As much as he longed to set off in pursuit of Alyssia, Skye couldn’t help but regret that soon they’d have to leave their little flat behind. This small, shabby box, with its worn furniture and creaking bed, had felt more like home to him than the palace ever had. He was used to Fenton, accustomed to his presence. He couldn’t imagine parting from him once they returned to the Realm.
He looked up, smiling at him over the papers he was holding. Fenton’s eyes rose from the knife he was sharpening and met his, smiling back. Skye reached out and took it from him, placing it carefully on the table. He leant forward, kissing Fenton softly on the cheek.
“What was that for?” Fenton asked, surprised.
Skye shrugged and blushed gently.
Fenton reached out, pulling him close. Skye nestled his head on Fenton’s chest, wrapping his arms around him, feeling the vampire’s fingers tease the curls of his hair.
“You know we’ll have to leave soon?” Fenton reminded him. “We’re as ready now as we’ll ever be.”
“Not yet,” Skye whispered.
“No,” Fenton agreed quietly, “not yet.”