Chapter 1: Midnight Oil and a Fizzled Flame
The fire crackled, painting the cabin bedroom in waves of amber and shadow. A thick wool blanket had long since been kicked to the floor, lost in the tangle of sheets and need. Theo’s world had narrowed to the scrape of Asher’s stubble against his throat, the heavy, familiar weight of him, the scent of pine and smoke and mate that drowned out everything else.
Weeks. It had been weeks of Asher’s long shifts at the firehouse, of quick kisses goodbye at 5 AM, of falling asleep alone to the sound of the scanner crackling on the bedside table. Theo’s body hummed with a desperate, keening energy. His fingers clutched at the rumpled cotton of Asher’s shirt, a shirt that was, blessedly, halfway off.
“Asher,” he gasped, the word breaking as Asher’s mouth found that spot just below his ear.
“I know,” Asher rumbled, the vibration travelling straight through Theo’s spine. His hands—those big, calloused firefighter’s hands—were finally, finally sliding under Theo’s waistband, warm and sure. “God, I missed you. Missed this.”
Theo’s head fell back, a whine catching in his throat. His inner monologue, usually a gentle stream of illustration ideas and grocery lists, had become a single, screaming chorus of yes, finally, don’t stop, if we stop I might actually perish. He arched up, meeting the slow, deliberate roll of Asher’s hips.
A floorboard creaked in the hall.
Theo froze. Asher went still above him, his entire body tensing into a statue of alert alpha.
“No,” Theo whispered, a plea to the universe. “Not now. The universe is a cruel, celibate monster.”
The tiny knock on the door was so soft it was almost lost in the pop of the fire.
“Daddy?”
It was Poppy. Of course it was Poppy. The world’s tiniest, most adorable saboteur.
Asher dropped his forehead to Theo’s shoulder with a groan that was half desire, half profound defeat. The heat between them didn’t vanish; it just… curdled, transforming into a different kind of tension.
“Pumpkin, it’s late,” Asher called, his voice rough but softening at the edges already. Theo could feel the shift in him, the protective instinct overriding everything else. It was one of the reasons he loved him. It was also, currently, the reason he wanted to scream into a pillow.
“I saw a monster,” came the whispered reply, thick with pretend tears. “In the closet. It sniffed.”
Theo stared at the wooden ceiling beams. It sniffed. A for effort, kiddo. Nice detail.
“It’s just the wind, sweetheart,” Asher said, but he was already moving, rolling off Theo with a sigh that seemed to come from his boots. The sudden cold air where his alpha had been was a physical ache.
“It sniffed, Daddy,” Poppy insisted, her voice wobbling with impeccable dramatic timing.
Asher sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt back on. He reached out and squeezed Theo’s knee, his gray eyes full of a weary apology. “I’ll just be a second. Promise.”
“You say that every time,” Theo mumbled, but he squeezed the hand back. He couldn’t not. Asher looked so damn tired, and he’d come home to this, to them, only to be pulled away by the most powerful force in the known universe: a pup’s puppy-dog eyes.
Asher padded to the door, his broad shoulders silhouetted by the firelight. He opened it to reveal Poppy, a small silver-furred specter in her cloud-print pajamas. Her big blue eyes were wide, her tail a slow, hopeful wag behind her.
“A monster, huh?” Asher said, his voice dropping into that soft, rumbling dad-voice that always made Theo’s heart do a stupid flip.
“A big one,” Poppy confirmed, holding up her arms.
Asher glanced back at Theo, a what-can-you-do shrug on his face, and then bent down to scoop her up. She immediately buried her face in his neck. Theo watched as his alpha—his fierce, possessive mate—cradled their daughter and turned down the hall toward her room, murmuring low assurances about closet monsters and the protective power of Mr. Waffles, her stuffed hedgehog.
The door clicked shut.
Silence. Well, relative silence. The fire popped. The old cabin settled. From down the hall, Theo could hear the muffled sound of Asher’s voice reading a story. Great. Probably a long one. With voices.
He flopped back onto the mattress, limbs splayed. The frantic, hungry energy was gone, replaced by a flat, hilarious kind of despair. He looked at the dent in the pillow where Asher’s head had been, then at the abandoned blanket on the floor.
My life, Theo thought, his inner monologue kicking into full, sassy gear. A never-ending game of romantic blue balls. The universe is basically just a frat boy holding a cup of water just out of my reach. And my mate is its willing accomplice.
He listened. The reading stopped. There was a soft laugh—Asher’s. A tiny giggle—Poppy’s. Then quiet.
A spark of hope.Maybe. Maybe Asher was tiptoeing back right now.
Theo held his breath, straining to hear a creak in the hall. He counted to thirty. Then sixty.
Nothing.
He sat up. The fire was dying down, casting longer, lonelier shadows. The romantic, desperate heat of five minutes ago had cooled into a domestic chill. He loved his family. He loved them so much it felt like a physical thing in his chest. But he also really, really missed his alpha’s hands on him.
Resolve, firm and sudden, crystallized inside him. He was an omega, not a statue. Nurturing was his vibe, but so was a healthy dose of creative problem-solving.
He got out of bed, padded over to the dresser, and pulled out his softest, best henley—the charcoal gray one Asher always nuzzled into. He put it on. Then he went to the door and peered down the hall.
Poppy’s door was closed. A thin line of light shone underneath.
Theo crept down the hall, past the framed illustrations of friendly forest creatures he’d drawn for her, and pressed his ear to her door. He heard the slow, deep rhythm of Asher’s breathing. Mixed with the softer, quicker puffs of Poppy’s.
They were both asleep. Asher had literally been kidnapped by snuggle-nap.
Theo pushed the door open a crack. The sight almost dissolved his resolve. Asher was sprawled in the miniature reading chair, his long legs comically folded, his head tilted at an angle that would guarantee a stiff neck. Poppy was a silver ball curled in his lap, one tiny hand fisted in his shirt, utterly peaceful. Mr. Waffles was wedged between them.
It was the most beautiful, most frustrating thing Theo had ever seen.
He tiptoed in. Gently, so gently, he pried Poppy’s fingers from Asher’s shirt. She mumbled but didn’t wake. Theo lifted her, her familiar puppy-scent of maple syrup and sleep filling his senses, and settled her into her actual bed, tucking the covers around her. She sighed and buried her face in her pillow.
Then he turned to his mate.
“Asher,” he whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Hey. Fireman. Your bed is that way.”
Asher grunted, his eyes fluttering open. They were blurry with sleep. “Theo? ’S the alarm?”
“No alarm. Just a stranded omega in critical condition,” Theo said, keeping his voice low. “Requires immediate alpha attention. A lot of it.”
A slow, drowsy smile spread across Asher’s face. He blinked, looking from Theo to the bed where Poppy slept, comprehension dawning. “I fell asleep.”
“You did. In the monster-free zone.” Theo held out his hand. “Come on.”
Asher took it, letting Theo haul him up from the chair. He stumbled slightly, wrapping an arm around Theo’s shoulders for balance. They were a mismatched, shuffling pair retreating from the battlefield of parenthood.
Back in their room, Theo closed the door. He didn’t just close it. He turned the old-fashioned latch with a deliberate, soft click.
Asher watched him, his gray eyes now clear and dark in the low light. He saw the determined set of Theo’s jaw, the purposeful click of the lock. A slow heat crept back into his gaze, cutting through the sleep fog.
“Locking the door?” Asher’s voice was a gravelly whisper.
“I’m instituting a containment protocol,” Theo said, turning to face him. He walked backward toward the bed, pulling Asher with him by the front of his shirt. “No interruptions. Monsters, real or imagined, are hereby declared a non-emergency until sunrise.”
Asher followed, his smile turning predatory. “Yeah? And what’s the protocol?”
Theo fell back onto the mattress, pulling Asher down on top of him. He hooked a leg around Asher’s waist, sealing their bodies together. The embers in the hearth pulsed, casting one final, bright glow across the room.
“The protocol,” Theo said, nipping at Asher’s lower lip, “is absolute silence.”