Chapter 8

The look on Quin’s face shattered any hope Annie might have had that the day had been a creation of her overactive imagination. His vehement response to Theo’s full name still had her stomach flipping, the burn in his nearly black eyes more intense than anything she’d ever witnessed from him. He looked like a man possessed, an effect worsened by the black shocks of hair sticking up every which way. She had done that. Running her hands through his hair. But not even that knowledge was enough to temper the fear that had her wanting to pull away from his grip.

“You know him.” It was pointless phrasing it as a question. She already knew the answer. “He said I freed him. What does that even mean?”

The tendons in Quin’s neck stood out from how tightly he clenched his jaw. She could see the veins running through his muscled arms as well. Quin was struggling to hold himself in check, but she couldn’t tell what it was about this Theo that inspired such a response.