It didn't make any sense. None of this was making any sense
"He had your phone number, and you left your phone on."
"But they didn't need satellite tracking - I've apparently got a tracker in my arm."
"Then we had better get it out."
"Misha's not behind the attack." I had to believe that. Had to. Otherwise, I might never trust my instincts again
Quinn's expression was cold. "Why don't we go question him, then?"
"Why don't we wait for Jack and see what he has to say?"
Though his expression didn't alter, his anger whipped around me. "Fine."
He spun on his heel and walked out. I watched him go, though right then all I wanted to do was grab him and make love to him. It wasn't the moon heat. Rather a desire to hold on tight to something that was good. Something that was slipping through my fingers
With a sigh, I flicked on the water in the shower and stepped under it when it was hot enough. After washing the blood and sweat from my skin, I studied my various wounds. My stomach was tender to the touch, and the rainbow display of colors was broken by three pale pink scars. My arms bore several more healing slashes, as did my shoulders and thigh. Though I couldn't remember changing shape during the night, I must have, because there was no other way such cuts would have healed so fast
Once I'd dried myself, I went out to check for clothes and discovered my bag sitting at the end of the bed. Liander must have brought it down from the farm. I shoved on my skirt and a shirt, mighty thankful for the extra undies I'd thrown into my bag when I'd packed for the club days ago. Once dressed, I wandered down a wide hallway, through a shadow-filled living room, and found myself in a kitchen bigger than my entire apartment. Through the windows, lights sparkled, testimony to the fact that many houses lay on the slope below us. In the distance, glistening whitecaps pounded toward a shore I couldn't see
Liander sat at an ornate glass table reading a newspaper, but he glanced up as I walked in. His left eye was black, and bruises littered his pale arms
His gaze raked me, lingering on the healing wound on my thigh. It wasn't a sexual look, just a concerned one. "Feeling better?"
"Much. How about you?"
He shrugged. "I think my ego is bruised more than my body. There were only four of them, yet they got the better of me."
"Only four? Gee, you're slipping."
My voice was dry, and a smile tugged his lips. "Once I could have taken double that number."
"It's a long time since you were in the military."
"It shouldn't matter. I do keep in shape, after all."
"But not fighting fit - you've had no reason to, after all."
"True."
I walked over to the fridge to grab something to eat, but there wasn't much more than old-looking fruit. Obviously, despite what Talon had said, he really hadn't intended to stay there long. I picked out one of the better-looking peaches and slammed the door shut. "Where's Quinn?"
Liander nodded toward the French doors to my right. "Out on the patio, calling someone to get some information on Misha." He hesitated, his expression tightening. "He's using us all, you know."
"Yeah. All he's interested in is finding out what happened to his friend."
"His friend being the DNA provider for these clones?"
I nodded and bit into the peach. "I gather Rhoan filled you in on what's been happening?"
Liander's gaze met mine. "There are no secrets between us, Riley."
I remembered what he'd said to Quinn when I was in the bloodlust, and realized then he knew what we were - knew, because Rhoan had told him. It was extraordinarily pleasing to know that my brother had found someone who loved him just as he was
Though I doubted Rhoan himself was fully appreciative of the fact
Liander folded the newspaper and leaned back in his chair. "Rhoan also told me about Quinn's history with werewolves. Be careful with him."