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His brother actually laughed at that.
Darius didn’t respond, just kept sipping his drink.
Sighing, Quinten said into his phone, “If you’re not going to contribute anything worthwhile, I’m going to hang up on you.”
Liam laughed softly. “I should probably go. I’ve got an early morning meeting with my Enforcers and betas.”
“How’s the new one working out for you?” he asked, shaking his head when Darius opened the fridge and held an apple out to him.
“He’s settling in. That mate of his is a piece of work,” Liam said with a chuckle. “He’s trying to learn as much as he can about parahumans as fast as he can and is driving half the pack crazy with all of his questions.”
Quinten smiled softly. “I can relate.”
When he was a kid and he found out about the parahuman world, he’d had so many questions, but he hadn’t had anybody to talk to. The only parahumans he knew were Liam—who’d been a child—and his mom, and he wasn’t about to ask the woman who’d broken up his parents’ marriage what exactly it meant to be a shifter, or part of a pack, or if they still thought the same way when they were in their animal forms or any of the other millions of questions he’d had.
It wasn’t until Liam got older that he started getting some answers. Having a little lion shifter around who felt the need to share every thought and wish and complaint with his big brother had filled in a lot of blanks.
“He’ll settle in,” Quinten said. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I’d like that,” Liam said genuinely. “It’s been too long.”
“It definitely has. Love you, cub.” He hung up in the middle of Liam’s groan of indignation. He didn’t care how old his brother got. He would always be a cub to him.
He set his phone down on the counter, staring at it for a long moment. He really did need to see his brother in person. Not just because it had been so long but because he was positive Liam would finally share what was bothering him once he couldn’t avoid Quinten.
He was worried that Liam was unhappy leading a pack, but he was a natural alpha. Quinten had known that since they were kids. He had tried to boss Quinten around more times than he could count, and as he’d grown up, he’d taken on natural leadership positions within Quinten’s dad’s business.
Quinten had always known, though, that only a true pack would be fulfilling for him.
When he’d heard about a pack in Kansas, all-feline shifters with an aging, antagonistic alpha with no heir and was letting the pack stagnate, he’d nudged his brother in that direction.
Well, maybe more than nudged.
“Did you give Benny the number for that counselor?” he asked, raising his gaze and then narrowing his eyes.
Darius had a half-eaten apple in front of his face, but he was staring at nothing, head tipped back just a little in a way that let Quinten know he was scenting the air.
“What is it?”
“The kid. Something’s wrong.”
Quinten was up and moving before Darius finished speaking, the two of them racing through the penthouse. Darius got there first, of course, but Quinten wasn’t far behind him.
As soon as he entered the bedroom, he cursed under his breath. The jaguar had thrown off the bedding but was sweating profusely. As Quinten watched, he saw him shivering, head tossing back and forth restlessly.
“Shit. What is this?” he asked, moving toward the bed.
Darius was standing at the end, studying him, phone in hand. “I don’t know. He smells like… I don’t know.”
Quinten jerked his head up. “He smells like what, Dare?”
Darius met his eyes. “He smells like death.”
Sucking in a breath, he fisted his hands at his sides. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? He’s not dead.”
“No, but he’s dying. Fast.”
Before Quinten could ask any more questions, he had his phone pressed to his ear. He knew without having to ask that Darius was calling Ginger. He barely listened to Darius’s side of the conversation, turning his focus back on the cat.
