“Thank you. For everything. For choosing me, for finding me, for not giving up even when I’d disappeared.” Ewen’s hand found his beneath the sheets, their fingers linking together. “Formaking me believe I could find that special person who accepted me the way I am.”
Lamont tucked Ewen’s head beneath his chin so he could press a kiss to his hair. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you. It’s not even a choice, not really. It’s just who we are together. You’re my mate, my heart, and the other half of my soul.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, because that’s how I feel about you.”
The last thing Lamont thought before sleep claimed him was how he would never again watch a sunset alone, never again face the night without his mate beside him.
His long and lonely life on Earth had all led to a villa on a cliff in Santorini, and to a fox shifter with sparkling eyes and a fierce heart. More importantly, to a love that felt as eternal as the sea itself.
It was, Lamont decided, absolutely worth it.
Every single moment.
Epilogue
Somewhere in the Scottish Highlands – Damon…
“It’s definitely chilly this morning.” Damon shivered as he sat in his chair that was placed right outside the front door of the caretaker’s cottage, which was one of his favorite hideaways.
The Scottish highlands spread out before him like a blanket in shades of green and gray, with the mist clinging to the hills like wisps of white cotton candy. Damon cradled his coffee mug between both hands, savoring the heat seeping through the ceramic into his palms. The morning air was cold enough that he could see his breath, but after years in the Underworld’s scorching wastelands, he’d never tire of crisp mornings and the smell of damp earth.
His cottage sat small and solid against the hillside, stone walls thick enough to keep out the worst of the wind. Behind it loomed the castle - crumbling and magnificent in equal measure, turrets reaching toward gray skies, ivy claiming what the elements had already begun to reclaim. The place had character. History. Soul.
More importantly, it was quiet.
Damon took another sip of coffee and tried not to think about how seven of his pack brothers had found their mates now - seven of them. Lamont had just sent pictures yesterday from Santorini - sunset photos with his mate, Ewen, wrapped in blankets, both of them looking stupidly happy.At least I know what was making Lamont edgy when I saw him in Tuscany.Damon only knew a bit of the story, but it seemed Lamont got his happily ever after in the end.
His hound shifted restlessly beneath his skin. He hadn’t been settled since they’d been in Tuscany, and that had been three months before. Personally, Damon didn’t have a clue what waswrong with his hellhound, but the constant restlessness was annoying.
“Stop that,” Damon muttered. “We have coffee. We have peace and quiet. We don’t need…”
The rumble of an engine cut through the morning silence. Damon swiveled in his seat, spotting the mail van bouncing up the rutted track that passed for a road.
Duncan Merriweather pulled up beside the cottage, his weathered face breaking into a grin as he rolled down the window. “Morning, Damon. Bit cold for sitting outside, isn’t it?”
“Says the man who swims in the loch in January.”
“That’s different. That’s tradition.” Duncan pulled a handful of mail from his bag, sorting through it. “I’ve actually got something for you today. A proper letter, not just the usual junk.”
Damon set down his coffee and crossed to the van, accepting the small stack Duncan handed over. There were bills for utilities he barely used, a catalog for outdoor gear, and - there, at the bottom - a cream-colored envelope with the property management company’s logo embossed in the corner.
His hound perked up with sudden interest.
“Is everything alright?” Duncan asked. The man had delivered on the same route for thirty years and lived to gossip.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just surprised anyone bothers to write actual letters anymore. Most places use email now.” Damon tapped the envelope against his palm. “Thanks, Duncan.”
“Right then. You take care.” The van rumbled back to life, and Duncan guided it back down the track, waving merrily from the window as he disappeared.
Damon returned to his chair, coffee forgotten as he studied the envelope. The property management company had handled his lease for three years now. They’d been efficient, professional, and refreshingly hands-off. He paid rent quarterly, they ensured the cottage stayed maintained, and to date, no one had worried about the state of the castle slowly collapsing behind his home. It wasn’t part of his lease, so Damon didn’t worry about it either.
He slid his thumb under the flap and pulled out a single sheet of heavy paper.
Dear Mr. Damon,
This letter serves as a courtesy notification that the owner of Duncarrick Castle will be in residence for approximately three to four months beginning next week. He intends to undertake preliminary renovation work to assess the castle’s condition and structural integrity, with plans to eventually sell the property.
Your lease agreement remains unchanged, though we wanted to inform you of increased activity on the grounds during this period. The owner has been notified of your tenancy and will respect the boundaries outlined in your lease.