Page 178 of Dead Vengeance

Maybe the postal service misplaced it?

That’s more likely.

Yeah. That makes a lot more sense.

That makes perfect sense!

Doesn’t it?

Epilogue 5 - Fourteen Months Later

Archer

Liam’s sound asleep on my pillow. Well, soon to be his pillow, hopefully. He spends almost every night with me as it is, wakes up almost every morning by my side, and this never gets less lovely. That’s why I’m going to ask him, tonight, to move in with me. Permanently.

I often wake before him. Then I just lie here, enjoying the peace and warmth that came into my house with him. He’s so beautiful to look at, long eyelashes gentle on pink cheeks. His presence—the sweetness of Liam mixed with the power of a necromancer—keeps me feeling safer and happier than I ever thought I’d be able to experience in this life.

Sometimes you don’t realise how scared you’ve been, how on edge, until someone steps in and lifts half your load. Mornings like these make that clear. The weight that used to land on my chest as my eyes opened. The fear. The loneliness. But not anymore.

Every morning now, I lie here next to him, just feeling thankful. Then, usually, he’ll roll over before he even opens his eyes, sensing that I’m awake. He’ll throw an arm around me and then…

We have a lot of gorgeous mornings up here.

But not today. Today, I have far, far too much work to do. So as much as it pains me, I take one last look at him and, regretfully, sneak downstairs.

It’s full winter. This morning, the countryside all about us is glowing with pink snow that reflects the dawning light. Tiny robins are hopping across sleeping black twigs, twittering at each other. Holly shines glossy through a dusting of fresh, sparkling ice. It’s sublime.

And the best part? Not a ghost in sight.

The situation on the farm calmed down as soon as Tezcatlipoca moved out of the attic, which he did immediately after we resurrected Jem. Things still come through, only from time to time and rarely evil. But Liam’s powers combined with mine make short work of them.

It took longer for things to calm down generally throughout the United Kingdom—several months—but it eventually did. Perhaps I owe Gerald an apology. Not that I’m prepared to go searching for him to deliver it. He hasn’t been in touch, and I’m quite happy to keep that arrangement.

Nowadays, if we stay here on the farm, Liam and I get to live a relatively normal life. A life like today’s, where I’m flicking on the heating. Where I’m setting the flame low in the oven. Where I’m tying on my apron, mixing my glaze, scoring the ham, decorating, seasoning, enclosing it safely in the oven.

Then, best of all, I hear Liam’s footsteps padding down the stairs.

He soon rounds the corner, no shirt, just like I like him, one arm stretched high against the wall. He’s arrived with an accusatory grimace on his face. “Just thought you’d get up without me, did you?”

I put on my most innocent face. “Someone had to get the ham in the oven.”

His eyes narrow on me. “That’s my job.” He starts across the kitchen like a hunter with his eyes on big game.

I dodge out of his grasp, laughing. “Oh no, you don’t! I have too much to do today!”

“Not in that apron, you don’t.”

And okay, maybe I also have no shirt beneath this apron. And maybe I did slightly hope he’d be down soon. And maybe I don’t put up quite as much of a fight as I could when he grabs me at the waist, turns me, and pins me against the pantry door.

Looking up into his eyes, I try to stifle my laughter. “It’s Christmas, and we’re expecting a full house for lunch. I do not have time for you.”

“Your lunch will be amazing. And I promise I’ll help you with all the things.” His hand tightens on my hip and he pulls me against his pelvis to feel his rock-hard cock. “But you cannot get up on Christmas morning without letting me unwrap my present first.”

He snatches the avocado oil off the counter with one hand, grabs me with the other, and pulls me. “That’s for the potatoes!” I attempt to protest, but even as I say it, I know I can only hope he leaves a little.

He doesn’t waste any time. My stomach meets the edge of the dining table, and Liam’s already tugging my pants down, keeping the apron very much tied on, popping the cap off the oil with his spare hand, and… he is not careful with it. Over my ass, down my legs… I can’t stand to think of the frightful mess we’re about to have to clean up.

But that worry slips away when his teeth find my earlobe. He bites, sends a shiver screaming down my back when he licks it better, then whispers, “Good morning, Mr Gravely.”