I ran my hand through my hair. “So did Angela.”
“Ah, right, I forgot about your um, suitress.” Quinn reached out and squeezed my forearm. “Lady Moore seems like a bitch.”
A laugh tore out of me at the truth in her words, which turned into more laughs and bitter tears. Which I prayed Quinn credited to my laughter. She didn’t. Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around my waist.
I froze at the intimate gesture from a woman who was somehow a stranger, yet felt like an old friend. Open, innocent support radiated from her tether, and I let myself sink into it. For a brief moment, I wasn’t fighting or planning. I just existed.
Quinn’s stomach growled.
“Enough of that. Food now.” I composed myself.
Quinn started walking toward the coliseum again. “I love your eyes. They’re like the Witcher’s, but deeper and swirl with silver and shades of white.”
My heart sped up. She liked my eyes. I followed her with my usual tongue in knots before either of us said more; her stomach growled, a long one that rose in volume at the end.
I stopped again. “Nice distraction. It would have worked if you weren’t starving.”
“I’m not starving.”
She lied again. I could feel the pit in her stomach through the tether.
She put her hand on her hips. “Besides, Ezra wanted us to be friends. Which means I don’t want to be your friend.”
My eyebrow twitched. She’s said almost exactly this before, and she wasn’t wrong. Anyone could be training her in combat, but Ezra assigned the task to me because I tethered her. Did she know that? “He does, but I don’t understand why that bothers you.”
Quinn pursed her lips. “It’s complicated.”
What was my commander doing? At least he hadn’t clued her into the tether. I would free both of us before the bond changed our futures.
“Look, here’s the deal.” I rubbed my shoulder. “I can’t force you to eat, but I’m going to Wicked Wich and getting food, a lot of it.” I got us moving in the direction I wanted. “Now, my not friend, you can either watch me eat until I’m sick, or you can save me from myself.”
Quinn pursed her lips. “I can’t pay you back. I don’t have a dime to my name.”
“What’s a dime… no. I don’t care. I got the point.” I frowned. “I’m in a contract with a Moore. The food’s on Angela. Call it reparations for your start here.”
Quinn bit her lower lip. The pit in her stomach gnawed on her.
“Angela doesn’t want me to be your friend,” I added. “If we are caring more about what others want than what we want… then Ezra and Angela can cancel each other out, right?”
Quinn blinked repeatedly. Her tether filled with shock and indignation before settling on humor. Never in my life had I felt another person's emotional journey. It was unreal. I understood indignation and humor, but why had my words shocked her?
“Someone told Angela that I ran after you and walked you back to the physical placement,” I admitted, seeing if I could shock her again. “Angela said since I liked walking dogs so much, I could walk hers… shirtless down the Royal Mile.”
Quinn raised her eyebrows, but it wasn’t the same shock I’d felt earlier. That one had been bone-deep. An awkward silence stretched between us.
“Are you bragging or telling me I’m a dog or what?” Quinn finally asked. “I mean, I’ve not seen you without a shirt, but you’re ripped, so how’s that bad for you?”
“No!” I put my hand up. “I mean. Yes. Shit.” I scrubbed my hand through my hair. “I’m not bragging about being shirtless.” As I spoke, I realized I needed her to know I looked good shirtless. “I’m not bragging, but I don’t look bad without one, either. Shit. Ignore me.”
Fuck me, what was I saying?
Quinn pursed her lips. There was a tinge of humor in her tether. But not enough.
I scrubbed my hand across my face. “You’re not a dog.” I made a sharp gesture with my hand, as if stamping the truth into the world. “In any way, shape, or form. I guess I was letting you know she bullies everyone, me included.”
“So, why are you with her?” Quinn asked, honestly curious.
It was a good question, but it was also naïve, which revealed how little she understood the families.
