Chapter Two
A bunny shifter.
His muscles were locking in place, preventing Wade from lunging forward and snatching his mate into his arms. He swallowed, trying to add moisture to his throat.
When Quinn had found his mate, Wade had joked and said they didn’t need more mates. Now Alex was in his bedroom, a collar around his fucking neck like he was someone’s property.
But the bunny shifter was closed off, hiding whatever was going on with him. And somehow, the cops were involved. Wade hadn’t missed how his mate had ducked down when they’d passed the police cruiser.
He left Alex upstairs, freshly showered and now wearing one of Wade’s T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that hung too loose on his slender frame. His mate had practically fallen asleep standing up while Wade showed him where the towels were.
The exhaustion etched into the lines of Alex’s face had been enough to stop Wade from asking the questions burning on his tongue.
Wade’s mind was occupied with the sight of his mate curled beneath his blankets. A bunny shifter with a collar that clearly wasn’t just for show.
The implications made his jaw clench.
Wade padded barefoot down the stairs, hunger gnawing at his stomach despite having already eaten. Feeding his mate had somehow awakened his own appetite again.
The house hummed with quiet conversation, laughter drifting from the kitchen at the back of the house.
Of course that’s where they’d be. The kitchen had somehow evolved into the mates’ unofficial meeting spot, probably because Jalen kept it stocked with snacks that mysteriously disappeared faster than anyone admitted to eating them.
The kitchen lights cast a warm glow against the granite countertops, illuminating the usual late-night gathering of mates.
Preston was leaning against the counter, stirring something that smelled like cinnamon and apples.
Sasha sat perched on a barstool, his red hair sticking up at odd angles like he’d been running his fingers through it.
Newt was cross-legged on the kitchen island itself, because apparently chairs were for mortals.
“All I’m saying is that cinnamon rolls without frosting are just sad bread spirals,” Preston was arguing as Wade walked in.
Jalen spotted him first, pausing mid-response to Preston’s culinary opinions. “Who’s the guy you brought home?” he asked, mug clutched between his hands.
Wade smirked, heading straight for the coffee pot. “When did you become a detective, Preston? Is that a new career path I should know about?”
“Since about twenty minutes ago when I heard your truck pull up and then mysterious footsteps that didn’t belong to you.” Preston flicked a dish towel in Wade’s direction. “Spill.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wade replied, snagging an apple from the fruit bowl. “Maybe you’re hearing things. Old age setting in early.”
Preston snorted. “I’m twenty-seven, asshole.”
“Ancient,” Wade agreed solemnly, taking a bite of the apple. The crisp tartness filled his mouth as he chewed. “Practically bound for a senior home.”
Quinn walked in, his hair damp from a recent shower. He glanced between them, one eyebrow raised. “What’re we talking about?”
“Wade snuck a guy into the house,” Sasha supplied helpfully, adjusting his glasses. “And he’s being cagey about it.”
“I’m not being cagey,” Wade protested. “I’m being…selective with information.”
“That’s the literal definition of cagey,” Sasha pointed out.
Wade gave him a flat look. “Thank you, .”
A subtle flutter drew his attention upward. Newt’s gossamer wings had unfurled, iridescent and delicate in the kitchen light. The fae hovered near the ceiling, blue hair falling around his face as he grinned mischievously like a gossip drone with wings.
“I think I’ll just take a quick peek at this humanitarian project,” Newt said, drifting toward the doorway. “For security purposes, of course.”
Wade pointed his half-eaten apple at the floating fae. “Mind your own business unless you want your wings superglued together while you sleep.”
Newt clutched imaginary pearls. “So violent! And here I thought wolves were supposed to be cuddly.”
“Only with the right people,” Wade replied, finishing his apple and tossing the core into the trash with perfect aim.
“Chillin’ in which room?” Quinn asked, eyebrow arched in obvious amusement. “Yours or the guest room?”
“Guest room,” Wade answered, ignoring the knowing looks exchanged around him. “He needed a place to stay for the night.”
Quinn’s eyebrow climbed higher. “Just a good Samaritan act then? Nothing to do with the fact that he might be your mate?”
Wade gave a noncommittal shrug that told them everything they needed to know.
“Holy shit,” Sasha whispered. “Seriously?”
“What’s his name?” Preston asked, abandoning his sauce to give Wade his full attention.
“Alex,” Wade answered, resigned to the interrogation.
“And before you ask, yes, he’s staying the night.
And probably longer.” He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling the weight of the day.
“Actually, I need to ask a favor. Does anyone have clothes they could lend him? Mine are too big, and he doesn’t have anything else. ”
“I’ve got plenty he can borrow,” Sasha volunteered immediately. “Quinn won’t stop buying them for me.”
“Because everything looks good on you.” Quinn kissed his mate’s neck. “Red goes with everything.”
“I can loan him some of mine,” Newt offered, lowering himself back to the island.
“Same here,” Jalen added.
Preston cleared his throat. “I’d offer, but...” He gestured to his small love handles. “I’m bigger than the rest of you. My clothes would probably hang off his body.”
“You’re perfect just the way you are, sunshine,” came Zeppelin’s voice as he entered the kitchen, sliding his arms around Preston from behind.
Preston’s cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, and Wade felt a sudden, unexpected pang of envy. Not for Zeppelin or Preston specifically but for the ease between them.
The comfortable certainty that came with an established bond.
With a frown, Zeppelin scented the air. “Why do I smell a bunny?”
Preston’s jaw dropped. “No way!”
“Is your mate a bunny shifter?” Newt flew upward, spinning with clasped hands. “Aw, that’s so cute!”
“A bunny?” Jalen’s brows shot up.
“I’ve so got to meet him,” Sasha cooed. “A fae and now a bunny. This is so cool.”
“But don’t wolves look at bunnies like prey?” Preston asked, hurrying toward the stove to turn off the burner under his sauce.
The room fell suddenly silent, and Wade turned to find Alex hovering uncertainly in the doorway.
His mate looked small and vulnerable in the borrowed T-shirt that hung to mid-thigh, his bare feet pale against the dark hardwood floor.
The collar gleamed dully around his neck, a stark reminder of whatever trouble his mate was running from.
An instinct to protect, to shield Alex from curious stares, surged through Wade.
He wanted to pull Alex into his arms, to reassure him that he was safe here, but the wariness in his mate’s eyes made him hesitate.
They barely knew each other. The mate bond didn’t automatically erase caution or build trust.
“Um, hi,” Alex said, his voice quiet but steady. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” Sasha said warmly, stepping forward. “I’m Sasha. Quinn’s mate.” He gestured to Quinn, who offered a friendly nod. “The floating blue-haired menace is Newt. The chef is Preston, and the guy wrapped around him is our alpha, Zeppelin.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Alex replied, fingers twisting in the hem of the oversized shirt. “I’m Alex. Wade was kind enough to let me crash here for the night.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” Zeppelin said, his voice carrying the quiet authority that defined him.
Wade moved closer to Alex, fighting the urge to place a protective hand on his back. “They’ve offered to lend you some clothes. Since mine are obviously a bit large.”
“Thank you.” Alex glanced down at himself, tugging at the shirt. “That’s…generous.”
“We’ll have clothes for you in the morning,” Quinn said, his tone casual and unthreatening. “And Preston’s making enough apple crisp to feed a small army.”
“It’s therapeutic,” Preston explained, turning back to his sauce. “Cooking, not feeding armies.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Alex’s face, the first genuine expression Wade had seen from him. Something loosened in his chest at the sight.
Wade caught the flicker of uncertainty in Alex’s expression and made a quick decision. His mate needed time to adjust, to feel comfortable among these new faces without Wade hovering.
Sometimes space was the kindest thing you could offer.
“I need to make a call, but I’ll be back soon,” Wade said, moving toward the doorway.
As he stepped from the room, Wade heard the conversation resume, Newt’s enthusiastic voice offering Alex coffee and “the best cinnamon rolls in the northern hemisphere, despite Preston’s frosting heresy.”
A small smile tugged at Wade’s lips. If anyone could make Alex feel welcome, it was this mismatched group of mates who had become a family.
Wade needed a moment to collect his thoughts, to process the sudden appearance of his mate and the complications that clearly surrounded him.
Pausing at the base of the stairs, Wade listened to the gentle murmur of voices from the kitchen. Already, he could hear Newt’s laughter and Alex’s quieter response. His mate was safe for now, surrounded by people who would protect him simply because he belonged to Wade.
Something about Alex’s reaction to the police cruiser suggested his mate was in trouble—the kind that didn’t disappear with a hot meal and a warm bed.
And Wade intended to find out exactly what that trouble was, before it followed Alex to their doorstep.
* * * *
Alex had never met a nicer group of people, which was why he couldn’t stay. If the police didn’t eventually track him down, Valcore would, and Alex couldn’t let these kind men get caught in the crosshairs.
One night. That was the deal he’d made with Wade. Come tomorrow, he’d disappear. The thought of leaving his mate carved a hole in his chest, but what else could he do? Stick around and let a demon punish them all for giving him shelter? No. He couldn’t do it.
That only made him hate Drew even more. If it wasn’t for that bastard, none of this would’ve ever happened. Alex wouldn’t be a murderer, and Valcore wouldn’t be after him.
Drew hadn’t just died. He’d poisoned every inch of Alex’s life.
The slim collar seemed heavier than it looked, a chokehold on his existence. There was no way to take it off. Not without the key. But he knew where it was—or at least, who had it.
Valcore.
Alex was sure of it. After everything that happened, after Drew was dead on the floor, Alex had searched him, hoping the key would be there. It wasn’t. Which meant his literal freedom was dangling in a demon’s pocket.
After bidding the mates goodnight, Alex climbed the stairs, hollowed out by exhaustion and dread, wondering if he would make it out of this nightmare alive.