Page 32 of Fated Wings
Newt’s eyes widened slightly, but he leaned forward and took the offered bite. His lips closed around the fork, eyes never leaving Vaughn’s. Something hot and possessive stirred in Vaughn’s chest at the sight.
“Good?” he asked, voice dropping lower.
Newt nodded, chewing slowly. “Very.”
Across the table, Preston made a choking sound that might have been suppressed laughter. Zeppelin cleared his throat pointedly.
“So,” the alpha said, “we should discuss security measures. Those vampires are still out there, and they’ve got Newt’s scent.”
“They’ve also doubled in number,” Newt added, wincing. “Thanks to my spell gone wrong.”
“Doubled?” Quinn’s eyebrows shot up.
“Instead of making them disappear, I accidentally copied them. So now there are six instead of three.”
Preston looked impressed. “That’s actually kind of cool.”
“Not when they’re trying to drain you,” Newt muttered.
Vaughn’s hand found Newt’s knee under the table, squeezing gently. “We’ll handle the vampires.”
“And my father,” Newt added quietly. “He’ll come looking for me eventually.”
Conversation stalled as everyone absorbed this. Vaughn felt Newt tense beside him, bracing for questions.
“Well,” Zeppelin said finally, “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, no one goes out alone, especially after dark.”
The conversation shifted to patrol schedules and security measures. Throughout it all, Vaughn kept feeding Newt bites of French toast, enjoying the way his mate’s cheeks flushed each time their eyes met.
After breakfast, they escaped back upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind them with a decisive click.
“Your friends are nice,” Newt said, perching on the edge of the bed. “Nosy, but nice.”
“They grow on you,” Vaughn agreed, crossing to stand in front of him. “Like a friendly fungus.”
Newt laughed, the sound trailing off as Vaughn moved closer, nudging his knees apart to stand between them. The height difference put them nearly eye-to-eye with Newt sitting and Vaughn standing.
“So,” Vaughn said, hands coming to rest on Newt’s thighs, “where were we before we were so rudely interrupted by breakfast?”
“I believe you were about to continue my education on proper kissing techniques.” Newt’s voice came out breathier than before.
Chapter Nine
“That’s…proportionally concerning.”
Vaughn’s hand covered his, guiding fingers to wrap around the outline through fabric. Heat radiated through the cotton, the shape of him heavy and insistent against Newt’s palm. His cock gave an interested twitch, apparently less broken than initially diagnosed.
“Still want to continue?” Vaughn’s voice had dropped an octave, rough enough to scrape against Newt’s remaining brain cells.
Instead of answering, Newt hooked fingers into the waistband and tugged. The boxers slid down, catching briefly before Vaughn lifted his hips to help. Then there it was, his mate’s cock springing free, thick and flushed and demanding attention.
Definitely proportionally concerning.
“Right then.” Newt wet his lips, studying the situation like it might bite. Which, given the size, seemed possible. “Any particular technique I should know about? Besides ‘don’t use teeth’ which seems obvious but worth confirming.”
“Just—” Vaughn’s words cut off as Newt wrapped tentative fingers around the base. “That. That works.”
Skin slid against skin, velvet soft over steel hardness. Newt gave an experimental stroke, watching Vaughn’s face for clues. His mate’s jaw clenched, a muscle jumping beneath stubbled skin. Good sign? Bad sign? The instruction manual really needed clearer indicators.
