“You’re perfect just the way you are, sunshine,” came Zeppelin’s voice as he entered the kitchen, sliding his arms around Preston from behind.
Preston’s cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, and Wade felt a sudden, unexpected pang of envy. Not for Zeppelin or Preston specifically but for the ease between them.
The comfortable certainty that came with an established bond.
With a frown, Zeppelin scented the air. “Why do I smell a bunny?”
Preston’s jaw dropped. “No way!”
“Is your mate a bunny shifter?” Newt flew upward, spinning with clasped hands. “Aw, that’s so cute!”
“A bunny?” Jalen’s brows shot up.
“I’ve so got to meet him,” Sasha cooed. “A fae and now a bunny. This is so cool.”
“But don’t wolves look at bunnies like prey?” Preston asked, hurrying toward the stove to turn off the burner under his sauce.
The room fell suddenly silent, and Wade turned to find Alex hovering uncertainly in the doorway. His mate looked small and vulnerable in the borrowed T-shirt that hung to mid-thigh, his bare feet pale against the dark hardwood floor. The collar gleamed dully around his neck, a stark reminder of whatever trouble his mate was running from.
An instinct to protect, to shield Alex from curious stares, surged through Wade. He wanted to pull Alex into his arms, to reassure him that he was safe here, but the wariness in his mate’s eyes made him hesitate. They barely knew each other. The mate bond didn’t automatically erase caution or build trust.
“Um, hi,” Alex said, his voice quiet but steady. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting,” Sasha said warmly, stepping forward. “I’m Sasha. Quinn’s mate.” He gestured to Quinn, who offered a friendly nod. “The floating blue-haired menace is Newt. The chef is Preston, and the guy wrapped around him is our alpha, Zeppelin.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Alex replied, fingers twisting in the hem of the oversized shirt. “I’m Alex. Wade was kind enough to let me crash here for the night.”
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” Zeppelin said, his voice carrying the quiet authority that defined him.
Wade moved closer to Alex, fighting the urge to place a protective hand on his back. “They’ve offered to lend you some clothes. Since mine are obviously a bit large.”
“Thank you.” Alex glanced down at himself, tugging at the shirt. “That’s…generous.”
“We’ll have clothes for you in the morning,” Quinn said, his tone casual and unthreatening. “And Preston’s making enough apple crisp to feed a small army.”
“It’s therapeutic,” Preston explained, turning back to his sauce. “Cooking, not feeding armies.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Alex’s face, the first genuine expression Wade had seen from him. Something loosened in his chest at the sight.
Wade caught the flicker of uncertainty in Alex’s expression and made a quick decision. His mate needed time to adjust, to feel comfortable among these new faces without Wade hovering.
Sometimes space was the kindest thing you could offer.
“I need to make a call, but I’ll be back soon,” Wade said, moving toward the doorway.
As he stepped from the room, Wade heard the conversation resume, Newt’s enthusiastic voice offering Alex coffee and “the best cinnamon rolls in the northern hemisphere, despite Preston’s frosting heresy.”
A small smile tugged at Wade’s lips. If anyone could make Alex feel welcome, it was this mismatched group of mates who had become a family.
Wade needed a moment to collect his thoughts, to process the sudden appearance of his mate and the complications that clearly surrounded him.
Pausing at the base of the stairs, Wade listened to the gentle murmur of voices from the kitchen. Already, he could hear Newt’s laughter and Alex’s quieter response. His mate was safe for now, surrounded by people who would protect him simply because he belonged to Wade.
Something about Alex’s reaction to the police cruiser suggested his mate was in trouble—the kind that didn’t disappear with a hot meal and a warm bed.
And Wade intended to find out exactly what that trouble was, before it followed Alex to their doorstep.
* * * *
