Chapter Two
The barback with the manbun—Terry, Preston finally remembered—was grabbing something from the back shelf when Preston’s phone vibrated in his back pocket.
Since no one was throwing up a hand like they were signaling a cab, Preston checked to see who’d texted him. He’d only been in town a few weeks, so whoever it was, they belonged to his past.
A past he desperately wanted to forget.
Please don’t let it be him.
This was the third town Preston had moved to in the past four months. Just when he thought things were safe, he’d had to pack up and move again.
His car had finally given out, and Preston had left it abandoned in the parking lot of the motel in the last town where he’d been staying.
His brows furrowed when he saw it was a text from his dad, demanding his son call him.
Not gonna happen.
“Everything okay?” Terry glanced at Preston with concern.
Why did the guy keep acting like they were best friends? Not that Preston was against making friends—which he’d always left behind because of his ongoing crisis—but Terry was acting as if they’d known each other for years instead of hours.
Why was he giving “Hey bro we trauma bonded in another life” energy?
It was a bit off-putting.
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Preston gave a smile he didn’t feel, like a mask being sewn shut in real-time. “Everything’s great.”
Maybe if he said that enough times it would become true. Maybe if he wished it enough times, he could get his old life back.
“Can I get a mug of whatever’s on tap?” a guy asked, his voice too similar to…
Preston whipped around so fast he knocked the empty mug out of Terry’s hand. It hit the edge of the counter as Preston tried desperately to grab it, but the mug slipped through his fingers and shattered on the floor.
That was the fourth glass he’d broken tonight. Preston simply stared at the pieces at his feet, wondering if Ash would get sick of his inventory getting destroyed and tell him to kick rocks.
As badly as Preston needed this job, he was spectacularly failing at it.
“Move aside so I can sweep it up,” Ash said in a neutral tone, making Preston wonder what his boss was thinking. Scratch that. He didn’t want to know.
“I’m sorry,” Preston feebly offered while trying to calculate just how much he would owe his boss by closing time. At this rate, his paycheck would be nothing more than an I.O.U debt. “I’ll sweep it up. It’s my mess.”
In more ways than one.
“Can I borrow the new guy, Ash?”
That deep, smoky voice. Just what Preston didn’t need right now. His nerves were already frayed, and for some reason, Zeppelin’s mere presence rattled Preston in ways he couldn’t understand.
Sure, the guy was smoking-hot, but looks alone shouldn’t cause Preston to malfunction.
“He’s due for a break anyway.” Ash dumped the shards into a nearby trashcan. “He’s got twenty minutes.”
That didn’t mean Preston wanted to spend his break malfunctioning with Zeppelin. He’d rather relax out back than feel trapped in such an intense presence. It was as if Zeppelin’s whole aura of possessive heat and predator energy was pressing down on him like a weighted blanket made of pheromones.
Preston frowned. What in the hell did that even mean? He really did need a break.
Not caring what the guy wanted, Preston hurried from behind the counter and weaved his way through the crowd toward the back exit, running from the effect Zeppelin had over him before it trapped him completely.
He thought he would have to pardon himself multiple times just to get by the customers, but everyone seemed to give him room as he passed them.
Shoving his hands against the push bar, Preston spilled into the alley, sucking in fresh, warm air like he’d been oxygen deprived.
“Fuck,” he muttered with force, running a shaky hand through his hair as a few cars passed by the mouth of the alley. Above, clouds drifted past the moon, while the breeze sent leaves rustling.
Preston crossed his arms, gripping his upper arms, desperately trying to hold himself together. The constant upheaval, his bone-deep fear, and the instability was enough to bring stinging tears to his eyes.
All he wanted to do was rest, to stop running, to finally call someplace home.
And to stop screwing up so badly at his job. Preston had never worked in a bar before, and his inexperience was about to get him fired.
He’d checked the bakery, the diner, the pet store, and other various places in town before giving up and applying for a position at Frothy Pine, the local watering hole in this small mountain town.
Not that he’d been skilled for any of the other businesses. Before his life had been turned upside down, Preston worked in a factory making airplane parts.
There weren’t any factory jobs in Crimson Hollow. Just quaint shops and the standard businesses every town needed to function.
Preston quickly swiped at his eyes when the back door opened, causing the music and conversations to swell before dying back down.
Zeppelin stepped outside, the door closing behind his tall, muscular frame. His presence demanded the kind of attention hard to ignore. It was as if the very air around the guy bent to his will.
He gave Zeppelin his back, even though his body was screaming to fall into those brawny arms.
It had to be the stress that made Preston feel that way. He didn’t even know the biker, and Zeppelin’s persistence should’ve caused alarm bells to go off like sirens in Preston’s head.
Instead, all he felt was… safe.
Don’t you dare fall for another handsome face. That’s exactly what got you in trouble to begin with.
The quiet seemed to stretch between them. Zeppelin just stood there in the darkness as Preston’s breathing grew faster and more shallow. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm down, but felt like he was choking instead.
“Take a deep breath, sunshine.” Warm, strong hands cupped his cheeks. Hands that had no business holding him so tenderly.
“I-I can’t.” This wasn’t Preston’s first anxiety attack, but it was the first time he wasn’t experiencing it alone. He kept his eyes shut, because he didn’t want to be seen like this.
Weak and helpless. Those traits only attracted predators. Something Preston was unfortunately familiar with.
“Look at me, Preston.”
Zeppelin wasn’t asking for anything. Not really, but Preston still felt cornered by the softness in his voice.
Blowing out a deep breath, Preston curled his fingers around Zeppelin’s wrists, half afraid the guy would vanish if he didn’t hold on.
“There you go, love. Now open your eyes.”
The edges of him came into focus one blink at a time. Then Preston’s gaze climbed, until there was only him . Zeppelin’s smile had a warmth that wrapped around Preston, soft and easy, coaxing trust in a way words never could.
But as badly as Preston wanted to trust him, safety was a lie.
Letting go, he took a step back. Zeppelin released him without being asked.
“Thanks for the save.” Preston tried to sound like a bro, act like one too, even giving a peace sign, acting as if he embraced toxic masculinity.
The feeling made him want to vomit. He wasn’t his dad, who, to this day, was still pissed at his wife for naming their youngest son Preston.
Like a name could turn someone gay. Unfortunately for his dad, his worst fear had come true.
When Preston was a teenager, he’d been so enraged about his father’s clear prejudice that he’d purposefully acted flamboyant as fuck. He’d pretended he was Midas. Only, everything Preston touched he pretended turned gay.
One afternoon he’d freaked out his father when Preston had walked past their family dog, King, and tapped the dog’s head like he held a glittery wand. “And now you’re gay. I guess we should rename you Queen, huh?”
His mom had snickered.
His dad had been seconds away from unhousing Preston.
Zeppelin smirked, but his eyes said he knew exactly what Preston was doing. Or so Preston thought.
The sexy biker threw up a peace sign in return then clapped Preston on the shoulder. Which now slightly throbbed.
“Come on, bro .” Zeppelin opened the back door. “You can hang out with me and my guys. You know, throw back shots, grab some ass, and talk shop.”
That sounded like the worst time ever. Preston would rather lick the glasses clean than act like one of the guys. Biker guys.
“I’m still working my shift.” Preston cautiously eyed him. Was Zeppelin being serious? Now Preston wondered if he’d been right. Was the guy straight?
“No biggie.” He waved off Preston’s statement, making him feel thoroughly dismissed. “We’ll move to the counter so you can be a part of our machismo. Right, bro ? Hope you got dirty jokes.” He winked at Preston. “We macho men love them.”
It was as if Zeppelin was trying to out-bro him so hard that Preston would trip over his own denial.
“Stop!” Preston kicked the back door closed then walked a few feet away, ready to punch Zeppelin in his stupidly handsome face.
* * * *
C hase slid into Zeppelin’s abandoned seat across from Vaughn. “Did I hear our alpha say mate?”
That had stunned Vaughn as well. He’d seen the two checking each other out at the stoplight but hadn’t thought anything of it.
Honestly, Vaughn didn’t think any of them would find their mate since they lived in such a remote area.
That’s what he’d thought, until Zeppelin had homed in on the little bartender like no one else in the world existed.
It had been fascinating to watch and gave Vaughn hope that his mate would fall out of the sky and land in his lap.
“Yeah. Let the others know the blond’s his mate.” That way the entire pack could keep an eye on Preston. There would be times when Zeppelin couldn’t be with the human, and it would be up to the rest of them to ensure Preston’s safety.
Chase nodded but didn’t move from his seat. “Quinn and I are about to head out on patrol. Wade said he overheard two panthers talking about cornering a vampire who got away.”
All vampires weren’t a menace. Most just wanted to live a peaceful life. Hell, there were vampire residents in Crimson Hollow.
But the three remaining troublemakers were pissing Vaughn off. There was already one human death because of them.
Even Sheriff Owen, a lion shifter, couldn’t track them down. His department was working just as hard as Zeppelin and their pack to end those sons of bitches.
“Do you know where they were cornered? What side of town?”
Chase shook his head. “They were in the coffee shop. Panthers split before Wade could question them.”
Cyril’s Café stayed busy. With so many humans around, Wade had been correct not to approach the panthers inside the shop.
“Keep your head on a swivel while you’re on patrol,” Vaughn told him. “Call me if something happens.”
Chase nodded and finally walked away, clapping Quinn on the shoulder.
With Zeppelin finding his mate, the stakes had just gotten a helluva lot higher.
* * * *
“So, I swapped out the stock exhaust for a Flowmaster,” Quinn said, gesturing with his hands as if Chase could see the modifications he’d made. “The sound is fucking incredible. Like a goddamn beast waking up when I turn the key.”
The crisp evening air filled Chase’s lungs as he and Quinn made their way down Main Street.
Streetlamps cast pools of soft light against the sidewalk, creating shadows that stretched and receded with each step.
His boots scuffed against the concrete, the sound mingling with the night insects buzzing in the bushes nearby.
“And the lift kit gives me another three inches of clearance, which means I can finally take it up to—”
Chase raised his hand suddenly, stopping Quinn mid-sentence. His ears picked up a sound from the alley ahead. A soft whimper followed by what might have been a moan. Not the good kind.
“What?” Quinn whispered, instantly alert.
“Listen.” Chase tilted his head.
The sound came again, followed by a low, satisfied hum that made the hair on Chase’s arms stand up. He’d heard that sound before. A vampire feeding.
“Ten o’clock,” Chase whispered, pointing toward the narrow passage between the old bookstore and Swirls and Pearls bakery.
Quinn nodded, immediately dropping into a crouch. Their footsteps made no sound as they crept forward, staying close to the wall where the shadows were deepest.
At the mouth of the alley, Chase peered around the corner.
The scent of blood grew stronger, making his wolf stir.
Twenty feet in, he spotted them. A tall figure in dark clothing had a woman pressed against the brick wall.
Her head lolled to the side, exposing her neck where the vampire’s mouth was latched on.
The woman’s arms hung limply at her sides, her purse dangling from slack fingers.
Tiny sucking sounds filled the otherwise silent alley, making Chase’s stomach turn.
The bloodsucker had hypnotized her into compliance. Her glazed eyes stared at nothing, a small smile frozen on her lips while he attempted to drain her.
Chase moved first, crossing the distance in three quick strides. He grabbed the vampire by the jaw with one hand, his fingers digging into skin. With his other hand, he pinched the vampire’s nose shut, cutting off his air.
“Remove your fangs before I break them off,” Chase growled.
With a reluctant hiss, the vampire retracted his fangs from the woman’s neck. Blood smeared his lips, making Chase want to vomit.
“Pack mutt,” the vampire hissed, blood staining his teeth. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Quinn moved in to catch the woman as she began to slide down the wall, her legs no longer supporting her weight.
“I’ve got her,” Quinn said, holding her upright. “Taking her to Cyril’s.”
Chase kept his grip firm on the vampire’s face. “Go. I’ll handle this piece of shit.”
Quinn hefted the woman into his arms, her head rolling against his shoulder as he carried her toward the street.
The moment Quinn disappeared from view, the vampire twisted in Chase’s grip with unnatural speed. One second Chase had him pinned, the next, a fist slammed into his gut, doubling him over. Chase stumbled back, regaining his footing just in time to block another strike aimed at his face.
“You interrupted my dinner,” the vampire snarled, circling Chase with fluid movements. Blood still stained his mouth, making him look like a rabid animal. “I wasn’t going to kill her.”
“Bullshit,” Chase spat, matching the vampire’s movements. “You’re one of the three causing trouble in our territory.”
The vampire lunged, faster than human eyes could track.
Chase barely got his arms up to block, but the vampire feinted and drove a knee into his side.
Pain exploded through Chase’s body as the blow connected with his kidney.
His legs buckled, sending him crashing to his knees on the filthy alley floor.
A deep snarl tore from Chase’s throat as his wolf surged forward in response to the pain, his claws extending into deadly points. The vampire’s eyes widened.
Before the bloodsucker could retreat, Chase drove forward, burying his claws into the vampire’s gut. The sensation of tearing through flesh and muscle sent a primal satisfaction through him. Warm blood coated his hand as the vampire shrieked, his face contorting with pain and fury.
With surprising strength, the vampire shoved Chase backward. His claws ripped free, bringing chunks of flesh with them. The vampire clutched his stomach, hissing as he backed away.
“You’ll regret this, mutt,” he spat before turning and bolting down the alley, moving so quickly he seemed to blur at the edges.
Chase tried to follow but collapsed against the brick wall, his side throbbing with each breath.
The kidney shot had done more damage than he’d initially thought.
Warm wetness soaked his shirt where the vampire’s blood had sprayed, and the metallic scent filled his nostrils.
He collapsed backward until his ass hit the hard ground.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tried to breathe through the pain. Each inhale sent fresh agony shooting through his torso.
Minutes passed before he heard footsteps approaching. Quinn appeared at the entrance of the alley, his face tight with concern when he spotted Chase slumped against the wall.
“Shit,” Quinn muttered, jogging over and crouching down. “What happened to the bloodsucker?”
Chase’s breath came in short gasps, his shirt sticking to his skin with sweat and blood. “Got away,” he managed through clenched teeth. “Fucker was fast.”
Quinn surveyed the damage with practiced eyes. “You need to shift. That kidney shot looks bad.”
“No shit.” Chase tried to laugh but ended up coughing instead. “Can’t do it here unless you want to get spotted carrying a heavy-ass wolf down the street.”
The pain was getting worse, a sure sign of internal bleeding.
“I’ll get the truck,” Quinn said, already standing.
Alone in the alley once again, the pain became his entire world. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in. His wolf clawed to get free, knowing instinctively that shifting would heal the damage.
“Fuck it,” Chase whispered to the empty space around him. He couldn’t stop the shift. Surrendering to it, the pain intensified for a blinding moment before blessed relief washed over him.
The wolf’s eyes closed as unconsciousness claimed him, his large body going limp just as the distant rumble of Quinn’s truck grew louder.