Unfettered Vampire (Found & Freed: The Unfettered #5)

14. Chapter 14

Chapter fourteen

Morgan

I haven’t felt like this since I was a young man. All jittery and like I’m walking on clouds. With butterflies swarming in my stomach, and as if I could burst into song at any moment. It’s as if every cell in my body is vibrating, alive with a force I haven’t experienced in what feels like decades. That lightness of being, the thrill of something unfolding, of something new, wonderful, and terrifying in the best way possible.

I suppose it could be too much caffeine. But I really don’t think it is. No, this is different. This feeling, it’s not the jitter of an espresso shot. I remember this feeling, this giddy, dizzy first step of something magical. The raw potential, the endless possibilities, spooling out in front of me like a vast, untrodden landscape. The daydreams of what might come to pass are vivid, almost real. I can touch them in my mind, taste them in the back of my throat. It’s wonderful, and I’m loving every minute of it.

Last night, Ned kissed me. And with that single, simple gesture, he cracked open a whole new chapter of my life. A chapter I thought had closed forever. One of fresh starts, of new beginnings, where the future feels boundless, and happiness fills our days. It’s the sort of moment you don’t expect to happen at my age. Not when you’ve already lived and loved, and come to terms with the thought that some things just don’t happen anymore. But then they do, and it feels nothing short of miraculous.

I’m sitting here now, in my home office, grinning inanely at an email from a supplier. I’m so glad there’s no one here to see me. If anyone saw me, they’d think I’ve lost my mind, smiling at stock inventories and shipment schedules. But I can’t help it. The joy, the excitement, it’s bubbling up inside me, completely uncontainable. I really need to focus and get some work done, but every time I start to type an email, my mind drifts back to Ned, back to that kiss, and my fingers hover uselessly over the keyboard.

I pause, taking a deep breath, and listen. It’s pointless, I know, but I listen anyway, trying to hear any sign of Ned somewhere in the house. He’s here. I can’t hear a thing, but I know he’s here, under the same roof as me, and that alone feels marvelous. It’s like having some secret treasure close by, something precious and warm, even when he’s in another room.

But something was off this morning. He seemed a little distracted and distant, a shadow of worry creasing his forehead. He pulled up in his tatty old car just as I was returning from dropping Noah off at school. I watched as he greeted Oscar and Lottie warmly, his smile genuine and bright, but he barely spared me a glance. A small part of me felt a sting of disappointment, though I brushed it aside.

I hope it’s nothing to do with us. Perhaps he just doesn’t want to be too affectionate in front of the kids yet, and I can understand that. They don’t need to be dragged into the whirlwind of new emotions just yet. Ned’s right. As much as it pains me, taking things slow is the sensible idea. We’ve both been through enough in life to know how important it is to protect what’s precious. Yet, as much as I tell myself that, a bigger part of me wants to rush in, full speed ahead, all guns blazing.

I’m still lost in thought when I hear it.

“Blasted new-fangled thing!”

Ned’s voice echoes down the hallway, and before I can even fully register what’s happening, I’m on my feet and running towards the kitchen. I skid around the corner, and I’m greeted by a sight that almost sends me into fits of laughter. There’s a sea of bubbles, white foam everywhere, covering the floor, knee-high and even deeper in spots.

Oscar and Lottie are in the middle of it all, giggling hysterically, scooping up big armfuls of bubbles and throwing them into the air like confetti. Ned, meanwhile, is standing in front of the open dishwasher, glaring at it with an expression of complete exasperation. The machine is overflowing with foam, spilling out like some sort of comedic disaster in an old sitcom.

There’s a bottle of laundry detergent sitting on the counter, and I immediately realize what’s happened.

“Did you accidentally put laundry liquid in the dishwasher?” I ask, fighting back the urge to laugh.

Ned’s eyes flick to the bottle, and then he groans, smacking his forehead. “Gordon Bennett!”

I can’t help but laugh at that. It’s a phrase I haven’t heard in years, proper Cockney slang my granddad used to say.

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” I say, still chuckling as I coax the kids into helping clean up the mess. Between the four of us, we make quick work of the bubbles, scooping them up and dumping them into the sink until the floor is finally clear again.

Ned clears the worst of the foam out of the machine and sets it to rinse, looking more than a little sheepish. I can see the tension in his shoulders and I know something more pressing than housework chaos is weighing on him.

I herd the kids into the living room to reward them with some screen time. As soon as they are transfixed by cartoons, I head back to Ned and I make us both a cup of tea. Setting the mugs on the table, I beckon Ned to join me.

He walks over to the table with none of his usual grace. There’s a heaviness to his movements, and he sinks into the chair like someone carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looks tired, worn down. Like an old man.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my heart starting to race. There’s a lump forming in my throat, a quiet fear whispering in the back of my mind. Please don’t say you regret last night.

Ned sighs, fiddling with his teacup. “Nothing,” he mutters, but I can tell it’s a lie.

I swallow hard, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “Are you regretting last night?”

His head snaps up, hazel eyes wide with surprise. “Hell no!” he exclaims, a little too loudly. “Last night was…” He trails off, and to my surprise, a faint blush creeps across his cheeks. “Last night was wonderful.”

Relief washes over me like a tidal wave, and I can’t help but grin. My heart is racing for a whole different reason now. It’s the best news I’ve heard in a very long time. Without thinking, I reach out and place my hand over his.

“So, are we officially dating?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper .

For a moment, Ned just stares at me, his eyes searching mine. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face, and it’s like watching the sun break through a clouded sky. His eyes light up, and he nods.

“I guess so,” he says, his voice warm and full of promise.

The moment hangs between us, charged with an electric energy. My body moves towards his without me even thinking about it. It’s like gravity, a force pulling me in, impossible to resist. I gently cup his cheek. I lean in, closing the distance between us as slowly as I can, giving him every chance to pull away or say no if he wants to.

But he does neither. He stays right there, his eyes locked on mine, and when our lips finally touch, it’s like fireworks going off inside me. My whole body ignites, every nerve ending alight with a kind of joy I haven’t felt in years. It’s more than just a kiss. It’s a connection, a promise, a beginning.

Eventually, I pull back, my heart racing. The kids are right next door, and I can’t let myself get too carried away. But I don’t go far, pausing with our noses almost touching. I stare into his eyes, and for the first time, I let myself believe that this might really be happening. That I might get to have this. This happiness, this love, for the second time in my life.

“So,” I ask, my voice soft, “what’s really bothering you?”

Ned’s smile falters, and for a moment, a shadow passes over his face. He drops his gaze, and I see the sadness there.

“Just some…heavy stuff with one of the boys,” he says quietly.

One of the people he was imprisoned with. My heart aches for him, for all of them. They’ve been through so much already, more than anyone should ever have to endure. It’s not fair that life keeps throwing more at them.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.

The startled look on Ned’s face, along with the whiplash way he looks up at me, hurts for a moment. Then I realize that having any faith in humanity after what he has endured, is a miracle. It’s nothing personal. He is not surprised that I’m nice. He is shocked that anyone is.

I watch a whole range of emotions flow over his face. Then he shakes his head. It is not a surprise since I don’t know his friends and I have no special skills. It still sucks to be useless.

Life can be heavy sometimes. But it’s moments like this, sitting here with Ned, that remind me how beautiful it can be too.

Perhaps a bit of humor to lighten the mood? That could be my contribution.

“Heavy shit?” I say with a teasing grin. “Isn’t that what hippies said in the sixties?”

Ned looks aghast for a moment. “I…watch a lot of old shows.”

I chuckle and squeeze his hand. “And I’m an old fart who doesn’t speak like a young person either.”

Ned’s expression turns soft. “Forties isn’t old.”

My eyebrow lifts. There is something very sincere in Ned’s eyes. He truly believes what he is saying, and he is not simply trying to humor me. I’ve caught myself a stunning young man who genuinely doesn’t think I’m old. How did I get so lucky?

I shake my head in fond bewilderment. “ I don’t deserve you.”

Ned’s grin is electric. “Well, you can try to make yourself worthy later.”

My heart swoops. My stomach twists. My cock stirs. Every part of me speaks in full agreement.

“Hell yeah!”