging acceptance settles through me.
I'm cleaning up the bar when my phone buzzes. A text from Calder.
Ley lines just pulsed again. Stronger than this morning. Whatever's happening with Quinn, it's accelerating. I’m at the compound. Thought you should know.
I stare at the message, dread coiling in my gut.
The ley lines are responding to Quinn more intensely with every passing hour. Pulling her deeper into Redwood Rise's magic whether she's ready or not.
And if they pull too hard, too fast—if they trigger something before Quinn's had time to accept what she is to this place, what she is to me—it could shatter the fragile trust we're building.
I text back:
Heading to the compound. We need to talk.
My bear snarls, sensing what I won't admit. The ley lines aren't just responding to Quinn anymore… they're claiming her.