Page 7 of The Mobster's Mate

The jaguar had been cleaned up, and someone had put him into sweatpants that were a little too short for him, his bony ankles on display.

“So what’s your suggestion?” Quinten asked, his own eyes lingering on the unconscious man.

She sighed, drawing his eyes back to her, and then shrugged helplessly. “We’re not powerful enough to break the spell. You need to find more powerful witches. I’m sorry.”

She sounded like it too, like it physically hurt her to disappoint him.

Standing, he walked over to her and gently clasped the left side of her neck. The other side had a faint scar from when Dom had bonded with her. He made sure to never touch that side. “You are powerful,” he said, making sure she heard him. “But this is something new and complex, something you’ve never seen before, yes?”

She nodded. “It’s definitely unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It’s almost like it’s made from more than one kind of magic, but in such a way they enhance one another instead of lessening their effects.”

He took that in, not really sure what it could mean, but he knew some witches who might. Giving her neck one more squeeze, he turned to her mate. “Dom, I need you to find out who this Tiho Draža fucker is.”

Dom snarled. “Consider it done.”

“If he’s a part of the Serbian organization, I want you to let Miloš’s useless son know that I will be taking a fifty percent cut out of their next ten shipments as repayment. Understood?”

Dom nodded and headed for the door.

Just before he reached it, Quinten said, “Oh, and if you run out of leads, I want you to use Ash.”

Dominic whirled around, eyes glowing faintly. “Come on, Q. You can’t mean that.”

Annoyance surged through him, and he ignored the fidgeting witches behind him as he advanced on the wolf. “I do mean it, and I do not appreciate you questioning me. Use the necromancer if you need him. He has eyes and ears everywhere in this city. Whether you like it or not, I trust him.”

Lips pressed firmly together, Dominic nodded and then tipped his head to the side, making himself vulnerable to Quinten in the most basic way. A show of submission his shifters couldn’t seem to help when he flexed his authority.

After Dom left, Quinten dismissed the coven, leaving only him and Darius, who hadn’t said a word in hours, and the unconscious jaguar.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said to Darius, though he was looking at the man on the couch.

“I don’t like any of this,” he grumbled and moved forward from where he’d been resting against the wall, keeping his attention on everything happening in the room.

“I don’t like it either,” Quinten said, popping out his cufflinks and then rolling his sleeves up. He’d discarded his suit jacket… somewhere. He couldn’t even remember, the last few hours blurring together.

“It’s got to be the Serbians.” Darius stopped next to Quinten so they were pressed shoulder to shoulder and turned to stare at the flesh-and-blood message Quinten had been left by some random guy he’d never even heard of.

“The name is definitely Serbian,” Quinten said absently, crossing his arms over his chest. “But that doesn’t automatically mean he’s affiliated with the Borko family.”

Darius snorted, not bothering to dignify that with a response.

“You think this Tiho is making a play to move up?” Quinten arched a brow at Darius.

The wolf shrugged. “That kind of speculation is above my pay grade,” he said lowly, then jerked his head toward the door. “Who are you going to call about the collar?”

Quinten took a few steps toward the exit. “I have a few covens in mind.”

Darius nodded, not responding. When Quinten reached the doorway, he paused and looked back, unable to stop himself that time. The man had been beautiful before, but now that he was clean and most of his bruises had disappeared, he was absolutely breathtaking.

He opened his mouth to tell Darius to keep an eye on him overnight and let him know if anything changed. But instead, the words “Bring him up to the penthouse” came out.

Darius turned to frown at him.

Quinten sighed. “Just do it.”

He walked out before Darius could argue with him, heading down to the elevator. Darius would be right behind him, even though he disagreed with Quinten’s decision. Hell, he was right to disagree with it. They went out of their way to keep Quinten safe from unknown parahumans around them, and then he went and invited one into his home, one who was injured and scared.

Not the greatest combination for a house guest, but Quinten wanted him in his space. He wanted to be able to check on him if need be, to have eyes on him. He didn’t know where the urge was coming from, and it was annoying, but he also had to admit—at least to himself—that the idea of being the one to actually care for the man… warmed something inside him.

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