Page 9 of Alpha's Touch
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.
