STORY EXCERPT

Holy crap. The music slapped him back a step.

Inside, it was a different world from the blinding, quiet street. The music was so loud it vibrated the glassware on the shelves. Now Preston wondered how many glasses actually had fallen or broken because of it.

If you asked him, it had to cost a pretty penny to replace broken glasses. Ash needed to either turn the music down or consider a better glassware arrangement.

Bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder at the tables, and even the booths were overfilled with people shouting to be heard over the thrum of a song that was either ’90s grunge or classic rock.

Since that wasn’t his type of music, Preston wasn’t sure. But he liked whatever it was.

You can do this. You need the job and half the people look like they drink from beer bottles. No fancy drink orders that Preston had no clue how to make.

The bar itself dominated the left side. A long slab of oak, stained with decades of spilled drinks. Behind it, Ash. Preston’s new boss. Hot as fuck, too. When the guy had interviewed him, Preston had been terrified he’d start drooling.

The interview had been on a slow Monday afternoon when the place appeared deserted. It’s not dead anymore.

Ash had the kind of easy, but chaotic energy that made him impossible to ignore, even when he was just restocking napkins.

Tonight, Ash was in his element, flipping bottles and sliding pints down the bar, making bartending look like a breeze. The man’s smile was so big and white it made him look like a game-show host, but the way he shouted orders, you knew he would toss you out the door if you so much as looked at a customer wrong.

Preston hesitated at the entrance, trying to gauge when to jump in. The barback, a guy with a manbun and a sleeve of tattoos, nodded at him like they were old friends.

What was his name again? Nothing came to mind. Preston wiped the sweat from his palms onto his jeans and walked behind the bar, where the air was at least ten degrees cooler and the smells of bleach, citrus, and cheap whiskey mingled in a way he was already starting to find comforting.

Ash clocked him immediately and grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Glad you didn’t bail,” he yelled over the music, grabbing another pint glass. “We go by the deep-end method here. You drown, or you learn to swim.”

All Preston knew how to do was doggy paddle. Crap. He forced a smile and nodded, feeling every molecule in his body vibrate with anxiety and something else.

Anticipation, maybe, or pure panic.

Definitely panic.

He remembered nothing from the interview, except that all the taps were sticky and the cash register was older than he was. But his nearly empty checking account had left him no choice but to say yes to the first job that offered tips.

Besides, the town was already starting to grow on him, even if he couldn’t explain why.

Probably the view. Crimson Hollow was nestled up in the mountains, surrounded by a dense forest. From the bedroom window of his rental, he could see mountain peaks, the very tips covered in a blanket of snow.

Which was weird to him since the days were hot as hell.

“You with us?” Ash called out.

The rush hit hard. Preston’s whole world shrank to the four feet of space behind the bar and the endless parade of hands waving, voices shouting, faces demanding. He poured shots, fumbled bottle openers, and tried not to look like he was keeping a secret every time someone ordered a drink he’d never heard of.

Ash was everywhere at once, zipping up and down the bar, catching mistakes before they happened, tossing out instructions without ever making it sound like an order.

If every shift was like this, Preston would have no problem losing the little bit of belly fat he carried from his stressed-out life.

It was only half an hour into the shift when Preston saw the bikers again. They filed in like a human wrecking crew, taking up three booths and staking claim to various tables. The lead guy wasn’t with them—Preston scolded himself for noticing, for even caring—but the others brought the same sense of momentum, as if they carried the road’s chaos indoors with them. The regulars barely glanced up. Clearly, this was a “normal” occurrence.

The bikers ordered like they owned the place. Beer, whiskey, more beer. Simple stuff that even Preston couldn’t mess up. They barely looked at him when they ordered, treating him like part of the furniture.

Preston wiped down the bar and tried not to stare. These guys had an energy that made the whole room shift around them. Conversations got quieter. People gave them space without being asked.

“Stop gawking and restock the beer cooler,” Ash called out, snapping Preston back to reality.

Right. Work. Not ogle customers who wouldn’t notice him if he burst into flames.

When he straightened, the lead biker was standing at the counter. Right in front of him. Preston froze, staring into the prettiest honey-brown eyes he’d ever seen. He couldn’t pull enough air into his lungs as he stared at the leader like he’d never seen another human being before.

Ash snapped his fingers in front of Preston’s face. “You fall asleep on your feet?”

Preston didn’t even blink.

With a shake of his head, Ash turned toward the leader. “What can I get you, Zeppelin?”

Zeppelin. Preston was never going to wash his ears again.

“Cold beer, Ash.” Zeppelin smirked as he stared at Preston, like he was used to shorting out someone’s brain.

Pull yourself together. You’re making him think you’re a moron. Preston blinked several times, like a crashed computer rebooting. “Hi,” he squeaked, embarrassing himself even more.

Zeppelin’s smirk widened. “New guy?”

“First night,” Ash answered for Preston, who was apparently too brain-dead to speak for himself. “Preston, meet Zeppelin. Zeppelin, this is Preston. Try not to break him on his first shift.”

Preston could only manage a nod toward the man of his dreams. Words seemed like an impossible concept.

Ash grabbed a beer from the cooler and popped it open, sliding it across the bar. Zeppelin caught it without looking away from Preston.

“Thanks.” He took a long pull from the bottle, and Preston’s eyes tracked the movement of his throat.

ADULT EXCERPT

Preston slowly opened his eyes to the darkness, momentarily frightened until he remembered where he was. In Zeppelin’s bed, his mate’s warm, solid body wrapped around him like a second skin. The steady rhythm of Zeppelin’s heartbeat pulsed against his back, strong and unwavering.

Memories from earlier flooded back—vampires, the pack, that incredible dinner—but all he could focus on was the heat radiating from his mate’s body and the arm draped possessively across his waist. A pleasant warmth pooled in his belly as Zeppelin’s breath tickled the nape of his neck.

He shifted slightly, and his mate’s arm tightened around him. “You awake?” Zeppelin’s voice rumbled against his ear, rough with sleep.

“Yeah,” Preston whispered, turning in the circle of Zeppelin’s arms to face him. In the darkness, he could just make out the contours of his mate’s face, the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. “Just thinking.”

Zeppelin traced a finger along Preston’s cheekbone, down to his lips. “About?”

“This. Us.” Preston pressed closer, his body responding to the proximity. “Everything.”

The soft brush of Zeppelin’s lips against his forehead sent tingles down to Preston’s toes. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

He answered by tilting his face up, capturing Zeppelin’s mouth with his own. The kiss started slow, exploratory, before deepening as Zeppelin’s tongue slid against his. Heat bloomed between them, turning the gentle caress into something hungrier.

Zeppelin rolled them until Preston lay beneath him, the weight of his body a delicious pressure. His hands skimmed down Preston’s sides, pushing up the borrowed T-shirt he’d slept in, fingertips grazing bare skin.

“Take this off,” Zeppelin murmured against Preston’s lips, tugging at the fabric.

Preston lifted his arms, allowing Zeppelin to pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside. The cool air against his skin made him shiver, but Zeppelin’s hands quickly returned, warming every inch they touched.

Moonlight filtered through a gap in the curtains, casting a silver glow across the bed. Preston watched as Zeppelin sat back on his heels, gaze traveling over Preston’s exposed torso with reverence.

“Look at you,” he breathed, palms sliding up Preston’s stomach to his chest. “So fucking beautiful.”

Preston laughed softly, reaching up to pull him back down. “Says the guy who looks like he was carved from marble.”

Their bodies aligned, skin against skin, and Preston gasped at the sensation. Zeppelin’s mouth found his neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to his collarbone. Each touch of lips and tongue left a trail of fire in its wake.

“God, that feels good.” Preston sighed, arching into the contact.

Zeppelin hummed against his skin, moving lower to capture a nipple between his lips. The gentle suction made Preston’s hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction. A low chuckle vibrated against his chest as Zeppelin shifted to the other nipple, giving it the same attention.

“Patience,” Zeppelin whispered, his breath cooling the damp skin.

“Patience is overrated,” he countered, running his hands through Zeppelin’s hair, tugging him up for another kiss.

Their tongues tangled as Zeppelin’s hands continued exploring, mapping the contours of Preston’s body like he was memorizing every dip and curve. When his fingers hooked into the waistband of Preston’s boxers, Preston lifted his hips in silent invitation.

The fabric slid down his legs, and then he was completely naked, vulnerable under Zeppelin’s gaze. But instead of feeling exposed, he felt treasured, especially when his mate looked at him with such naked hunger.

“Your turn,” he said, reaching for Zeppelin’s boxers. “Fair’s fair.”

With a grin, Zeppelin helped, kicking the underwear off the bed. The full-body contact that followed drew moans from both of them. Preston’s hands roamed over his mate’s broad back, feeling the play of muscles beneath smooth skin.

He kissed his way down Preston’s body, pausing to nip at his hip bone to trace the soft curve of his stomach with his tongue. His beard tickled against sensitive skin, making Preston squirm and laugh.

“Ticklish?” his mate asked, deliberately rubbing his chin against Preston’s inner thigh.

“Stop that,” he gasped through his laughter, halfheartedly pushing at Zeppelin’s head.

His mate’s response was to grip Preston’s thighs, holding them apart as he lowered his mouth to the sensitive skin. The tickling sensation transformed into pleasure as Zeppelin’s tongue traced patterns on his inner thigh, moving higher with each pass.

When Zeppelin’s mouth finally closed around him, Preston’s back arched off the bed. Wet heat engulfed him, sending jolts of electricity up his spine. Zeppelin took him deep, hollowing his cheeks as he withdrew, creating a suction that had Preston clutching at the sheets.

“Fuck,” he breathed, watching through half-lidded eyes as Zeppelin worked him over. The sight of those full lips stretched around him, the sensation of Zeppelin’s tongue swirling around the head… It was almost too much.

Just as the pressure began building, Zeppelin pulled away, leaving Preston panting and frustrated. Before he could protest, Zeppelin was kissing him again, the taste of himself on Zeppelin’s tongue oddly arousing.

“Turn over,” Zeppelin whispered against his lips.

Preston complied, rolling onto his stomach. Zeppelin’s hands smoothed down his back, thumbs pressing into the muscles along his spine, massaging as they went. When they reached his ass, they kneaded the flesh, spreading him open.

The first touch of Zeppelin’s tongue against his entrance made Preston jerk in surprise and pleasure. He buried his face in the pillow, muffling a moan as Zeppelin’s tongue circled and probed, breaking him down with each flick and thrust.

“God, Zeppelin,” he gasped, pushing back against the sensation.

His mate hummed in response, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure. His hands gripped Preston’s hips, holding him steady as his tongue worked magic.

When a slick finger joined Zeppelin’s tongue, Preston’s breath caught. The gentle pressure as it breached him burned slightly before giving way to pleasure. His mate worked him open slowly, adding a second finger when Preston began rocking back into his hand.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, placing kisses along the curve of Preston’s ass. “Could do this all night.”

He looked over his shoulder, catching Zeppelin’s eye. “I’d rather you fuck me.”

A growl rumbled from his mate’s chest as he leaned over to the nightstand, retrieving a bottle of lube. The snap of the cap opening seemed loud in the quiet room. He watched as Zeppelin slicked himself, the sight of his hand working over his cock making Preston’s mouth water.

“Come here,” Preston said, turning back over and reaching for him.

His mate settled between his thighs, capturing his mouth in a kiss that spoke of barely restrained hunger. The blunt pressure of his cock against Preston’s entrance made him tense momentarily before relaxing into it.

Inch by inch, Zeppelin pushed inside, his eyes never leaving Preston’s face. The stretch and burn gave way to fullness, to a sense of completeness he’d never experienced before.