Page 35 of Chasing Secrets
Jalen glanced at the tabletop, unsure what to say. He didn’t feel brave, but Preston’s praise did mean something to him. He didn't need a definition of “mate.” He needed someone to see his struggle and validate it. He needed someone to see him as brave, not broken. And Preston had just given him that gift without a second thought. “Thanks.”
His gaze drifted over to where Chase sat with Zeppelin, the two still deep in conversation. As if sensing his attention, Chase glanced up, their eyes meeting briefly across the distance. Jalen’s breath hitched when Chase winked at him. He quickly looked away, focusing back on Preston.
“I didn’t have the same experience as you, but I know what hell feels like.” Preston’s expression flickered, something dark passing behind his eyes. “Boy meets psychopath. Psychopath decides boy belongs to him. Boy runs for his life and stumbles into a town full of insanity. Psychopath finds boy. Zeppelin handles psychopath.”
He’d said it so solemnly that Jalen wanted to give him a hug, but that was as foreign to him as kindness used to be before Chase.
“Boy has…” Jalen’s throat locked up, refusing to let him finish. “Boy has…”
“We were talking about mates, right?” Preston bumped shoulders with him. “For me, being mated to Zeppelin is like living off of tuna and suddenly having steak every night.”
The warm breeze rustled through the oak leaves above them, casting shifting patterns of light across the table. Jalen took a deep breath and let it out slowly, determined to enjoy his afternoon.
Preston touched his own shoulder, right where it met his neck. “He bit me right here. That’s what seals the bond. I was already attracted to him, but once we were fully mated, it’s like this deep connection formed between us. There isn’t anything Zeppelin wouldn’t do for me.”
“He’s a bit scary looking,” Jalen whispered.
“Hot, right?” Preston snickered. “Nearly got flattened by a box truck drooling over him.”
Jalen threw his head back and laughed, unsure why he found the image so funny. Preston joined in, cracking up beside him.
“I was trying to come off as cool, missed the pole I tried to lean on like a dork, and almost ate the grill of that truck.”
“Sorry.” Jalen held up his hand. “I know that’s not funny, but…” He had no idea how to finish the sentence. Preston was a short guy with hair that stuck up at odd angles, and Jalen was trying to imagine him going all googly over a guy not only Zeppelin’s size but his I’ll-eat-you-for-breakfast looks.
Jalen’s laughter died instantly when he saw his uncle walking up the side street toward the parlor. The cone fell from Jalen’s hand, hitting the table then the ground. He paid it no attention.
“You okay?” Preston asked.
A strange noise caught in Jalen’s throat. This had to be a bad dream, one of those nightmares he’d had while detoxing. Air shoved past Jalen’s lips too fast, too sharp, his chest barely expanding before the next breath forced its way out.
“Jalen?” Preston shook his arm.
Derek glanced his way at the mention of Jalen’s name.
Jalen’s chest felt like it had collapsed inward, every breath jagged and shallow. A tremor ran through him until every limb shook.
His uncle locked eyes then pivoted, now heading toward him, wearing the smirk that always led to pain.
As Jalen pushed from the picnic table, his foot caught on the seat. He stumbled backward, heart racing, wishing he could sink back into blissful numbness.
But it was too late. The monster was closing in, and Jalen was trapped.
* * * *
“He says he’s fine, but I know better,” Zeppelin said. “It’s just gonna take time for Vaughn. We still don’t know what that demon did to him, and Vaughn’s not talking about it.”
Chase wanted to rip that demon apart for what he did to the beta. For the past few weeks he’d spent all his time with Jalen. Not once had Chase left his mate’s side, until yesterday morning. During those few weeks, pack members had brought food to the room, asking how Jalen was doing. Even Vaughn had stopped by, trying to play it off like he was okay, but eyes didn’t lie, and Vaughn’s were haunted.
“Maybe—” Chase stood when he saw Jalen visibly frozen, his skin pale in the afternoon sun. Preston was trying to talk to him, but it was clear he wasn’t getting through to Jalen.
Chase followed Jalen’s line of sight and noticed a stranger approaching from the side street. Average height, mid-forties, with a receding hairline and a paunch straining against his tan shirt. He wore khakis and a polo shirt like countless other men in this town. There was nothing remarkable about him.
Except for the way his eyes locked onto Jalen with predatory focus.
Without thinking, Chase crossed the distance in long strides, Zeppelin right beside him.
“Jalen!” the stranger called, his voice carrying across the patio with false warmth. “Been wondering where you’ve been hiding. Why’ve you been skipping Sunday dinners? Your mother’s been asking.”
