The Patient Is a Shark [Shape-Shifter Clinic 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (13 page)

“She’s still asleep,” Rainer said softly.

“Good.”

Quinn turned the television off and took his empty plate back into the living area, sitting at the table as Rainer flicked the switch on the coffee pot then began pulling things out of the refrigerator.

That reminded Quinn of something he hadn’t done last night. “If you stay here to listen for Wynter waking up, I’ll go back to the car and collect the coolers and picnic basket. Maybe these people will return them for us.”

“Sure. Likely the next group heading the other way can take them back.”

Quinn walked out to the car, enjoying the hot sunshine on his face, and emptied it out. He tidied the backseat, restoring things to good order, collected the bags of trash, and slung the handles of the two coolers over his shoulders so he could carry the large picnic basket in his hands.

It was strange to think how very generous these wolf packs had been to two humans and a shark. Oscar Thorne must have saved the life or the health of someone very important to the Supreme Alpha for everyone to be so kind and helpful to them.

He dropped the trash bags in the big trash can at the side of the guest apartment then took the coolers and picnic basket inside. They’d eaten a lot of food the previous day, but there were still a few things left, which he put in the refrigerator, then laid the empty containers on the floor by the door.

The coffee pot was bubbling again so he made himself another cup of coffee and brought the pot over to the table where Rainer was reading a magazine and eating his breakfast. Or possibly lunch. It was getting close to the middle of the day.

Quinn wanted to find out what time the Alpha would meet with them, but he didn’t want to wake Wynter. Sleep was the very best thing for her now, and the fact she’d slept so long just demonstrated how worn out she’d been by the traveling.

He was just trying to decide whether to go and have a swim himself, or to watch the television, when he heard her slow, careful steps moving into the bathroom. Once the shower was turned on, he picked up the phone and said, “This is Quinn. What time would the Alpha like to see us, and where do we go?”

“One moment please.”

There was silence then the female voice said, “In forty minutes a golf buggy will arrive to drive you all up to the house.”

“Thank you,” he said again. It seemed to be something he said all the time. These people looked after them so well there was nothing else to say.

He jumped up and prepared a plate of salad and fruit for her, then filled the coffee pot again so she could have a fresh cup when she arrived. She wasn’t long, and she swallowed the pain pills with the glass of water Rainer handed her without a murmur. Quinn could only guess how hard to must have been for her to get in and out of the tub to have a shower, then to get dressed without putting her weight on her knee. Yet she didn’t complain. He was proud of her.

“You timed that perfectly. We’re being taken to see the Alpha in half an hour.”

“Oh dear. Perhaps I should have worn a skirt instead of jeans.”

“I can go get your big suitcase from the trailer if you want to change clothes, but I don’t think he’ll mind. He knows we’re in the middle of a journey,” said Quinn.

“It’s too much trouble to search the trailer. Who knows where anything is in there now? I’ll be fine. These berries are delicious,” she said, scooping up another spoonful.

Quinn decided to walk beside the golf buggy, eager for exercise after days cooped up in the car, but Rainer sat beside Wynter, and Quinn knew he was watching to make sure she was all right if they went over bumps. The few times the road had been potholed and rough, Quinn knew that’d caused her pain.

But mostly he was hoping the Alpha would tell them what was going on. Who were the people in pickup? Were they friends of George? Or were they attacking Wynter? Did someone want her hurt even more than she already was?

Having never lived with a pack, Wynter wasn’t really aware of the etiquette when meeting an Alpha. Since he had enormous power over the pack members, and since his people had been endlessly kind to her, she was ready to behave however he wanted her to. Although she hoped like hell it didn’t involve kneeling, as her leg was more than usually sore this morning.

The Alpha was middle aged with a head full of pure-white hair and a face lined with authority. He remained seated in his office as they arrived, and the young man who’d escorted them pulled out a chair for Wynter to sit on, urging her gently to rest, then sliding an ottoman under her foot to raise her sore leg.

She noticed both Quinn and Rainer remained standing until the Alpha waved them to chairs. The young man stood by the door, but the Alpha waved him out.

“I’ll call if I need you.”

Wynter wondered if the Alpha usually spoke with guests alone, or if he was going to tell them something private.
Oh God! The clinic is still all right, isn’t it? The people there haven’t been harmed in any way?

“I can feel your worry, Ms. Hall. Nothing bad has happened nor will it happen.”

And with those words Wynter knew why he was the Alpha. Power spoke clearly through every syllable he uttered. The words he’d just said were a promise to her, and she believed them completely.

“Now, you’ll want an update on the situation.”

Wynter nodded, and she could feel Quinn and Rainer leaning forward with the need to know what was happening.

“The young wolf driving the pickup is the same one who fled the Supreme Alpha’s pack shortly after Ms. Hall reported the e-mail she’d received from George Thorne, or an associate of his. He is currently residing in the local jail with a list of charges that should keep him there for some time. The Supreme is sending a couple of men down to ask him questions about his association with George Thorne. They were on an early morning flight. Likely they’ve already arrived. By the time you get back to Ohio tomorrow night, we should all be considerably wiser.”

“What about the other men in the truck, sir?” asked Quinn.

“They’re all in jail. The truck was stolen. I have someone looking into their histories to investigate whether or not they’re local bad boys or just friends of the wolf.”

“Sir, why is George Thorne causing all this trouble? Is he connected with a crime syndicate? Is he a wolf?”

Wynter bit her lip. She hoped the Alpha didn’t think she was implying being a wolf was a bad thing, because so far the wolves had been enormously helpful and supportive of her.

“If he’s connected to criminals he’s hidden it very well. Sierra Bond, of Bailey and Bond, who’s one of the best young attorneys in America today, has searched everywhere to find out and has uncovered no links. As to his heritage, yes, he’s a werewolf shape-shifter, but he’s not welcome in any pack the Supreme has connections with. And that means most of the world. The Supreme is in close contact with the Supremes of Europe and Asia as well as ruling North and South America. As to why he’s unleashed this attack on the shape-shifter clinic no one has any idea. It may be that he’s just a vindictive young man, or it may be he has much deeper motives. We will be watching him. Rest assured of that.”

Wow. Dr. Thorne did indeed have friends in high places. No wonder these people were treating her so well. Which reminded her… “Sir, I want to thank you for all you’ve done for me. For sending the policemen so very quickly yesterday and giving us a place to stay and a swimming pool and, just everything. I’m overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity of you all.”

“Little one, this is a human world. The life of a shape-shifter is never easy, and yours, I think, has been harder than most lately. It’s a privilege to have someone swim in my pool who actually appreciates it. I only wish it was bigger and deeper so you could enjoy it even more. Swim and rest today, and may you travel safely and without incident tomorrow. The Supreme’s helicopter team are never more than fifteen minutes’ flight away from you on this journey. They will continue to watch over you until you’re safely at the clinic.”

“Thank you.” Wynter understood the interview was over and stood up, wishing she could think of better words to express her appreciation. These people had made a new life possible for her. She owed them everything. “Thank you” seemed much too small a word to use. And as for a helicopter, with people watching over her, wow. That must be costing the Supreme a fortune. How could she ever hope to replay such mind-boggling generosity?

But once again the Alpha seemed to read her mind.

“You’re most welcome, little shark.”

The young man was waiting at the front door of the house with the golf buggy. He handed Quinn a note. “The security team want to know what time you expect to leave tomorrow, the chef wants to know what Ms. Hall’s favorite foods are, and I’m instructed to offer you any help you need sorting or packing your equipment. Anything at all, please ask me.”

Once again Wynter was almost in tears. Everyone was so kind, it was hard to understand why they cared about a nobody like her. A shark, not even a wolf. She could hardly wait to meet Dr. Oscar Thorne. He must be a true hero, not just to take her on as his patient, free of charge, but because these people respected him so highly.

So why does George want to close the clinic down? If it’s doing so much good for shape-shifters and he’s a shape-shifter himself, why is he opposed to it? And why me? Is it simply coincidence? Oh! Perhaps he knows my father. I never thought of that before.

* * * *

Quinn led them straight back to Wynter’s big bed. He wanted plenty of time for their sex scene together, and to still leave time for a meal, packing, a long swim, and at least eight hours for them to sleep before the final day’s drive. He was disappointed he couldn’t provide the pink fluffy cuffs for her ankles and wrists, or the pink edible body paint from their game in the car, but they were all ideas for the future. He did find some clothes pins to use as nipple clamps, and some thin dishcloths to use as blindfolds and rope, plus some items from the kitchen to use on the asses of his subs, so all was not lost. He was just so grateful he’d brought lube and a butt plug with him.

“If you don’t like what we’re doing you can call
orange
at any time, Wynter. And if you want us to stop you call
red
. Red totally stops the game, you understand. Orange just means we ease off what we’re doing at the time.”

“I understand.”

Quinn hoped she did. It was always hard the first time with a new sub who wasn’t aware of the possibilities of the BDSM genre. Add to that her damaged knee which meant he wasn’t about to roll her onto her front or put any pressure on her left leg at all. At least Rainer understood the genre. Quinn was really glad now that they’d had that session together in the dungeon. It meant he did have at least a bit of a feel for Rainer’s limitations and tastes.

Quinn tied their hands together and blindfolded them. “Now I’m going to touch you with some things, and I want you to guess what they are. Don’t rush in before you’re certain, wait and be sure.”

He went out to the kitchen and returned with an armload of things—a whisk, a wooden spoon, some cookie cutters in different shapes, a rolling pin, a pastry brush, and the clothes pins.

Rainer was lying on his stomach, his bound hands above his head, his blindfolded eyes turned toward Wynter. Since the blindfold was only a thin dishcloth, even though Quinn had folded it three or four times, it was possible Rainer still had some vision. But Quinn wasn’t going to fuss about that. It was more the sensation of not being free to look and take in information through their eyes than complete blindness he was demonstrating anyway.

Wynter was on her side, her left knee resting on top of her right one. It wasn’t going to be easy to double fuck her, but hopefully the endorphins from the orgasms he planned to give her would more than compensate for any extra pain from her knee.
I can’t wait until she’s healed. Until she can walk and run and kneel and be free to do whatever she wants again without worrying whether it will hurt!

Quinn put the toys on the bed beside him then picked up a cookie cutter and a rolling pin. The cookie cutter happened to be a snowman, but that was irrelevant. He placed it flat on Rainer’s ass and rolled the rolling pin over it a few times until the shape was clearly marked on Rainer’s skin, then he did the same, but a little more gently, to Wynter. Then he smacked Rainer’s ass with the rolling pin hard, three times, and Wynter’s ass once.

Both of them wiggled, but he could tell they were happy wiggles.

“What was that?” he asked.

“A gingerbread man cookie cutter and a rolling pin,” said Wynter.

“How did you know?” asked Rainer.

“I can actually cook,” she said, her voice full of humor.

“It was a snowman not a gingerbread man,” said Quinn, whacking her ass once with the wooden spoon, before whacking Rainer much harder four times.

Next he tried the whisk, which neither of them guessed, although Wynter’s hesitant, “an egg beater” was close, followed by the pastry brush. He enjoyed stroking the bristles up and down their shoulders and over Wynter’s breast.

Rainer instantly said, “A paint brush,” and Wynter didn’t correct him, but since Rainer was enjoying being paddled with the wooden spoon, Quinn did tell them the correct name.