Chapter Twenty-One
Sage
After soaking in the chaos of the festival until late, reality sets in: we still need a place to sleep. And it's a mess.
Turns out, trying to find a hotel after midnight during a town-wide fringe fest is not a winning strategy.
Consequences of irresponsible actions, I suppose. If we'd started looking earlier, maybe we would've snagged something simple. But Kayden's vortex of chaos is hard to resist. Addictive, even.
We're at the fifth hotel—me cranky, Asher quiet, Kayden humming some jazz tune like he's on a date night—and it looks like another dead end.
Until the receptionist blinks at her screen and says, "Oh… we just had a cancellation. It's our luxury suite, but…" Her eyes flick to the three of us. "It has only one bed."
Before I can even process that, Kayden cuts in, "We'll take it."
The receptionist raises a brow. "Well, uh… an extra guest means an extra charge."
"Not a problem," Asher says, already pulling out a card like it's nothing.
I sigh. Internally calculate how many shifts I'll need at Cole's to pay them both back. Probably all of them. Plus a tip jar miracle. And I doubt Briar Hollow is a big tipping town.
Then Kayden leans casually over the counter, eyes locked on the receptionist like he's conjuring her will from thin air. "Since we're taking your finest suite off your hands, I think champagne is in order."
She nods, dazed. "It will be sent up immediately."
I grab his jacket and pull him back, whispering sharply, "Kayden!"
He shrugs, utterly unbothered. "I didn't kill anyone to get a room. You should be proud."
"Oh yes," I say dryly, stepping into the elevator beside him. "Not killing. You want a star for that?"
"A kiss would do."
I roll my eyes. But underneath the banter, anxiety starts to build.
One bed.
There's only one bed.
The elevator dings, and Kayden strides out like this is his personal suite. Asher falls into step beside me, close but not pressing, like he's guarding my flank.
Kayden swipes the keycard, and the door swings open to reveal a sleek, high-end suite with a king-sized bed… and not much else. No pull-out couch. Not even a cozy little reading chair I could pretend to sleep on.
I stop in the doorway.
"You look like we're walking you to the gallows," Kayden says with a smirk.
"I was just thinking—" I hesitate. What the hell can I say?
That I'm not sure I can sleep next to them without coming undone?
That I'm already too close to falling into something I can't control?
That I'm running from my ex-boss-turned-ex-fiancé-slash-blood-trafficking-satyr and I really don't have the bandwidth for a three-way emotional crisis?
Yeah. Hard pass on that confession.
"If you're not comfortable," Asher says gently, stepping forward, "we can find something else. You can stay here. No pressure."
"No, it's fine—" I cut in too quickly.
He leans in, voice low and steady. "There are no expectations, Sage."
"Yeah," Kayden adds, grin wicked but voice soft. "We can do an innocent little sleepover. Clothes and all."
I narrow my eyes at him, but truth is—I believe his words. He hasn't pushed. Neither has Asher. Even when they could've.
And somehow, that restraint is more dangerous than any demand.
"Yeah, it's all good. I'm just tired. Need a shower."
I drop my bag with more force than necessary, head straight for the bathroom, closing the door with a definitive click behind me, and lock it.
Not that it would stop either of them if they wanted to break in.
But, sometimes, a locked door says I need space.
It says: this shower is mine, and no conservation initiatives are welcome.
I stay in there longer than I need to, steam curling around me.
Three people. One bed.
I shouldn't be wasting time. It's late, and we have to be up early. But I can't quite bring myself to open the door and face the reality of the situation.
Eventually, I wrap myself in the plush white robe, and crack the bathroom door. The suite is dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the TV. Kayden is the only one there. Shirtless, sprawled across the bed, one arm behind his head, remote in hand, watching some grainy late-night show on low volume.
He turns toward me with a lazy grin. "See? Pants on. Keeping it respectful tonight—no shenanigans… unless you really beg for it."
I scoff, tension leaking out of my shoulders. "You wish."
He shifts, making space and patting the middle of the mattress.
"Come on, hop in. Pretend you're totally comfortable with this wildly inappropriate arrangement.
Otherwise, Asher's going to feel guilty and sleep on the floor, and then you'll feel guilty, and we'll all just spiral into this dramatic guilt loop all night. "
I hesitate. Then climb onto the bed, settling toward the edge.
It's surprisingly big. Even with both their broad frames, there should be enough room to pretend this is normal. That I'm not highly aware of every movement. Every inhale.
"Where's Asher?" I ask, glancing toward the door.
Kayden flips the channel lazily. "Went out to grab food and water for you. Since, you know, we didn't exactly do a proper dinner. He's concerned you'll starve or dehydrate or something. Classic big brother vibes. Mother hen in a leather jacket."
I smile despite myself. "Sounds about right." I pause. Then, carefully, ask, "And… how about your dinner?"
His lips twitch. "Oh, I was planning to snack on the downstairs neighbors once you fall asleep."
I blink. "You what—"
He bursts into laughter. "Gods, your face."
I smack his side with a pillow.
"I'm behaving," he says, holding up his hands. "Scout's honor. I can wait until tomorrow. Unless you're volunteering?"
He waggles his brows with zero shame.
"I'm not."
"Had to ask, sunshine," he says, completely unperturbed, settling back like he's got all the time in the world.
"You keep calling me that," I point out. "But the sun is bad for vampires. So what… it's your idea of an ironic pet name?"
His expression shifts—serious, almost vulnerable. "It was, at first. Ironic." His gaze drags slowly over me. "But now… not so much."
The knot in my throat tightens. I swallow hard, words tangled before they can come.
The door clicks open. Asher steps in, one hand clutching a paper bag, the other balancing an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne. "Found this sitting outside," he explains, nodding toward the bottle.
"How thoughtful of them," I mutter, eyeing the bubbles. "Wonder why they didn't knock and hand it to us like normal people."
"Some humans are more sensitive," Asher replies calmly. "They can sense that we are predators. Makes them instinctively keep their distance."
"Or maybe it's just bad service," Kayden says, already moving to relieve Asher of the champagne. He pops the cork without ceremony. "Want some?" he asks me.
I shake my head. Asher declines too.
Kayden shrugs and takes a generous swig straight from the bottle. He immediately winces. "Alright, this tastes like fizzy regret."
"That's how champagne tastes," I say with a grin as I peek into the paper bag.
Inside, there's a decent haul. Sandwiches, a rice roll, a handful of snacks, chocolate, water, and a few bottles of soda. Comfort food with no questions asked.
I glance at Asher with a grateful smile. He shrugs like it's nothing. "Didn't know what you'd like."
"Thank you," I say and grab the rice roll.
A quiet moment settles between us, just the soft rustle of wrappers and the low hum of the TV in the background. Then Asher breaks it.
"Sage… I'll take the floor. I've slept in worse places during war."
"No," I say instantly, frowning. "If you sleep on the floor, then I will too."
"Here we go," Kayden groans, setting the champagne aside after another swig. "You two can go be noble on the carpet. I'm not a martyr—I'll be here. Stretched out. Like a civilized creature."
I exchange a look with Asher. And just like that, the decision's made.
There's no ceremony to it—just the three of us, getting ready for bed, taking turns in the bathroom. Kayden grumbles about the soap smelling like citrus. Asher folds his clothes with military precision before sliding under the covers. I just try not to overthink any of it.
In the end, we all curl up in the king-sized bed, me in the middle.
I feel everything. The warmth of them beside me.
The not-quite-touching tension. The subtle shifts of breath and movement.
Just a week ago, I would've bet good money that sharing a bed with two vampires would involve teeth, blood, and a premature death.
But here I am. And here they are. And I feel… safe.
With that wild, improbable thought echoing in my mind, I drift off.