Chapter 014 Calling for Backup
Quinn didn't run. Running would've handed Julian a win she wasn't ready to give. Instead, she walked out of his office like she owned the place—chin up, shoulders squared, every step measured. Dignity intact. Barely.
She made it to her room before the shakes hit. Door clicked shut. She leaned back against it, breaths ragged, chest heaving like she'd sprinted a marathon. Her body was still on fire. Humming. Blood pounding from his touch. The scrape of teeth on her throat. Pressure of his palm over her breast. That slow, devastating glide of his finger inside her.
"Stop," she whispered, slamming her palms over her closed eyes. "Just stop."
No dice. Her skin prickled, nipples tight against her bra, core clenching on nothing. She wanted to march back downstairs, scale him like a damn tree, and beg him to finish the job. Nothing in her spotty sex life had prepped her for this. Not the fumbling college hookups or the rare one-night stands that fizzled fast. This wasn't simple lust. Wasn't even strong attraction. It was bigger. Elemental. Like gravity yanking her straight into his orbit, no escape velocity in sight.
And he'd stopped. Pulled away when she was seconds from shattering again. All because of the full moon tomorrow and some wolfy code about control. Claiming. Permanent.
Permanent. The word bounced around the empty room like an echo in a server farm. He wanted to claim her forever. Bind her. No take-backs. Most women would've bolted at that from a guy she'd known a week. Hell, most sane people would.
But Quinn? She'd been temporary her whole life. Foster kid bounced house to house like a bad ping. Contractor hired to patch holes, then kicked out once the job was done. Perpetual outsider, nose pressed to glass, never rooting anywhere long enough to matter. The idea of permanent—with someone like Julian, who treated loyalty like oxygen? Terrifying. Tempting as hell.
You're the first in ages who makes me want to try.
Her own words slapped back at her. Cheeks burned. What the hell was that? Blurting raw honesty like some lovesick rookie? She'd built firewalls around her heart for exactly this—keeping power imbalances at bay, hurt at arm's length.
But his face... He'd looked at her like she'd handed him a glitchy prototype he suddenly couldn't live without. Precious. Fragile.
She shook her head. Needed data. Perspective.
Phone out. Contacts scrolled. Pathetic list. Work drones. Takeout joints. One emergency: Sarah, ex-foster sis in Portland, holiday texts only. Not "hey, banging a werewolf Alpha, AMA" material.
One name stood out. Pack-savvy. Trustworthy.
Elise picked up third ring, voice bright, winded. "Quinn! Thinking about you. Pack life treating you okay?"
"Confusing as hell. Need advice."
"You? From me?" Pleasure mixed with surprise. "I'll try. Spill."
Hesitation. How to frame this without sounding unhinged? "Werewolf stuff. Male dynamics, specifically."
Dead air. Telling.
"Someone special?" Elise cautious.
Eyes squeezed shut. "Julian Moonstone."
"Julian? He never hooks up with—"
"Humans?" Bitter edge slipped out.
"Females," Elise corrected soft. "What happened?"
"He kissed me."
Silence stretched.
"Three times. Technically I started—one was a thank-you peck—but then he—"
"Grabbed you. Kissed you stupid?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"Then?"
"Then he stopped." Frustration leaked. "Full moon too close, control issues. Doesn't trust easy."
"Morgana."
"You know her?"
"Grew up here. Total bitch. Used everyone."
"Did Julian love her?"
"Nah." Firm. "She faked devoted stepmom for years. He bought it, promised his dad he'd protect her. She hid the ugly with connections. Then she snatched Silas's mate."
Quinn gaped at the phone. "She what?"
"Kidnapped Julie. Ransom play. Forgot rule one: don't touch an Alpha's mate. Silas nearly ripped her apart. Julian banished her."
Matches what he'd hinted. "She tried seducing him too, I bet."
Long pause. "Wouldn't shock me. He's been solo forever, Quinn."
"He figures all women are like her. Schemers. Dangerous."
"Doesn't trust himself around them. Scared to let anyone close."
Heart twisted. She'd pegged his distance as outsider phobia. Human fragility. Nope. His scars. Old wounds festering.
"Full moon control thing?"
"Complicated." Thoughtful. "Amped instincts. Emotions. Desires. Regular wolves? Heightened buzz. Alphas? Protection drive, territoriality, claim urge—times a thousand. Compulsion, really. Secure mate. Pack line."
Priority. Urge.
Shiver hit. Not fear. Thrill. Conquest raw. His.
"Possessive much? Males in relationships?"
Elise laughed, knowing. Cheeks heated. "Understatement. Intense. Alphas obsessive. 'Mine' on loop. Jealous stares trigger growls. Track your spot 24/7. Hate separation."
Julian's growls at lingering pack guys. Office lockdown. Waist grip. Possessive as fuck.
Stomach flipped.
"Sounds... intense."
"Overkill if wrong fit. Right one? Devotion city. Fights worlds for you. You're his universe core."
Universe center. Never been that. Learned young: attach, lose. Built solo life—code, skills, no needs. Intense want? Scary.
Hot, too.
"But Alpha traditions—"
"Yeah. Mate strong she-wolves. Heirs. Co-leads. Humans? Rare. Moonstone traditional. Elders'd freak. Politics. Succession mess."
Gut dropped. "Human no-go, then."
"Not impossible! Just drama central."
Throat tight. "Right. Makes sense."
"Quinn, sorry, didn't mean—"
"Fine. Totally." Forced casual. "Not mating-shopping. Curious dynamics."
"Not into him?"
"Am. Confused. Frustrated. Obsessed weirdly."
"Mate bond."
"The hell?"
"Fated match. Instant pull. Overwhelm city. Humans feel it too, wolf-paired."
Brain blue-screened. "Julian's my—"
"Possible. Bonds resisted. Baggage. Stubborn. Fades unacted."
"Normal lust, maybe?"
"Human-wolf mix funky. Your vibes around him?"
Serious think. "Skin tight. Veins electric. Brain? Want want want loop."
"Mate bond. Or killer horniness. Tough call."
"Super helpful."
"Yep." Sympathy. "Plan?"
Laptop glowered. Half-done analysis ignored. Sensible? Distance. Professional. Heartbreak dodge—unavailable Alpha picks power she-wolf.
Sensible sucked. Careful life: alone, Pack House pining. Invested deeper than years' gigs.
Time for reckless.
"I wanna see where this goes," slow. "'This' whatever."
"Yes!" Enthusiasm warmed. Smile tugged. "Careful, though. Baggage heavy. Tough nut."
"Worthwhile ever easy?" Defiance sparked. "Gotta wrap breach. Won't hack itself."
"Call anytime. Werewolf BS rants included."
"Will. Thanks, Elise."
Click. Sat staring ancient forest window-framed. Week back? Werewolf wilds, trust-phobic Alpha, politics traps—terror.
Now? Determined. Locked in.
Desk back. Backdoor code up. Breach trail her ticket. Prove chops sans Julian prop. Trace planter, expose compromiser—she'd be savior. Not pink-haired outsider.
Pack needed saving. Her too.
Fingers flew. Code unspooled. Ghost account pinged faint. Hunt on.