Page 35 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

Asher

W hatever exhaustion I felt before is gone. Quinn clings to my hand, pressing up against my back as we walk down the narrow alley and head towards the stairs that lead up to my flat. My blessing beats in time with my heart, reaching out for the faint silvery magic of Quinn’s wolf.

He’s mine. All mine. And he’s whole and healed, for the most part, because I know there is not a chance that his pack have let him out of their collective sight without being certain of that.

Quinn crashes into my back as I reach the door, lips trailing down the side of my throat. I fumble my keys out of my pocket. He pushes a hand under my T-shirt and presses up against me more firmly.

“Should we slow this down?” I ask as I put the key in the lock.

“No.” Quinn pauses, lifting his head. “Do you want to?”

I grin. “No.”

“Good.” He bites me—only gently—and my knees go weak. Fuck. Never mind our age difference. He already has most of the measure of me, and I can’t wait for him to get the rest.

We stumble inside and Quinn kicks the door shut as he shoves me up against the wall next to it.

Something catches my notice before he kisses me again—something is different in here—but I don’t have a chance to worry about it.

Quinn rolls his hips against mine, hands desperate, fingers digging in, and I’m just as lost to him as he is to me.

I drag his head back, and when he whines, I scrape my teeth down his jaw, making him shiver.

“A-Asher,” he says, voice shaking. “I need…”

“I know. I’ve got you.” I kiss down his throat roughly, and he reaches for my belt. I grab his wrists, trying to slow him down. I have a bed. We’re not doing this for the first time standing next to my front door.

Quinn frowns at me. He opens his mouth, and that’s when I realise what’s wrong.

The living room door is shut. I never close it. Leaving it open lets more light into the flat and keeps the room aired.

I reach out with my blessing, then tighten my grip on Quinn’s wrists. He looks at me in question.

“Fae,” I murmur, pressing my lips to his ear.

I told Vlad earlier that Sorrel escaped. They’re all out looking for him now. The only reason I’m not is that Vlad insisted I go sleep—he wanted me to stay at the base, but Quinn’s never been there, and part of me wondered if he might come…

I push Quinn towards the door, but he shifts his weight and shakes his head. His hands flex. Claws erupt from the ends of his fingers.

I shake my head. We had trouble enough with these fae earlier today, and there were three of us then, including Sparrow. I try to push him towards the door again, but he doesn’t budge.

“Qui—”

I don’t get the word out. Apparently, Sorrel is not that patient. He bursts through the living room door, and his first blast of magic hits Quinn right in the side. It tears him from my grip, and he hits the door hard, letting out a pained groan.

I move in front of him, and when Sorrel’s magic flies out again, my blessing rises to meet it. All that energy crashes in the centre of the room, and my blessing makes a valiant attempt to protect me—protect us both—but Sorrel’s magic shatters it, some getting through.

I brace myself against the pain. He’s injured, at least, breathing hard and looking suspiciously peaky. Fury swirls in his dark eyes. “You killed my brother,” he snarls.

Quinn’s still breathing behind me. Standing, even. I’m not going to let Sorrel hurt him.

Sorrel doesn’t get the memo. He sends more magic flying at me again, another blast, then another that follows it too quickly. Quinn darts around me when I go crashing into the wall.

“Quinn, don’t!”

Sorrel snarls, turning his attention from me. “What are you going to do, little—”

Quinn shifts. From one second to the next, he’s his wolf, stepping out of his clothes, and he’s magnificent . Tawny fur ripples as he stalks Sorrel, whose expression finally wavers. A low, dangerous growl fills the air. I shake off the pain of that last magical hit and prepare my blessing.

I don’t need to. Sorrel lifts his hands and Quinn strikes.

He’s deadly. Precise. Teeth clamp down on Sorrel’s throat as Quinn uses his bulk and the momentum of his leap to bring him to the ground.

Sorrel cries out—a scream that becomes a gurgle as Quinn jerks his head and the scent of blood fills the air.

It’s over in seconds. I lean back against the wall again, breathing hard. That’s why they fear wolves, isn’t it? Sorrel’s magic hardly even slowed Quinn down.

“Quinn?” I murmur when he steps away from Sorrel’s corpse, letting out a little huff. “Quinn, are you—”

He flinches away when I come close, showing me his teeth. I scowl and drop to my knees. “None of that now,” I say sharply, injecting all the power I can muster into my tone.

Quinn whimpers. Blood paints his muzzle and paws. It’s spreading in a slow pool across my kitchen floor.

“Come here.”

I don’t care about the sticky warmth of it as Quinn presses his muzzle to my throat. He collapses against me—more for comfort than due to any injury, I think—and I push my face into his fur.

“You did so well, darling,” I murmur. “Not just tonight. Fuck, you’ve done so well.”

Quinn whines. I shove my hands deep into his fur, letting out my own shaky breath. They’re gone. They’re gone, and we’re here, and we are, for now, the safest we will ever be.

“Shift back for me?”

Quinn lifts his big head, and his dark eyes linger on me for a moment. He steps out of my embrace and from one breath to the next, he’s a man again. He presses his lips together.

“Here.” I hold out my arms. “Here, please.”

Quinn almost bowls me over, the way he leaps into the embrace. He shivers in my arms, but he’s not crying. “I thought you would—Did I go too far?”

“No, pup. No. You protected me. You saved me.” I kiss his temple, uncaring of the blood right now. I don’t remember the last time anyone truly did that. We look out for each other in the Hunt, but we work alone so often… Sorrel would have killed me, if not for Quinn.

“His magic felt weird.”

“Yeah?”

Quinn hums.

“I have to call the others.” They’ll get rid of the body, if nothing else. And they need to know. They need to end their search. “Come on, up we get.”

We get to our feet, and now Quinn is shivering, but that might just be because he’s naked. It’s not warm in here. I squeeze the back of his neck before I step around him, taking a look at Sorrel’s body.

Oh, he’s dead all right. Blood stains his green hair, his pale skin. His eyes are still open, but they see nothing at all. I reach out with my blessing and get nothing back.

If he did get away with some of Quinn’s magic and some of mine, there’s no trace of it here.

“Asher,” Quinn murmurs.

“Yeah, okay,” I say. “Come on. I’ll get you in the shower and then I’ll call the others to come and take care of this. Okay?”

He bites his lip and nods. “Okay.”