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Authors: Cyndi Friberg

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“But I responded. I was just as wild as you were.”

He shook his head. “It’s not the same. No matter how many
times you climaxed, I wouldn’t have been able to come.”

“Like in the hot tub?”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She looked away from his grim
face, unable to concentrate with his penetrating stare boring into her. “Erin
never said anything about side effects.”

His warm chuckle drew her gaze back to his face. “She
probably thought I deserved it. I suspect she wouldn’t have offered you the kit
if you’d chosen Ian.”

The casual mention of the other man’s name sent unanswered
questions tumbling through her mind. There was never going to be a good time
for this subject and he was already annoyed with her. What did she have to
lose? She took a deep breath and placed her hand on his chest. “I don’t need
details, but will you please let me know why they—”

“Hate me?”

“I was going to say mistrust you.”

He stepped back, away from her touch, then returned to his
chair. “Erin might mistrust me, but Ian hates me.”

“Why?” She sat as well, crossing her legs in an attempt to
appear at ease. “Did you use your ability on his sister or something?”

“Best friend’s wife,” Quinn supplied without outward emotion.

She’d figured as much, but his motivation was still a
mystery. “Was there a reason for your actions, or did you lose control?” There
had to be more to the story than Ian knew or was willing to accept. Quinn could
be arrogant and domineering, but he was fiercely protective and honorable.
There was no way he would intentionally harm a woman.

Quinn’s brow arched in mock surprise. “Someone is going to
ask questions before passing judgment? This will be a first.”

She tried not to be affected by his obvious bitterness.
Objectivity was key to understanding any situation. “How did it happen?”

“I was hunting a man named Russell.”

“Ian’s best friend?”

“Ian claims they were closer than brothers.” Quinn shrugged.
Despite his calm expression, resentment and regret warred within his gaze.
“There’s no accounting for taste.”

“What had Russell done? Why were you hunting him?”

“Armed robbery. The worthless bird had a thing against
honest work.”

If she was going to give Quinn the benefit of a doubt, Ian
deserved it too. “Why would Ian defend someone like that?”

“According to Ian, Russell was an adrenaline junkie who
would do all sorts of irrational things for the thrill of it.”

“That’s no excuse.”

The shadow of a smile fell across Quinn’s lips. “I agree.
Society is too quick to justify wrong choices with syndromes and behavioral
disorders. Three people got shot while Russell chased his adrenaline fix that
day. One of them almost died.”

“What about Russell’s wife? Had she done something wrong?”
If she wanted the complete truth, she had to be willing to dig for the answers
and risk reawakening Quinn’s temper.

“Jillian was aiding and abetting a violent fugitive.” His
voice remained conversational, but his features began to tense. “I could have
shot her and been within my rights.”

That was obviously Quinn’s perspective. By the letter of the
law, Jillian was guilty and his actions were justified. But the woman in
Carissa couldn’t help but identify with the choices Jillian had faced. How
could any woman stand by and allow the man she loved to be incarcerated?
Therian males weren’t the only ones who could feel protective.

“How did triggering Jillian’s heat help you find Russell?”
They were moving closer to the heart of the matter, the conflict stemming from
the circumstances. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, not even sure when
she’d untucked it.

“I didn’t intend for the result to be as powerful as it was.
I just needed to be able to track her to her mate.”

Regret twisted his features for a moment before he retreated
behind his expressionless mask. She’d felt an odd ping of emotions, like an
echo down a long corridor. Was she starting to sense emotional spikes in his
consciousness? Would this happen more often as their bodies adapted to each
other?

“I brushed up against her in a bar then went to my truck to
wait for her to rendezvous with Russell. She ducked out the back and I never
saw her leave. According to Ian, Jillian’s scent was so strong and her need so
demanding that Russell walked in on a Roman-style orgy featuring his wife.” He
shook his head and stared off into the distance. “Russell ran out of the motel
room in a blind rage and I managed to trap him, but none of it unfolded the way
I’d planned. Jillian was collateral damage. That was never my intention.”

Carissa hesitated. She still had so many questions, but
Quinn stared into nothingness, sullen and defeated. She didn’t want to revisit
this hurtful memory once they ended this conversation, so she reluctantly
pushed on.

“Was Ian directly involved in some way or did he just know
the couple?”

Quinn released a heavy sigh then said, “Ian led the charge
to have me banished. He submitted the case in Jillian’s name, but everyone knew
he was the driving force behind the charges.”

“Were you close before this happened?”

“Kyle knew him a lot better than I did, but at one time I
considered him a friend.”

Which would have made Ian’s betrayal sting all the more. She
knew the outcome of the trial, so she didn’t ask for details. “Had anyone ever
responded that strongly to your ability before?”

“Yes, but the situation was vastly different.” Quinn’s dark
gaze shifted back to her face. Most of the anger had melted from his
expression, but the pain was even more upsetting.

She wanted to touch him, smooth the worry lines from his
brow and trace along his prickly jaw. But she knew he’d bat her hand away and
retreat even farther. “How was the situation different?”

“I was fifteen when it happened the first time. Kyle dared
me to ask an older girl to dance. I’d never touched a female before and I
became immediately aroused. The more excited I became, the more excited it made
her. By the end of the dance, she was ready to do a whole lot more than dance.
Kyle was convinced I’d done something to her. I told him he was full of shit,
but when I tried it again a few weeks later, the same thing happened.”

“You were only fifteen when this began?” A young male
discovering his own sexuality with the power to instantly arouse females. She
couldn’t imagine a more volatile situation. “Were you tempted to switch on every
girl you encountered?”

“I can’t say the thought never crossed my mind. But as
someone so kindly pointed out, switching females on is rather like slipping
them a date rape drug. Rape, in any form, is abhorrent to me.”

She cringed at the reminder of her careless charge. She
hadn’t meant it as an accusation. She just hadn’t been thinking when she chose
her illustration. “How long did it take you to figure out how to control it?”

“As with any Therian ability, mine grew stronger with age.
Luckily, as the female reaction to me became stronger, I found the path within
myself and figured out how to open and close it.” Quinn related the facts with
casual indifference, as if he were no longer talking about himself. She
recognized the defense mechanism, having used it herself from time to time.

“You said there was another time when the woman had an
unusually strong reaction to your pulse,” Carissa prompted, not wanting to hear
a detailed list of his conquests.

He’d crossed his legs, resting his ankle on his knee. He looked
restless and edgy, apparently as uncomfortable with the topic as she was. “I
dated a woman about four years ago who was into designer drugs. If she was high
when we had sex, she was wild for days.”

“You think Jillian was high when your pulse hit her?” She
really didn’t want to hear about his sexual exploits.

“My best guess is exstasy. It stimulates the pleasure center
of the brain and releases a person’s inhibitions. It’s the perfect boost for my
ability.” He fiddled with the buckle on his boot, voice tense and resigned.

Carissa touched his knee, drawing his attention back to her.
“What happened to Jillian, you know, after all that?”

“There was no after,” he snapped, rolling away from her
again. “Russell was locked up by the time she came down and he refused to see
her. The story of her behavior spread like wildfire and her network treated her
like a whore. By the time Russell calmed down enough to start asking questions,
it was too late.”

The gravity in his tone led to only one conclusion. The
question hung on the tip of her tongue, a final barrier between her and the
truth. “She…killed herself?” Quinn nodded and her heart constricted,
momentarily stealing her breath. She felt horrible for the couple who had been
destroyed by the situation. Jillian’s life had ended much too soon. But Quinn
must be riddled with guilt. Regardless of his intentions, his actions had led
to an innocent woman’s death. “So Ian swore to kill you if you ever switched on
another female.”

“As if I needed to be told!” Quinn grated out the words
between clenched teeth as he slowly pushed to his feet. “Her face haunts me
every fucking day. She was mated, for God’s sake. I thought she would run
straight to her husband and he would take care of her needs. They would have
one last night together before Russell answered for his crimes. I had no idea…
There was no need for Ian’s crusade. No power on earth could make me do it
again.”

She took a step toward him, but he strode to the ladder and
scrambled down to the main floor. “I’m sorry,” she said to the empty loft,
hoping he’d hear her. She’d honestly thought it would be good for them to share
a bit more of themselves. She needed to reconcile her impression of Quinn with
the way he was treated by others.

Suddenly a stray fact reached the surface of her memory.
Erin had said Quinn had been banished by the network. They’d made him a social
pariah, adding insult to injury. He’d been doing his job. He had no way of
knowing that Jillian would react so powerfully to the pulse.

She moved closer to the railing, so she could see the living
room below. He sat on the sofa, booted feet propped on the scuffed coffee
table. “Are there Therian prisons? How are shapeshifters incarcerated?”

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he glanced up at
her. “Are you sure you’re not a reporter?”

“I can’t help it.” She folded her arms on the peeled-log
railing and smiled. “I’m part cat.”

He slowly shook his head and folded his arms over his chest,
accenting the bulk of his muscular arms. “There’s a Therian prison in the Yukon
wilderness, but Therians are more interested in justice for victims than the
rehabilitation of criminals so we have far fewer prisoners than humans.”

Now there was a concept that deserved further discussion,
but she’d obviously annoyed him enough for one night.

A knock drew his attention to the front door. “It’s probably
Landon, but stay there.”

Stay there. She was starting to hate the phrase. It rolled
off the tongues of Therian males with frustrating regularity. Their instinctual
need to protect her only shined a glaring light on her inability to protect
herself. She needed to learn how to fight, or they needed to teach her how to
access her latent abilities so she wouldn’t be so helpless.

Quinn opened the door and muttered a greeting to the blond
man standing on the porch. The newcomer wasn’t as tall as Quinn, but he managed
to emanate the subtle menace Carissa had sensed in other Therian males. His
hair was a unique blending of silver, gold and bronze. Humans would think he’d
spent a fortune having highlights and lowlights threaded through his wavy hair,
but she suspected the combination was entirely natural. His body was compact
and lean, his features striking rather than classically handsome.

“My men are in place. Is there something specific we should
be looking for?”

So this was Landon. Why was a wolf-shifter helping a
powerful cat clan? Weren’t the wolves supposed to be in league with Osric?

“The shooter took off in a dark-blue truck, but it’s
unlikely they’ll send the same man.” Quinn dug the transceivers out of his
pocket and handed them to Landon. “I’ll give you ten minutes to pass these out
then activate the grid.”

As they shifted position to make the exchange, Landon
spotted Carissa and paused. With his pale-blue gaze focused on her and light
shining in his unusual hair, Carissa felt even more vulnerable than she had
when she met tiger-biker Jake.

Landon inclined his head in silent greeting and Carissa did
the same.

“Jake’s crew will be back in the morning,” Landon told Quinn
and left without another word.

Quinn shut and locked the door, pausing with his back
against the solid wood panel. “Now where were we?” He stared up at her, his
gaze dark and brooding.

“I’m sorry about the inquisition. I didn’t realize the event
would still be so painful.”

“You’re full of shit, sweetheart.” He pushed off the door
and moved toward her. Each step was slow and measured, as if he stalked a
lesser being, deciding how best to devour his prey. “Only something painful
could create that sort of hostility. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

He was right. She’d had a pretty good idea where the story
led, just hadn’t imagined the end would be quite so harrowing. “Do you want to
know something about me? I’m willing to give as good as I get.”

With inhuman strength he leapt from the floor of the cabin
to the loft. She scrambled back with a startled gasp, hand pressed over her
heart.

“Why don’t you get naked, so I can put that claim to the
test?”

Chapter Seven

 

Carly straightened her jacket and smoothed her skirt as
dread twisted through her abdomen. “Have I done something wrong?”

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