Undying Hope. Emma Weylin
whining sound as the white wolf scooted toward him until their noses touched. The hairy man closed the back door and waved at Quinn.
He waved back before he pulled out.
“She doesn’t like snow?” Haven asked a bit surprised.
“I love it,” said a very distinctly feminine voice right in Haven’s head. “My mate seems to think anything wet will make me melt if I have to be subjected to it until my time.”
Nikon huffed and licked the top of Medea’s head. “Cold paws could give you a chill, and you never know what humans did in the alley.”
Haven covered her mouth to keep from laughing. She whispered, “Are they always like this?”
“They get worse,” Quinn said in a pained tone. “Don’t get me wrong. Love is a wonderful thing, but I think some of us are little more gushing with it than others.”
“Laugh it up.” Nikon said. “You’ll see when it’s your turn.”
Haven shook her head. “I can hear them talking.”
“Wonderful,” Quinn said, seeming relieved. “Perhaps I won’t get roped into girl chat quite as often.”
“So you hear them too?”
“Usually,” he said.
“Of course!” Medea sounded. “It’s rude not to include others in your conversation.”
“Unless it’s private, and then it’s rude to snoop,” Nikon added in a tone that said someone in the Hummer had a problem with knowing the difference.
Medea nipped at him and then licked the spot she’d nipped.
Haven shook her head, sure they were talking together as she turned her attention back to Quinn. “Bastian?”
“Ah, yes,” Quinn murmured as the air around them infused with power.
“What the hell!” Bastian yelled. “Where am I? Where did that asshole go—hey, my head doesn’t hurt. Why can’t I move?”
“I am Quinn Donovan,” Quinn introduced himself. “You are in my car. I have agreed to help you and Haven. Kyros has been run off for now. I thought it best to keep you immovable until I knew how you and your passenger were going to react while I drive on slick roads.”
“Let me go,” Bastian rudely demanded. He jackknifed upright with a startled cry. He rubbed at the lump at the back of his head. “Thanks. I think. Why doesn’t my head hurt?”
“Because your passenger knows it is unable to defeat me,” Quinn said in a soft timber.
“Passenger?” Haven and Bastian said at the same time.
“The power growing in him is properly called a treòir. It will continue to grow and gain in power until the time of death. As far as I know, no one has aged to the point of its full maturity.” Quinn glanced up into the rearview mirror before turning his attention back to the road.
“I thought you couldn’t die,” Haven said. “Since you’re undying and all.”
“We can be killed,” Quinn said in a somber tone. “The one failsafe we were given when the Originals were created.”
“Whoa,” Bastian said. “I hear an über history lesson coming on, and I think my head is starting to throb again.”
Haven glared over her shoulder at him. “Bastian! This information could be useful to you.”
“Leave the boy alone,” Quinn said with a chuckle. “It is late, and there was much excitement this evening. A more formal education can wait until both of you have settled.”
“But—”
Quinn reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. “As much as you need time to process and figure out the new shift in your world, he does also.”
She squeezed his hand. The urge to cry was strong, but there would be time for the release of emotion later. It was difficult to believe she’d finally landed somewhere she and Bastian would be safe.
“We’ll be to our destination soon,” Quinn murmured.
She kept waiting for Bastian to howl in pain because his headaches were always the worst when she was upset—and he didn’t even have to get into a fight to cause them. Quinn, for his part, kept driving one-handed in the middle of a snowstorm while softly stroking her hand and making reassuring noises.
When they pulled into an underground garage, Haven began to get a grasp on her new situation. “Where are we?”
“My home.” He pulled into a parking spot right next to the elevator door marked Building Owner. “I live on the top floor.”
Right. He was supposed to be the richest man in Chicago. “I have an interview at Fantasia tomorrow.”
He turned to look at her. “No, you don’t.”
“Um, yes, I do,” she insisted.
“We’ll discuss your employment options with one of my businesses once you no longer have a deranged meirlock wanting to kill you,” he said in a sweet tone.
Her teeth gritted together. “How am I going to afford—”
“Haven,” he snapped at her. “You need to stop and calm down. I will call Mitchel tomorrow morning and let him know you cannot make your interview. If your sincerest desire is to work in one of my clubs, you will, but after you no longer put my employees’ lives in danger.”
Her mouth dropped open and then snapped shut.
“I need the little puppy’s room!” Medea sounded in everyone’s mind. “Now!”
Quinn scrambled out of the Hummer and opened the back door for her. Medea bounded out, shook her body, and then loped toward the entrance. Nikon hurried after her.
Quinn watched the wolves until they were gone, and then handed Bastian a duffle. “Bastian, you can help me get the bags.”
Haven sat frozen. There was just too much all at once, and Quinn was right. She wasn’t handling anything well just yet.
Her door opened, and Quinn stood on the other side with his glacier eyes scorching with heat. “You coming?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess I am.”
Quinn helped her down, only this time he didn’t let her slide along his body. What a pity. She’d so enjoyed their contact the first time, but it was better he gave her space to get her head back on straight. Quinn and Bastian got the few bags next to the elevator door.
“We’ll wait for the wolves,” Quinn said, using his body to trap Haven against the wall and block the wind. The heat that radiated from him caused her to grow warmer than was natural in a parking garage this time of year.
When the wolves returned, Quinn pushed a peculiar sequence of buttons before the long ride in the elevator. The door opened into a grand, battle-fortress foyer with huge carved wooden doors flanking either side of the elevator.
“It’s”—she paused, not sure she liked post-modern cave warrior—“an interesting choice in décor.”
He shrugged. “I’ve collected this stuff my entire life. I was lucky to be able to find most of it after the time-shift.” He dropped the bags next to a closet door. “I only have one guest room,” he said in that buttery baritone that left her feeling weak. “The boy can have it. I’ll take my office, and you can stay in my room.”
“Th-thank you,” Haven managed. There should be more questions bubbling out, but she wanted to get a handle on all the new information she had first. Her head was about to explode with the excessive influx of knowledge. “I’m sorry. I—”
“You’re