But now he knew. His fingers moved across the keyboard.
Michael stepped forward. “I don’t understand any of this,” he admitted. “But I want to try.”
Kieran’s ancient face softened. “That’s all we ask.”
“Actually,” Michael said, and surprised himself by smiling, “I needyou to stop sending anonymous gifts. They’re creepy.”
Dante winced. “The gold coins were too much?”
“The gold coins were insane.” Michael crossed his arms. “Also, Alaric, that garden you planted? I couldn’t read it from the ground. It just looked like random flowers.”
“It spelled your name,” Alaric said quietly.
“From where? A helicopter?”
Silence. Then Kieran started laughing - a genuine, startled sound that Michael had never heard from him. Dante joined in, and even Alaric’s lips twitched.
“We’re terrible at this,” Kieran admitted.
“Definitely terrible,” Dante agreed.
Michael felt something warm bloom in his chest. “Good. Me too.” He took another step forward. “So, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Sam typed the final paragraph, his throat tight.
Three months later, Michael moved into the manor. Dante taught him to cook, Alaric showed him the garden where night-blooming flowers spelled out promises in a dozen languages, and Kieran held him while he cried over his mother’s recipes. It wasn’t perfect - love never was - but it was real. It was theirs. And that made it extraordinary.
His hands hovered over the keyboard. Then he scrolled to the front of the document and added a dedication page.
For Rux, Mabon, and Urien -
who taught me that the best love stories are real,
that fumbling counts as trying,
and that being chosen is better than destiny.
Thank you for choosing me.
Sam saved the file. Beside him, Basil stretched and pressed his head against Sam’s arm - a rare display of affection that felt like approval.
“They’re good,” Sam told the cat. “Even if you did attack them.”
Basil purred, finally settling.
Sam stared at the dedication page. His completed manuscript. Eighty-three thousand words of vampires, coffee shops, and fated mates finding each other despite the odds.
Mabon’s voice echoed in his memory:Self-publishing is a completely valid path that would let readers decide for themselves.
Sam opened a new browser tab and typed “how to self-publish an e-book.” The results were overwhelming - formatting, cover design, ISBNs, and marketing strategies. He bookmarked half a dozen articles, then closed the laptop before the enormity of it could make him quit.
One step at a time. He’d written the book. That was the hard part. The rest he’d figure out. Maybe with help from three boyfriends who somehow believed his stories mattered.
/~/~/~/~/
Sam opened his front door to find all three dragons on his doorstep…again. This was becoming a pattern. A good pattern, but still.
“We brought dinner,” Rux announced, holding up bags that smelled incredible.
