Quinn,” Alaric said quietly. “His aim is to ignite your temper. Perhaps you might allow me the chance to assist you this one time?” “Fine, but you seem to be making a habit of it,” she shot back. “We can discuss that later, too. Be my guest.”

He shot across the dark and dank room and gently lowered her slight body, which seemed to weigh almost nothing, until she stood with her back to the wall, as he called a shield of water to block her from any danger.

The rebel leader and the priest.

Emotion kicked logic’s ass. He was going after Quinn.

Alaric, go after her. Since Daniel forced the blood bond on her, Quinn has been different. Lost. She deserves better than for you to abandon her and, priest or no, you know it.

She’s alive, Alaric. She was wounded, but it was minor,” Alexios said, a rough compassion in his voice. A strange weakness raced through Alaric and he had to fight his own lungs to draw breath. Quinn was wounded. “How minor?” he snarled. “Tell me, now.

Something in Alaric’s chest tightened painfully at the thought of Quinn, but he refused to allow it to overcome him. She would be fine. She had to be fine. If Quinn were to die, he would have no reason to continue existing.

I don’t care about his quest for redemption. I don’t want him anywhere near Quinn,” Alaric snarled. “I will leave for St. Louis as soon as we adjourn this meeting.”

Един дъх и една догма на единадесет хиляди години