STORY EXCERPT

Barefoot, he bolted, cold earth biting into his soft soles, needles and pebbles lodging in places he would absolutely complain about later if he survived. He was most likely the only fae who snuck out of their realm and right into a forest with three vampires so close he could smell the scent of blood on their tongues. If the passageway hadn’t automatically closed, Newt would’ve turned his butt around and run back through.

He was running all right. Like he’d never run before, with a stitch in his side, no shoes, and a bargain he doubted any god would accept.

Bark brushed his shoulder as he squeezed between twin trunks. The neon pink clung to him, pulsing with each hammering heartbeat like it wanted to be a beacon and not a blessing.

A branch snapped behind him. Laughter spilled through the trees again, closer, hungrier. He fished for another spell in his mind and came up with one he’d used once in practice. Shield. Third time’s a charm, right?

Newt threw his palm out and drew the insignia.

Fireworks exploded above him—huge, loud, and unfortunately purple. Sparkles rained down in an incredible cascade that was exactly zero help while running for your life. He flinched and nearly ate a sapling.

“Note to self,” he gasped, “panic makes terrible magic.”

The lights grew bigger. A house! Square roof. Warm windows and soup and humans who just might yeet him from existence. A fresh stitch dug into his side. He pressed a hand there and lied to himself about how little it hurt.

Branches thinned. Grass hit his feet, soft and shockingly inviting after the forest’s angry carpet. He staggered and caught himself with both hands in wet dirt that smelled like recent rain. Up ahead, yellow squares glowed. Not fairy light. Ordinary lights, which felt bizarrely brave right now.

“Humans couldn’t be worse than what’s hunting me,” he said out loud, because sometimes you had to hear your own bad decisions.

And this had been his worst.

A stretch of lawn opened, lush and ridiculous, all clipped edges and moon-silver dew. The house loomed three stories high, its windows lit like it had no idea monsters lived in the trees behind it.

An earthy scent rolled over him on the breeze, musk threaded with smoke, like forest floor and warm skin. Not vampire. Not anything he recognized. It wrapped his nose and sat there, calm as a stone, while his heart flailed.

Was that how humans smelled? Newt liked it.

Halfway across the yard, his legs gave a warning wobble. Newt pushed anyway. Pink still bled faintly off his skin, less neon now, more like a sulky bruise. He aimed for the darkest patch near the house’s shadow and promised his father he’d take his punishment later if he could just get to that house.

The back door banged open, and men spilled out of the house, bodies moving fast, voices cutting through the night as they headed straight for him!

Then… they barreled past him, a blur of denim and breath, and sprinted toward the tree line. At least a dozen. Maybe more. Numbers weren’t Newt’s strong suit while hyperventilating. Clearly they were going after the vampires. Not him. A relief.

Newt aimed for the back door like salvation… and hit it chest-first. Wood thumped. Stars popped behind his eyes.

“Ow!” he wheezed then fumbled for the handle and tumbled inside without any regard for trespassing laws or common sense.

Apparently, he had none.

As long as it put distance between him and the vampires, the king of the human realm could write him a ticket.

Cold air kissed his face. A kitchen spread out around him the size of a village square—gleaming counters, a steel beast of a fridge that could house a family, and lights set into the ceiling like tame stars.

Wow.

The room was simply gorgeous. Back home, his kitchen was much, much smaller. It didn’t gleam like this one. Newt didn’t know what half the things were that sat on the back counter but was dying to find out. What was that box with glowing numbers for?

“Stop.” A voice rolled out of the shadows by the back door, low and dangerous, followed by a sound that didn’t belong in a polished kitchen. A deep, menacing growl.

Newt’s gossamer wings unfurled, and he shot toward the ceiling, hovering as he looked around for the person whose voice sounded like it had been carved from something deeper.

Down below, a big man stepped into the light, shoulders like a wall. He stared at Newt the way people stared at catastrophic weather. The guy’s mouth hung open, then it closed. A muscle jumped in his jaw and his brows hiked to his hairline.

“Don’t come any closer,” Newt blurted out, palms pressed to air like he could ward off the behemoth. “I’m fine up here. Very ceiling-friendly. You stay…floor.”

The man’s lip curled. Okay. Good to know he was not the friendly type. He moved like a storm gathering. Newt scooted along the seam where ceiling met crown molding, which was apparently now a road. He clipped a glass pendant light that swung near his ankle.

The light rocked three times before it hit the floor, crashing hard enough to shatter the glass. “Oops, sorry!”

“Get down before you destroy the kitchen,” the man snarled, stepping directly under him like his scowl could make Newt obey.

Nope. Not happening. Newt zipped, badly. The kitchen arched into a hallway hung with framed photos. He careened around the corner too fast and shoulder-checked an arrangement of family faces. Frames thunked against the wall and cocked at drunken angles.

“Oops, sorry!” Newt called, because apologies were free and he was going to need a ton of them.

A room opened on the right that had to be a living room because it contained three couches, two chairs, and a coffee table big enough to land on if he wanted to die immediately. Newt skimmed over a plant that tried to shake hands with his ankle and nicked a lampshade. The shade listed like a ship.

“Oops. Sorry!” His voice bounced off high ceilings. This house echoed like a cave. That had sounded cool.

Footsteps pounded after him. Newt cut left into a hallway that had a long runner with fancy birds woven into it. Pretty. Also surprisingly weird when you were upside down. His palm skidded, he overcorrected, and his forehead met a round, white object with a clack.

A shrill beep exploded. “Oh no!” He slapped it with both hands until it shut up. “Sorry!”

ADULT EXCERPT

“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.

Leaning down required some creative positioning, but Newt managed it. The first touch of tongue to heated flesh made Vaughn’s hips jerk. Salt and musk flooded his senses, not unpleasant but definitely intense. He licked again, tracing the prominent vein along the underside.

“Fuck.” The word punched out of Vaughn, fingers tangling in cotton-candy strands.

Taking that as encouragement, Newt wrapped his lips around the head. The stretch made his jaw ache immediately. How had Vaughn made this look easy? Physics alone suggested problems, but backing down now seemed cowardly. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking experimentally.

The sound Vaughn made defied description. Something between a growl and a whimper that sent answering heat straight to Newt’s reawakening cock. He sucked harder, tongue working against the sensitive underside the way Vaughn had done to him.

Fingers tightened in his hair. Not painful, just present, guiding him into a rhythm that made Vaughn’s breathing go ragged. Each slide down took him deeper, until the head bumped the back of his throat and he had to pull off, coughing.

“Easy.” Vaughn’s thumb brushed his cheek. “Don’t have to take it all.”

“Competitive nature,” Newt gasped, wiping his mouth. “Give me a second.”

He dove back down, finding a sustainable rhythm. Bob and suck, tongue swirling on the upstroke. His jaw protested, but Vaughn’s bitten-off curses made the discomfort worthwhile. Power thrummed through him, unexpected and heady. He did this. Made his composed mate fall apart with just his mouth.

The realization sent fresh arousal pooling in his belly. His cock filled completely, pressing against his stomach as he worked Vaughn’s shaft. Each sound his mate made fed the heat building under his skin.

Without warning, Vaughn’s hands tightened. He pulled Newt off with a wet pop that would have been embarrassing if not for the wild look in his eyes.

“What—” Newt started.

“Up.” Vaughn hauled him onto the bed properly, movements sharp with intent. “Clothes off.”

The borrowed shirt disappeared over his head before Newt could process the command. Cool air hit heated skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with temperature. Vaughn stripped with efficient movements, tossing his clothes aside without care for where they landed.

Naked, his mate looked like something out of Newt’s most private fantasies. All lean muscle and coiled strength, cock jutting proud between powerful thighs. Newt’s mouth went dry even as other parts of him got decidedly less dry.

“Admiring the view?” Vaughn prowled onto the bed, caging Newt beneath him.

“Cataloging for future reference.” The words came out breathier than intended. “In case this is a hallucination brought on by vampire-induced stress.”

“Not a hallucination.” Vaughn’s mouth found his throat, teeth grazing over his pulse. “Though we should probably discuss the virgin thing.”

“Already did. You were there for the dramatic revelation, remember?”

“I mean logistics.” Lips moved lower, mapping collarbones with focused attention. “How much do you know about…this?”

Heat flooded Newt’s face. “I’ve seen things. Drawings. One very educational tapestry in the palace library before they removed it for cleaning.“

“Tapestry.” Vaughn’s laugh vibrated against his chest. “Of course.”

“It was very detailed! The thread work alone—” Words dissolved into a gasp as Vaughn’s mouth closed around a nipple. “That’s cheating again.”

“No rules against it.” Teeth worried the sensitive peak while fingers found its twin, rolling and pinching until Newt’s hips bucked off the bed.

Sensation scattered his thoughts like startled birds. Every touch felt magnified, each brush of skin against skin sending sparks through overloaded nerves. His cock leaked steadily against his stomach, desperate for friction.

Vaughn’s hand slid lower, bypassing where Newt wanted it most to press behind his balls. One finger circled his entrance, dry and careful, making him tense.

“Relax.” Vaughn’s voice rumbled against his chest. “Need to get you ready.”

“Ready for—oh.” Understanding dawned with a mix of anticipation and concern. “Right. That’s happening. The thing with the…positioning.”

“Such a romantic.” But Vaughn smiled as he leaned over to the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of clear liquid. “This helps.”

The first touch of slick fingers made Newt jump. Cool gel warmed quickly against his skin as Vaughn circled his entrance with maddening patience. Not pushing in, just touching, letting him adjust to the sensation.

“Still good?” Vaughn asked.

“Besides the part where you’re taking forever? Fantastic.”

Pressure increased. One finger breached him, sliding in with less resistance than expected. The intrusion felt strange but not painful, just…different. Full in a way that made his cock twitch with interest.

“Breathe.” Vaughn’s free hand stroked his thigh. “Just breathe through it.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one with fingers in unprecedented places. But Newt tried, pulling air into his lungs as that finger worked deeper, exploring territory that had definitely never seen visitors.

A second finger joined the first. The stretch burned slightly, muscles protesting the unfamiliar invasion. Newt shifted, trying to find a comfortable angle, and suddenly stars exploded behind his eyelids.

“Holy fuzzy! What was that?”

“That would be your prostate.” Vaughn crooked his fingers again, hitting the same spot with unerring accuracy.