The Chosen One Universe, Volume One

Sam

With a grumbled sigh, he pushed out of his beat-up leather chair and headed for the kitchen.

He needed to get out of his head and put aside the unsettled thoughts which had been pestering him more and more of late.

Nothing like a big old glass of milk with a side of chocolate chip cookies to cheer him up and get his mind back on the task at hand.

Someone was trying to get into his house.

He wasn’t expecting the growl.

Or the flash of blue eyes.

Or for fangs to appear in the kid’s mouth.

“Oh, my God,” Sam repeated. He froze, half-knelt down with his arms outstretched. They stared at each other for a long moment, water dripping into the child’s tired eyes. Another shiver hit, and then the little one jumped into his arms. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re going to be just fine.”

Sam had no idea what he’d just seen, wondered if he’d imagined the…

whatever it was he’d witnessed. But the teacher in him, the part of him that loved kids, leapt to the forefront and took charge.

With a little face buried in his neck and tiny arms holding on tight, Sam lifted the child tighter to his chest and closed the door to block the chilling wind.

He hurried back into the living room and grabbed his favorite blanket from the back of the couch before wrapping it around the shivering little body in his arms. Then he returned to the kitchen and reached for his cell phone where it sat on the counter connected to the charger.

He needed to call someone for help. When he picked up the phone, the little one raised their head and snarled.

He hadn’t imagined the earlier flash of animal behavior after all.

Sam gulped and tried not to lose his cool.

Dear God, he hadn’t imagined the earlier flash of animal behavior after all.

“It's okay,” Sam whispered after another deep breath to calm his fear. His voice shook a little, but he found himself reverting to teacher mode again. “I'm going to call for help.”

“No!” The child began to squirm in his arms, so Sam dropped the phone and backed away from the counter.

“Shh. Settle down. It’s okay.”

The little one stared at him, deep blue eyes blinking back tears and searching for something.

While the child inspected him, Sam took a moment to take stock himself.

He really couldn’t tell if the child in his arms was a boy or a girl.

From the nearly shorn blond fuzz, Sam wanted to assume boy, but he’d learned not to make such assumptions after one spectacular disaster in his substitute teacher days.

He waited a moment before trying to speak again.

“Can you tell me your name? I keep calling you little one in my head and honestly, you aren’t really all that little are you?”

“I’m not little,” the little one protested, as Sam had hoped he or she would. “I’m six.”

“You’re six! You are big. What’s your name?”

“Ollie.”

“Hi, Ollie. My name is Sam. I really need to call someone to come help us, okay? Someone is probably looking for you and really, really scared.”

“No! You have to get the alpha!”

Sam blinked. “The what now?”

Ollie looked at him like he was stupid. “The alpha. Alpha Jerrick.”

Sam’s heart flipped over. He was very familiar with that last name.

He’d gone to high school with Vaughn Jerrick, although he’d been a senior to Sam’s freshman.

Staring at Vaughn had helped Sam get a few things clear in his mind, mainly that he’d rather do naughty things with boys than girls.

It had been an enlightening time in his life thanks to the hunky senior star quarterback of the school’s football team who tended to prefer tight shirts and jeans that were painted on to.

.. but then, not all of his memories of Vaughn were from his high school days.

Sam cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Ollie. “So, you belong to the Jerricks?”

Ollie’s head tilted to the side, clearly unsure how to answer Sam’s question. “You have to call the alpha, Sam.”

“Right. Call Alpha Jerrick. Okay.”

Sam carried Ollie back over to the counter and sat him down.

He didn’t have the Jerricks’ phone number—he and Vaughn hadn’t exactly swapped numbers the last time they’d seen each other— but last he’d heard, Vaughn had taken over his father’s veterinary practice.

He did a quick internet search on his phone to find the number then dialed.

As expected, he didn’t get an answer since it was so late, but he did get an option for an after-hours emergency line.

Sam grabbed a pen and jotted the number down.

“You smell funny, Sam.”

Sam glanced over at Ollie and mock-frowned. “I do not,” he said before giving Ollie’s ribs a little tickle.

Ollie giggled then petted his arm softly. “You smell scared. Why are you scared of the phone, Sam? Phones aren’t scary. Are they?”

It wasn’t the phone that had Sam apparently smelling scared— and who knew fear actually had a smell?

It was the fear of another rejection at the hands of Vaughn Jerrick.

A couple years ago, a few weeks after he’d moved back to town he’d gone out to one of the only remaining bars in town to let off a little steam.

His initial plan had been to have some really bad bar food and a couple beers before heading back home to face his dad’s extremely foul mood.

He’d already come to the conclusion by that point that he needed to find a place of his own, but after the fight he and his dad had that day, he was making it a priority.

Sam had only been to the bar a couple times, but that night it had seemed more busy than usual. Some sort of party was going on so Sam found a seat at the bar and placed his order. The bartender had just placed an ice cold bottle of beer in front of him when he saw him.

Vaughn Jerrick. The man had grown up very nice, and even though Sam hadn’t seen him in years, he would recognize Vaughn anywhere.

He had more facial hair now, an almost beard that was so insanely attractive Sam had to force himself to look away.

It seemed his high school crush on the man hadn’t waned at all.

As usual, Vaughn was surrounded by people, smiling and laughing.

Sam sat on the outside, watching. He’d been able to find a group of friends in the city, but he’d been pretty much alone since he’d moved back to town.

He wanted what they had, the friends and laughter, someone who’d listen when he griped about his dad’s bad attitude but knew he didn’t really mean anything by it.

He recognized a few of the faces around Vaughn’s and considered going over and reintroducing himself…

but he didn’t. He took another long pull from his beer and picked at the ridiculously greasy smothered fries he’d ordered.

With only another few weeks before he started teaching at the middle school, he could wait and not interject himself into Vaughn’s circle.

He let his mind drift to the upcoming school year, excited about the plans he’d made, even if he wasn’t overly thrilled with the state curriculum.

His mom had been a teacher, too, and he had a bunch of her old lesson plans and supplies.

He’d found them when he cleaned out the attic a few days before and had gotten lost in the memories of the fun they’d had together in the summers.

Missing her was an ache that never really went away, but knowing he’d followed in her footsteps and had the same passion for children and education that she had made it a little easier somehow.

He wondered what she’d say if she knew he was back and teaching at the same school where she’d taught for nearly twenty years.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice said in his ear as a broad, hot hand brushed his back. Sam leaned to the side to allow the bigger body behind him to squeeze in and get the bartender’s attention.

He looked up to reply and found himself staring into Vaughn’s crystal blue eyes. Vaughn glanced at him, his mouth open for a friendly reply, but then he froze. He made a little puzzled sound and tilted his head a little, searching Sam’s face.

“Hi,” Vaughn muttered after a moment, his voice low and deep. It sent a flutter of desire through Sam that he had to bite down to hide. “This is totally going to sound like such a line, but have we met?”

If only Vaughn were using a pick-up line on him.

“We went to high school together,” Sam replied. “Sam Baker.”

Vaughn did the head tilt thing again, but his smile grew wider. The hand on Sam’s back twitched a little. “Sammy Baker.”

Sam didn’t bother correcting him. He’d tried for years to get people to stop calling him Sammy, but the nickname refused to go away.

“I heard about your dad,” Vaughn said. “How’s he doing?”

“It’s tough, but he’s getting by. I moved back to help him out since he’s still having a lot of trouble getting around.”

Vaughn’s eyebrow twitched, some hidden meaning in the action Sam only wished he understood. “I’m sorry to hear that. We should look after our community better.”

Sam wasn’t sure what to say, but luckily the bartender chose that moment to come their way.

Vaughn rattled off an order, his hand still a warm presence on Sam’s back.

Sam wondered if he even realized he was doing it, wondered if he knew how much that brief moment of connection was helping to ground Sam’s thoughts and emotions after the incredibly shitty day he’d had.

He sucked in a deep breath, letting the calm wash over him.

Then Vaughn’s hand drifted a bit lower and an entirely different sensation flowed through Sam.