Page 13 of Fated Wings
“I’m sorry,” he rasped out, the words muffled behind his palms. “I thought—I thought you were—”
“Vex,” Newt finished quietly. “I heard.”
Screw giving his mate space. Newt stretched himself over Vaughn’s hunched form, draping his smaller body across broad shoulders like a living blanket. Newt buried his face in Vaughn’s neck, determined to ride out the storm with his mate.
The two men backed toward the door, reluctance evident in their slow movements.
“We’re right down the hall if you need us,” Zeppelin said, his eyes lingering on Vaughn’s hunched form. The anguish in his expression spoke volumes about how much he cared about his pack member.
The door closed with a soft click, leaving Newt alone with Vaughn’s ragged breathing and the weight of unspoken trauma between them.
“I’m sorry,” Vaughn finally whispered, the words muffled against his palms.
“Don’t be,” Newt replied, his fingers finding their way into Vaughn’s hair, stroking gently. “Bad things happened. Your body remembers.”
He echoed Vaughn’s earlier words back to him, offering what little understanding he could. Beneath him, Vaughn’s trembling gradually subsided, muscles relaxing inch by slow inch under Newt’s touch.
“Who’s Vex?” The question slipped out before Newt could stop it.
Vaughn went rigid again. For a moment, Newt thought he wouldn’t answer.
“A demon,” he finally said, voice hollow. “He was paid to break me.”
The simple statement held oceans of pain. Newt tightened his embrace, wishing he could somehow absorb the hurt through his skin.
“Did he succeed?” Newt asked quietly, tracing the shell of his mate’s ear.
A bitter laugh escaped. “What do you think?”
Newt considered this, his fingers now moving through Vaughn’s hair. In a way, it was the same thing Hershel was guilty of. He hadn’t tortured Newt, not physically, but there was more than one form of abuse. But his father would never see it as abuse. He would never admit to the pain he’d caused Newt for hundreds of years. In Hershel’s mind, any sacrifice was worth their gain.
But it wasn’t their gain. Newt didn’t care about societal class. That aspiration lay solely on Hershel’s shoulders. Yet it was Newt who was paying the ultimate price.
His freedom.
“I think broken things can be mended,” he said. “Maybe not the same as before but still whole, just in a different way.”
Vaughn said nothing, but his breathing slowed, steadied. Minutes stretched between them, comfortable in their shared silence. Eventually, Vaughn’s hand found Newt’s, fingers intertwining.
The small act heavy with meaning.
“I’ll stay for as long as you need me to,” he whispered, sealing a promise he had no right to make.
Outside, the moon slid behind clouds, casting the room in deeper shadow. Newt remained draped across Vaughn’s back, as if he could shield his mate from nightmares through sheer force of will.
If only he could shield himself from his own nightmares.
But in this moment, this quiet connection in the dark, this borrowed peace felt like a gift Newt had no right to keep, but desperately wanted to.
Chapter Four
The sun was just coming up over the mountains as Zeppelin tossed an arm over the back of his booth, sitting across from Sheriff Mitch Owen in Hash It Out diner.
Sheriff Owen sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “They’re slippery bastards. My deputies have been patrolling the area every night, but lately they’ve been keeping a low profile. Haven’t spotted them since that one slipped out of custody of my deputies.” He scratched his chin. “Which was what, five weeks ago?”
Zeppelin took another sip of his coffee, savoring the bitter warmth as it slid down his throat. The rich aroma mingled with the scents of bacon, maple syrup, and fresh biscuits that permeated the diner. The diner was already filling up with the morning crowd—farmers in worn caps, office workers grabbing breakfast before heading to their cubicles, and a handful of strangers who’d stumbled upon the town’s best-kept secret.
They had to be tourists because Crimson Hollow was a remote mountain town with only a handful of roads leading in and out of it. Besides Zeppelin knew pretty much every resident who lived there.
