Chapter Three
If Zeppelin said “bro” one more time, he was going to yeet himself off of the nearest bridge.
But it was exactly what his mate wanted, and all the tenderness in the world wouldn’t have brought those walls back down.
A peace sign, really? Some jackass had taught Preston that vulnerability equaled weakness.
Zeppelin needed to know if the lesson was recent or deeply rooted, and what kind of battle he had on his hands.
So, he would go along with his mate’s performance if that’s what it took to bring the guy back to his senses.
He hated games but knew there was no other way around the human’s sudden shield.
“Stop what, Preston?” He arched a brow, acting genuinely baffled.
“I’m just vibing with you. I only helped in the same capacity an EMT or doctor would’ve.
Crisis averted. I mean, we bonded a little, but if you don’t tell my boys, neither will I.
” He gave an exaggerated wink. “Hide the gay shit, am I right?”
Preston stared incredulously at him, then the guy’s brows furrowed. “You are the worst actor.”
“So are you,” Zeppelin countered, taking a few steps closer. “Are we done performing, or do we ‘bro’ each other until we flatline?” He stuck out his hand. “Hello, beautiful. I’m Zeppelin Mafari.” He kissed the back of Preston’s hand. “The guy you were checking out at the light on Main.”
His mate eyed him warily. “Preston, and your ego proceeds you. Who says I was checking you out? Maybe I was looking at the stray cat I befriended.”
“You seem more like a canine person.” He’d yet to let Preston’s hand go, and his mate hadn’t pulled it away.
“I had a dog growing up named Queen.” The sides of Preston’s mouth quirked. “He was an awesome pet.”
Zeppelin had a feeling there was more to the story about the dog, but he let it go. “My parents raised wolves.”
“That must’ve been interesting.” Preston’s cheeks flushed a soft pink as he stared at the hand Zeppelin still hadn’t let go of. “And now you run with a pack of bikers.” His gaze lifted, lashes thick and soft. “Maybe even lead them, I’m guessing.”
If his mate only knew.
“Seriously, how are you feeling now?” Zeppelin stroked his thumb along the delicate skin of Preston’s hand, savoring the touch. “I mean… about going back to work. You good? Grounded?”
He needed to know what triggered the panic attack. It was impossible to help if he didn’t know what tripped Preston’s wire.
“Yeah.” Preston’s gaze flicked away. “Thanks.”
There was a mountain of unspoken secrets folded into that one word.
“No ‘bro’ this time?” Zeppelin grinned, wanting nothing more than to tuck the loose strands of blond hair behind his mate’s ear.
Preston’s expression softened, like Zeppelin being there really mattered. “Bro.”
His mate was such a brat. Zeppelin loved it.
“You want me to walk you back inside before we rack up even more secrets?”
“More stuff to hide from your boys.” Preston laughed, smile bright and then gone, shadows flickering in those gorgeous eyes. There was definitely something haunting him.
“How about I give you a ride home after your shift?” Zeppelin held up his hand—the other still holding Preston’s—as his mate eyed him with wary suspicion. “You’ll be getting off late, and you didn’t drive.”
“We’ll see.” Preston slid his hand free. “I gotta get back inside.”
Zeppelin opened the back door, holding it wide. Preston stepped under his arm. Zeppelin breathed in that sweet scent, and for a second, it felt like a hard-won victory.
He followed his mate back inside, the music swallowing them whole as the door closed behind them. Preston didn’t look back once, just moved through the crowd. His shoulders were squared now, tension gone, like their moment outside had somehow reset him.
Back at the counter, his mate slid behind the bar with a quick nod to Ash, who was busy mixing something complicated with three different bottles.
Zeppelin slid into the booth across from Vaughn, who had a smirk plastered across his face.
“That was quick,” Vaughn said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.
“Shut up.” Zeppelin grabbed his abandoned beer, still half-full and now lukewarm.
“I didn’t say anything.” Vaughn chuckled and took a swig from his own bottle.
Zeppelin ignored him, watching his mate work. Preston’s hands still shook slightly when he poured shots, but there was a rhythm to his movements that hadn’t been there before. When he laughed at something a customer said, his entire face transformed, lighting up with genuine amusement.
That’s right, baby. Own the moment.
When Preston bent to grab a bottle from the lower shelf, his shirt rode up just enough to expose a strip of pale skin at his lower back. Zeppelin’s mouth went dry at the sight.
“You’re staring again,” Vaughn commented.
“And you’re still talking,” Zeppelin countered, captivated by the way Preston’s hands moved, quick and nimble as he lined up shot glasses for a group of college kids.
The human’s tongue poked out slightly between his lips as he poured, careful not to spill a drop.
When he finished, he gave a small, satisfied nod before moving on to the next order.
Time stretched as Zeppelin watched Preston work. His mate grew more comfortable behind the bar with each passing hour, laughing more freely, moving with more purpose. It was like watching someone slowly reveal their true self, and Zeppelin couldn’t look away.
The rest of his pack had filtered out gradually, some with nods in his direction. Only Vaughn remained, loyal as always, though Zeppelin had told him twice he could go.
“Last call!” Ash shouted over the music, which had been turned down to a more reasonable level. “Drink up or get out!”
Vaughn stood and stretched.
“You heading out?” Zeppelin asked.
“Yeah. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He clapped a hand on Zeppelin’s shoulder. “Just remember, humans break easily.”
After Vaughn left, Zeppelin moved to the bar, claiming a stool as the remaining patrons settled their tabs. Preston approached, wiping his hands on a bar towel, a sheen of sweat making his forehead glisten under the lights.
“Offer still stands,” Zeppelin said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Ride home. No strings.”
Preston’s smile faltered, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s late.” Zeppelin gestured toward the windows where darkness pressed against the glass. “And you didn’t drive here.”
For the past two weeks they’d had problems with a particular group of vampires. There had been five of them who’d thought it would be fun to snack on the residents. They’d killed one of their victims, and Zeppelin was determined not to let another one die.
As soon as he found the remaining three, they would join their buddies.
Preston hesitated, glancing at Ash, who was busy cashing out the register. “I can walk. It’s not far.”
“It’s almost two in the morning.” Zeppelin kept his voice casual, though the thought of Preston walking alone at this hour made his wolf bristle. “Let me take you home. Just a ride.”
After a moment of indecision, Preston sighed. “Fine. Let me help clean up first.”
Zeppelin honestly thought his mate would fight him on this, but was glad he’d given in. Preston felt the pull. All night he’d constantly looked Zeppelin’s way and gravitated toward him whenever they were close. His wolf was howling to claim Preston, but Zeppelin knew he had to take things slow.
Not only was his mate human, but someone had also shattered his trust.
Zeppelin nodded, settling in to wait as Preston joined Ash and Terry in their closing routine. He watched as his mate gathered empty glasses, wiped down tables, and swept the floor.
Every few minutes, Terry would pause, his gaze lingering on Preston as Zeppelin’s mate bent to collect discarded napkins or stretched to reach a forgotten glass.
Terry kept finding reasons to brush past Preston, their shoulders touching more times than necessary. Each time, the man would lean in close, saying something that made Preston smile politely but step away.
The barback’s interest was obvious, and possessiveness stirred in Zeppelin’s gut. Terry was human, harmless in the grand scheme of things, but the way he looked at Preston made Zeppelin want to turn him into a chew toy.
“All set,” Preston announced finally, untying his apron. “Just let me grab my jacket from the back.”
Zeppelin nodded, eyes tracking Terry as the man watched Preston walk away. The barback caught Zeppelin staring and quickly looked down, busying himself with wiping an already clean section of the bar.
Smart move.
Outside, the night air had cooled considerably. Zeppelin’s motorcycle gleamed under the streetlight, black and chrome catching the glow like liquid metal.
Preston hugged himself, rubbing his arms.
“Here.” Zeppelin shrugged out of his leather jacket and held it out. “Put this on.”
Preston eyed the jacket like it might bite him. “I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering,” he countered, still holding the jacket out. “And the ride will be colder.”
With obvious reluctance, Preston took the jacket and slipped it on. It swallowed him, the sleeves hanging past his fingertips, but the sight of his mate in his clothing sent a primal surge of satisfaction through Zeppelin.
“So, this is your bike,” Preston said, trying to sound nonchalant as he ran a finger along the handlebar.
“Ever been on one before?” Zeppelin asked, already knowing the answer from the way Preston was looking at the bike.
“I’ve ridden plenty before.” His mate shrugged. “ Pfft. No big deal.”
Liar. The excitement in Preston’s eyes gave him away, pupils dilating as he ran his fingers over the leather seat. Zeppelin bit back a smile as he swung his leg over the bike and started the engine. The machine rumbled to life beneath him, vibrating with power.
“Wear these.” Zeppelin handed Preston a spare set of sunglasses.
His mate took the glasses, fingers brushing against Zeppelin’s. The contact sent a jolt of heat through his body.
“Hop on,” he called over the engine’s growl. “And hold tight.”
His mate climbed on behind him, movements hesitant but eager. After sitting, he settled his hands lightly on Zeppelin’s waist.
“You’ll fall off like that,” Zeppelin said, reaching back to pull Preston’s arms fully around his middle. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. This wolf doesn’t bite.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Preston murmured, yet Zeppelin caught it. He couldn’t tell if his mate was reacting to the intense pack mentality the human sensed or reflecting on his own past experiences.
“Where to?” Zeppelin asked, running his fingers softly over Preston’s hands clasped around his waist.
His mate gave an address on the east side of town, near the old mill. Not the best neighborhood but not the worst either.
They pulled away from the curb with a controlled surge of power, and Preston crushed his chest against Zeppelin’s back, warm and solid, as they accelerated down the empty street.
The town was quiet at this hour, storefronts dark and sidewalks deserted.
Streetlights cast pools of yellow light on the pavement, and the cool night air carried the scent of pine and distant woodsmoke.
Above, stars pierced the darkness like tiny holes in black velvet.
With each turn, his mate held tighter, his thighs pressing against Zeppelin’s. The closeness, the feel of his mate molded against him, sent heat coursing through Zeppelin’s body despite the chill.
The ride was pure torture and pure pleasure.
The Pinecrest Apartments came into view. A two-story building with faded green trim and a small parking lot. Zeppelin pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Preston was practically melded to him, face pressed between Zeppelin’s shoulder blades.
They sat there for a moment longer, the motorcycle cooling beneath them with soft ticks and pings. The night wrapped around them like a blanket, crickets chirping in the nearby bushes and a distant owl calling.
Finally, his mate slid off the bike, removing the glasses with shaky hands. His hair stood up in all directions, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement or cold or both. Zeppelin wanted to taste that flush, to feel the heat of it against his lips.
“Thanks for the ride,” Preston said, his voice slightly breathless. He made no move toward the building, just stood there in Zeppelin’s too-large jacket.
“Anytime.” Zeppelin dismounted, propping the bike on its stand. They stood there in the dim light of the building’s exterior lamp, just gazing at each other.
“I should go in,” Preston said finally.
“Long day,” Zeppelin agreed. “Bet you could use some coffee.” He let the suggestion hang in the air between them.
Preston’s brow furrowed, wariness returning to his expression. After a moment of internal debate, which played across his face like a movie, he nodded.
“I guess... I could make some,” he offered, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced it was a good idea.
“Lead the way,” Zeppelin said, gesturing toward the building.
Before they reached the entrance, Zeppelin paused, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He paused, scanning the shadows surrounding the building. The parking lot was mostly empty except for a few cars, but something felt off.
The sensation of being watched prickled across his skin like static electricity.
Zeppelin’s wolf stirred, alert and wary.
“Everything okay?” his mate asked, key already in the building’s front door.
“Yeah,” Zeppelin replied, positioning himself between Preston and the darkness. “Just thought I heard something.”
While he’d been waiting on Preston to help close up, Zeppelin had gotten a text about a vampire attacking Chase. As much as he wanted to go check on him, he also wanted to keep his mate safe.
Preston led him up a flight of stairs to the second floor. The hallway was dimly lit, the carpet worn in the center from years of foot traffic.
At the end of the hall, Preston stopped in front of apartment 2F, fumbling with his keys. They slipped from his fingers, hitting the carpet with a metallic jingle.
His mate bent to retrieve them, muttering under his breath. He tried again, dropped them once more, and let out a frustrated sigh.
Zeppelin waited, sensing that offering help would only embarrass his mate further.
“Sorry,” Preston mumbled, finally managing to get the key in the lock. “I’m not usually this... uncoordinated.”
Zeppelin watched as his mate’s hands shook slightly, whether from nerves or the lingering excitement of the motorcycle ride he couldn’t tell. The lock finally gave way with a click, and Preston pushed the door open.