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They ate a simple dinner of smoked meats and cheeses and fresh fruit, and Galen felt thoroughly contented, offering a silent thank-you to Mr. Blackburn before he dug in.
Once they retired to bed, Galen took his time discovering new areas of Azriel’s body to kiss before feeding him his cock. He was enjoying the privacy immensely, and especially Azriel’s pleading for Galen to stuff his prick deeply inside him.
Afterward, Azriel promptly fell asleep, and Galen soon after, warm and sated like he’d never felt before.
They only stirred upon hearing birds chattering outside their window, and the sound was even more glorious when Galen threw open the sash, already considering what type of seeds they might put out for them.
He could smell the lavender in the air as well as other blooms he looked forward to discovering. He thrust the thoughts of moon flowers and their devastating properties out of his mind, hoping to keep at bay the insidious wariness about what had transpired.
“I think we can be happy here,” he mused, watching a monarch butterfly flap its wings in the distance.
“This would be absolutely scandalous in high society.” Azriel sat up and kissed Galen’s bare shoulder.
“Thankfully we are not men of society,” Galen replied in a hoarse voice, and Azriel chuckled. “But we do need to come up with some excuse. For two men living together like this.”
“I wish we didn’t have to explain ourselves at all. Why aren’t we allowed to have the same advantages as everyone else?” Azriel scooted behind Galen and wrapped him tightly in his arms. “If men could marry, I would ask you to be my betrothed.”
“Be still my beating heart,” Galen replied with a groan, then reached back to peck his lips. “You’re such a romantic.”
“You have obviously corrupted me,” Azriel said, and Galen smirked.
After another long beat, Azriel’s mouth found his ear. “So will you—be my betrothed?”
Galen’s breath hitched at his serious tone. He reached for Azriel’s hand and placed it against his throbbing chest. “I already am, in the space where our breaths mingle and our hearts beat in unison. Right here, where you have become my home.”
Epilogue
Three months later
Startled by the solid pounding on the door, Galen and Azriel froze in trepidation, hoping their good fortune had not run out. Ever since their arrival, they’d been carrying with them an underlying apprehension they only spoke of in whispers when holding each other late into the evenings.
They were just sitting down to an early dinner and had rarely been disturbed in this setting, unless it was Mr. Browning joining them for a meal, or the housekeeper, Miss Alberton, who they were assured would be discreet, and who came calling twice a week.
“Who might it be?” Azriel asked, glancing out the window.
“Suppose there’s only one way to find out,” Galen replied, taking a fortifying breath. He hated being so frightened, and his trembling hands would likely give him away.
When he pulled open the door, he thought his eyes must be deceiving him. Wren and Sparrow were waiting on the stoop, their golden auras surrounding them like double halos, and he thought back to that first night when he’d been certain they were a couple of cherubs come to take him to the afterlife.
Galen grinned. “How did you—ooof.”
Before he could get another word out, the twins had drawn him into a three-way hug, which became four-way when Sparrow yanked Azriel in the mix.
“We’ve been sent to call on you,” Wren said in that sunny lilt that always made Galen feel lighter. “We have supplies and well-wishes for you from Madam Langley.”
“The driver stopped at the livery to give the horses a rest,” Sparrow explained. “A Mr. Browning from the apothecary told us where to find you.”
Galen had that feeling again, like this might all be a dream, and he didn’t want to pinch himself to find out. Because as glad as he was to see them, he was also wary that their visit would bring bad news. They had been living in this sanctuary, blissfully cocooned from the rest of the world.
They’d told anyone who’d asked that Azriel was sent from Lunar’s Reach to help Mr. Browning with the apothecary, and his best friend, Galen, had tagged along for a change of scenery after his betrothed had broken their engagement. The townsfolk had believed quite easily the story Mr. Browning had helped them concoct, but Galen also thought it had much to do with the setting. The more inconsequential—and dare he say, trivial—rules of high society did not seem to reach them here, and Galen was glad for it.
Azriel motioned the twins into the cottage, obviously having more of his senses about him. “Come inside and share our meal; you must be starving.”
“Quite.” Wren reached for the bags they’d abandoned near the door.
“I cannot believe you live here,” Sparrow remarked, glancing about the cottage, and Galen hoped he could see how they’d made it their own, mostly with little pots of herbs and freshly cut flowers on every surface, along with Galen’s nature drawings affixed to the walls. “It’s so charming.”
