6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Quinn

M y old friend hasn't changed much. His beard is shorter than I have ever seen it. It used to hang down his chest, but now he has it sculpted short. His eyes still hold the experience of six hundred years of a hard life.

"You have a mate?" he asks. Instead of answering, I return to my office, knowing he will follow. "When did that happen?"

"Last night," I say, sitting in my chair.

"I'm not surprised you don't want to be away from her." He lounges in the chair across from me. "You haven't answered my texts."

"I was going to," I start.

"But you have been busy," he finishes.

"Always, but honestly, I didn't know what to say," I confess.

"We both have ignored each other for too long," he says. "I heard Heath stopped by."

"How did you hear that?" I frown.

"He told me."

"He was here. He didn't stay long but wanted to remind us his number is the same." Heath is part of my past. For years, I have wanted to forget my past and him, but he barged back into my world. He had issues with Breeane's brother and used her to get to him. It was a shitty thing to do, but he had his reasons.

"I don't have as many complicated emotions about him as you do. I don't have a reason for my absence from his life. I did message him back. I'm meeting him."

I lean back. "Why?"

"Why?" he laughs. "Quinn, we spend twelve years together. Did you forget? Twelve years is a drop in the bucket to me, but they were meaningful. They were important."

"You think what we did was meaningful?" Some days, I do, too.

"Yes. Yes, I do. We had a purpose. I gave you a fucking purpose. You needed direction. You needed somewhere to channel your anger. I gave that to you. You were happy for most of those years. I still don't know why you changed suddenly. What happened that you turned on us?" He leans forward. "Tell me what happened that made you leave."

I look away, my teeth grinding. "My mate doesn't know about my past."

"I'm not surprised. You wouldn't open up about it the first night." He sighs. "I want to understand. I want the three of us to sit down and lay everything out."

"Why? Why do we need to relive it?"

"Because you fucking left us," he hisses. "I want a reason."

"I'll do it." I shake my head. "I don't want to, but I will."

"Jesus," he sighs, rubbing his hand over his beard. "You are an asshole."

"I know. Are you going to see Bash and Ryker?" He has been friends with them for hundreds of years.

"Of course. I'm having lunch with the dragons. I plan to stick around." Micah has known Bishop, Laken, and Saphira since they were young .

"For how long?" I'm surprised. Micah has never settled anywhere for as long as I've known him.

"Maybe forever." He shrugs. "We'll see how it goes."

"Great," I mumble. "I don't think Ryker is up for visitors. His baby girl was born."

"I know. He'll see me." He smirks. "How does it feel?"

"What?"

"Having a mate."

"It's indescribable." I rub my chest; the bond works fast, and I hate being away from her.

"Try."

"I will kill anyone that hurts her, speaks to her disrespectfully, looks at her with desire, or does anything to make her sad."

"Sounds right."

"I want everything with her," I say softly.

"I'm happy for you."

"You want that." He has spent so many years alone.

"Of course, but I don't think it will happen. I am past the point of finding it."

"You can't give up." Now that I know how it feels, I can't imagine being without her.

"I can. There will come a day when I will have to ask Bash and Ryker to put me out of my misery." He looks out the window. "Or you. You know what to do."

"I will if it comes to that," I agree. Vampires can only go so many years without a mate before they go insane. They lose their humanity and become out of control. The world would be in danger, and the humans would have no chance of survival. The number of years differs for each vampire; you never know when it will happen. It would be disastrous if it happened to Micah. He is the most powerful vampire I know, next to Ryker. It would not be easy to take him out.

"Thank you."

"Do you think it will end that way?" I ask quietly. Even though we haven't been actively involved in each other's lives for years, the thought of Micah not being on this earth saddens me.

He smiles softly. "Will you miss me?"

"Fuck off. You know I would." I glare. "Are there signs?" Sometimes, the end will come on gradually, and sometimes, it hits fast and hard.

"No," he says firmly. "I want to be prepared. How long can a man live?"

"A vampire can live a long fucking time," I say dryly.

"Or maybe I said all of this so you will feel sorry for me." He grins.

"Asshole," I growl.

"We have that in common."

"What do you have in common?" Bash asks, popping in the doorway.

"Son," Micah yells, leaning back, his arms over the back of the chair.

"I wish you would stop calling me that." Bash walks behind his chair, pushing Micah's arms out of the way, and sits beside him. "Micah, why didn't you call."

"I wish a lot of things," Micah says, with plenty of meaning behind the words. "I didn't come to see you." He lifts his brows as he looks at me.

"Really?" Bash looks between us. "I didn't know you knew Quinn."

"Shit," I sigh.

"We are old friends," Micah informs him.

"Old friends," Bash repeats.

"He decided he's going to claim the friendship now," Micah continues to tell on me. "Should we throw a party?"

"I don't like parties," Bash says .

"I thought you softened up since having a mate," Micah says.

"Not where parties are concerned."

"Didn't you go to one last night?" Micah asks, hooking his arm over the back of his chair and stretching his legs out.

Great, he's getting comfortable.

"How do you know?" Bash glares.

"I know a lot of things." Micah shrugs.

"Well, don't," Bash snaps.

"You know, you both could chat anywhere else but my office," I say.

"Hopefully, Quinn's mate will soften him," Micah says.

"Probably not," Bash muses.

"Are we done?" I ask.

"No. How do you two know each other? Because I remember months ago when we were helping Penny, you were in the same room together, and not a word was said of your friendship." Bash crosses his arms.

"It didn't come up," I offer.

"Bullshit. You've been hiding lots of things, Quinn," Bash says.

"Yes, I have," I admit. "I'm not the sharing kind of guy."

"Fucking bears," Micah mutters.

"You think I am?" Bash asks, ignoring Micah.

"The person I will be telling is my mate." I rub my hands over my head. "I will admit that we worked together six years ago. I didn't want to tell anyone about my past or the people I knew. Micah is planning to stay, so you can tell everyone that fact. I am nervous enough to admit all the things I have done to my mate. I don't need the crew of misfits chiming in and fucking it up."

"You know what I have done?" Bash asks .

"Yes," I answer. Bash has worked with Micah for years, killing men who use and abuse women and children. Micah would get files to Bash, and he would find them and kill them.

"Marie accepted all of my past. Your mate will, too."

"You don't know what I have done," I remind him.

"Doesn't matter. The universe doesn't give a mate to those who don't deserve it. Steph is a good woman and deserving of love. Plus, I do know Micah. He's an asshole, but he has morals. He wouldn't have a friend who was a horrible person," Bash reasons.

"Maybe Marie did soften you," Micah says. "I'm oddly touched." He presses both hands to his chest.

"Fuck off," Bash says. "Are you going to let your past affect accepting the bond?"

"Of course not," I snarl. "She's mine."

Bash nods, satisfied. "The husband is at the police station. I was tempted to just kill him and be done with it, but I showed restraint."

"You are proving my point with every word," Micah chimes in.

Of course, Bash ignores him. "Marie is with the set of four; we are moving them to a different location."

"Did you find out who talked?" I ask.

"Not yet, but I have my suspicions. I will find out," he says, grinning.

"Is it torture time?" Micah asks.

"Possibly."

"Can I help? It will be like old times," Micah says with a slight smile.

"It's up to Quinn," Bash says. "Does he trust you?"

I roll my eyes. "Get the fuck out of my office. You can bond over torture."

"Awesome." Micah stands. "I will text you the date and time we will meet."

"Yeah," I agree.

"Meet who?" Bash asks.

"None of your business," I say.

"Micah will tell me. He likes to talk when he's torturing."

"I hate both of you right now," I sneer.

"No, you don't." Micah slaps Bash on the shoulder before they disappear.

Two powerful vampires are on the loose. Everyone should be scared. But they do have morals. I don't want to admit how good it was to see Micah. He was a big part of my life, and I missed him, just as I missed Heath, the ruthless asshole. It seems I am surrounded by ruthless assholes—the party was full of them. But they would do anything for their mates and the people they call family, and I respect that.

Shifters live by a different set of rules than humans. I lived many years swearing by those rules, and stepped beyond them many times. We have no problem killing those who hurt people we love or abuse. When I started my business two years ago, I swore I would live by human laws when dealing with them if they came to me for help. Most of the time, I have. I can't say it has been easy. Some days, I wonder why I do it.

The women who find the guts to leave their abusers need to see them go to jail. It is proof to them that the justice system works. They want to tell their truth. They want to know they matter to someone, that the hell they go through doesn't go unnoticed.

I don't know how effective my decision is anymore. The man today would have been so easy to kill. If I killed every human who abused, there would be questions. I can't make them disappear when I would be the common factor. My business isn't hidden. There is a trail easily traced back to me, and I am working in the human world, not the shifter community. It's different, and I don't think many shifters understand when they learn of my methods. I have many men who work for me behind the scenes, both human and shifters .

I want to make a difference. I don't know if I am succeeding.

Bash doesn't understand my rules but he's been humoring me. Thankfully, most of our cases are cheaters, who he finds pathetic but not worthy of killing.

After the incident today, I may need to reevaluate how I run the agency.

I have pictured my mate in the position those women are in, and I wouldn't have a problem killing anyone who hurt her.

The bond is pulling, urging me to be with her always. The bear inside is angry that we aren't beside her, in her, every minute.

I grab my keys and lock my office. I pass the front desk and shake my head. I'm going to have a rabbit sitting there for hours every day. I don't dislike Sally. She is funny and knows how to keep her mouth shut when it's important. Rabbit shifters are often underestimated. They have a reputation for being crazy fuckers, which is partially true.

I lock the front door and get in my truck. I don't have anything more important than Steph the rest of the day, so I plan on taking my mate back.

I'm glad the bakery and my mate's home are only down the road. Until I convince her to live with me, I can be close if she needs me. I don't plan on sleeping without her, ever. My need for her is growing rapidly. My concentration is shit. It took a high level of self-control to keep my head in my meeting, and once I heard the husband yelling at my mate, nothing could keep me in the office.

I park in front of the bakery and see several of the women through the window. I'm glad there are such strong, kind women around Steph. At times, they are fiercer than the men when protecting their families.

When I open the door, their laughter cuts off abruptly, and several pairs of eyes swing my way. Breeane's are narrowed. Ava winks at me as she twirls her little girl with her finger grasped in her daughters. Penny smirks and wiggles her eyebrows. I like all of them, but honestly, I don't give a shit what they think of me.

My mate is looking at me, her head tilted.

I take two steps, hold out my hand, and wait.

She doesn't hesitate long.

I relax as her skin meets mine.

I say nothing as I pull her out the door.

My hope is that soon, I won't have to wait for her to willingly take my offering.

Instead, she will connect without a prompt.

"This is your home?" she asks as we stand in front of my place.

"Yes." I bought a piece of land surrounded by trees.

"You live in a tree house?" Her beautiful eyes wide.

"I built it." I guide her to the steps.

"You built it?" she says.

I nod. "I should spend more time here." My house is high on a platform and is technically built around a tree. "The downside is all the steps." There are twenty of them you have to climb to step on the porch that wraps around the house. It's a bitch to bring in anything, even though I have enhanced strength.

"This is stunning," she says .

"I like it." I pause to let her take in the view off the porch. "I love sitting out here in the mornings," I say softly.

"I would too," she says just as softly.

I open the front door and allow her to enter first. "It only has two bedrooms." I built it small but with the thought in mind that it could be expanded. I wait as she looks around. The living room and kitchen are directly in the front door. The floor plan is open, except for the large tree that separates them, and not very big. The fireplace is made of stone that I hauled myself, a comfortable couch facing it. The bedrooms are down a short hallway, all on one level.

"That's a tree," she states, pointing at it.

"Yes. It was a challenge to insulate it enough without killing it."

"I'm stunned," she says as she glides her fingers over the trunk. "Are these marks from your bear?" Her fingernail traces the trail.

"You know our bears like to mark their territory. I shift in the house once in a while." I clasp my hands behind my back to keep from pushing her against the wood and taking her.

"Why don't you spend more time here?" She frowns.

"It's easier to sleep at the office." I shrug. "I love it, though."

"I do, too." She smiles and explores the small kitchen, consisting of cupboards in the shape of an L, a fridge, a stove, and a sink. "What's this?" She stands by the square table.

"I told you I would feed you lunch. I decided to go with burgers from my favorite place to eat." The table is filled with all my favorites and a few sides I thought she would like.

"How?"

"I asked Elijah. He may be a bit of a wild card, but he's a sucker for romance. All I had to say was it was for my mate." The cheetah shifter has grown on me.

"Thank you," she whispers, her face tender .

"Welcome," I say gruffly. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

I pull out a chair and wait for her to sit before taking mine at the head of the table.

"Eat." I nod to the burger in front of her and earn a sweet smile. "We can save whatever's left." I'm a simple guy. I like meat, a bit on the rare side to please my bear, and potatoes. I think my body would protest if I walked into a fancy restaurant.

"It's good," she says after swallowing her first bite. "This is my favorite."

"What is?"

"All of this." She waves her hand over the table. "My family is big on grilling. I have many memories of late nights sitting around the campfire, eating hamburgers, talking. I'm also a sucker for smores." She grins.

"I'll remember that." We concentrate on filling our stomachs. I find it hard to keep my eyes on my plate. I can picture many days just like this, spending time in the tree house, enjoying each other's company. Simple. Comfortable. Alone.

I want nothing more than to stay with her and shut out the world. I have a hard time trusting anyone, and I wondered how I would feel with my mate. I immediately feel a connection and the urge to tell her everything. The problem is that I don't think she is ready for my confessions.

I can hear the fabric of her jeans as she crosses her legs. She shifts in her seat every other bite. I can smell how being in a small area with me is affecting her body. But the question is, is she ready mentally for everything I am? Generally, I am a lot to handle, and because of her trauma, she may not be ready.

"I have to be honest with you," I start, and her eyes swing my way, her food forgotten. "I am usually a very blunt man. "

"I sense that," she says, a twinge of humor in her words as she leans back and drops her hands to her lap.

"I have been holding back."

"I know." Her fingers twine together.

"I have craved having a mate," I say hesitantly, and she nods encouragingly. "I knew I would protect her and try to make her happy. I know I am not an easy man. I like things my way."

"I understand," she says softly.

"I don't know that you do," I reply quickly. "Are you ready for honesty?"

"Yes."

I look into her eyes for a beat. "I want my mate to give in to me. I want you to look to me for everything, to depend on me, and let me guide you in almost every aspect." I lean down and grasp the leg of her chair, slowly pulling it around the edge of the table until she is sitting between my spread legs. She sits completely still. "I don't want to control your life. I value your opinions and independence, but I want all big decisions to be made together after a discussion." I pull apart her hands, laying her palms flat. "In the bedroom, it's different. I haven't had many relationships where I can be my true self. I have needs that most women don't understand and aren't willing to try to accept." My fingers glide down her fingers. "I like complete control when we are together. I need to command and get obedience."

"Are you a dominant?" she whispers, but her face is open and interested.

"I don't like labels. Yes, I am a dominant man. I like control, but I think you can like elements of different kinks. As long as both parties are willing, it doesn't matter if it is defined." Her heart is pounding; I can hear it and see the pulse in her neck. "Sometimes, I will want to use cuffs, rope, and toys. I will never do anything without your permission beforehand. It is not fun if you are scared or in pain. I don't enjoy causing you anything but need and pleasure." Her scent grows stronger. "I may give the orders, but you are ultimately in control."

I place my hands on hers, palm to palm.

She swallows harshly. "You know about me?"

"I know things secondhand."

"That's why you are being so careful," she guesses.

"I am being careful because we don't know each other well. I will always give you a choice. I am not demanding that you submit to me before we have a discussion about what we want. When you agree to give in to me, things will be different."

"I don't know if I believe you," she says.

I nod. "Thank you. I want you to always be honest about how you are feeling."

"Really?" She narrows her eyes.

"Really," I chuckle.

"I don't want you to treat me differently because of my past."

"I know. But I also know it partly can't be helped. If I move too fast without clarifying things with you, it could cause you to freeze up, be scared, or react with anger and hurt." I run my knuckles down her cheek. "It would kill me to scare you."

She leans into my touch. "I like your touch."

"Good," I whisper.

"I want more of it," she confesses.

"I'm glad."

"I want to tell you." She takes a deep breath. "I need to tell you about the worst day of my life and the events that followed and made it the worst two months of my life."

"Tell me. Let me share your pain. "

Her eyes fill with tears, and I want to bring the men who tortured her back from the grave so I can kill them again.