Can you heal old scars?

Chapter 9

Images flooded Quin's mind that night, of blood and pain and humiliation. Watching his friends and family ripped apart, of his Father having his throat torn out in front of him, his blood hitting Quin's face as he desperately tried to crawl towards Quin, as the monstrous wolf grabbed Quin's own throat and sank in it's hideous yellow teeth.
The odd sense of calm he had felt, thinking he was going to die and join all his friends and his Father, and the terrifying agony when he realized the wolf wasn't killing him, but had a completely different kind of hell in mind.

Quin woke with a start, cold and clammy, as the light of the first rays of sun broke through a small gap in the curtains. He fought to steady his breathing as his thoughts finally stopped spinning their nightmarish webs around his mind.

His neck was throbbing again and he rubbed at it in annoyance. It had been steadily getting worse since he met Ryan, was it some weird wolf thing he didn't know about?
He had always been too ashamed to ask anyone anything about the mark, all he knew was that it was a mating scar that had been forced on him as a child when the Alpha of the Raging Blood pack had claimed him as his "new toy"

From the moment he was able to he had hidden it, under high necklines, scarfs, wraps... Anything so no one would ever see it. He had even hidden it from Xander, despite the fact Xander knew most of what had happened, he had omitted that one detail. He just knew that if anyone knew about the bite, that eventually someone would ask to see it and he just couldn't stomach the idea.

His Mother would cry anytime she saw it too, so he had gotten very good at hiding it, it was second nature now. He never did anything without it covered, other than bathe. The few times he had sex he had kept his clothes on, resorting to quickies for nothing more than satisfying a need.
He had never slept with a man, not after what had happened, he just felt like women were safer. That wasn't to say he had no interest in men, he did, perhaps more than women if he really thought about it. But just the idea of being with a man would have his nerves flair and a wave of nausea and panic would follow, usually resulting in a sort of panic attack.

And now he was sat in the home of his supposed "fated mate" who not only was male, but an Alpha wolf. Did fate hate him that much? This was surely just some cruel trick that the universe was playing on him, a way of punishing him for being here, alive and well whilst so many of his tribe had perished.

What right did he have to still be breathing, after so many had died? He hadn't wanted to stay alive, every moment of every day he had wished for death. For 7 years he hoped for nothing else, and then he was suddenly expected to keep on going, having to try to take care of his Mother's failing health until a stroke had finally taken her from him.

Quin inhaled the cool air of the room, realizing that his mind was spiralling down into that hole where he shoved his emotions. He shook himself and climbed back out, emotions were bad things for Quin, difficult to tame and impossible for him to deal with. He had other things he needed to concentrate on now, like somehow facing Ryan.

He also still had handcuffs attached to his wrist which needed removing, and a tag that he somehow had to hide. Not to mention an entire pack of Werewolves surrounding him that were probably nice people, but the thought still made his blood run cold.

He could deal with Werewolves on a one to one basis, after all his best friend was a wolf. He could even handle them in small groups without issue, but a whole pack? The thought kept Quin stuck in his room for several more hours, the sound of the inhabitants waking up and moving about had him well and truly rooted to the bed, until his stomach started complaining as the smell of food wafted up from the lower floor.

He finally relented and grabbed the warmest clothes he could find. Keeping on his white turtleneck he grabbed a v neck black knitted sweater and some dark blue boot cut jeans, he shoved on his boots and was thankful that the jeans covered the stupid tag on his ankle.