All Chapters of Maybe Wrong, Maybe Right: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

**TRIGGER WARNING: BDSM scenes** Quinn Troy was agitated. He paced around the room, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes cycling between red and golden, his chest heaving as it did the day before, when I pissed him off. I had no idea how I knew, but he was struggling to keep Vortigen under control. The room was clean, but big and cold. A fire roared in the massive fireplace, but it barely managed to keep the cold draft that swirled around the room at bay. I sat on the edge of the gigantic four-poster bed. The mattress was soft at least and felt modern, but the frame of the bed was obviously the same age as the castle. “Are you okay?” I asked Troy. He stopped his relentless pacing and stared at me, his eyes flashing in the dark. “No,” he growled at last. “Vortigen is on edge, and the monster…” he shrugged and started pacing again. There was one, tiny window in the room, covered with a weird kind of glass that distorted the outside view. I didn’t even know if it could open

Troy Next to me, Quinn bolted upright and started screaming at the top of her lungs. Her eyes were wide open and wilder than that of a feral wolf. The scream that echoed in the room was filled with sorrow and abject terror. The kind I’d heard from she-wolves when they found their mate dead on the battlefield, or a mother who came across her child that succumbed to the cold during the night. “No,” Quinn gasped and started to claw at her throat, digging her nails in deep, leaving deep, bloody furrows behind. “No. We have to get out. I can't breathe! I can't...” The door to our room crashed open and Raf came running in, followed by Lucas and Casper. “Prince? What’s wrong?” Raf asked. All three of them noticed that Quinn was naked from the waist up and as one lowered their eyes to the floor. “I don’t know,” I said and turned sideways so I could grab Quinn’s wrists. I forced her hands away from her throat and wrestled them into her lap. “Wake up!” I said loudly. Quinn started to stru

Quinn The seven Lycan women followed me into the mansion, running behind me on their tip-toes, unconcerned with their nudity now that the men's eyes weren't on them. They smelled revolting. A mixture of wet dog, sweat, and general bad hygiene, but I couldn’t fault them for that – I wasn’t exactly a walking cherry blossom. It was strange, but I already forgot how bad people could smell after only a few days. They all looked to be about my age, but because they were immortal, it was impossible to tell how old they truly were. “Where should we take them?” I asked Missus Lowry. “My room?” The housekeeper's already sour face pulled into a disapproving frown. “No, Madam. That is…a bad idea.” I looked over my shoulder at the terrified girls. “Just so they can wash and dress,” I said. “They’re scared of their men.” “Their fathers will protect them,” Missus Lowry replied. Behind me, one of the girls snorted loudly. “Oh please. Our fathers will sell us to a filthy human if he paid them e

Troy“It’s a nice day,” I said. “Want to go for a swim?”Quinn gave me a dubious look. I felt her hesitation. “I don’t…not with all the Lycans outside.”“You don’t like having them here?” I know she didn’t. I felt the shiver of resentment running through her when she said the word Lycan.“The girls are okay. I like them…well, most of them. I can’t stand Margie. She’s just the werewolf version of Caroline.”I laughed and swept hair out of her face. “Yeah, she’s a piece of work-” I rolled off the bed to get my trunks -“but not as bad as Caroline.”I walked into my closet and stared straight at the painting of my prophesied mate, the one the witch gave me ten years ago. It had been there, hidden behind my row of suits, for nearly five years. Someone moved it. Glover? My father?I decided to worry about it later.I picked the heavy painting up, and quickly moved it to its original place. I didn’t want Quinn to see it. Not yet. I’d already overwhelmed her with big and terrifying news, and

Quinn My head was pounding and the buzzing in the back of my skull was driving me insane, but it was worth it if it meant I could learn a little more about Troy. With ever minute that passed, I understood him a little better. My mate broke our mind link and took his plate of raw meatballs over to the stove. “That’s it?” I asked. “That is not the whole story.” “Taking a break,” he said. “It’s difficult to maintain a mind link for this long. Even for me.” He opened the fridge and took out a can of beer. “Do you want one?” he asked. “I don’t like beer. Too bitter.” He chuckled. “There’s some cider…and these strawberry cocktail things.” "I'll just have water...or juice." "I really suggest something alcoholic. It helps with the mind link." "Why?" Troy shrugged. "I think because it relaxes you a little." “Give me the strawberry cocktail thing, then.” He pulled the bottle out of the fridge, opened it and handed it to me. Without even looking at the label I downed half the bottle i