Epilogue
SAGE
Sage arrived at the farm in the late afternoon, the spring sun dappling the buildings with soft light as it escaped the cloud cover.
It looked like something out of a fairytale—the grey stone house with its thatched roof and traditional gable windows adorned with flowering window boxes, all surrounded by acres of green farmland and woodlands.
He sniffed, taking in all the scents mixing in the air. Freshly cut grass. Strawberries from the garden beside the ivy-covered wall that bordered the property. Hay. Wild bluebells from the woods. And the distinct smell of dogs.
Mabel must have been sunning herself in the courtyard, as she came bounding down to meet Sage as he opened the garden gate. Monty followed soon after, a dark, speedy blur who yipped in excitement the entire way.
“Hey, girl,” Sage said to Mabel, who wound around his legs as he tried to pet her. Monty was upon him a few seconds later, demanding his attention. Sage picked him up. “Hello to you again, too, little puppy.”
“Sorry!” Quin shouted, coming around from the back of the house and jogging down the garden path. “He still doesn’t listen to my commands. And Mabel should know better.” He shot her a disappointed look as she ran over to him.
Sage nuzzled his nose against Monty’s wet one, getting a few licks on the cheek for his trouble. The cocker spaniel puppy had been a gift from Quin to Kit a few months ago. Sage had accompanied Quin to pick the dog up from a local family and help deliver him to the farmhouse.
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.”
“I also look 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 of first love every time he saw his fiancé. Sage wasn’t the type to judge.
Actually, that was a lie. Sage loved judging 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.”
Sage made a cross with two fingers. “Stay away. I’ll pass out if I see blood.”
Kit met Sage’s gaze. “A werewolf with hemophobia will never not be funny to me.”
“My wolf isn’t afraid of blood—it’s just me that’s squeamish, and it’s a completely normal and rational fear.”
Kit’s lips quirked but he didn’t disagree. He swivelled his head. “Monty’s bothering the goats again.”
“Shit,” Quin said. “We better go stop him.”
Sage necked his beer and followed Quin and Kit along to the barn. Sure enough, Monty was scratching at the door. The goats were bleating, though they didn’t sound scared to Sage’s ear.
After Kit picked a squirming Monty up, Quin opened the barn door. The teeny pygmy goats were in a fenced-off area, boinging around like pinballs. Kit took Monty in to play with them under strict supervision whilst Mabel stuck close to Quin’s side.
Sage smiled as he watched a glowing Kit interact with the goats. “I’m so glad to see that the animal therapy ide—” he broke off when Quin tried to cover his mouth with his hand, but it was too late.
Kit stood beside them in a flash, hands on his hips as he looked up at the both of them. “Animal what?”
“Therapy?” Sage asked. The few beers he’d had were loosening his lips, but, judging by his expression, Kit’s question wasn’t one to be ignored either way.
Kit’s face bloomed with redness. Sage hadn’t even known that vampires were capable of blushing, let alone look like they might combust at any moment. “Quin,” Kit said, “you told me the goats were good for the ecosystem.”
“They are, baby boy.”
“So why is your cousin implying that they’re therapy animals?”
Sage started edging away from the two of them. “I’m going to”—he thumbed over his shoulder—“go over here so that I don’t have to listen to this disagreement that I very much did not mean to cause.”
“Sage, you can’t just leave me like this!
” Quin complained, but Sage was already fleeing the barn.
He’d been privy to the aftermath of their bickering before.
The sight of Kit splayed over Quin’s lap on the sofa that one time was enough to dissuade Sage from sticking around, lest they see fit to resolve this argument in the same way.
Mabel followed Sage out, so he took her over to the pond. It was medium-sized, with an arched wooden bridge over the middle. Between the lily pads and reeds, he spotted clumps of shudder-inducing frogspawn.
The sky wasn’t fully dark yet; swathes of deep blue could be seen dotted in amongst the clouds. He tipped his face up to the almost-full moon. It was peeking through, casting little light, but Sage felt its effects all the same. He itched to run, to chase, to play.
He looked down at Mabel. “Shall we?”
With Mabel at his heels, Sage tore off towards the woods.
It wasn’t the same as when he was in the skin of his wolf, but it went some way towards calming the beast that begged to be set free.
He ran between the trees, dodging low-hanging branches and jumping fallen ones.
Some of his hair escaped his bun, but he just tucked it behind his ears and kept on running.
He could run for miles without stopping.
It wasn’t just because of his wolf—he ran in the morning most days to calm his racing mind.
It was the only time of the day when he got solitude; living in one of the pack cottages meant people would drop in at all hours.
Or, running had been his solo activity until recently.
But Sage didn’t want to think about that. Instead, Sage ran for longer, until the beer he’d consumed threatened to reappear. He’d taken Mabel in a loop, so they were back near the pond before it was pitch black. Kit waited there, cuddling a sleepy, docile Monty.
“Get it out of your system?” Kit asked.
Sage let loose a long breath, mirroring Mabel’s pants. “For tonight, anyway.”
“Full moon pregame, I like it.”
“Sorry about the—”
“Don’t mention it,” Kit said, waving a hand. “I’m just old-fucking-fashioned in my views on the T word.”
“Therapy?”
Kit winced. “Don’t say it. It hurts my ears.”
“Ever heard of exposure therapy? If I keep using the word, you might get used to it.”
“You’re as bad as Quin.”
“I’m worse.”
Kit played at being unamused, but Sage could see how the corners of his mouth quavered into a smile. They walked towards the house together, Sage stretching his muscles out as he went.
“So, have you thought any more about your stag do?” he asked.
Kit made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. “In addition to your insistence on planning the night, DJ has also offered his services. Which means I’m between having a penis party or a penis party. So many options to choose from.”
“A penis party?” Quin asked, meeting them at the front door. “Sounds like my kind of event.”