Page 37 of Midnight Mate
When Mr. Whiskers made a break for it, Bayne lunged forward. “Oh no you don’t!”
The tiny menace juked left then shot under the door. The rodent was fast.
Bayne lunged for the door and yanked it open, nearly colliding with Quinn. The bastard stood there grinning, Mr. Whiskers nestled in his cupped palm like some precious offering. The hamster’s tiny sides heaved with each breath as it huddled against Quinn’s skin.
“Lose something?” Quinn’s eyebrow arched as he stroked one finger along the rodent’s back. “Seems like this little warrior got the better of you.” He raised his hand to eye level. “What do you say, fuzzball? Honorary pack member for outwitting a wolf?”
Retrieving Mr. Whiskers with a rumbling growl, Bayne pivoted to pass the creature to Clint, who’d already slipped on the protective gloves.
Quinn leaned against the doorframe, gaze sliding past Bayne. “When do I get a proper introduction? You and Vaughn protected my mate when I couldn’t. Least you could do is let me meet yours.”
The introduction was earned. Especially after Bayne had revealed their secrets to Quinn’s mate Sasha while Quinn lay unconscious, unable to make that choice himself.
Clint busied himself with the cage latch, gaze darting briefly to Bayne before finding sudden fascination with the floor.
The way Bayne’s heart settled in his mate’s presence felt like finding shelter after years of wandering in a storm.
“Quinn, meet Clint.” Bayne extended his hand, which Clint took after securing the hamster in its cage. “Clint, this is Quinn. A good friend of mine.”
“Pleasure.” Quinn’s grin widened. “Finally, someone who can give me proper medical advice.”
The growl that escaped Bayne’s throat was pure instinct.
“What?” Quinn spread his hands innocently. “He’s a vet. I’m a wolf. Connect the dots. Or do I need to draw you a diagram with little paw prints and stethoscopes?”
Clint’s expression remained professionally pleasant. “I do offer pack discounts on all services. The neutering package includes post-op care and a very stylish cone.” He smiled sweetly. “Should I schedule you an appointment?”
The color drained from Quinn’s face so rapidly Bayne thought he might pass out.
“That’s just…messed up,” Quinn muttered, hands drifting downward to shield his groin. “And here I thought rescuing your escape artist earned me some cool points.”
“I offered the stylish cone,” Clint argued.
Like that somehow made the offer better. With a roll of his eyes, Bayne clapped Quinn on his shoulder. “We can talk outside.”
Quinn glanced back at Clint. “Your mate is vicious.” He smiled. “I like him.”
* * * *
Quinn was perched on his truck’s tailgate in the parking lot, one leg swinging idly while Bayne laid out the whole story—from that night’s chaos to the unexpected appearances of both Vaughn and Zeppelin yesterday.
“Had us thinking someone might be hunting you,” Quinn said, squinting against the late-morning sun.
“Whatever they dosed me with made me see threats that weren't there. Your alpha needs to know about this stuff.” Bayne massaged the tense muscles at the base of his skull then leaned his weight against Clint’s truck. “It damn near erased me. Could’ve been an overdose, but anything that potent is a threat to all of us.”
Quinn’s boot continued its pendulum swing as he studied Bayne with knowing eyes.
Cutting that tie with Zeppelin had felt like amputating a limb, but Bayne’s rage demanded somewhere to land. Zeppelin had knowingly sent him into that nightmare. Forgiveness wasn’t on the table yet. Might never be. The wound was still too raw to tell.
After Zeppelin had left, Bayne had laid everything bare for Clint—the mission, the betrayal, all of it. His mate had just listened, saying nothing, before wrapping arms around him, which somehow made the broken pieces inside feel whole again.
As the first tears broke free, Clint had pulled him close without hesitation, as if Bayne’s vulnerability was something precious rather than shameful, those steady hands tracing circles on his back bringing him comfort.
The walls Bayne had spent years fortifying crumbled under that simple acceptance.
That’s why he couldn’t go back to the pack house. Not because he didn’t love them, but because Clint was the first person who let him be broken and whole at the same time. Bayne had been a soldier for centuries. His mate had given him permission to just be…him.
“Gonna miss you, brother.” Quinn sat up, dragging fingers through his hair where the sun revealed threads of gold among the brown. “Not gonna be the same without you there.” His voice dropped, rougher at the edges. “Who’s gonna call me on my bullshit now?”
“You know damn well Sasha’s gonna keep you honest.” Bayne chuckled. “And stop acting like I’m not a vet appointment away.”
Quinn winced. “Dude, don’t remind me. I can’t believe your mate tried to spin me with that package deal. Truly fucking viscous.”
Clint wouldn’t actually do it, though he couldn’t be sure. But Clint would make an appointment for Bayne’s own neutering if the wolves thought the vet office was their new hangout.
“I’ll let you get back to your mate.” Quinn hopped down, gave Bayne a bro-hug, then slipped inside his truck as Vaughn exited his.
The pack still pulled at him like gravity, but Bayne was no longer bound to its orbit. He rolled his shoulders, feeling lighter with each step as he turned toward the clinic doors—toward Clint and the freedom of finally choosing his own path.
THE END