Lucian grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Taking a well-deserved nap, my friend. I wore her out good and proper if you know what I mean. Gotta keep my baby satisfied, even if it means sacrificing my own beauty sleep."
I groan, burying my face in my hands. "TMI, dude. I do not need the details of your sex life. Especially when it concerns my guardian angel."
"Your loss, babe. I could write a best-selling memoir with all the kinky shit I've gotten up to over the centuries."
Eager to change the subject before Lucian can launch into a graphic play-by-play, I glance around the kitchen, taking in the gleaming surfaces and distinct lack of food. "We need to go grocery shopping," setting my mug down with a decisive clink. "You've got nothing to eat in this mausoleum you call a kitchen unless you count protein powder and ego as food groups."
Lucian waves a dismissive hand, biting into a pop tart that he seemingly pulled out of thin air—my mouth waters. "Already got it handled, sweet cheeks. My minions will be here bright and early tomorrow, armed with enough food to feed a small country. Or, you know, three hungry vampires and their insatiable mates."
I raise an eyebrow. "Minions? What, did you put out a classified ad for henchmen on Craigslist?"
Lucian snorts, crumbs flying everywhere as he gesticulates wildly. "Please, I'm not an amateur. These are highly trained professionals skilled in the art of grocery shopping and ass-kissing. They've been on vacation while we were off gallivanting in the other realms, but now that we're back, they're ready to cater to our every whim."
I can't help but laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "Only you would have a team of professional ass-kissers on speed dial, Lucian."
He grins, popping the last of the pop tart into his mouth. "What can I say? It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it. And trust me; these guys are the best in the biz. They'll have this place stocked and ready for action in no time."
Rhyland sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but what kind of action are we talking about here?"
Lucian's smile turns positively devilish. "Oh, you know, the usual. Serving, cleaning, cooking, kissing ass. And maybe a little light bondage if we're feeling frisky."
I choke on my coffee again, my face turning an alarming shade of red. "Goddammit, Lucian, you can't just say shit like that!"
Clearly, he's talking about Staff for this mansion, not some Mad Max-style Seal team.
He cackles, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Oh, but I can, my sweet summer child. In fact, I insist on it. Life's too short to be a prude, especially when you're immortal."
"Fuck off, Lucian," Rhyland barks.
I can't help but laugh, marveling at the easy camaraderie between these two ancient beings. It's like watching an odd couple sitcom, with Rhyland as the long-suffering straight man and Lucian as the wisecracking goofball.
"Well, as long as your 'minions' come bearing coffee and snacks, I suppose I can put up with your delusions of grandeur," I tease. "But if they forget my Pop-Tarts, there will be hell to pay. A girl's gotta have her processed sugar fix, ya know."
Lucian clutches his chest. "Perish the thought! I would never dream of depriving you of your artificial cherry goodness. I'm a lot of things, but suicidal isn't one of them."
Lucian saunters over to the cupboard, grabs a silver bag of Pop-Tarts, and tosses it my way with a wink. I catch it without missing a beat.
I grin, raising my mug in a salute. "Damn straight. I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Luci. Well, that and your sparkling wit and dashing good looks."
Lucian preens, running a hand through his artfully tousled golden hair. "Aww, stop, you're making me blush. But please, do go on. My ego could always use a little stroking."
Rhyland groans, burying his face in his hands. "I swear, you two are going to drive me into an early grave. Can we please talk about something else?Anythingelse?"
I laugh, reaching out to pat his arm in consolation. "Okay, okay, we'll behave—for now. But don't think you're off the hook, mister. I still fully intend to collect on that bet. And trust me, my imagination is running wild with all the delicious possibilities."
Rhyland's head snaps up, his eyes darkening with a heat that sends shivers to my toes. "Fuck, woman, you can't just say shit like that," he growls.
Lucian claps his hands, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Oooh, what's this about a bet? Do tell, my little lovebirds. Inquiring minds want to know."
I smirk, my eyes never leaving Rhyland's. "Let's just say that the spoils of war will be very,verysweet. And leave it at that."
"Aww, you're no fun." Lucian pouts. "But fine, keep your kinky secrets. I'll just have to use my imagination. And trust me, it's a wild and wondrous place."
Rhyland shudders, a look of mock horror on his face. "Please don't. I beg of you. There are some things even immortality can't cure, and the mental scars from your twisted fantasies are definitely on that list."
I can't help but laugh, the sound ringing through the kitchen like a bell. "Oh, I don't know. I think a peek inside Lucian's head could be entertaining. Like a cross between a porno and a Looney Tunes cartoon."
"You know it, baby. My mind is a wonderland of debauchery and chaos. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
