On the other hand, Belle found herself unable to make sense of her emotions. She shouldn't have been affected by him, yet she was, deeply so. Could it be the bond between them? It was as though she could feel his pain, burning like fire within her. If only there were a way to sever the bond, to make him reject her. Then she wouldn't have to endure this torment.
It was that foolish connection that left her restless, compelled to ease his suffering. Why else would she feel anything for a man as cruel as him?
"I think I will step out for some air," Belle announced suddenly. Before Mia could stop her, she was already heading toward the arena's entrance.
Even while battling the bull, Quinn's focus never strayed far from Belle. He noticed her departure immediately, dissatisfaction clouding his features. Deciding to end the fight quickly, he tackled the bull with a final, decisive move and claimed victory.
Outside the arena, Belle heard the roar of cheers and shouts celebrating his triumph. She smiled faintly, not surprised in the least. Unlike Mia and Aurora, who had bet against him, she had quietly placed a wager in his favor. She could only hope they wouldn't discover her secret.
Turning to return to her friends, Belle found herself caught in a crowd. The murmurs began immediately, some recognizing her from earlier.
"Aren't you his woman? He's looking for you," one person remarked, prompting several uniformed men nearby to take notice and approach her.
"We have been sent to escort you to him, Your Grace," one of them said, bowing politely as they moved closer.
"No! No, you have got the wrong person," Belle protested, her tone firm as she attempted to push her way through. "I need to get back to my friends."
But one of the men seemed to recognize her and subtly signaled their leader to intervene.
"My apologies, Your Grace, but this is a direct order. Please come with us, and we will retrieve your friends afterward," the leader insisted, stepping into her path.
Annoyed, Belle opened her mouth to protest but paused, remembering Mia's advice. A mischievous smile curved her lips, catching the men off guard.
"You know what? Fine. Let's go," she said brightly, her sudden compliance leaving them visibly puzzled.
"This way, Your Grace," the leader said, gesturing for her to follow.
They led her to a large tent where the leader stopped, explaining that they could not enter and would stand guard outside.
Belle hesitated before stepping in, her expression darkening when she found the tent seemingly empty. She turned to leave, only to be enveloped in a strong, warm, and slightly sweaty embrace from behind. The unexpected contact sent a shiver through her.
"I thought you wouldn't come," Quinn murmured, his voice low and raw with vulnerability. It startled her, he sounded as though he truly needed her, as though he were on the verge of breaking.
Burying his face into her hair, he inhaled deeply, her scent soothing whatever turmoil had gripped his restless soul.
"Let me tend to your injuries first," Belle said softly, her tone surprising Quinn. Since when did she start showing concern for him?
"Are you sure this isn't a trick to stab me instead?" He teased, his breath grazing her skin, sending an unwelcome shiver through her.
"Your breath…it tickles," she muttered, flustered. His smirk widened, and he leaned closer, deliberately teasing her further.
"Can we just stay like this for a minute?" He asked, his voice unusually gentle. It was not a command but a plea, and Belle found herself complying. Though she wanted to refuse, something in his tone stilled her protests. Her thoughts briefly wandered to Hezekiah, guilt flickering in her chest. Yet she rationalized this as a means to rid herself of Quinn once and for all. It wasn't as though she wanted him. Hezekiah would claim her soon, and this would all be behind her.
"Quinn," she called softly when he remained still for too long. Concern creeping in, she gave him a slight shake. "You are not fainting, are you?"
"What was your bet?" He asked suddenly, breaking the tension.
She rolled her eyes at his response, exasperated. "Is that really what's important right now?"
"Yes," he replied simply, his unwavering position making her heart skip a beat.
"I bet against you," she lied, swallowing nervously, hoping he wouldn't see through her words.
"Why do I feel like that's not true?" He countered, his knowing tone making her pulse quicken.
"You have always been delusional," she retorted briskly, eager to divert the conversation. "Now let me tend to your wounds so I can leave with Mia and Aurora."
"They can leave without you. I will take you home myself," he said, his voice firm.
Belle shook her head. "I don't want to worry the King. I have troubled him enough. For both our sakes, it's better if I leave now. Next time, I may not be able to protect you."
The word *protect* made Quinn chuckle, the sound low and amused. It was the first time anyone had expressed such a sentiment toward him, and hearing it from her left him feeling…strange. She still hated him, of that, he was certain. But her actions were far harder to decipher.
"The thought of being protected by you feels…nice," he admitted, sighing as his warm breath once again brushed against her skin. Belle fought the urge to waver, steadying herself against the pull of his presence.
"Quinn!" She called sharply, snapping him out of his comfort.
"Fine," he relented, finally withdrawing. Taking her hand, he led her to the bed and sat down, pulling her down beside him.
"Afraid I might run away?" She asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I am just using your body as a warmer."
Belle's cheeks flushed, and she turned her gaze away. "What nonsense are you saying?" She scolded lightly, focusing instead on pulling out the supplies she needed to tend to him.
Quinn watched her work, intrigued by how quickly she moved. It was evident she knew exactly what to do.
"Where did you learn to treat injuries like this?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.
"From tending to the King's wounds most nights," she replied matter-of-factly, her voice steady.
At her words, his grip on her hand tightened, his eyes darkening.
"I hate it," he muttered, the bitterness in his voice unmistakable.