Page 5 of What the Hex
“Actually, I could go for a cup of coffee. Where can I get that?”
Clearly excited to be of service so soon after their meeting, Arlo nodded eagerly and began ushering Damien across the lobby. “Right this way.”
Storm watched them go with a crooked grin, then turned back to the other male. “I guess you’re with me?”
“Yes, sir.” With his hands clasped together behind him, he stepped forward, but unlike his companion, stopped short of invading Storm’s personal space. “Kingston Mathers, but you can call me King. Anything you need, I’m happy to help.”
Oh, he was a cutie.
Storm estimated he had a few inches on the guy and at least fifty pounds. Unlike Arlo’s wiry physique, King was all soft lines and gentle slopes. With round cheeks, blond curls, and a smattering of freckles on his otherwise fair complexion, he checked every one of Storm’s boxes.
And those eyes. He had never seen eyes such a vibrant green. They didn’t sparkle, though. They didn’t gleam. Instead, they appeared lost, haunted, and it broke his fucking heart. No one that stunning should look so damn sad.
“Would you also like some coffee?” he asked when Storm said nothing. “Or I could show you to your room, if you prefer.”
“My room, I think.” Traveling always made him feel gross, and he wanted a quick shower and a change of clothes before he struck out to explore the castle.
“Of course. Right this way.”
As he turned, his hair fanned out behind him, wafting the most enticing scent directly at Storm. It was sweet, with just a hint of spice, kind of like dark chocolate and cinnamon, but more complex.
Storm inhaled deeply, drawing the fragrance deep into his lungs.
Instantly, his heart tripped, stuttered, then kicked into a furious rhythm, thundering wildly against his ribs. Warmth, like pure sunshine, blossomed in the pit of his stomach and spread out to encompass every cell in his body. His hands shook. His fangs elongated. A deep growl vibrated his vocal cords.
Then, before he could even question what was happening to him, all hell broke loose.
Reacting on instinct, he lunged forward, grabbing King by the elbow to whirl him around. He hated the fear that shined in those brilliant green eyes. Even more, he hated he had put it there, but he couldn’t find the words to reassure his mate. Hell, he couldn’t seem to find his voice at all.
“Storm,” Damien called his name as he approached. “What are you doing?”
With a firm grip still on King’s arm, he faced his friend with a menacing snarl. “Mine!”
Well, at least he’d found his voice, even if it was too deep and contained way too much gravel.
Damien looked back and forth between him and King several times before nodding. “That’s great, but you’re hurting him. Ease up, dude.”
Bullshit. He would never hurt his mate. “Mine!”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time, but seriously, you need to chill.” His gaze flickered to King again. “You’re scaring the shit out of him.”
“No freaking way!” Arlo shouted. “You’re mated to Storm Black?”
The resulting gasps and murmurs that rippled through the lobby finally pulled Storm from his stupor and dropped him rudely back into reality. With great effort, he retracted his fangs and shook his head to clear it. Once he had regained a bit of control, he loosened his grip on King’s elbow, though he didn’t release him completely.
“Are you okay?” The growl was gone from his voice, but he still sounded like he’d been chain smoking for the past fifty years. “Did I hurt you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, really. You didn’t hurt me.”
“Did I scare you?”
“You startled me, sure, but I’m not scared.”
Detecting no deception through his body language or chemosignals, Storm nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what came over me, but that’s no excuse.”