Chapter 24 Quinn
Quinn
Quinn can’t believe he’s standing in front of his pack alpha for the second time in twenty-four hours, no matter that he’d spent the last year trying to avoid doing just that.
Add to it that the rest of his pack is scattered around the room and, well…
there’s no denying that this is one helluva fucking weird ass day.
Quinn knows that the emotion surging in his gut isn’t just anger about Fate’s heavy-handed play, or at Connall’s long-term treatment of Soren.
He’s certainly emotionally intelligent enough to know that, in part, it’s because his alpha hasn’t done more than give him a passing glance since he walked through the door.
Connall had arrived with Isaac and Elias, smelling like a frosty winter storm.
While it’s not a bond, it is a claim. Even Soren smells like Connall after their reunion in the hallway.
He’s not butt hurt about being the odd mate out. Not really. Sure, he’s touched Kaian—held his hand, probably left a scent trail all over the guy’s borrowed shirt—but it’s not about marking territory. It’s not even about jealousy. He wouldn’t want Connall’s attention just because it’s convenient.
A prickle of something crawls up Quinn’s spine. It takes everything he’s got not to let out a low, needy whine just to get Connall’s attention. His wolf wants to be acknowledged—and that pisses Quinn off more than anything.
So he redirects the rage. Focuses it like a blade on Connall’s surprised expression—on the weird flicker of relief when he found Soren after what he apparently thinks is seventeen goddamn years. Quinn’s first question, if he ever gets to ask one, will be: How the hell didn’t you know?
Yeah, it sounds like Connall runs a dictatorship.
So far, Quinn hasn’t seen anything to the contrary.
But he’s never bowed to any man—and he sure as fuck isn’t about to start now.
Fuck dynamics. Fuck the biological urge whispering at him to drop to his knees, beg for a head pat…
or Connall’s cock in his mouth. He’d do it—maybe—but only on his terms.
He’s not on that bus, all starry-eyed at the alpha’s broad shoulders and dark-blue eyes. This time, he’d seen it coming.
And that’s the real mindfuck.
Everyone else is shocked, like they stumbled into fate’s web by accident. Not Quinn. He knew the second Connall got on that bus where this was headed. Maybe not to suburbia, sure, but somewhere.
That doesn’t mean he’s going to roll over ass-up.
“What did Quinn mean you just found out about Weres?” Connall asks. It’s a demand, no matter how much velvet he puts into his voice. “You’re a magic-user.”
Kaian shifts on bare feet—his too-big white shirt barely concealing his sleep-soft body. And while he might not know he’s set the room on a slow burn, Quinn does. They’re sitting on a powder keg of pheromones, and Quinn is not immune.
“I am, but I’ve never been to school.”
“Why not?” Isaac climbs into Soren’s lap. “Isn’t it, like, mandatory or something?”
Quinn catches Soren’s eye with a raised brow. Casual affection—especially this fast—is so far off-brand for Soren, it almost makes Quinn snort.
He can’t blame him, though. Isaac oozes sweetness and na?veté, all wrapped around something whip-smart and mouthy. Exactly what Soren needs to drag him out of that endless dark he always carries around.
Kaian raises his arms to pull his longish hair into a knot at the base of his head. The action raises the hem of that shirt, revealing smooth, pale thighs that are just begging for Quinn’s marks. Fuckin’ hell.
Connall’s nostrils flare, his blue eyes going impossibly dark as he tracks that hem like a hawk.
Quinn hasn’t known Elias long, but that lemon scent hits like sweet tea on a hot summer day. It was hard enough to keep a lid on the instinctual urge to fuck a new mate, but now that they’re all here? He tries not to think about Kaian’s open invitation from earlier.
Muttering, “Well, shit,” under his breath, he escapes to the laundry room where the dryer had stopped a few minutes before. Holding Kaian’s clothes to his nose, the citrus fabric softener has done nothing to quell Kaian’s sweet coconut scent; maybe they’ll do a better job of covering him up.
Back in the living room, he hands them over before his wolf can insist Kaian would look better in his t-shirt instead of the threadbare one that doesn’t smell like pack.
“These are yours. Washed. Dried. Definitely less ‘walk of shame.’”
Kaian huffs a laugh, shifting the bundle. “Thanks.”
Connall takes a step back. Kaian might not realize it, but that single move gives him the space to slip away to the restroom to get dressed if he wants.
Quinn knows damn well how hard it must be for Connall to let his mate out of sight, especially when none of them are wearing his mark yet.
That kind of restraint? Quinn has to respect it—a little.
But then Connall leans back against the island, arms folding across his broad chest like he’s royalty waiting for his subjects to debrief.
And just like that, the feeling is gone.
Who the hell does he think he is? He doesn’t say a word, but it clearly means: start at the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.
It makes Quinn want to poke the big bad wolf a little. Remind him that he’s not their leader—not yet—and maybe not ever. He mirrors Connall’s posture against the back of the couch.
Kaian sags beside him, no doubt wondering where to start, and even though Quinn wants to hear it all for himself, he won’t let Connall keep them all standing here when they all look tired as fuck.
“I think that’s enough for now,” Quinn says. “Everyone’s tired, and it’s a fucking long story. And it’s not the only one that needs telling.”
Elias gasps softly behind him. Anyone but Kaian would recognize the disrespectful edge in Quinn’s voice for what it is—dangerously close to a challenge.
A wave of wintery cold hits Quinn like frost down his spine, stinging his nose with the sharp bite of Connall’s disapproval.
Their alpha slowly straightens, and Quinn wonders, just for a second, if he’s pushed too far.
He’s overstepped, but it doesn’t matter. He stands taller, chin high, eyes locked on Connall’s.
And Connall looks back. For the first time, Quinn knows that Connall sees him.
They hold each other’s gaze for what feels like a lifetime. Quinn watches every flicker of emotion ripple across that infuriatingly handsome face—anger, surprise, and…admiration?
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Quinn sees Soren lift Isaac from his lap and set his feet on the floor. The moment shatters as Connall looks away.
Quinn deflates. It’s not the reaction he’d been unconsciously hoping for. Not really. But the absence of it still leaves him gutted, and he wishes he knew why.
Their alpha exhales, steadying himself. “You’re right, of course. We should get some rest.” He gestures vaguely toward the hallway. “There are two bedrooms, just—”
He turns on his heel, heading for the sliding glass doors without finishing the sentence.
“Alpha!” Isaac calls after him, but Connall can’t be bothered to acknowledge him. He’s saved from what Quinn thinks would only have been a harsh reprimand by Elias’s grip on his mate’s wrist.
The sliding door clicks shut behind Connall, and they all exhale.
Quinn wants to follow him out on the deck and risk waking their neighbors with a knock-down, drag-out fight. He wants to ask Connall why he’s always fucking running away.
Coward.
He drags his thoughts away from the fantasy of punching his alpha in the nose and getting a goddamn apology.
Focuses instead on his very confused Human mate—Kaian—who’s clutching his clothes to his chest and watching Quinn like he’s waiting for answers.
Quinn schools his face into blankness, steadying himself for the interrogation he knows is coming.
Soren’s going to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing, challenging Connall like that.
But Soren doesn’t say a word.
He turns slightly—just one step toward the door, like the pull is instinct—and it hits Quinn like a punch to the gut. Then he stops right in front of him.
Say something, Ren. Come on.
With a small shake of his head, he heads down the hall without hearing Quinn’s silent plea. The quiet closing of the bathroom door is only slightly less agonizing than if he’d followed Connall outside.
“Sooo…” Isaac says, his voice quivering as he tries to pretend an angry alpha doesn’t make them all want to puke. “Pasta? Is anyone hungry?”
“I’ll do it,” Elias says softly. His eyes flash to Quinn’s with a look of sympathy. He pulls Isaac after him, and soon, he’s digging around in the kitchen for enough food to feed six hungry men. Quinn wishes him luck.
Which leaves Quinn and Kaian alone.
“What the actual fuck is happening?” Kaian asks quietly.
“Welcome to pack life, bébé.” He says it like it’s a joke, and it really is.
A joke on him. Fate’s version of ha-fucking-ha on you.
But none of that is Kaian’s fault. “You should get dressed.”
He also knows his words don’t explain a goddamned thing, but he’s also sure anything he says about Connall right now wouldn’t help the situation.
His mate suddenly tilts his head and narrows his eyes, as if he suspects Quinn’s words aren’t quite the truth.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the front of an empty glass-fronted curio cabinet, Quinn sees that his eyes are dark, and his expression is carefully blank.
No different from usual, but he wouldn’t be surprised if there had been lingering… something.
Anger and frustration, probably.