It was time to enact the second half of her plan.
Passing Ilya in the hallway leading downstairs, she averted her eyes and murmured a deferential greeting as she made her way past. She huddled tighter around Elise as she began the slow, mincing march back downstairs. Every jolt was met with a wince, a faint hiss as her shirt rubbed against the multiple scratches and small wounds littering her back. Feeling Ilya’s gaze burning a hole in her back, taking in every reaction, she sensed more than heard him following. How such a large man could be so silent was eerie, but something she had grown used to. He closed the distance between them by the time she reached the kitchen, his broad palm pushing the door open.
Close on her heels, he stood by, staring hard enough to make Quinn’s skin crawl. After arranging Elise in the bouncer she was fast outgrowing and setting the thing to rocking, Quinn shuffled towards the refrigerator.
“What are you doing?”
Quinn didn’t have to pretend when she crumpled, arms wrapping around her middle in a protective gesture at the growling rasp of Ilya’s demand.
“I’m hungry.”
“Sit,” he barked, making Quinn and Elise jump, the latter beginning to sniffle and whine.
Quinn limped back to the counter, patting at Elise’s stomach and giving her a strained smile as Ilya stalked and slammed around the large kitchen. Quieting her, Quinn watched the massive Alpha’s movements. Noting the tension in his shoulders, the stiff way he held his body, she allowed the briefest moment of victory to buoy her before easing onto a stool.
The scent of searing meat filled the large kitchen, the mellow warmth of garlic and potatoes a comforting undernote. It was at odds with the flavor of an agitated Alpha, the scent of cinnamon so powerful it burned her throat. Watching Ilya as he worked, there was no missing that his actions did not help his turmoil.
It wasn’t long before a plate was set down before her. Instead of the angry clatter of ceramic that she had expected, it was placed with the utmost care. The silverware didn’t dare to make a ringing clamor as he set them beside the plate. Large hand gripping the edge of the dark stone, Ilya leaned over her and inhaled.
Quinn couldn’t stop the flinch, but it appeared to be the reaction he was expecting. Ilya shoved off from the counter, boots stomping across the floor to carry him to the other side of the room. There he waited, scowl menacing as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared.
Keeping her focus down, eyeing the plate, Quinn pulled her lips between her teeth and rolled them out in slow contemplation. Piled high on the plate was an offering even an Alpha would have difficulty consuming all at once. The slab of meat was thick, dark, the charred lines perfection. Clouds of lofty mashed potatoes hinted at butter and garlic worked into every silky fold. A stack of green beans she knew would be crisp tender, just the way she liked it, nestled in alongside grilled squash. All things he knew she liked. Everything she would devour. Allowing her hands to tremble, she picked up knife and fork and cut into the decadent meal.
Each movement methodical, Quinn ate. Working her way through every bite, furtive glances slipped up to the Alpha who remained motionless across the room. Unyielding, his gaze never faltered as he watched. It was a far cry from the indulgent way he pampered and cosseted her before in the long hours Lee wasn’t there. Clashing with the ardent heat of his urgent assault before Lee had returned.
“Thank you,” Quinn said, voice low enough she wasn’t sure he would hear her.
“It is what I do,da?”
Another flinch, this time at the serrated growl underlining his tone. He was unhappy, angry. Even as the thought came to her, she could scent the underlying smoky violence, the hot ash taste of rage lying thick on her tongue. Quinn huddled a little further into herself, bowed over her plate as she shuffled food into her waiting mouth.
And then pressed on.
“Not just this. Everything. Elise…” Her gaze slid sideways, taking in her daughter’s happy face. Tears sprang to her eyes, aching as she repeated in a water-logged voice, “Thank you.”
Another grunt was his response. It was different from the previous one. Softer, warmer than the icy dismissal he had shown her so far. Unsure if she was being delusional, she turned her face up to meet that frigid stare. Saw the hard line of his lips soften, his brows still low, but no longer scowling. Concern painted his features as he watched her. Lower lip trembling, she let the tears overflow. Spilling down wan cheeks, clumping pale lashes, she gave him a bare taste of her misery.
Sniffling and dashing the heel of her palm across her face, she turned her gaze back to the plate. Knife and fork screeching against the dish as her hands shook, she blinked through the misty haze to clear her vision. What was meant to be just a sip of agony turned into a tidal wave of emotion she couldn’t hold back. Sniffles turning into low sobs, she hunched over the setting. The tangled nest of her hair dragging across food and counter unseen as raw, grating sounds ripped from her throat. She didn’t even hear the silverware clatter against the stone and fall to the floor.
Choking on her misery, Quinn turned to fumble in blind urgency as Elise began to wail. Stammering ragged words of comfort that did nothing to calm her daughter, the darkness ripping through her began to consume her. Threatened to drag her down to a pitch black abyss she wouldn’t be able to crawl back up from. Through the blurry weight of her tears, she saw Ilya’s hands brush hers aside, his large palm covering Elise’s tiny stomach. Soothing her daughter where she couldn’t.
Smoldering and heavy, his other palm came to Quinn’s shoulder. Rested there for a long moment before he squeezed, fingerings digging hard into the bites Lee had littered across her flesh. A whimpering whine tore from her lips as she turned and flung herself into the solid slab of his torso. Melded her body to his with her hands clinging to his back. The action pulled her shirt aside, baring her marked flesh to him. The red-purple kaleidoscope of horror and pain laid out before his hot gaze.
“Please, please, please,” she wailed into his chest, clenching his shirt in her fists as she tried to come even closer. “Make it stop. Please!”
Ilya’s answer was immediate. The deep, resounding purr washed through the kitchen, slamming into her from all sides as his arm went to her back. Hauling her up, he squeezed her to the point her ribs creaked in protest. Pushing the sound into her body, forcing it through muscle and bone. Other hand coming to a thigh, he hiked her leg up, encouraging Quinn to wrap her body around him.
She did.
Without hesitation, Quinn clung to the giant Alpha with all of her limbs, holding onto that sound and the comfort it brought as if her very life depended on it. And in a way it did. The darkness threatened, looming and angry, but the glorious reverberation working its way through her pushed it back.
One arm around her holding tight, the other went to Elise. Fingers gentle as he pet at the small girl, soothing her cries as he murmured to them both. Unable to understand a word of it, all she knew was that it worked.
Cradled in Ilya’s lap as he sat on the floor of the nursery, Quinn felt small in a way she hadn’t since she was a child. It wasn’t the physical difference in their sizes that made her feel that way. It was the exhaustion of too much crying, of being emotionally drained in a way that left her feeling defenseless. Vulnerable.
Trunk like arms on either side of her, his large hands cupped her folded knees in a gentle grip, held her against the resonating purr he had yet to stop. It confused everything, made it difficult to think. Slouched into all that warmth, deep in the protective circle of male flesh and bone, Quinn watched her baby girl scoot across the plush rug, squealing and babbling in a language only infants understood.
Things had not gone according to plan. At all. No part of this had been what she intended. Losing her shit, breaking down in front of him and needing his touch and purr had never been the goal. Yet the results were not without their merits. Ilya wouldn’t stop touching her, had held her tight for the hours since her breakdown in the kitchen. Even as she had nursed Elise, his crystalline gaze averted as he sat beside the rocker, Ilya had his arm slung low across her hips.
