He glanced away from the road for a sec. Lights from the roadway reflected off the drying tears on her cheeks. He caught sight of that bruise again and wanted to kill Tyler.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said. “Come closer.”

She unsnapped her seat belt and scooted to the middle of the bench, until her shoulder was against his side and their thighs were touching.

Her face pressed into his shoulder. She smelled like the woods, pine and dirt and nighttime.

Nick sighed and put an arm around her, stroking her hair back from her face. “Quinn. Do you want me to take you home?”

“To your house?” her muffled voice asked hopefully.

He hadn’t meant his house, but he felt the pain and fear in every breath she took.

“Please?” she whispered.

“Okay,” he said, hitting the turn signal to make a U-turn at the next intersection. “You have to be absolutely quiet. Mike will kill me if he finds you there.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to be loud?” she said suggestively.

Nick made a disgusted noise. “You can’t be too hurt if you’re making jokes.”

She raised her head and sniffled. “You smell like Adam.”

Nick couldn’t figure out the note in her voice, but warmth snuck across his cheeks as he remembered the exotic scent of oranges and cloves. Of course she’d know what Adam smelled like—she’d spent an hour with her hands all over him during rehearsal.

“Your bag is still here, too,” Quinn continued, kicking at his messenger bag on the floor of the truck. “Nick Merrick, you dirty dog. It’s after midnight.”

“We just talked.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Quinn. Shut up and give me your arm.”

When she did, he glanced between her wrist and the road. He could feel the heat coming off her skin from here. No wonder he’d found her crying.

He definitely should’ve killed Tyler in the driveway.

Nick blew air along the burn, feeding power into it.

Quinn sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?”

“Healing it.” He had to be careful, though. Too much power could hurt. He knew that from experience, too.

She relaxed against him, resting her head against his shoulder again. “That feels amazing.”

“I’ll send you a bill.”

“Can you fix my face, too?”

“Yes.” Another breath, another flare of power. She was relaxed, so he tried for information. “Why did he hit you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Did you sleep with Adam?”

“Of course not.” The thought was terrifying and intriguing all at once, and he told his imagination to knock it off.

“Don’t get all indignant about it. Two virile guys? Isn’t that like twice the recommended daily dose of testosterone?”

“Quinn.”

“Did you make out at least?”

He sighed along her skin.