Page 4 of Beautiful Butterfly

“We lived in a remote area, and I used to sneak out and run through the forest. It was the only freedom I’d ever had back then.” Alister sat at the table. “It was my way of rebelling.”

“So you’re a rebel.” Wyatt chuckled.

“Hardly.” Alister laughed, the sound lighting up his face and making him even more beautiful than he already was. “I never strayed too far, because they’d filled my head with so many horrific stories about the world outside our door. Once a week, groceries were delivered. My parents would never let me answer the door. But the same night they were delivered, my mom and dad would go for a run.”

Wyatt grabbed two mugs then placed a teabag in each, hoping the tea not only helped Alister to relax, but to sleep, too.

“My resentment toward them had been building, so one night I followed them. I stayed far enough behind so they wouldn’t know I was there,” Alister went on. “They ran into a demon. The only reason I knew what the stranger was, was because my dad shouted the word to my mom. The demon used his powers and yanked my mom and dad off their feet, dangling them midair. The look of satisfaction in his eyes as he tortured them still haunts me.”

After pouring hot water into each cup, Wyatt brought them to the table and set them down before he slid into the chair next to Alister’s.

“I stayed hidden under a clump of bushes, too terrified to help them. It had to be close to twenty minutes, though it felt like an eternity, before he killed them and then vanished.”

“I’m sorry you witnessed that.” Wyatt placed his hand over Alister’s, pain and anger in his mate’s eyes.

With a deep sigh, Alister took the mug with his free hand and blew across the rising steam. “It was forty years ago. I stayed in the woods all night, too terrified to come out. That’s when a red fox found me and took me under his wing.”

“Paris.”

Alister nodded. “I was thrust into the real world, woefully unprepared and tragically naïve.”

Wyatt had heard a little about Alister, enough to make him steer clear of the guy, even after Cannon and Morgan had told Wyatt that Alister was interested in him.

Now he wished he’d hadn’t dodged Alister, because it was possible Wyatt could have stopped Negan from attacking them.

But he wasn’t going to blame himself for not being there. Alister was alive, in his home, and safe. That was all that mattered to him now.

Chapter Two

The following morning, Alister woke to the bright sun trying to blind him. He tossed the blanket over his head with a grunt and tried to fall back to sleep.

Until he remembered last night.

Had he really stayed up until sunrise talking with Wyatt? The guy had been so easy to talk to that it felt like a dam had broken. Alister had spilled so many things about not only his parents but his life with Paris.

Alister slammed a lid on that line of thought. His bestie was better off without him. As much as he loved the guy, Alister knew he was a burden. He’d also nearly gotten his best friend killed last night.

“Didn’t I say no?” he asked his thoughts. Alister tossed the comforter back, shielding his eyes as he got up and closed the curtains. The room darkened to some degree, allowing him to finally look around without fear that the sun’s rays would blast his retinas.

Alister inhaled the delicious smell of food then followed the heavenly aroma. He stopped short of entering the kitchen when he saw Wyatt at the stove, his back turned.

Sweet sparkly hell. Wyatt had on a pair of white silk shorts that reached his knees, but his torso was bare, gifting Alister with a scrumptious view of the man’s muscled body.

Wyatt’s entire back was inked, as were his arms. Alister was dying to walk over to the stud and take a bite of him. He trapped a groan in his throat as his gaze glided lower, his eyes feasting on a nicely rounded ass.

“I was going to wake you when the food was done,” Wyatt said, though he hadn’t turned around.

“What’re you making?” Biting his lower lip, Alister moved slowly into the room, still eyeing Wyatt’s body. There was no better way to start a day than seeing a half-naked, barefooted man at the stove.

“Just some pancakes and bacon.” Wyatt pointed the spatula at the cupboard to his left. “Mind grabbing some plates?”

As he moved even closer to Wyatt, Alister asked, “What time is it?”

“Three something in the afternoon last I checked.”

Alister’s mouth fell slightly open. He’d always dealt with broken sleep, which made him tired throughout the day. He couldn’t recall the last time since he’d slept so soundly.

As he passed Wyatt—still unable to rip his gaze away from such perfection—Alister’s nose twitched. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let the electric air of an approaching thunderstorm fill his lungs. Images appeared in his mind of dark clouds looming on the horizon, their shadows creeping closer and casting the landscape into an eerie twilight. The temperature rose, the air becoming dense and heavy with moisture. And then, with a deafening boom, thunder echoed across the sky, shaking the ground beneath them.

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