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Max groaned and squeezed his eyes shut until he saw sparks of color. He had to run before the Order found him. They tracked down every mage within days of their Spark and whisked them off to be trained in their magical army. “Bet you’ll make your money back when they get here.”

Caius removed his hand from Max’s neck and shut off the water. “I don’t intend to let the Order take you. I’d rather bind you to me and my pack.”

Max blinked water out of his eyes and flexed his fingers; the flames had died out for the moment. “Of course you would,” he muttered. That was the biggest pitfall of being a mage. Everyone wanted to bind them.

It took a moment for the rest of that to sink in.

“Wait. Your pack?” Fuck. Caius was a shifter?

He should have known. How else would Caius have known he’d Sparked?

That wasn’t something normal humans could sense unless the magic went out of control.

He pressed his hands against his face with a hysterical laugh.

This day was a shit sundae, and the ice cream machine had diarrhea.

“Max,” Caius said, “look at me.”

Max ignored him and hunched over his knees again.

He couldn’t do this. He might not know much about mages or shifters aside from what he’d seen in the media and the news, but even he knew all mages were wary of shifters.

It was a popular trope in movies. A shifter coerced a mage to accept a binding, which forced them to do the shifter’s bidding, and used them until either the mage grew powerful enough to break the bond or the shifter fell in love and released them.

Considering his shit luck in life so far, he doubted either of those were in his future.

“Max.” This time, Caius’ voice was sharp.

Max flinched, bracing himself for a blow as he was pulled to his feet.

“Quinn!”

Panic clawed up his throat, but he knew better than to fight.

He was already caught. That had never stopped him before, but he knew at least his father’s men would never kill him without a direct order.

He had no idea what Caius intended to do with him, other than bind him. And likely turn him into a sex slave.

He had to escape before that happened, but he had to get through the damn panic attack first, and whatever punishment they intended to deal out. He squeezed his eyes shut again, focusing on the chill from the water clinging to him and on not hyperventilating.

“The fuck did you do?”

“Nothing,” Caius said, sounding defensive.

“The hell you didn’t, he smells terrified. Get out.”

A pathetic whimper escaped Max when arms wrapped around him. A warm scent of cinnamon filled his nose, and he carefully blinked his eyes open when no attack came.

“You’re okay, Max. You’re safe.”

That wasn’t Caius. It sounded like the redhead. Max raised his arms to push away, but they found their way around the stranger instead.

“I’m Quinn, by the way. Kinda wish we were meeting under better circumstances. But I have a brilliant idea, if you wanna hear.” There was a hint of a lilting accent to his voice, but Max couldn’t focus enough to place it.

Max fought for two controlled breaths before he got his voice to work. “Sure.”

Quinn propped his chin on top of Max’s head. “Why don’t you take a shower and clean up any blood we missed while I find you some clean clothes, and then when you’re ready, I can make you some food? Be warned, I can only make eggs and bacon or a killer grilled cheese sandwich.”

His stomach rumbled and let them both know what it thought of that idea. “Okay.”

“Great,” Quinn said brightly.

Max expected Quinn to release him, but he didn’t, and it felt too nice for Max to move first. Several long moments ticked by before the awkwardness finally won out and he forced himself to let go .

Quinn smiled and stepped back. “You can toss your wet clothes in the sink. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.” He closed the door behind him, leaving Max standing alone in the bathtub like a drowned rat.

What the fuck was his life? This had to be a lucid dream, but pinching himself didn’t accomplish anything but a bruise.

With a sigh, he peeled off the wet shirt and boxers and tossed them in the sink.

He really wanted a hot shower, but the thought of his entire body catching fire was enough he set the water to lukewarm instead.

Then he stood there, fighting the haze of shock and post-panic as he wondered what he was supposed to do.

He couldn’t possibly believe he was safe here, but… they’d healed his injuries. Even his father had never wasted the money for a mage to heal him before. If Caius intended to bind Max for his powers, he’d at least want Max alive. Which was more than his father apparently wanted.

It wasn’t much, but he could work with that.

The water went cold before he felt like himself again, but losing time was familiar enough to ignore. He found the clothes waiting for him and dressed in another too-large shirt and sweats, pulling the drawstrings tight.

He’d left his phone behind in the hopes he wouldn’t be tracked on his way to the airport, but his keys and wallet were on the nightstand. He shoved them in his pocket before he stopped near the bedroom door.

He could do this. He could figure out how to deal with being a mage. How to keep these shifters from binding him. How to keep the Order from getting hold of him.

He was so utterly fucked.

He let out a slow breath and descended the stairs, then lingered at the bottom as he breathed in the scent of cooking garlic. His stomach rumbled again, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in over a day.

“In here,” Quinn called.

With another breath, he forced one foot in front of the other as he followed the voice to the kitchen.

There were no walls dividing the kitchen from the rest of the floor, and he could see out of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

A rare, unobstructed view of the foothills stretched beyond the backyard, so different from his view of city buildings and the claustrophobic feeling of his own home.

His feet itched to run into the forest and disappear despite the dusting of snow on the ground.

“Hungry?” Quinn patted the spot at the island counter next to Caius .

Max carefully sank into the chair, eyeing the half-eaten sandwich on Caius’ plate. It oozed melted cheese with what looked like avocado, tomato, and bacon.

Quinn grabbed a can of Dr Pepper from the fridge and set it in front of Max.

He hesitated a moment before nudging it away with his fingertips. “Can I have a water?”

Quinn gasped and snatched the can, cradling it to his chest. “You decline the nectar of the gods?” he asked, shooting Caius a dirty look when he snickered. “Neither of you are worthy,” he sniffed.

Max tensed as he waited for Caius’ reaction to that lack of respect, but Caius ignored them both in favor of checking his phone.

Quinn traded the can for a glass of ice water. “So, grilled cheese or breakfast? Or we have, like, fifty takeout menus you can browse through.”

Max grimaced, his stomach twisting at the thought of greasy food. “Eggs and toast?”

“No bacon?” Quinn turned back to the fridge for the carton of eggs.

“I don’t eat pork.”

“Aren’t you Italian?”

Max rolled his eyes, ready for any number of jokes or derogatory comments, but Quinn only chuckled.

“Cheese and avocado for your eggs?”

“Yes, please.” He sipped his water and watched as Quinn cracked eight eggs into a bowl and popped four slices of bread into the toaster. “I can’t eat all that.”

Quinn waved a hand at him. “Eat what you can. One of us will finish the rest.”

Max sipped his water rather than argue. “Sorry for freaking out earlier.” He was still freaking out a little, but the last several years had been one constant low-grade panic attack, so that was nothing new.

Caius glanced up from his phone and set it aside. “Freaking out is understandable. Your entire life has been upended.”

“Yeah, you’ve basically gone from one shit existence to another,” Quinn said dryly.

Caius shot a dark look at his back. “He means being a mage, not being brought here.”

Quinn glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “Obviously,” he said, sounding offended .

Max eyed them both, unable to figure out the dynamic between them.

Caius spoke like he was the head of the pack, but Quinn didn’t seem overly concerned about pissing him off.

His father had disposed of people for any lack of respect.

He’d always wondered how his father retained any loyalty.

Fear could only control people for so long.

He’d imagined killing his father so many times that sometimes they felt like real memories instead of only dreams.

Only now that he’d finally gotten free, he was at the mercy of a pack of shifters.

“I don’t really have a choice in any of this, do I?

” He sat back as Quinn set a plate in front of him, piled high with scrambled eggs, cheese, and avocado, surrounded by buttered toast. “I had a ticket to Japan. I could change it for the next flight out.” Even as he said it, his brief flare of hope fizzled out.

He was a mage now, and if there was one thing he knew was true of mages, it was that they always ended up bound to someone one way or another.

“Even if we wanted to put you on a plane, you wouldn’t get far,” Quinn said, and Max almost believed his apologetic tone was genuine. “The Order has to know you exist by now, and they’ll narrow down where to find you soon.”

“How? Denver is huge.”

“They put nets over the bigger cities. Like a magical sonar. A new mage Sparks and they know when and where almost instantly.” Quinn pulled a jar of strawberry jam from the fridge and set it beside Max’s plate.

“Even if the plane took off before they get here, they’d be waiting for you when you landed. ”