Chapter 1

Abernathy Meyers left his bedroom, relieved that darkness had faded and morning was up to bat. With Zebulon conked out in the coffin, Abbie could relax and not dwell on his personal situation.

He scratched at the bite mark on his neck. Abbie hated that Zeb always marked him in places where hiding the bite only served to make the damn thing more noticeable. He’d have to wear a turtleneck that went three-quarters of the way up his neck to cover it. Living in the desert wasn’t conducive to turtlenecks, and anyway, Abbie didn’t have any.

When he reached the kitchen, Abbie was already feeling a lot happier. There was a familiar voice that had him rushing through the doorway.

“Augustin!”

“Abbie!” Augustin leaped up and almost toppled them both with the fierce hug he gave Abbie.

Abbie slapped Augustin on the butt after giving him a hug in return.

“Ouch!” Augustin wiggled that voluptuous backside and fluttered his lashes at Abbie. “I’m not into that kinda thing, sweets.”

Abbie snorted. “Too bad. Tony could use a few good spankings.”

“Ha!” Augustin cackled and hugged him again. “I am so glad you’re up!”

“I’m glad you’re back.” They released each other. Abbie couldn’t stop grinning. Sure, he was friendly with the other human mates here, but Augustin and he had really hit it off. “So, you got in last night? I thought you’d make Tony court you for another month or so. Damn, I lost the bet.”

Augustin scowled. “You bet on us?” He turned and glared at the other people gathered in the kitchen. “Seriously?”

Every one of them nodded.

“Well, who won?” Augustin demanded to know. “I want a cut.”

Billie waved. “I won, and no, you don’t get a cut, you dork.”

Augustin huffed and started bickering with her.

Abbie couldn’t help but feel like things were going to get better. In the rational part of his mind, he knew that wasn’t true. Zeb wanted him as a mate as much as he wanted Zeb. The only thing keeping Zeb from turning him against his will was the certainty that Claude would kill Zeb for doing such a thing.

But Abbie knew, if he ever got the chance, Zeb would either kill him outright or turn him. Then they wouldn’t need each other anymore.

Both of them were unwanted parasites.

“You look awful serious.”

Abbie hummed and glanced at Augustin. “I didn’t even realize the arguing was over.”

Augustin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, see? You’re obviously distracted.” He studied Abbie.

Abbie tried not to twitch or poke at his nose to see if he had something unpleasant dangling from it. Instead he carefully splashed oil over the pair of eggs he was frying while leaving the yolks intact. “Sunny side up, right?”

“You do love me,” Augustin sang, doing the lashes thing again.

Abbie burst out laughing. “Man, you must have had a great night. You’re full of it this morning.”

“Oh, baby, I was definitely full of something all night long,” Augustin crooned.

Abbie ignored the pang of envy. “I’m really glad you’re back. And I’m happy for you and Tony.” He used the spatula to remove the eggs from the pan. After he’d set them on a plate, he looked at Augustin. “You’re positive he’s who you want?” Abbie asked quietly, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. Surely the question gave too much of his own situation away.

Something that could have been sympathy, or pity, flitted over Augustin’s expression, but it was gone in a flash. “Yeah, I’m am.”

Abbie nodded and ignored the weird silence between them. Augustin was waiting for him to confess or explain, and Abbie wasn’t going to do either. “I don’t know how anyone eats runny eggs. I like mine scrambled and not the least bit gooey.”

“You like yours burned and rubbery,” Porter called out. “That’s why you have to drown them in that hot sauce shit.”

Abbie turned and waved the spatula at Porter. “Just cuz you’re a wuss about having some spice doesn’t mean I am.” Oh, he felt like a big ol’ liar for that one. It’s true enough for food, for God’s sake. Nothing else was being discussed at that moment.

But Abbie would swear Augustin knew.

It wasn’t possible. As far as all the mates there were concerned, Abbie and Zeb were happy and having sex like mates were supposed to—in other words, often.

There was no need to tell anyone otherwise, but he sure wished Augustin wasn’t looking at him like that.

Abbie crossed his eyes at Augustin and stuck out his tongue, then went back to cooking.

“I am not a wuss,” Porter muttered.

“Why don’t you try a dab of pepper on your eggs today, then?” Mark asked.

“It gives me gas,” Porter complained.

“No one wants that,” Billie said as she whapped Porter’s hand. “And mind your manners at the table, or I’ll mind them for you. There are some things not meant to be discussed over meals…or anywhere I happen to be.”

“Oddly enough, I’ve missed this,” Augustin mused.

Abbie understood that perfectly. This was his family now—the people gathered in the kitchen, the vampires sleeping like the dead in their coffins. Abbie cooked for the humans and took care of them all. He was the mother hen. It was another reason he’d never agree to be changed.

So what if his life wasn’t perfect? There were plenty of people in worse relationships, worse situations. Abbie had his family here, and he was needed.

He fixed his own plate last and was surprised to find that Augustin had waited to eat until he could sit down, too.

“Isn’t your food cold?” Abbie asked.

Augustin poked the eggs with his fork. “I just zapped it, so no. Now it’s hot and extra-chewy.”

Abbie clicked his tongue. “Tomorrow I’ll fix your breakfast last. You’re on your own for lunch. There’s sandwich makings in the fridge. Dinner will be pasta carbonara and homemade garlic bread.”

“Oh, man. Are you making the wine yourself, too?” Augustin asked.

“Smart ass.” There was absolutely no way Abbie was admitting to the casks he had stored in the room off the basement.

“Tell me what’s been going on,” Augustin urged. “I’ve been here for visits but just in case you doubted it, this is a permanent residence for me now.”

Abbie swallowed the bite of bacon and took a swig of orange juice before speaking. “A permanent residence?”

“Anywhere Tony goes and all that mushy shit,” Augustin answered, twirling his fork around. “His heart is my home. He’s all I need—”

Although Augustin was trying to play it off as a joke, Abbie knew he also meant it. The love Augustin had for Tony was impossible to miss. It showed in the sparkle of his eyes and the broad smile he wore, and all in all, in his entire appearance.

“You’re so whipped,” Billie said as she passed by them on the way to the sink.

“Oh, and you aren’t? That evil jackass you’re mated to has you by the shorthairs,” Augustin informed her.

Billie stopped walking and turned to him. “Short hairs?”

Augustin’s cheeks turned bright pink. He stuck his bottom lip out. “Figuratively. I promise you none of us want to know if you shave or pluck or set that shit on fire to keep it in line.”

There was a round of laughter from the mates and Billie even giggled. She wagged a finger at Augustin. “Be nice or I’ll do a little show and tell.”

Augustin coughed and sputtered.

Abbie reached over the table and whacked him on the back.

“Isn’t that supposed to lodge the food down there instead of freeing it up?”

He thought that was Mark asking. Hard to be sure over Augustin’s attempts at gasping. Abbie was up and around the table just in time to spin Augustin around.

Wet, slimy food came out of Augustin’s mouth like a deadly projectile, hitting Abbie right in the middle of his chest. Something warm, wet and nasty even hit Abbie’s neck.

Someone gagged. Abbie didn’t think it was him, but it was a damn close thing.

“Sorry,” Augustin rasped, his eyes watering and red.

Abbie plucked at his shirt. “Well, at least you aren’t dead. That’s got to be a good omen for the day.”