Blade didn’t waste a second. He scooted closer, leaning into Alexander’s side just like he used to, his attention already back on the screen.
For a moment, Alexander just sat there, letting Blade’s warmth wrap around him.
“So,” Blade said after a few seconds, tilting his head slightly. “How was it?”
Alexander didn’t look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Blade let out an exaggerated sigh, pressing closer into him. “You’re no fun.”
Alexander chuckled as his focus shifted to the television.
Chapter 9
Boaz
“You’re late,” Hansel called from the tea fields, one hand gripping his hat as the wind threatened to pull it off.
Boaz winced as everyone turned to look at him.
“Thanks, Hansel,” Boaz muttered under his breath as he walked down the narrow path between the rows, the scent of crushed tea leaves rising around him with every step.
He made his way down to the last row where Hansel was working. As he expected, his brother was moving at his usual slow, careful pace.
Hansel crouched, taking his time plucking the tea leaves one by one like there was no rush at all. It always took him forever to finish a single shrub, but Boaz had learned not to push him.
That was just how Hansel worked.
And somehow, it balanced out.
Boaz handled the hard labour, while Hansel took care of the people. He kept the pack peaceful, made sure everyone was fed, heard, and getting along.
“What happened to you this morning?” Hansel asked, glancing up at him briefly before going back to the leaves in his hands. “You’re usually the first one out here.
“I overslept,” Boaz said, embarrassment heating the back of his neck.
He never overslept, but last night… Boaz dragged in a sharp breath. He’d dreamt about the vampire again.
And this time it hadn’t been a nightmare.
Boaz shook his head quickly, pushing the thought away. He didn’t want to think about the dream. Or what the vampire had done to him.
He slapped his hat onto his head and got to work, forcing himself into the familiar routine, letting it distract him.
He’d done this a thousand times.
His hands moved falling into the repetitive motions. Reaching. Plucking. Sorting. It was muscle memory at this point. All he had to do was keep moving.
And not think.
By midday, the sun was blazing. Sweat soaked through their clothes, clinging to their skin.
“We should get out of the heat,” Hansel said, straightening slowly as he wiped at his face.
“Yeah,” Boaz agreed, already turning to the others. “That’s it for today,” he called out.
A few tired voices answered back, murmuring their thanks as everyone began gathering their baskets. They hauled the harvest toward the dry room and handed everything off to the pack members working inside before heading out.
“Want a beer?” Hansel asked, fanning his face with his hat.