Chapter 28 Quin
TWENTY-EIGHT
Quin
Quin’s eyes flew open. He jerked in panic when he saw nothing but darkness—a resolute blackness that stymied even his enhanced senses.
“Quin?” Kit’s voice. Quin relaxed, even as he became aware of the disconcerting weight of chains around his wrists.
What he figured out from that detail, however, was that Lawrence had been in control.
It came back to him faster this time, in fits and bursts of images, the assault of memories making his temple throb.
“It’s me,” Quin croaked. “Can you put on a light, please?” Kit clicked one on, and Quin blinked against its stabbing brightness. “Ow.”
“What hurts?” Kit asked, springing up from where he’d been seated in the small armchair in the corner of the room.
But when Quin squinted at Kit, he didn’t bother taking stock of his own injuries. A red smudge of a bruise stood out starkly against Kit’s pale skin. When Quin opened his mouth to speak, he managed barely a rasp. “I hit you. Your back, too.”
“Lawrence did those things,” Kit corrected matter-of-factly. “And then I choked you into unconsciousness. I think we’re even.”
Quin didn’t agree. “Are you okay? Why haven’t you healed yet?”
Kit’s mouth quirked into a sardonic smile. “We’re not long back, so I haven’t had time to feed. Had to make sure you were suitably tied down in case you weren’t you when you woke up.”
Quin tried to respond, but coughed his lungs up instead. Kit rushed from the room. He returned a few seconds later with a bottle of water. “Sorry,” he said, sheepish. “I forgot you’d need it.”
Quin let Kit press the bottle to his lips, the water soothing his throat as he drank. “Thanks,” he said when he was done. “Did we at least get what we needed?”
Kit pulled a small necklace from the side table drawer, dangling it in the air for a second before dropping it back in. “We did.”
“That’s a relief.” Quin rattled the chains. “Now, are you going to let me out?”
Kit hummed, low and considering. “Xavier’s ring didn’t seem to do the best job.” He tapped Quin’s finger where the ring sat. “Lawrence poltergeisted it off.”
Quin flexed his pinky. “I think that had more to do with us being in his domain. I’d had no trouble from him until then.” He shuffled on the bed, his bladder making itself known.
“You sound like you’re trying to convince me,” Kit said, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not still Lawrence, are you?”
Rake, Shaun, and DJ immediately appeared in the doorway.
“I’m not Lawrence,” Quin said. “But I would like to be out of these chains.”
“That’s something Lawrence would say,” DJ pointed out.
“Or,” Quin said, drawing the word out, “it’s something I would say, because I really need to go to the bathroom. I know none of you guys have to go anymore, but it’s a necessity.”
“How convenient,” Rake commented.
“I would argue it’s very inconvenient,” Quin said.
“Fine,” Kit said. “You better not be Lawrence, or I’ll have to knock you out again.” He unlocked Quin’s right wrist, and the others watched on closely.
The second the chains were off, Quin rolled himself off the bed and made a beeline for the bathroom. He turned to close the door, but Kit stood in the way, the others all poking their heads around behind him.
Quin stalled, unsure if he should do his business. “We good?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” Kit said, leaning against the door frame.
“Are you planning on watching me?”
Kit tilted his head. “No.”
“You’re all looking.”
“We’re just making sure you’re not Lawrence.”
“Baby,” Quin said patiently, even as he hopped from foot to foot, “I’m more than comfortable pissing in front of you, if that’s what it’ll take.”
“I didn’t have watersports on my kink bingo card,” DJ said, “but I’m pleasantly surprised.”
Quin laughed, which wasn’t the best decision for someone in his position.
“Okay,” Kit said with a huff, “Lawrence never would have laughed at that, so I suppose we can allow you to piss in peace.”
“Too late,” Quin said. “Everybody look away!” The squawk that escaped Kit’s mouth did little to drown out the sound of Quin’s piss hitting the inside of the toilet bowl.
Thankfully, by the time Quin was done, it appeared the triad might actually have heeded his warning. Kit, however, was standing rooted to the spot in the open door, his arms folded and lips pressed into a flat line. “That did nothing for me, in case you were wondering.”
“No wondering here,” Quin assured him, washing his hands and judging the cottage owner’s choice of an overpoweringly pungent rose-scented hand wash. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t want you to piss on me, or vice versa.”
“I dunno,” Kit said, scuffing a toe on the tile floor. “I thought it might have been like the foot thing. You know, where you say you’re not into feet, but it kind of feels like you’re into feet. Even now, you’re looking at my foot.”
Quin mock-glared at him. “You moved it deliberately. That’s entrapment.”
“I wonder if foot fetish is on DJ’s bingo card. I bet he really has one,” Kit mused as Quin dried his hands. “And Rake for sure has a to-do list. He’d have ticked orgy off the other night.”
Quin huffed with laughter. It hurt his tender throat, but it was worth it to see Kit smile in response. Those lips turned down, though, as Quin studied himself in the mirror, touching a finger to his throat.
“I was as gentle as possible,” Kit said.
“I know, baby. It’s not that obvious.” Quin’s throat didn’t look half as bad as he’d expected based on how it felt. It was red, sure, but the marks were unlikely to be noticed by anyone.
“I still did it to you.”
Quin met Kit’s eyes in his reflection. “You know I don’t mind.”
Kit flew forward and wrapped his arms around Quin, burying his face in his back. “I never wanted to hurt you,” Kit said, his voice muffled.
Quin turned around and drew Kit into his chest instead, loving the feel of Kit’s body against his own.
He’d missed it, even though it had been such a short time since he’d last held him.
“I know, baby boy,” he murmured into Kit’s hair, “I’d never intentionally hurt you either.
I’m just a stupid idiot who can’t stop getting possessed. ”
Kit drew his head back and looked up at Quin, brows in an unhappy furrow. “You’re not stupid, nor an idiot, Quin. Don’t say that about yourself.”
Quin’s cheeks heated. “I mean—”
“No,” Kit interrupted. “You wouldn’t let me say something like that about myself. It goes both ways.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that, can I?”
A satisfied smile spread across Kit’s face. “Glad we’ve come to an accord.” His gaze flicked to the high strip of bathroom window. “The sun’s up soon.”
As if on cue, Quin yawned. “I’m down for a nap.”
After a quick check-in with the others, Quin and Kit settled into the bed.
The mattress was too soft, and the duvet too heavy, but Quin was cuddling Kit close, so nothing else mattered.
Kit’s fingers traced patterns on Quin’s chest as they lay there.
Dawn approached, and as the sun rose, Kit fell into his inhuman sleep.
Even then, especially then, Quin didn’t let him go. He couldn’t.
Dozing and on the verge of unconsciousness, something under Quin’s skin itched. A stirring. An inkling. A mere suggestion of another presence.
His last thought was that he only needed to get through one more day, and then he and Kit would have as many nights together as they wanted.
When Quin next woke up, it was with a great deal less panic than the time before.
Quin reached over and put on the small lamp on the bedside table, bathing the room in artificial yellow light.
Kit’s skin looked sallow. It unnerved Quin to see just how dead Kit appeared whilst in this state.
He resisted the urge to check Kit’s pulse and settled for untangling a twiddled curl as opposed to looking for signs of life.
Given his stomach’s grumbling, he wasn’t surprised to find he’d slept till mid-afternoon when he checked his phone.
As soon as he could bear to tear himself away from the bed, he went for a shower to combat his lingering grogginess.
The shower head was too low for him to fit under, but the lukewarm water went some way to refreshing him.
The ring on his finger had now darkened to midnight black, stark against the white tile of the shower. A single shallow crack split the metal on the underside of the ring, right across all three bands. Whatever magic Xavier had infused the jewellery with had to be waning.
Quin decided then and there that getting away from the cottage—and from a defenceless Kit—was the best way to protect them all.
After a perfunctory clean, he got out of the shower and threw on some clothes.
A quick kiss to Kit’s forehead, and Quin followed his instincts to leave.
He texted Kit as he went out the door, letting him know he’d gone out in case he wasn’t back before nightfall.
It was a grey day, the sun hidden behind thick swathes of cloud.
The cool weather allowed Quin to wear the collar of his jacket turned up to hide the bruising left by Kit’s fingers.
He looked up the location of the closest cafe and headed in the direction on foot, appreciating the fresh air and the chance to stretch his legs.
He used the walk to get used to his own body again, a bit like how he did after changing back to his human form after the full moon.
Except, there was a stark difference between spending time as his wolf and being Lawrence’s bodysuit.
Quin had always seen himself as subservient to the moon; never in control of himself, even when not in his beast form.
Ironic that it took being possessed to show him just how in charge he was.
At least when the full moon reigned, Quin’s thoughts and actions were his own, albeit a more instinctual, base version of them.
His beast didn’t force him to do anything his human side would abhor.