Page 70 of Havenfall Harbor
I open my mouth to say something meaningful, to let her know how she just rocked my fucking existence and all she did was make me smile and my friend laugh, but I don’t know how to put that into words that wouldn’t scare her. Humans don’t understand what it means to be blood sung, or mated for that matter. If I told her we’re planning on spending the rest of our lives with her, she would probably think I was crazy and file a restraining order.
The rest of our lives. That thought echoes in my head. At some point she’ll start to age, she could even die in only a handful of decades. Countless other scenarios run through my mind, all ending with her death. She’s so fucking fragile. How the hell am I supposed to deal with that and not do something about it right now?
I clench my fist to keep myself from reaching out and dragging her against me, a snarl poised in my throat at the thoughts running through my head, and she’s not even in any real danger right now.
“Just Griff stating the obvious,” Evan replies, while I contemplate all the ways I could give her my blood without her even having to know, but I kill that line of thinking before it can go any further. Even I know that would be wrong to do without her consent, not to mention it could very well turn her into a scion if I wasn’t very careful.
“Do you mind if I run over there?” Quinn looks over her shoulder and points to a dark little shop that has Celtic symbols hanging in the window.
“We all can,” I offer, and I’m proud that my voice sounds halfway normal.
“It’s a sweater shop,” she warns with a twist of her lips. I inspect the store again. Chunky Funky is scrolled across the awning, and there’s a crescent moon behind the words. Wolves.
“Okay,” I tell her.
Quinn must take my words to mean that she should just go alone, because she says, “Okay, I won’t be too long, should I meet you somewhere?”
“We’ll come with you,” I reiterate.
“Uh, okay.” She spins on the toe of her sneaker and heads across the street. I scan the people around us. She’s right, almost everyone is watching us, or her. Not many humans come to Bakersville, it’s a supernatural run town. It wasn’t always that way. As more and more kids left Havenfall, they would come here, and as the years passed, the humans either moved away or lived among us. The supernatural population is so high now, most humans avoid the area without even understanding why.
Half of them are probably wondering what she’s doing with us, while the other half are probably wondering why we’re here with her. It’s not like Evan or I never come to town, but we don’t sit in the fucking park and drink coffee. We may go to the bar or a restaurant, but that’s about it.
Quinn is a few steps ahead of us when I lean over and ask Evan, “Who runs the shop?” He’ll know it’s a shifter business. Just like I know it’s Morey who owns the barbershop on the corner.
“Rachael.” The one name says so much.
“You want to wait outside?” I offer, knowing I’d never let Quinn in there by herself now, not when Rachael will know the moment Quinn walks through that door that she’s been close to Evan.
“Nah, better if I’m there. She won’t say anything if I am.” I’m not so sure I believe that, subtlety has never been Rachael’s forte.
Because we hang back to talk, Quinn reaches the door first and hauls it open. With a wave of her little hand, she urges Evan and me to enter. I reach for the door above her head and give her a look,not happening.With a small shrug, she ducks under my arm and heads inside.
“Shit,” Evan curses under his breath when I see the top of Rachael’s red head pop up from behind a counter.
Rachael is pretty, beautiful really, but she thinks that beauty allows her to be an asshole. Or maybe she’s just an asshole, I don’t know. I never cared to get to know her, not even when she and Evan were together.
Quinn doesn’t pay the woman giving her the evil eye any mind. Her fingers are busy trailing over racks and rows of finely knitted Irish goods. She pulls out a burgundy sweater. It’s long and open down the front with a sash around the waist.
I can picture her in the sweater, nothing but the sweater, the tie loose over her hips so her thigh is exposed with every movement, the top gaping apart enough to show the soft skin between her breasts all the way down to her navel where the fabric is held together with that scrap of material.
“Shopping?” Rachael puts a whole lot of disdain into that one word, dragging me out of my little fantasy.
Quinn turns, a slight upturn to her lips, and puts the sweater back on the rack. She’s getting that fucking sweater, and someday I will see her in it just like I imagined. “Yes, browsing,” she responds.
Rachael rolls her eyes, but Quinn doesn’t notice. “I didn’t know you were doing personal security work now, E.” Rachael places her hand on her curvy hip and cocks out her long leg.
Quinn peers over from the side, her brow furrowed as she moves a little deeper into the store. It’s obvious that Rachael and Evan know each other, and Quinn seems to be trying to give them some space, but she’s curious too, she’s keeping close enough to hear their words. I trail along behind her, not giving a shit about Rachael other than to make sure she doesn’t do anything to bother Quinn. When I pass the rack with the sweater she was admiring, I tug it off and drape it over my arm. My fingers trail over the soft yarn, imagining how it will feel against her skin.
Quinn’s gaze is drawn to me and the item in my arms. I raise my brow when her eyes meet mine questioningly. I dare her to ask what I’m doing, but she looks away. I smile, but it’s a smile born of conquest. I love that I never know how she’s going to respond to me. One second she could be in my face railing at me, the other she hides her blush like she knows exactly what I’m thinking, or maybe it’s her own thoughts that cause the reaction.
“Trying a new look?” She darts her eyes to mine, sparkling with amusement.
I don’t respond, instead I lower my chin and run my gaze over her. The look does the trick, Quinn bites her bottom lip before pretending to focus back on another rack, but her eyes keep flicking in my direction.
“I’m not working.” Evan’s tone is gruff, and I almost smile. He rarely sounds so bothered. He doesn’t try to deny the personal security jab though.
“Did you come to see me?” Rachael softens her tone, inching closer to Evan.
