Page 30 of Fated Wings
He scrubbed another towel through his hair and caught his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back looked almost like someone he used to know. Less haunted. Eyes clearer.
Padding into the bedroom, he found Newt sprawled across the mattress like he owned it, sheet twisted around his legs, hair fanned across the pillow in cotton-candy disarray. The sight hit Vaughn somewhere between his lungs and stomach.
“I can feel you staring,” Newt mumbled into the pillow without opening his eyes.
“Hard not to,” Vaughn said, dropping the towel and pulling on boxers. “You’ve colonized the entire bed.”
One violet eye cracked open. “It’s not colonization, it’s liberation. This mattress has been freed from the tyranny of proper sleeping posture.”
Vaughn snorted, pulling on sweatpants. “How are your wrists?”
“Better.” Newt rolled onto his back, holding up his arms where Quinn had bandaged the raw skin last night. “Your friend used some kind of ointment. Smelled like feet but worked like a charm.”
Crossing to the bed, Vaughn sat on the edge, weight dipping the mattress. He took one of Newt’s wrists, turning it gently to examine the bandage. “Quinn’s good with that stuff.”
“I still say my feet smell better than his medicine.”
Vaughn’s thumb traced the edge of the gauze. “But your feet are tiny. Less surface area for stink.”
“Excuse you, my feet are perfectly proportioned for my height.” Newt kicked at him half-heartedly. “Not everyone can be a walking redwood.”
Dropping back onto the mattress, Vaughn stretched out beside his mate, arm propped under his head. Water droplets from his hair slid down his neck, leaving cool trails on warm skin. For a long moment, they just looked at each other.
“We survived,” Vaughn said finally.
Newt’s fingers found his, intertwining. “We did.” A smile curved his lips. “Though my fireworks spell could use some work, especially on timing.”
“I don’t know. The festive touch really brightened up the dungeon decor.”
Laughter bubbled out of Newt, bright and unexpected. “Nothing says torture chamber like a colorful light show.”
The sound pulled something loose in Vaughn’s chest, something that had been knotted tight for months. He found himself smiling, actually smiling, without having to force it.
“Come here,” he murmured, tugging Newt closer.
The fae complied, sliding into the space between Vaughn’s arm and chest like he belonged there. His hair tickled Vaughn’s chin, smelling faintly of strawberries from the shampoo he’d borrowed.
“I have a confession,” Newt said, voice muffled against Vaughn’s skin.
“Another one? Yesterday’s was pretty hard to top.”
Newt’s cheeks flushed pink. “That wasn’t—I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”
“The virgin thing?” Vaughn kept his tone light. “Or the part where you’d rather die than see me chained to a wall?”
“Both, I guess.” Newt’s fingers traced abstract patterns on Vaughn’s chest. “But that’s not what I wanted to confess.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve never been kissed. Not properly.” The words came out in a rush. “Before yesterday, when you…after the nightmare… That was my first.”
Vaughn blinked, processing this. “Your first kiss was after I almost crushed your wings and then had a panic attack?”
“When you put it that way, it sounds less romantic than it felt.”
“Jesus, Newt.” Vaughn’s hand came up to cup his mate’s face. “You deserve better than that.”
“Well, I was saving it for someone special.” Newt’s eyes met his, vulnerability and humor dancing in their violet depths. “Turns out that’s you. Congratulations on the job. The benefits are terrible, and the hours are worse, but there’s free entertainment in the form of magical mishaps.”
