Page 11 of Fated Wings
Vaughn’s hand stilled. “Newt.”
Just his name, but it held a world of questions.
“I know,” Newt said, answering all of them at once. “I know.”
He pulled back reluctantly, creating space between them that felt necessary but wrong. “I should let you sleep. It’s late.”
Vaughn nodded, though reluctance shadowed his features. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I can’t kick you out of your own bed,” Newt protested. He’d already been a huge inconvenience bringing vampires to their home and breaking things. Now Vaughn wanted to sacrifice his bed?
“You’re not kicking. I’m offering.” Vaughn stood, putting more distance between them. “Besides, I don’t…sleep much anyway.”
There went that haunted look again, the one that made Newt want to curl his arms around his mate and simply hold him until whatever he was afraid of faded away to nothing.
“Why are your hands shaking?” Newt asked again, softer this time.
A pause, long enough that Newt thought Vaughn might not answer. Then, “Bad things happened. My body remembers.”
The simple admission, stripped of details but heavy with meaning, made Newt’s heart clench. He understood that kind of remembering. The way trauma lived in muscle and bone long after the mind tried to move on.
“Mine too,” Newt whispered, offering his own truth in exchange. “Different bad things, probably. But still.”
Vaughn’s hands squeezed his shoulder then slid down to rest just above Newt’s elbow. The touch was light, barely there, yet Newt felt it like a brand.
“Stay,” Vaughn said, the word barely audible. “Please.”
Newt found himself nodding slowly.
“Just for tonight,” he agreed, knowing even as he said it that one night wouldn’t be enough. Not when the pull between them felt like this—as inevitable as sunrise and just as terrifying as free fall.
* * * *
A soft, woeful sound had Newt’s eyes slowly opening. Moonlight peaked through the half-closed blinds, casting pale strips across the bedroom floor. For a disorienting moment, he forgot where he was until his memory caught up with his consciousness. Right. Wolf shifter. Borrowed bed. Vampires.
His eyes adjusted quickly, scanning the unfamiliar shapes of furniture before they landed on Vaughn. He lay twisted in his nest of blankets on the floor, muscles seizing in rhythmic spasms, jaw clenched against whatever pain refused to let him rest.
This wasn’t just restless sleep. This was terror.
Heart clenching, Newt watched his mate’s nightmare unfold. Whatever haunted Vaughn’s dreams had sunk its claws deep. His arms had wrapped tightly around his own torso, as if bracing for impact. Sweat glistened on his body, dampening the shirt that clung to his chest and the hair at his temples.
“Vaughn?” Newt whispered, unsure if he should interfere. Was it dangerous to wake someone from a nightmare, or was that rule only for a sleepwalker?
Newt slipped off the bed, his wings unfurling. They spread behind him like delicate sails, catching the dim moonlight in gossamer ripples. He hesitated, remembering how Vaughn had spoken about bad things his body remembered. Was this what he’d meant?
Vaughn’s arms wrapped tighter around himself, fingernails digging into his own biceps as if trying to anchor himself to reality. His legs kicked out, tangling in the blankets until they wrapped around him like bindings.
“Vaughn?” Newt whispered, crouching beside him. “Hey, you’re dreaming.”
His mate snarled, lips pulled back from teeth that seemed sharper in the half-light, more wolf than human. As terrifying as he appeared, leaving him trapped in that nightmare seemed crueler.
“Hey,” he said, more firmly this time. His palm pressed against the damp cotton covering of Vaughn’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. “Wake up. You’re safe.”
Vaughn’s eyes remained closed, but his arms shot out with frightening speed. Hands clamped around Newt’s waist and yanked him down. The air rushed from his lungs as Vaughn dragged him into a crushing embrace, arms locking around him like steel bands. “Who hired you!”
With his canines bared, he tangled one hand painfully in Newt’s hair.
“Stop!” Newt shouted, struggling to free his arms. His wings couldn’t retract, couldn’t fold. They were trapped between his back and Vaughn’s vise-like grip.
