Outlaw (Wolves of Royal Paynes #4) - Kiki Burrelli Page 0,26

Quinlan like a shield.

Quinlan swiped an irritated hand through them, parting the smoke to continue glaring at me.

No one could poke at my buttons better than Quinlan. It had been so long, I'd forgotten how white-hot and furious he could make me. Was he saying he no longer considered himself my omega?

A crow cawed, flying overhead in the murky sky.

Technically, Quin hadn't ever been my omega. An actual plan that involved me dropping to my knees and groveling until he forgave me for not claiming him sooner.

So yes, I'd planned on claiming Quinlan. That fact had been widely known but didn't change how my plan was still just only that, a plan. In the eyes—and noses—of other shifters, Quinlan was unclaimed.

"Unacceptable," I growled, stomping forward.

I watched Quinlan's eyes widen before my sight was blocked by a pack of omegas.

"And that's a timeout on that," Jazz said with his arms crossed.

As much as my wolf howled for me to grab Quinlan, put him in my arms where he belonged, and fuck him against the hood of the Hummer—showing him who he belonged to—the man side of me knew that was the quickest way to lose Quinlan forever.

I spun around, plodding through Rebecca's garden. She'd grown the sweetest tomatoes I'd ever tasted in this rectangle of land. Jazz and the others huddled around Quinlan, their heads together. If I wanted, I could listen in on what they said, but with the way Quin had been looking at me, I wouldn't like what I heard.

I joined the twins at the Hummer while Quin and the others walked around the general area of Rebecca's home and garden. Sitka held one hand and Storri the other as Jazz asked Quin to describe what certain spots had once looked like.

Huntley nodded in welcome, his eyes tight, not liking being here. "Listening to you two fight…"

Jagger finished the sentence. "…it was like old times."

My jaw popped. "We never fought like that."

"Diesel!" Quinlan yelled out my name, and for a split second, I didn't recognize that the excited voice had come from my mate.

I was by his side in a second. Despite his tone, I searched him first for injury and then potential dangers. "Are you okay?"

The others surrounded, doing the same thing I'd done but to their own mates.

Quinlan made a small, lost sound. He wrenched his eyes from mine. "I didn't mean to—saying your name…was habit," he mumbled.

I saw what had sparked Quinlan's excitement next. They still stood in the loose circle they'd formed when they'd stopped to chat. The ground beneath their feet was the rectangle of space where Rebecca used to stake the tomato cages. In the ground at the center of their circle was a juvenile tomato plant.

I'd just walked through this space and knew that plant hadn't been there a minute ago. For five years, nothing could grow in any of the land that the hellfire had touched, and now a plant sprouted in minutes? It didn't take a master of deductive reasoning to figure out the likely cause.

"This land was tainted with hellfire," I said, staring at the fledgling plant. "You four are the opposite of that."

Knox lifted his arm, and Jazz slid beneath it. "I think we did that. Hold on! Does this trick work everywhere? Hallie was so smarmy after she won best pumpkin."

"Your plants died before they flowered," Sitka reminded him.

"Yeah, and now we can do our 'stand in a circle' thing, hold hands, and grow us some gourds. Oh yeah!"

Storri frowned, and they turned as a group back to the vehicles. "I don't think you can use your angelic gift to make your packmate jealous."

"Pshaw. Why not?"

The bantering continued, fading the farther they walked.

Just the three of us remained.

Quin's wraiths draped over his nape, hanging long in front of his body. "She grew the best tomatoes." He didn't look at me, but I knew I was who he spoke to.

"There's a garden at the hotel. You can use what she taught you."

Quinlan didn't smile at me, not technically. That honor belonged to the tomato plant he'd crouched in front of, gently rubbing the leaves between his fingers. "She used to say this was her favorite smell."

He stood, wordlessly walking back to the Hummer.

He hadn't smiled at me, but I made him smile.

My eyes dropped to the plant, and my gut dropped. Several of the leaves had withered, not the brown of a neglected plant, but black and rotting. The entire plant hadn't died—most was still a vibrant