Essence of Quinn Parts 3 & 4 (MxM)

The Descent

The corridor was freezing in comparison to the infirmary room Quinn had just left. He shivered, trying to get his bearings and figure out where he was and who was here.

Low voices from a room further into the wing drew his attention. Alpha and a female. Not Calista’s voice, but if Alpha was in there, then that had to be where she was.

Quinn figured he should check in on her quickly before he left.

Just as he reached the door, it opened, and Nova, the Council quint stepped out of the room. She frowned when she saw him, closing the door softly behind her.

“Is everything okay? Does Lord Azael need me for something?” she asked.

Quinn snorted before he could stop himself, feeling guilty when her expression tightened. Again, that feeling of familiarity tickled the edges of his senses.

“No. I have something I have to do, but I wanted to check on Calista first.” He glanced towards the door to Air’s room. “Omega and Seren are taking care of him.”

Nova nodded, but her gaze dropped to Quinn’s hand.

“Will you let me heal that? The cut is deep, so it could use a boost.”

Before Quinn thought to pull away, she reached out and took the hand he’d sliced during the ritual.

The instant their skin touched, distant memories swallowed him.

Pale blue eyes. Blonde hair. Musical laughter. The warmth of a stolen embrace. Unconditional love, tainted by the bloodline's curse.

Quinn snatched his hand away from her, stepping out of arm’s reach and snarling at the ghuleh, who stared at him with wide eyes.

Eyes the same shade of blue as his mother.

Fucking psychometry.

He shook out his hand. It felt as though she’d shocked him. Phantom sparks of static pulsed through him as her healing magic got to work on his hand. But his brain reached for the connection without thinking.

Nova looked very much like Quinn's mother had. His youngest sister had been like his mother’s twin, and Nova favoured them both. Her essence, too. It felt familiar... Because it was familial.

The young ghuleh carried the same blood as he did. Quinn sensed the subdued echo of it.

She had to be a relative. Some kind of great niece, perhaps? Maybe even further removed than that, because his siblings would surely be dead by now. They had all been older than he was. His parents hadn’t risked another kit after Quinn's unfortunate birth.

He shuddered, shoving the fragments of memory back down deep where they belonged. He could barely remember anything about his family. Couldn’t even recall his sister’s name. It was going to stay that way.

They’d cast him out young, ensuring their own survival. A life free from the burden of his curse.

But that didn’t stop Quinn's heart from aching. Something like longing throbbed there. The longing for connection. For roots.

He hated that ache. That the distant part of him that still remembered being loved by someone of his own blood dared to stir.

“Are you okay?” Nova said carefully. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Quinn bit back a whine. He didn’t have fucking time for this right now. Time or energy.

He flexed his fingers, feeling his eyes burn as he took her in. She was tall for a ghuleh, like he remembered his mother was. She'd been not much smaller than his sire. Nova's skin tone was the same as his. Her magic tasted similar, too, though diluted by generations.