Her Lycan Lover Page 22

  “You will remain put,” he growled down into Sherry’s angry face.

  “You won’t shoot me, Quinn darling,” Nina said, edging closer. “She’s nothing. Stop protecting that cheap slut.”

  “Drop you in a heartbeat.” He cocked the gun, taking in Nina’s greying skin and darkening eyes. “All along, you let the Fae cross and now you’re one of them.”

  His Lycan senses had been right—that was how he had tracked Sherry here. He’d been speaking with Shawn back at the Den and a gold lighter with a rose design had caught his eye on the corner of his partner’s desk. Turned in by the one of the cleaning crew. Quinn had picked it up. Running his finger over the rose emblem on the metal, he’d recalled the same rose insignia on Sherry’s dagger. The repulsive Fae scent lifting off the lighter had lanced his Lycan senses. It began to click in Quinn’s mind. The night of Simon’s party and the blonde with the cigarette. Nina Miles. Thank the fuck he actually remembered her name. He accessed Nina’s guest record and boom! The address matched Carrigan’s property from the list. The insignia—the Fae-stinking lighter—the kidnapping—the math was simple.

  The shifters from the Den had stormed the address that turned out to be an empty office. They regrouped, forming smaller teams, and each took a different address from the property list Sherry had left. He didn’t know if it was luck or destiny, but he picked this location. He had zeroed in on Sonya’s scent downstairs when a pair of the hybrids guarding the entrance saw him. With a couple of loaded and aimed pistols, the guards had escorted him upstairs.

  “Quinn, let me go.” Sherry thrashed, tugging on his fingers.

  “Sher, stop,” he growled low in a Lycan tone. His lupine instinct flared under the onslaught of rapid-fire stimulation. Danger was near.

  His breath felt cut off. His dream was wrong. The imminent risk was not coming for him. Grappling with his urge to protect Sherry, his body began to tighten as his bones started lengthening. He ignored the pain. Accustomed to the Lycan transformation, he kept his focus trained on his mate.

  Hair follicles under his skin were electrified by the rush of adrenaline coursing in his bloodstream, and he began seamlessly shifting into his wolf form. His clothing began to stretch as his body expanded.

  Sherry yanked herself free. “I can help!”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Quinn moved directly in front of Sherry, shielding her body. He took hold of her, locked his gaze on her for a heartbeat, and basked in the glowing golden color of her eyes. Wolf eyes. He forced down a primal growl, flaring in his throat. He blinked to clear his mind. Unwilling to lose sight Nina, who was head of this fucking shite, he swung his gaze back across the room. He kept wondering where in the hell Carrigan hid.

  “Keep in back of me.” His anger boiled as he forced Sherry behind him.

  Figures that motherfucker would go into hiding. Standard for a snake. Quinn’s heartbeat thundered with the careening of his wolf senses on high alert. Training his gaze on Nina and simultaneously keeping track of Sherry in back of him, he spoke low, almost too low for human hearing, “These men and her, your so-called High Priestess, are the sympathizers. They’ve consumed Fae power. Intoxicated by this fucking evil and there is no way to change them back. There’s only one thing left to do.” Quinn’s voice became hoarse as his vocal cords thickened. In due course he’d fully shift from man to wolf.

  Sherry hung on to his arm, pressed close to his shoulder. “She is part of a sham. Corrupt. I don’t know what’s going on except she’s involved with Carrigan and dragging the Sisterhood down. I’ve got to deal with her on spellcaster terms.”

  “Not going to happen. The proverbial die has been cast. I have got to get you out of here.”

  “Quinn, please,” Sherry hissed.

  “Stay put.” Reaching around, he squeezed Sherry’s waist. He let go of her. His fingers transformed, releasing long wolf claws. He hunkered down into a crouching position during the final phase of Lycan transformation. He had one recourse to protect his mate. Fractionally, he moved forward, eyeing Nina, sniffing the air, snarling viciously.

  “Get the fuck back, you bastard.” Nina’s eyes widened. Wildly she glanced around then smiled across the room. “Sherry, control your Lycan. This is all a mistake.”

  Quinn snapped his jaws, his teeth seeking purchase in skin or bone—from Nina, or anyone who posed a threat to Sherry.

  Nina screamed shrilly, picked up a vase and threw it. The vase crashed feet from him, sending shards of glass toward his paws. Sherry flinched, drawing his attention. Scanning the room, he observed the hallway where Carrigan had disappeared. Shadows on the wall swayed. Someone was coming. He snarled a sharp warning to alert Sherry.

  “You dirty, fucking animal,” Nina screamed. “You’re as good as dead. And you! Whoring bitch. I’ll have your head on a stake. Mick, get your ass out here. Where the fuck are you?”

  Yes. That unknown fact irritated Quinn to the core. It represented an ambush in the making. He had seconds to uncover Carrigan’s whereabouts. He stalked forward, unwilling to leave his mate’s side. Scents bombarded Quinn in Lycan form. His hackles fully rose and he swung his glance to the hall as Carrigan appeared with Sonya. His hybrid bulging arm squeezed around her neck and a gun pointed at her temple.

  Shit. Quinn’s wolf brain wanted blood and he had several ways to go about this. He looked for the one least dangerous to Sherry and Sonya. As a Lycan, Quinn’s primal instincts were savage. This one time he managed to hold back from giving free rein to his protector nature and brute reactions. Each step required his focus. Prowling forward, he made his choice to go after Carrigan, to deal with the loaded gun, and then deal with Nina. He charged toward Carrigan, faltering when a yip sounded from behind. He snapped his head around to face a black she-wolf, crouching in back of him. The wolf’s gaze locked with his, bathing him in familiar gilded topaz fire.

  His fur stood on end in recognizing his mate. Sherry had shifted unbelievably into a Midnight Lycan. He snarled a command for her to remain cloistered. She flattened her ears, licking her mouth. He bared his teeth, demanding she accept his dominant position. He narrowed his eyes, snarling the seriousness of his directive. She unfurled gracefully, snapping the air, her black fur bristling.

  From his periphery, he caught a movement. Nina had heaved a metal bowl toward Quinn. He rose up on his hind legs, deflecting it from hitting Sherry. Quinn snarled, ready to leap.

  “Mick, fire that gun. You’ve got to keep these hounds of hell from tearing us to bits. Use your brain, dammit!”

  “These bullets won’t stop them,” Mick retorted. “So much for your great planning, Nina dearest.”

  “Then shoot the bitch you’re holding. Do something other than stare.”

  Sonya howled, turning into her coyote form. She shifted completely and bit down on Carrigan’s forearm. He dropped the gun and kicked at her. He landed a boot into Sonya’s flank, and in the scuffle Nina screamed, “Stop kicking that mutt. Pick up the blade in back of you, you idiot!”

  Carrigan grabbed the sabre off the table and waved it in front of his body. “Shit, this ought to deliver a message.”

  Quinn snarled and jumped over the sofa, following a straight line for the hybrid Carrigan. His Lycan senses perceived body language better than human vocalizations. Coming down on the fucker, he caught hold of the hybrid’s arm. Viciously he sunk his canines into flesh, then muscle and bone. Carrigan screamed and slammed him in the snout, inciting Quinn to clamp his jaws tighter. He wrenched his neck hard enough to snap Carrigan’s bone.

  He relaxed his jaws, leaving a dangling limb hanging at the hybrid’s side. It wasn’t enough. Quinn head butted Carrigan, knocking the blade from the hybrid’s grasp. He snapped his powerful wolf jaws.

  Carrigan scrambled for the sabre, curled his fingers around the handle, and then sat up. “I’m going to kill you and then torture these bitches.”

  In an instant the whole world stilled. A red haze blinded Quinn
. Fury fueled his hatred. He leapt, barreling into the hybrid. Clamping onto Carrigan’s neck, he tore into flesh, snapping again and again. He ripped hybrid skin, unimpeded by the jabs Carrigan landed on his flank. Quinn continued tearing into the hybrid, only stopping when Carrigan lay unmoving.

  Panting, he stared down at Carrigan, listening for a heartbeat. Nothing.

  Glancing back, Sherry growled furiously. He barked a command. She uncoiled her body, pushing off the floor, hurling upward over his head. In a black blur of fur, she landed on Nina, sinking her teeth into the Fae woman’s shoulder, releasing a spray of grey blood that splattered the white walls and furniture. The woman swore and brought down her arm holding the sabre. Quinn leapt to intercede. He snarled at Nina, snapping his jaws into her screaming face and sending her stumbling backward.

  Sherry yelped and right away Quinn understood the cause. The sword stuck out from his mate’s side.

  “Quinn, help me.” Sherry moaned, holding onto her side.

  No! Terror filled Quinn. Sherry had been the one to protect him. At once he shifted back to human form to kneel at Sherry’s side. “Lie still, love. I’ve got to remove the… take it out.”

  Sherry also shifted back to her human form. Lying next to him, she lightly touched his leg with her fingers. “I wasn’t going to let her hurt you. Mine.” She smiled weakly.

  His eyes burned, staring down at this perfect woman. His soul mate who had become his protector. His guardian.

  “Sonya,” he yelled. She limped over to them, shifting from coyote into human. “Watch Nina. Don’t let her move.”

  “Sure thing.” Sonya grimaced, then stood. “Nina, you move and I’ll kill you.”

  Swallowing hard, Quinn curled his fingers around the sabre handle. He observed Sherry’s pained expression. A line of sweat broke out over his forehead. She closed her eyes. He held his breath and pulled the imbedded blade from her side. Blood smeared the metal surface. Thick red droplets ran down the sharp edge.

  Quinn’s sweat turned icy. He dropped the sword, staring at the crimson stream flowing from the wound on Sherry’s side. He pressed his hand to staunch the blood. Warm liquid seeped under his fingers, dripping onto the floor.

  Fuck, he had to get her help. Looking around the room for a phone, he spotted Sonya tying up Nina. Their eyes met. “What do you need?” Sonya asked.

  “Something to press on Sherry’s side, and a phone.”

  Sonya picked up his tattered T-shirt and came over. She held out the black material. “Here. Use this.”

  He grabbed for the shredded remnants. “Could you tear a piece so I can get it flat against Sherry’s skin?”

  “God, I wasn’t thinking,” Sonya said.

  He wiped his hand over Sherry’s face, steadily holding his gaze to hers. “We’ll get you out of here and to a hospital. Lie still.” Sherry nodded, her lips drawn into a pale line. He took the folded cloth Sonya handed him and pressed it to his mate’s wound.

  Sonya picked up a cell. “Better let me call for help.”

  “Get hold of an ambulance, and Shawn.”

  “I’m calling now.” Sonya punched in a number.

  He could hear the ringing drone on and on. Finally someone answered and Sonya cupped the phone to her ear. “We need emergency help. A knife wound. Female. Sherry Delacroix. What do you mean? No. She’s a shifter. No. You can’t do that. I made a mistake. She’s really human. A person. Hello? Hello!” Sonya turned to him, fear shining in her eyes. “The line went dead. Should I call back?”

  Fuck. Typical treatment for shifters. Ignored when the authorities could get away with it. Deep in his soul, his wolf sense bellowed in anguish. He controlled his voice, aware that Sherry would perceive any note of fear in his words. “Get Shawn. And tell him to locate a shifter physician. We know a few.”

  Sonya tapped the screen of the cell, then lifted it to her ear. “Shawn, this is Sonya. I’m fine,” her voice broke. “But Sherry’s been hurt. Bad. Please, we need help. Quinn said to find a doctor. Immediately. Things are a mess. You guys need to get here. Yes. I’ll tell him. I don’t know. Hold on.”

  “Quinn, what’s the address here?” she asked.

  “Speer and Water Street. The Rickenbacker Tower.”

  Sonya repeated the information into the phone. “Got it. I’ll tell him.”

  “What’s happening?” Quinn asked.

  “He knows a man. Ron Appelbaum. A surgeon.”

  “Okay.” Quinn continued to kneel next to Sherry, holding her hand, his heart pounding. “Baby, help is on the way.”

  Sonya came over, leaned down, and squeezed Sherry’s fingers. “Don’t worry. Help is on the way. You’re strong. You can do this, hon. Remember our pep talk.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try.”

  Sonya cradled Sherry’s hand. “Quinn, need anything?”

  His clothes were torn. He knelt next to Sherry naked. “Can you see if there are some clothes around?”

  “There’s a closet. I’ll find something.”

  Quinn lifted the cloth; it was soaked in blood. Sherry coughed and pulled at his hand. “I’m not sorry,” she whispered. “I love you.”

  Those three words tore open his chest. “Hush, darling. Focus on me. I love you and you’ll be fine.” He pressed his mouth to hers, feeling her lips tremble. He lifted his head. Her breath was coming out in spasms. Her eyelids fluttered. “No! Stay with me, Sher.” Quinn’s voice broke.

  She grimaced. “I’m so tired.”

  “Love, a few more minutes.” Her eyes began to roll back and her lids drifted closed His wolf heart howled inside him. Quinn picked up Sherry, hugging her body. They were both unclothed, and he pressed her face against his, inhaling her skin. His Lycan scent rose from her body now. They were mated—it hadn’t been his imagination. Their bond nearly complete, if not already done. Gently, Quinn placed her on the sofa. Lifting a throw draped over the arm of the sofa, he carefully wrapped her before he resumed pressing the material on her wounded side.

  Sonya came in carrying a pile of clothing. “There’s got to be something here.”

  “Can you keep pressure on her side?” Trading places with Sonya, he put on a pair of gym shorts, his mind racing on what he could do to help Sherry. Their Lycan love was eternal. She was ‘shifter now. A rare Cairo—a Midnight Lycanthrope from her appearance, but her injury wasn’t healing rapid enough. He floundered, knowing that her Lycan recovery should begin immediately, with signs of progress evident at once. Immortality came with the ability to shift into a Lycan…except during the mating cycle.

  Gazing down at Sherry, his chest constricted painfully by bands of fear. His wolf instincts howled. Hell no, he refused to accept this. There were powerful forces in the universe, ones that spellcasters were privy to. He’d seen healing work once before. How could he get her into the realm she spoke about, where lifelines existed? There had to be a way. Quinn reached for his cell on the floor and dialed Jeremy.

  His friend answered. “Hey. I’m back home. Hope this isn’t about your sudden desire to swing both ways.”

  “Jeremy, I need your help. Right now.”

  “Shoot, bud. Anything.”

  “That healer. The one in the mountains.”

  “Yeah. Lettie. She’s got guests. Your people.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Alpha leopardess from Denver. Ring a bell? They’re out back, visiting today.”

  He exhaled. “Makes sense. She’s a healer, but also some sort of a spellcaster, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t know if she goes by that title. She dropped out from being connected to them.”

  “I need her services again. But don’t think I can get… my mate to her in time.”

  “Mate? Fuck. When…? Doesn’t matter.”

  “This is serious,” Quinn said.

  “Tell me what you need.”

  “Sherry. She’s been hurt. If Lettie can tap into the realm they seem to k
now about, she can help save Sherry’s life.”

  “Give me a few minutes. I’ll be in touch.”

  Quinn moved back to the sofa. Sonya stood up. “The bleeding isn’t stopping. Tell me, what can we do?”

  Quinn turned to Nina. “You’re going to open a doorway into the energy realm. I know you don’t have a tenth of the power that Sherry possesses, but you better show what the fuck you do know.”

  “Let’s go, asshole.” Sonya moved across the room and hauled Nina upright.

  Nina flinched. “I have no idea. I don’t do that sort of spelling.”

  “This is the only warning you’ll get. Better find a way, and find it fast. I saw Sherry’s capability. How is it done?” he thundered.

  Nina’s eyes widened. “It’s true. I don’t know. It’s not what I do. Only lower levels are involved in the circle formation.”

  “Fucking fake. I’ll carve the casting circle and you better come up with the words required. Consider this your challenge question. One chance to get it right.”

  The color drained from Nina’s greyish face. “I need time to think.”

  “You’d better hurry.” He raked his gaze over her, holding back from throttling her in frustration.

  Quinn picked up Sherry’s dagger lying on the floor, recalling the steps of what Sherry had done. “Sonya, get salt. A lot of salt, from the kitchen.” She nodded and disappeared.

  He returned to check on Sherry. She gazed up at him as he tenderly picked up her hand and kissed her palm, praying that this worked. “My blade came off when I shifted,” she whispered.

  He stroked her precious fingers. “I called a healer. She’s coming to help.”

  “Promise me you won’t stay alone.”

  “I won’t. You’re going to keep me company for a long time, doll.” Convinced, he stared into her shimmering eyes, then pressed his mouth to her lips. Soft and sweet. He rose, gripping the lightweight dagger.

  Moving an area rug aside, he then began carving a circular pattern into the wooden floor bearing similar markings that Sherry etched for the spirit, air, water, earth, and fire. He traced the pattern with the salt Sonya brought him, filling in the grooves. Afterward he returned to Sherry. Her chest hardly rose and her skin was cool to his touch. Much too cool. She’d lost a tremendous amount of blood. His phone rang and Sonya handed it over to him.