Chapter Five
The minute Zeppelin pulled into Pinecrest parking lot, his phone lit up with Vaughn’s name across the screen. There was no way the wolf needed something from him. Not when Zeppelin had just left thirty minutes ago. He killed the engine, jerked the phone off the holder, and pressed answer. “What?”
“Somebody’s got a bee in his bonnet.” Vaughn didn’t miss a beat. “Just calling because I’m sitting at a certain diner and my alpha stood me up like a ditched prom date.”
Shit. Zeppelin had completely forgotten about his breakfast with Vaughn. “I’ll make it up to you. Got something I need to do.”
Vaughn chuckled. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your boo, would it?”
A smile split across Zeppelin’s face just thinking about Preston. The guy was downright adorable in the best clumsy way. “Shut up.”
“Fine, but since you left me hanging like this, I’m putting my breakfast on your tab,” he said. “And you know how much I eat.”
“Have at it, princess,” Zeppelin teased with a chuckle, knowing Vaughn was far from a princess. “Now leave me alone.”
“Tell Preston I said what’s up.” Vaughn hung up.
His pack was a pain in the ass at times, but they were his, and Zeppelin would lay down his life for them.
Grabbing the two coffees and the bag of cinnamon rolls out of his saddlebag, he headed toward the entrance. Lucky, someone was exiting the building, so Zeppelin caught the door and slipped in without needing his access key. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made it the second floor.
With his hands full, Zeppelin used his elbow to knock. It took several times before his mate finally answered. When he opened the door, Zeppelin grinned. His mate’s hair was sticking up in all directions, his eyes barely open. He grunted, turned around, and zombie-walked away.
Damn if his mate wasn’t temptation on two legs, especially in those boxers. Zeppelin’s gaze zeroed in on the curve of Preston’s ass, amused by the sleepy shuffling.
Zeppelin followed, carefully balancing the bag and coffees as he stepped into the apartment. Morning light filtered through thin curtains, casting the small space in a soft glow. Preston had already disappeared, so Zeppelin moved down the short hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath his boots.
In the bedroom, Preston face-planted onto the unmade bed, yanking covers over himself like a protective cocoon.
After setting the coffee and bag on the dresser, Zeppelin crouched beside the bed. The mattress sagged under his weight as he leaned in close. The scent of sleep-warm skin and cotton sheets filled his nostrils.
“Preston,” he whispered, tapping a finger against the tip of his mate’s nose.
A muffled grunt came from the blanket cocoon, followed by a hand blindly swatting in his general direction. The gesture reminded him of a kitten batting at an annoying toy.
“Morning, sunshine,” Zeppelin whispered, tapping his nose again.
This time Preston burrowed completely under the covers, becoming nothing more than a human-shaped lump beneath the blankets.
Zeppelin chuckled and gently tugged at the edge of the blanket. “Come on, I know you’re in there.”
One green eye appeared in the small gap, bleary and unfocused, before immediately closing again. Zeppelin chuckled, enjoying this sleepy, unguarded version of his mate.
“Come on, sleeping beauty. Wake up,” he coaxed, his voice low and teasing. “I come bearing gifts. Hot coffee and something sweet.”
“S’too early.”
After several more minutes of Zeppelin’s gentle prodding, whispered promises of caffeine, and the occasional playful tug at the blanket, Preston finally sat up. His eyes remained stubbornly closed, hair still defying gravity in multiple directions.
It was the most beautiful sight Zeppelin had ever seen.
The oversized T-shirt Preston wore hung off one shoulder, revealing a constellation of freckles Zeppelin was dying to trace with his tongue.
“If this is a dream,” Preston mumbled, voice raspy with sleep, “it’s a weird one.”
“Not a dream,” Zeppelin replied. “Just me, bringing you breakfast.”
“Why in my room?” Preston rubbed his face with both hands. “And time is it?”
God, he was adorable with his sleep-creased cheek and pouty bottom lip. Zeppelin wanted to bite that lip.
“Early enough for an adventure.” Zeppelin reached for one of the coffee cups. “Here, this might help.”
Preston’s nose twitched as Zeppelin held the coffee near him. Like a sleepwalker, he reached out with both hands, cradling it close to his chest like precious cargo.
After a careful sip, his features softened slightly. “Mmm, you’re forgiven for whatever crime you’ve committed against my sleep.”
“Good, because I want to take you for a ride to the farmer’s market.”
Preston’s eyes finally opened, narrowing suspiciously. “You’ve lost your mind.” He took another sip of coffee. “Normal people text before showing up at someone’s apartment at”—he glanced at the bedside clock and winced—“nine in the morning on a Saturday.”
Zeppelin laughed. “Never claimed to be normal.”
After another sip, Preston paused, nose twitching. “What’s that wonderful smell?”
“Cinnamon rolls from the local bakery.” Zeppelin reached for the paper bag, opening it to reveal glossy cinnamon rolls the size of his palm. Breaking off a piece, he held it up to his mate’s lips. “Open.”
Preston gave him a skeptical look but parted his lips anyway.
Zeppelin gently placed the piece in his mate’s mouth, fingertips brushing against soft lips.
The contact sent heat racing up his arm.
Preston’s eyes fluttered closed as he chewed, a small moan escaping.
“Oh my god,” he whispered. “That’s illegal.”
So was that moan. Preston had no idea what he was doing to Zeppelin’s body right now. Those appreciative noises were going straight to his cock.
He broke off another piece, holding it up. “Want more?”
Preston didn’t hesitate this time, opening his mouth for the offered treat. A dab of icing clung to his bottom lip, and Zeppelin had to clench his fist to keep from leaning in to lick it off.
His wolf howled in agreement.
They spent the next half-hour like that, Zeppelin feeding Preston pieces of the cinnamon roll while his mate made obscene noises that tested Zeppelin’s self-control.
By the time the cinnamon rolls were gone, Preston was alert, the sleepy haze replaced by a wariness that Zeppelin was determined to ease. “Talk to me, sunshine.”
Preston licked his lips, chasing the icing. Fuck, he really was testing Zeppelin’s control.
“I’m broke,” his mate said with a sigh. “As nice as your adventure sounds, I don’t have the funds.”
“My treat.” Zeppelin held up a hand when his mate looked like he was going to protest. “It’s my way of welcoming you to Crimson Hollow.”
Preston sat there, chewing that damn lip that Zeppelin wanted to taste so badly. “Are you sure?”
About tasting his lip? Hell fucking yes. “Yep. It’s also my bribe. I want to hit the market, but I’d rather have company.”
“So, you’re bribing me with deliciousness to hang out with you?” Preston’s features softened. “I would’ve done that for free, Zeppelin.”
He nearly asked his mate to say his name again. Preferably in bed, only Zeppelin under the covers with his mate. Both of them naked.
It also hadn’t gone unnoticed just how sweet the guy was. “Too late. The bribery has been offered. You have to accept it.” He planned on filling up his mate’s kitchen with food. When Preston had gone for the cream last night, Zeppelin had seen just how bare his fridge was.
And that frozen entrée? He still couldn’t believe his mate had been willing to share it with him. But fuck if Zeppelin would take food out of his mate’s mouth.
Still, the offer to feed him had touched Zeppelin deeply.
“What exactly is at a farmer’s market?”
“Fresh produce, local honey, artisan breads.” Zeppelin wiped a smudge of frosting from Preston’s chin with his thumb. “Worth getting out of bed for.”
Or you could drag me under those covers.
Preston’s cheeks flushed at the touch. “I need to shower first.”
“Take your time,” Zeppelin said, leaning back against the headboard and making himself comfortable. “I’ll wait right here.”
Preston rolled his eyes but smiled as he climbed out of bed. His T-shirt rode up as he stretched, revealing a strip of pale skin above the waistband of his boxers. Zeppelin watched, not bothering to hide his appreciation.
He wanted to slide the cotton underwear down his mate’s legs and devour the guy. Suck his mate off until Preston was writhing and begging beneath him.
The bathroom door closed with a soft click, and soon the sound of running water filled the apartment. Zeppelin tried not to think about his mate naked and wet just a few feet away.
Instead, he used the time to glance around the bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was sparsely furnished. There was just the bed, a dresser with a cracked mirror, and a small nightstand. No photos, no personal touches.
It looked like a place someone was passing through, not living in.
When the bathroom door opened again, a cloud of steam rolled out, carrying the clean scent of soap.
Preston appeared in the doorway, water droplets clinging to his bare skin, a white towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was darker when it was wet, and his body was flushed pink from the hot water.
Zeppelin’s mouth went dry. His cock became hard as fuck. His gaze swept across his mate’s chest, then dipped, catching on the gentle roundness just above the towel. Preston moved without hesitation, and Zeppelin took in every inch like he was starving for it.
Because he was.
Preston padded farther into the bedroom, then froze when he spotted Zeppelin still resting on his bed, like he’d completely forgotten he had company.
“Oh!” His hand strangled the side of the towel. “I thought you’d be in the living room.”
Zeppelin took in the sight before him, the nervous way his mate shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The pulse visibly jumping at the base of his throat. Those love handles and small belly Zeppelin wanted to map with his mouth.
“Should I leave?” he asked, not moving an inch.
“Yes. No. I mean—” Preston gestured vaguely with his free hand. “I-I need to get dressed.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said with a slow smile.
“Out,” Preston ordered, pointing toward the door, face flushing a delicious pink.
Zeppelin rose slowly, deliberately brushing against Preston as he passed. “Need any help?” he asked, voice dropping lower.
Preston’s flush deepened, spreading down his neck toward his chest. “Out,” he repeated, though with less conviction.
“Fine,” Zeppelin murmured, letting his gaze drop to Preston’s lips. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
He let his fingers brush against Preston’s bare arm, just the lightest touch, but Preston’s sharp intake of breath was audible.
In the living room, Zeppelin waited, listening to the sounds of drawers opening and closing. Five minutes later, Preston emerged wearing jeans and a faded blue T-shirt that made his eyes look greener. His hair was still damp, the ends curling slightly.
“Ready?” Zeppelin asked, trying not to stare at the way Preston’s jeans hugged his thighs.
“Yep,” Preston replied, grabbing his wallet from the counter. “Though I still think you’re crazy for showing up at my door at the crack of dawn.”
“It’s ten.”
“Like I said, crack of dawn.”
Outside, the morning had blossomed into the kind of perfect day that made the mountains look painted against the sky. Zeppelin helped Preston onto the bike, savoring the way his mate’s arms immediately wrapped around his waist, body pressed close against his back.
The market was set up in a field just outside town, white tents dotting the grassy area like mushrooms after rain. They parked the bike under a tree at the edge of the makeshift lot, and Preston climbed off, legs a little wobbly.
“You okay?” Zeppelin asked, steadying him with a hand on his elbow.
“Yeah, just... somebody woke me up too early for this.” Preston’s hair was tousled in a way that made Zeppelin want to run his fingers through it.
As they walked between the stalls, Zeppelin noticed how Preston’s eyes darted everywhere, taking in the vibrant displays of fruits, vegetables, and handcrafted goods.
The market was already bustling with activity. Sunlight glinted off colorful produce displays, and the air was rich with the scent of fresh herbs, baked goods, and earth. Vendors called out greetings as shoppers moved from stall to stall, canvas bags filling with the week’s harvest.
At a fruit stand, Zeppelin picked up a ripe peach, its skin fuzzy against his palm. He brought it to his nose, inhaling the sweet aroma before offering it to Preston. “Try this.”
Preston took a small bite, juice immediately running down his chin. Zeppelin caught it with his thumb, bringing it to his own mouth in a gesture that made Preston’s pupils dilate.
“Good?” Zeppelin asked, already knowing the answer from the expression on his mate’s face.
Preston nodded, taking another bite. “Amazing,” he admitted.
Zeppelin paid for a small bag of peaches, adding them to the canvas tote he’d brought.
They moved through the market slowly, Zeppelin buying whatever caught Preston’s eye.
Strawberries, blackberries, fresh bread still warm from the oven.
At each stall, he’d select something and feed a taste to Preston, watching with satisfaction as his mate’s initial shyness gave way to eager acceptance.
He guided Preston through the crowd with a light hand at the small of his back. The touch was innocent enough, but even through the fabric of Preston’s shirt, Zeppelin could feel the warmth of his skin.
Every few steps, someone called out to Zeppelin—the baker waving from behind his display of sourdough, Mrs. Henderson stopping to ask about her roof repair, the sheriff pausing his conversation to shake Zeppelin’s hand.
Each time, Zeppelin made sure to introduce Preston, his hand never straying far from his mate’s lower back or shoulder.
“You know everyone,” Preston observed after the fifth person had stopped them.
“Small town,” Zeppelin shrugged. “Hard not to.”
At the honey stand, Zeppelin bought a small jar and immediately opened it.
Dipping his finger in, he offered it to Preston, who, after a moment’s hesitation, leaned forward and wrapped his lips around Zeppelin’s finger.
The warm, wet slide of Preston’s tongue against his skin sent heat spiraling through Zeppelin’s body.
“Sweet,” Preston said softly, holding Zeppelin’s gaze.
His mate was out to kill him.
By the time they’d made a full circuit of the market, their bag was overflowing with produce, bread, cheese, and jams.
They sat under the tree where the motorcycle was parked, eating some of the fruit and drinking the fresh lemonade Zeppelin had purchased.
Preston nibbled on a chunk of warm bread dipped in herb-infused olive oil. “I can’t believe how much I’ve eaten today, and none of it was frozen or needed a microwave.”
Zeppelin’s back was against the tree, one leg stretched out before him, the other bent, watching the pure bliss on his mate’s face as he ate a few strawberries.
This time, when the juice flowed, instead of using his thumb, Zeppelin leaned closer, waiting to see if his mate would pull away.
Preston didn’t.
The taste of him settled on Zeppelin’s tongue, stretching the moment into something endless.
Then his lips pressed into Zeppelin’s, lingering as if committing the moment to memory.
He was shocked Preston had initiated it, a gentle pull that sent Zeppelin’s pulse climbing.
His teeth caught Preston’s bottom lip, just for a second, more tease than bite.
The warmth of Preston’s mouth lingered long after he pulled back, leaving Zeppelin breathless.
“You ready to head back?” He swept his thumb over his mate’s kiss-swollen lips. “Need to get this stuff refrigerated.”
Preston grinned, popped a blueberry into his mouth, and nodded as he chewed.
The world could crumble around them, and Zeppelin knew he wouldn’t care as long as Preston was with him.