“Eggs N Bakin’?”
“Yeah, that sounds right.” I slip into my shoes.
“I love their pancakes. I’ll come too,” Gideon says, dressing now at about twice the speed he started with.
“Well, Ciprian and I were going to talk,” I explain, trying not to hurt his feelings.
“That’s a good idea, baby. I want you two to make up.” Gideon trails off, then he meets my eyes. “But I’m scared shitless for you to go out without me right now.”
I feel his genuine worry echoing in my heart and consider backing out.
A muscle in Callum’s jaw twitches.Here it comes.
“Sorry, I thought we were training today.” He makes a show of snuggling back into his pillow, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “If I’d known you were going to throw yourself into the line of fire for a buttered biscuit, I would have slept in. Thank the gods you decided to bring a hung over idiot for backup.”
“Your brother isn’t an idiot.” I cross my arms, feeling duty bound to defend my soon to be restored best friend. “And we don’t know that he’s hung over.”
I hold Callum’s gaze and refuse to blink, but winning a staring contest with an annoyed incubus is harder than it sounds, especially when he doesn’t fight fair. Instead of arguing, Callum throws back the covers and crawls toward where I’m standing by the end of the bed. I see miles of naked skin, rippling muscles covered in intricate tattoos, and a filthy smirk I can practically feel against my skin.
I take a step closer, then remember my principles.Snap out of it, Sheena.
Channeling my inner strategist, I pivot and cover my eyes, cutting my losses and ending the staring contest. But it’s a mistake, because now I don’t know where Callum is—and fuck me, why is that so hot? Gideon’s laugh booms somewhere to my right, and I feel a warm breath on my neck. I tense.
“Stop right there,” I demand. “Callum, you can’t try to win arguments by being naked and hot.”
“I don’t see why not.” His voice melts in my ears. “I have to play to my strengths after all, sweetheart.” He grazes his stubble against the sensitive skin of my neck.
“You could always take your clothes off and level the playing field, baby,” Gideon suggests, and I groan in frustration.
“Can we be serious about this, please? I can’t live scared all the time. Been there, done that—do not recommend.”
“I don’t want you to,” Callum grumbles, running his fingers over my cheek. “I also don’t want you to be the girl who runs into danger and dies first like in horror movies.”
“Those women are usually blonde,” Gideon says.
Our bedroom door clicks open.
“Whoa, did I walk in on some kinky role play?”
I drop my hand to see a grinning Ciprian standing in the entryway with two greasy paper bags clutched in his hands. He looks like a total fuckboy dressed in his dark jeans, a backwards cap, and a vintage band t-shirt. He scrunches up his nose at the sight of his brother kneeling naked in front of me on the bed.
“After I took some ibuprofen and knocked out my hangover,” Ciprian says. Callum looks at me triumphantly, but I ignore him. “I realized it would be dumb to take baby Kazaam out in public while it’s basically open season on djinn. So I grabbed takeout instead.”
Ciprian hands a greasy bag to Gideon. Then he rattles one at me like I’m some sort of feral cat and smiles hesitantly. I snatch the bag from his hand, drop it on the coffee table, and then throw my arms around him. After a tiny pause, he sighs and squeezes me back, resting his cheek on the top of my head.
“I’m really sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s already forgiven.” I pull back from the hug and he groans.
“We need to add ‘holding a grudge’ to your lesson plan. I’m starting to worry about your fundamentals,” Ciprian jokes, turning to look at the guys.
Gideon digs through his takeout bag with enthusiasm while Callum finally gets dressed.
“I grabbed you both your usual, but you’re going to have to take it to-go.” Ciprian points to the door as he sits down on the love seat, obsidian eyes sparkling with mischief. “This is bestie time.”
“Yeah, yeah. We already heard we weren’t invited.” Gideon grabs me for a toe-curling kiss, then saunters out the door with his food.
Callum finishes dressing, covering his messy dark hair with a ball cap. I sink onto the love seat next to Ciprian, unwrap my breakfast sandwich, and watch both brothers subtly. With hats covering their hair and matching tense expressions, they look more alike than I’ve ever seen them.
