Chapter one #2
Two figures appeared at the end of the hall and froze as if they’d never seen anyone fly before. One blond, one not, both compact in a way that said they were built for surviving kitchen stampedes. Their eyes went wide, and they sucked in air like a pair of synchronized swimmers.
The big man from the kitchen stalked in behind them. The guy looked even larger in the narrow space, all solid muscle and teeth that didn’t need help to look dangerous. His gaze tracked Newt like a hunter tracked prey.
“Fairy,” the muscly stranger said, flat and certain, like he was naming a rare species of bug.
“Fae,” Newt snapped before he thought better of it. “Not fairy.”
The blond recovered first, leaning forward like his curiosity had tripped him. “What’s the difference?”
Newt absolutely did not have the energy for a lecture series. He stared past Blond and focused on not dying by interior decor. Then stop running into things. That was easier said than done when he was panicking like crazy.
“Down,” the big one growled, pointing at the carpet as if that would convince Newt. “Now.”
Hard pass. Newt inched along the ceiling and tried to look non-threatening. Hard to do while glowing faintly pink and bleeding anxiety.
Blond’s gaze flicked between them then softened in a way that said he wanted to offer cookies. “Hi,” he stage-whispered for some reason. “I’m Preston. The other short guy is Jalen.” He thumbed toward the mountain of a man glowering at Newt. “That’s Vaughn.”
Vaughn. The name fit him. Broad shoulders rolled once, a tiny shift that said his skin didn’t fit right either. He stared at Newt too long, like he was sizing him up for a hole he would dig later.
“Don’t—” Newt started, though what he intended to forbid he wasn’t sure. Breathing? Looking? Existing that large?
A low curse scraped out of Vaughn. He cut a hand through the air like he could slice the moment in half then strode away. He vanished around the corner, the sound of him receding making something deep inside Newt ache.
The sensation landed then, the way truths sometimes did. That powerful tug inside him hadn’t been terror being dramatic. It had lines and direction. It pointed straight through plaster and anger to the shape that had just stalked off.
Mate.
His first time in the human realm and Newt had broken into a stranger’s house at night, terrified residents, knocked the picture frames drunk, and apparently met his forever person.
His father might as well start on that second child, because he was going to kill Newt over this.
* * * *
Shadows pooled in the corners of the kitchen where the overhead light didn’t quite reach, and each time a darker patch shifted, Vaughn’s muscles tightened like he would be dragged through one of them.
The counter steadied him better than breathing ever could. He pressed both palms flat against the cool granite, arms locked, shoulders hunched, staring out the kitchen window until the darkness threw his own reflection back at him.
Haunted. Hollow-eyed. Vaughn barely recognized himself.
And now his mate was in the next room.
Of course fate would throw glitter and wings at him when his head felt like a room someone had ransacked and never cleaned up. Vaughn could barely handle a grocery list these days.
Sleep was something he hadn’t accomplished much of for months. A voice whispered through his mind, asking if he remembered the taste of metal and fear.
He did. Frequently.
Zeppelin should’ve demoted him months ago, handed the beta title to someone whose hands didn’t shake when lights flickered. He'd been reduced to a wolf shifter who jumped at creaks and spent half the night pretending the hallway wasn’t hostile territory.
Real beta material.
Somewhere outside, boots thudded steadily, the pack fighting vampires. That should’ve included him, not a man hiding out in his own kitchen from a flying problem he had no clue what to do with.
Pathetic didn’t begin to cover it.
A prickle crawled along Vaughn’s nape. He glanced up.
The little fae hovered near the ceiling like some tiny satellite, peeking around the corner the way a kid might check for monsters.
His hair caught the under-cabinet lights and threw back a soft wash of blue with a kiss of pink at the tips.
Big, guileless eyes—violet, for fuck’s sake—took in the kitchen like it might bite.
Small frame, all tight lines and quick, nervous energy under a torn shirt, and somehow still managing to look like trouble had never laid a finger on him.
The sight of that tear made Vaughn’s jaw tick.
Why had vampires been after something this small? But he already knew the answer. Fae blood. A scent that turned predators stupid with hunger.
“The floor’s safer than the ceiling,” Vaughn said, voice kept low so he wouldn’t scare his mate. “For the light fixtures, if nothing else.”
Instead of answering, the fae made a small curious sound and pointed at the stove. Vaughn blinked as the guy hovered lower, eyes bright like little moons.
“What’s that?” he asked. “The box with the glowing numbers?”
Curiosity tugged the fae closer. He stayed high but drifted over the doorway like a wary balloon, the glow from the kitchen lights washing his skin warm.
“The microwave?” Vaughn asked, pushing off the counter so he could point at it.
“What’s it for?” The fae nodded. “Can you show me how it works?”
“Heats food fast.”
He took a mug from the rack, filled it halfway from the tap, and set it inside.
Buttons beeped under his thumb as he tapped thirty seconds.
The hum rolled out, that oddly comforting low thrum, and the turntable started its lazy circle.
Vaughn kept his gaze on the mug because looking up meant meeting those eyes again.
They warned me you wouldn’t break easily.
But Vaughn had broken in irrevocable ways. Vex would laugh with joy if he knew the damage he’d caused.
Vaughn’s fingers curled before he even realized he'd moved. Jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, things blurred into the torches and cold stone of the dungeon where Vex liked to play his games.
He opened his eyes and watched steam ghost off the water, let the ordinary sound pull him back into a kitchen where the worst thing that might happen was a boiled-over mug.
“Heat without fire,” the guy murmured, as if cataloging a miracle.
The machine beeped. Vaughn opened the door and slid the mug out, testing the heat with his fingertips before he handed it up. Too high. Right. He set it on the counter instead and gestured. “It’s very hot right now. Be careful.”
The fae drifted even lower, fascinated by steam. He angled to see the numbers, hair swinging forward and brushing his cheekbone. Those eyes seemed to soak up every detail.
“How do you not know what a microwave is?” Vaughn asked. It came out more curious than judgmental, which felt like a win. “They’re everywhere.”
A small shrug from above, wings whispering. “It’s my first time in the human realm,” he said.
If he was lying, Vaughn couldn’t smell it. Just clean sweat, a faint sweetness he couldn’t place, and the forest, which had clearly attacked him by the looks of him.
First time here and he’d already picked up a parade of vampires. Not exactly the guided tour he deserved. His innocence accounted for the awe, the fumbling flight path, the way he had ping?ponged off half the house. Also explained the hazard-level purple glow earlier.
“Never put metal inside a microwave unless you like fireworks and house fires.”
A tiny nod. The fae drifted another inch, gaze glued to the digital clock like it might teach him a new spell if he stared long enough.
“Do you have a name?” He kept his tone gentle, the same one he used with the other mates. “I’m Vaughn, but you already knew that.”
Still, making his own introduction knocked something loose inside of him.
The pause wasn’t long, but Vaughn noticed it. “Newt.”
Of course it was something that soft. Small and whole. Vaughn filed it away like it mattered. Because it did, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Just because he was broken on multiple levels didn’t mean he had to be hostile. Kindness cost nothing.
Silence stretched a heartbeat. He watched a swallow slide down a slender throat and hated that he noticed. The fae’s wings gave a quiet, delicate twitch that sounded like paper moving.
“Newt,” he said, setting the mug closer to the edge in case those bare feet actually touched ground. “Welcome to very boring appliances.”
The barest smile curved Newt’s lips, soft and unsure.
“Hungry?” Vaughn heard himself ask.
Newt looked from the mug to him and back again, hovering like a question mark as the hum of the fridge filled the space between them.
“I’m fine.” Newt’s gaze slid back to the numbers like they were safer than eye contact. “Thank you for…showing me.”
“Any time.” Vaughn lifted the mug and held it out, careful not to crowd. “Sip. It’s hot.”
A cautious descent brought Newt close enough that warmth brushed Vaughn’s fingers when the mug changed hands. Those eyes flicked up once, quick and bright, then retreated back to the safe, sensible box with numbers like it was a miracle.
Vaughn didn’t deserve a mate. He didn’t have much to offer other than nightmares and a fear of the dark. But Newt was in the human realm, running from vampires, and so small Vaughn wanted to fold his mate into his arms.
As Newt sipped the hot water, Vaughn tried not to think about how a beautiful creature had landed in his wreck of a life, lighter than air and somehow heavier than anything he’d carried in a while. Newt wasn’t meant for a world like this, but he was somehow here anyway.
“So,” Vaughn said, dragging a fingertip through the ring of condensation the mug had left, “next lesson. That thing in the corner is a toaster. It’s a tiny metal traitor. Let me show you what it does to an innocent slice of bread.”