too well. I’m well informed about G’aladon, his past and present deeds, and let me tell you, I’m not very happy that he’s been haunting you. We have to modify the wards again.”
“He’s not dead,” Quinn snapped at her. “Only ghosts haunt, and he isn’t one.”
God only knew Quinn could tell the difference. Growing up, his psychic abilities had helped him understand the paranormal world more than other members of his family did. Thankfully, the Tanners’ involvement with the paranormal had made it necessary for them to place strong wards around the building, which blocked hostile energy from touching Quinn and putting too much strain on his senses. But since he couldn’t exactly stay trapped inside the diner forever, Quinn had learned how to control his abilities.
“Look, Mom. You know I’ve seen how much pain people can be in. I have often felt their emotions. When Dad died, I experienced his loss through my own grief, and yours, and Dawn’s.” He swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat as memories assaulted him. He hadn’t realized it, but his friend, the presence in his mind, had helped him get over all that without sinking him into a trauma. But his mother would not understand, so Quinn added, “Imagine that pain, and triple it, no multiply it a hundred times over. That is what he feels, every day.”
He hated reminding his mother of his father’s death, but he needed her to realize how serious he was. Alas, she didn’t seem inclined to take his words into consideration. “And G’aladon deserves it,” she replied. “People always get their just deserts, Quinn. It is only fair that he’s been punished.”
Quinn had expected her to be harsh, but her cruelty shocked and pained him. “That’s not for you to decide,” he replied. “I am going, whether you like it or not.”
His mother’s eyes widened. “Quinn…You can’t be serious. I absolutely forbid you to—”
She abruptly stopped speaking and stared beyond Quinn’s shoulder, the color draining from her face. Quinn turned, wondering what could have freaked her out so much. But even as that thought passed through his mind, his senses were overcome by a feeling of absolute power. And when he did see what his mother did, he wondered if sometime after leaving his room he’d fallen into a dream.
A big, translucent white wolf stood in the middle of the hallway, gazing at them. “He will go,” a female voice said, echoing from the wolf. “He will go because he must, for his own good, and for that of others.”
Quinn knew enough about the spirit wolves to identify the beautiful creature in front of him. He hadn’t been sure whether the Spirit Mother existed or not, but now that he was in front of her, he had the sudden urge to kneel or at least bow.
“There is no need for humility,” she said, obviously reading his mind. “Already, you have given one of my children hope, and you will continue to do so. Therefore, you are dear to me.”
One of her children. She must mean Roarke. His heart started beating faster just at the thought of the feral. The white wolf tilted her head, and Quinn swore she seemed amused. His face heated with embarrassment, but that didn’t stop his cock from hardening in his pants.
As if to complicate things further, Roarke suddenly appeared in the corridor. He must have decided not to wait for Quinn after all. His gaze first went to Quinn, concern shining in his gray eyes. It was only when he realized Quinn was all right that he spotted the Spirit Mother. He fell to his knees, bowing lowly and murmuring words of praise.
To a certain extent, Quinn felt amused. How in the world had Roarke missed a glowing white wolf in the center of the hallway? His heart warmed when he realized the feral had been too focused on Quinn to care about anything else.
The Spirit Mother’s voice appeared in his mind. “You already mean a lot to him, and to the witch,” she said. “But you have a difficult