Upon receiving the puppy, Kit had burst into happy tears, which had been Sage’s first experience of seeing a vampire weep blood. He’d almost fainted at the sight and then got close to throwing up when the puppy had tried to lick the tears off Kit’s face.
Sage met Quin halfway up the garden, past the patches of sunshine-yellow daffodils. “Monty still only listens to Kit?”
“Won’t follow any command I give him. I swear he smirked at me the last time I told him to do something.”
“Aw, you wouldn’t do such a thing, would you, Monty?” Sage asked the puppy, who blinked his big brown eyes up at him.
“You gonna cart him around like a baby your whole stay here?”
“He’s too cute to have to walk.”
“I say that to Kit all the time.”
Sage snorted.
They made their way to the back of the house and through the French doors that led to the kitchen. Despite the modern fixtures, it maintained the traditional features of the original farmhouse. Dark wooden beams ran along the ceiling and bordered the former fireplace with its exposed stonework, where the pastel blue double cooker was installed. They had a matching fridge, and every appliance known to man cluttering the countertops. Fresh air filled the bright space, the blues and creams of the decor complementing the darker wood and stone.
Excessive for a couple of whom only one consumed actual food.
“Ugh, can I just move in and live in your kitchen?” Sage said. “The oven will keep me warm. You won’t even need to give me a bed. I’ll take Mabel’s spare.”
Quin chuckled, going to the fridge. “Beer?”
“Please.” Sage set a wriggling Monty on the floor, who ran back out into the garden to bother Mabel.
Quin brought over a couple of open beers with labels Sage didn’t recognise. He inspected them.
“Kit got me a craft beer subscription thing,” Quin explained.
Sage clinked his bottle against Quin’s. “Here’s to you being a kept man.”
“Hey!”
“You do a bit of coding for your vampire mates,” Sage said with only the slightest of eye rolls. “It’s not exactly hard work.”
“Ialsolook after the farm.”
Sage took a swig of his beer, the hops bitter on his tongue. He was sure it’d grow on him. “You employ half a dozen members of the pack to drive in each morning to do all the farm work for you.”
“Well, I can’t do it all by myself, can I?” Quin asked, a glint of humour in his eyes.
“I suppose not.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. Quin fired up the barbecue and grilled some burgers with all the fixings. Mabel wasn’t allowed any of the meat—she was on a diet because Kit spoiled her rotten—but Sage gave her some lettuce and a tiny bite of his veggie burger, so she had something to munch on.
They were sitting out in the courtyard, having another beer, when the sun dipped down over the horizon. Quin became giddy as night approached. Even after almost a year together, and six months back in Wales, Quin acted like he was in the throes offirst love every time he saw his fiancé. Sage wasn’t the type to judge.
Actually, that was a lie. Sagelovedjudging people, but he’d never judge Quin for his obsession with his boy. Watching them interact always made Sage smile.
As if summoned, a sleep-rumpled Kit appeared in the space of a blink. His blond curly hair was a bit on the frizzy side, and his oversized T-shirt—no doubt borrowed from Quin—hung off one slim shoulder. Kit pressed himself against Quin’s side.
“Hey, baby boy,” Quin murmured. “Sage is here, remember?”
“Mm-hmm,” Kit said, face buried in Quin’s armpit. “I smelled him from upstairs. Hey, Sage.”
“Hey, how are you doing?” Sage asked.
“Hungry.”
