Quinn's Quest: Legacy, Book 4

Dedication

Thank you to my incredible husband. There are not enough words to thank you for everything you do for me.

To my amazing editor, Heidi Moore, thank you for believing in my werewolves and me.

Prologue

Bethany Morris squeezed her eyes shut and desperately tried to pretend she was lying in her single bed in her tiny one-bedroom apartment. She missed her fluffy pillow and the thick chocolate brown comforter. The thin blanket covering her was rough and scratchy against her skin. She tried to conjure the familiar room, but no matter how hard she struggled she could no longer summon the energy to believe she’d ever see it again.

It had been two weeks since a plain white van had pulled up alongside her as she’d crossed the parking lot of her apartment building. The two men had been on her before she’d even had a chance to yell. Something had pricked her skin and she’d blacked out. When she’d come back to her senses, she’d found herself locked away in a cold room with concrete walls.

She’d been in a hurry that fateful day, not paying attention to her surroundings even though she knew better. Any large city was dangerous for a single woman alone. She’d been running late for work and was trying to catch the bus, her mind focused solely on that goal.

That was another thing she didn’t want to think about. What about her job? What would happen to her stuff when her rent wasn’t paid in a couple days time? The furniture came with the place, but she had clothing and some jewelry. A laptop. An iPod. It wasn’t much. But it was hers.

A tear seeped from beneath her eyelid and trickled down her temple. She ignored it. She tried to be brave, tried to keep up her hopes of escape, but it was getting harder and harder as each day passed.

Sure, some of the people she worked with at Dave’s Diner would miss her, but they’d probably assumed she’d quit her job without notice. She’d only worked there for a few months. Not long enough to make real friends.

Bethany sniffed and rubbed her cheek against her pillow. Who was she trying to kid? She didn’t make friends. Not real ones. Plenty of acquaintances, but she didn’t let people get close to her. When she was in grade school, her mother moved them around a lot, dragging Bethany from city to city. She’d never really understood why.

“To keep us safe,” had been her mother’s only reply whenever she’d gotten up enough courage to ask. The question had only made her mother sad, so Bethany eventually stopped asking. When her mother died of cancer two years ago, Bethany was left alone. She had no idea who her father was. That was another mystery that only her mother had known the answer to. And she’d never told.

Another tear trickled down her face.

Her entire life she’d felt as though she was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. She’d thought about counseling but she had never found the time or the money. The sensation of being different had only gotten worse as she’d grown older. The past year she’d felt as though she didn’t even know her own body.

The blanket covering her seemed heavy in spite of its thinness. She ignored the way the material aggravated her skin, making her want to scratch. Sometimes it almost felt as though something else was inside her, wanting to be released. But that was crazy. She ignored the prickling of her skin and the heat rushing through her body the same way she always did.

Thankfully, it had didn’t happen often and only seemed to last for a short time before becoming manageable again.

A low sigh from the other side of the room reminded her she wasn’t alone in the cell. Another woman shared this prison with her. She was glad not to be alone, but she wasn’t too sure of the woman’s sanity.

Chrissten Lawton was around her age, tall with pale blue eyes and long blonde hair. She was also crazy.

She claimed to have been kept captive for more than a year and a half. Bethany’s stomach knotted at the thought. She didn’t think she could last that long. She’d find a way out or die trying.

The long captivity and whatever it was their captors had done had obviously made the other woman lose her grip on reality. Chrissten believed she was a werewolf, or rather a half-breed werewolf. And she’d told Bethany that she was one too.

Bethany had been afraid of Chrissten the first few days she’d been locked up with her, but when the other woman hadn’t threatened any kind of physical violence, Bethany had gradually begun to relax.

She liked Chrissten. When she wasn’t talking crazy. Werewolves. It was insane to think it, let alone say it.

Sure, Bethany was stronger than most women she knew. She’d never been sick a day in her life and had a keen sense of smell and superior vision. That was simply a product of luck and good genetics. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Hunger was quickly becoming a way of life. Doctor Morton, one of the crazies who’d kidnapped her, fed her and Chrissten enough to keep them alive and relatively healthy, but not near enough for them to stay strong. Bethany had a fast metabolism and needed a lot of food to keep her strength up. Chrissten was the same. The lack of energy kept them both lethargic, which was what the doctor wanted.

“Are you awake?” She kept her voice low, almost a whisper. If Chrissten was still sleeping, Bethany didn’t want to wake her. Yet lying here thinking about her desperate situation wasn’t getting her anywhere. If anything, it made her stomach hurt and her hands clammy.

At first Chrissten didn’t answer. But Bethany felt a sudden alertness in the other woman.

“Yes, I’m awake.”

“Do you think we’ll ever find a way out of here?” Bethany was rapidly losing all sense of hope. After all, Chrissten was a smart woman. Taller than Bethany. Strong too. And she’d been held for months and months without finding a way out.

Chrissten didn’t answer. Which was, of course, an answer in itself.

Bethany turned her head away and continued to stare at the ceiling as she reviewed everything she’d learned in the past two weeks.

They were being held captive by a man who considered himself a scientist but, in reality, he was a raving lunatic. According to Chrissten, his name was Dr. Phillip Morton and he was convinced she and Chrissten were half-breed werewolves. He wanted to test their blood, their genetics to find out how it differed from regular humans.

According to Chrissten, the doctor’s plan was to try to determine if there was a way to turn humans into werewolves. At the moment, the only way to create a half-breed werewolf was the old fashioned way—through sex between a pureblood werewolf and a human. And, even then, it was a very rare thing for a child to be the result of such an encounter.

If the experiments succeeded, the doctor would get the power of a male werewolf for himself and the werewolves who were helping him would get more females to mate with and thereby repopulate their species.

Maybe that’s where Chrissten got all her insane ideas. After months of being locked up, Bethany was afraid she’d begin to believe all this crazy talk too.

Then there was the doctor’s sidekick—a giant of a man called Brian—who seemed to be particularly enamored of Chrissten. This guy was the craziest of them all. He’d bought into the doctor’s theories. Brian believed he really was one of these pureblood werewolves. For real.

She knew Brian had raped Chrissten, and more than once. The other woman wouldn’t talk about it, but she’d been gone from their cell for several hours one day and had returned bruised and battered.

The doctor had confirmed Bethany’s fears. He’d mentioned it in passing the next day while he was drawing a vial of Bethany’s blood. He’d spoke about it as easily as one might talk about the weather. The doctor wanted Chrissten to get pregnant. He wanted to test her body during pregnancy and experiment on the baby once it was born. The conversation had turned Bethany’s blood to ice and she hadn’t felt warm since.

She feared that was her fate as well if she didn’t get out of here.

The clink of metal had Bethany scrambling out of bed and shoving her feet into the canvas sneakers she’d been given to wear. Both of them slept with their clothing on, such as it was. Loose cotton pants and pull-on tops. No laces, no drawstrings or zippers, nothing they might use as a weapon.

The sound of the locks being undone made Bethany cringe. Even though she couldn’t see him, she knew who was on the other side before the door opened. She could smell him—the anticipation, the testosterone, but most of all, the aggression. It was Brian, and he only had eyes for Chrissten.

“Good morning, mate.” The male stood about six-four and weighed about two-thirty. All of it muscle.

Chrissten bared her teeth at him. “What do you want, Brian?”

He smiled and there was nothing pleasant about it. “Now that’s no way to talk to your alpha.”

Chrissten snorted. “You’ll never be my anything.”

Bethany ignored their banter, every muscle in her body tensed. Ready to strike if an opportunity presented itself.

The doctor appeared at Brian’s side just inside the open door, seeming preoccupied and harried. Not an uncommon state for the good doctor. His mind was always on his latest experiments. “Enough talking. I need blood samples.”

Neither woman exactly relaxed, but some of the fear seeped out of Bethany. If the doctor only wanted a blood sample then maybe Brian would leave Chrissten alone. A second look in Brian’s eyes made that hope crumble. The doctor might only want a blood sample, but Brian wanted sex. Bethany could see it in his eyes as they devoured Chrissten.

The hairs on the back of Bethany’s neck rose and her skin began to tingle.
Not now
. She couldn’t allow her body to take control of her. She had to master the heat surging to her breasts and between her legs. This sexual needing was beyond her understanding.

Up until a year ago she’d never even been tempted to get serious about a man. Sure, she’d dated. Yes, she’d had sex. But it had been unfulfilling. She’d decided she simply wasn’t a sexual woman and men weren’t worth the effort.

Brian swung his head around and looked at her. He sniffed the air and smiled. Bethany took a step back, almost falling in her haste to get away from him. He couldn’t smell her arousal. Could he?

She recognized the look on his face and she didn’t want it aimed in her direction. She turned to the doctor. “I’ve given you enough blood to set up your own blood bank.” Bethany hated the quaver in her voice. Dr. Morton frowned at her retort. Brian’s smile sent terror flooding through her.

“I guess we’ll do this the hard way.” Brian stepped toward Bethany, but Dr. Morton stopped him.

“No. You can’t damage her. I need her today for more testing.”

Brian whirled around and growled at the doctor. His hands changed, morphing into claws. His jaw cracked and elongated. Fur began to sprout on his face and body.

Bethany blinked, not believing what she was seeing.

Before it went any further, the doctor raised his hand. She saw the gun in his hand as he fired. It wasn’t bullets, but a tranquilizer gun. The dart hit Brian in the chest. He ripped it from his skin but it was too late. Already he was starting to sway.

Bethany didn’t move, frozen in place by what she’d witnessed.

Chrissten, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate. She lunged at the doctor, jumping and rolling as he fired his tranq gun again. Bethany didn’t know what was in those things, but they were obviously potent.

Doctor Morton was a tall man, physically fit for a scientist who spent all his days and many of his nights in a lab. But Chrissten was quicker. She was motivated. Bethany knew how she felt and she’d only been here a few weeks. Chrissten had been here for what must seem like a lifetime.

The dart grazed her arm, nicking her skin but not embedding itself. Chrissten swore. Bethany knew her cellmate didn’t have much time. Even a scratch that small might be enough to knock Chrissten out.

But Chrissten wasn’t stopping. Hands extended, she lunged for the doctor. Claws burst out of her fingertips. She raked them over the doctor’s face. He fell back, screaming as he went down.

“Holy shit.” Bethany’s back was up against the wall. If she could manage it she’d sink into the concrete. She wasn’t seeing this. None of this was real. It couldn’t be. Claws didn’t really just burst from people’s fingers. Their mouths didn’t morph into elongated jaws with sharp teeth. That only happened in the movies. Maybe the doctor had given her some kind of nasty drug that was making her hallucinate.

But the scream and the blood were frighteningly real.

“Beth,” Chrissten whispered her name and stumbled as she extended her hand. It was a human hand again, the claws gone.

“What are you?” Bethany slid farther down the wall, putting some distance between them, her gaze going from Chrissten to Brian and back again. Chrissten blinked her eyes. Bethany knew the other woman was fading fast when she sank to the concrete floor and lowered her head, panting hard.

“The same as you.”

This was nuts. It wasn’t possible. Only she’d seen it with her own two eyes. Hadn’t she? She wasn’t sure. Not anymore. Nothing in her world made any sense.

“Beth?”

Whatever Chrissten was, Bethany knew she couldn’t leave the other woman behind. If they escaped, they went together. The open door beckoned and she knew they’d never get a better opportunity. She went to Chrissten, wrapped her arms around her and yanked her upright. “I still think you’re all crazy,” she told Chrissten as her feet hit the floor. There was no other word to describe the people who inhabited the loony bin she’d found herself in.