Page 69 of Alaska Lights

“Well, lucky you. We are nowhere near as old as you, so we have plenty of time.”

I shove him, a laugh bellowing from me so loud that it echoes over the mountains.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He mounts Lucky Ducky and takes the reins in his hands. “I’m going to do another sweep. I still can’t find any sign of that hunter.”

“He isn’t done. He’ll be back.” It’s why I have my gun strapped to my side now. I haven’t worn The Colt since the 1950s, but I have a mate to protect now, and if my vampire abilities can’t stop a hunter, a fucking bullet between the eyes will.

“I agree. Yesterday can’t happen again. That was too close.”

I rub the middle of my chest in agreement. I can still feel the arrow pressing against my heart. A centimeter to the left and I would have been ash.

Leo would have died, and that pisses me off more than anything. That hunter became my next target. I’m going to rip his fucking skin from his bones and feed him to the wolves.

“Have fun tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Glenn winks, then clicks his tongue to get Lucky Ducky moving.

“Fuck you.” I raise my middle finger at him, and he honks out a horrendous laugh before riding across the pasture.

I take out the phone that I dragged out of my nightstand drawer before I came outside to get Mustache Man ready. It has ten percent battery left, and there are so many message alerts, but I don’t care about any of that. The only people who need to speak to me fucking live with me.

Everyone else can fuck off.

I open the search engine, and my fingers hover over the keyboard. What the fuck do I even put?

“How to…” I pause, my fingers trembling. I wipe my brow on my shirt, nerves once again getting the best of me.

I need to know this. Leo needs to feel safe with me. I can’t go into this without more knowledge.

I start to type, my fingers poking at the screen. “How to prepare a man for sex?”

My battery is down to eight percent, and the red on the icon is making me feel rushed.

So many different search results come up, and I choke when I see a still image of a man fucking another man.

Mustache Man turns to look at me, neighing.

“I’ll be right back.” I walk away, not in any particular direction, figuring out which video is the best to watch. “Fuck it.” I click a random one and the video goes straight to loud moaning.

Of course, my volume is on high, and the sexcapades drift over the hills. “Damn it!” I glance left and right, pressing the button to lower the volume until it’s muted.

I don’t want to hear it. I have no need to hear another man’s pleasure. The only man I want to hear groan is Helios. Those are the only sounds I care about.

This video isn’t teaching me fucking anything.

I click out and delete the search, trying a new one instead. “Step by step instructions to prep my mate—” The internet might not know what that means. I delete ‘mate’ and start again. “My male partner for sex,” I speak out loud as I type, hoping I can get some insight.

Pressing on another link, this time it takes me to a video with a guy who demonstrates instead, using props. The captions are on, and I read what he is saying while I walk back and forth through the pasture.

“You’ll want to be gentle. Always use lube. And if you wonder if you’re using too much, you’re not; add more.” He lifts a finger. “You’ll⁠—”

I slam into a chest when I turn around to walk the other way, and my phone falls out of my hand.

My mate’s scent wraps around me like a warm blanket.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you’d…well…I thought you’d sense me.” He bends down to pick up my phone, and I’m horrified and rush to beat him to it, but it’s too late.

He wraps his fingers around my phone, brows pinched together when he notices what’s on the screen.

Well, now I’m wishing that arrow didn’t miss.