I can't help but laugh. "Oh, honey. This is just their twisted way of bonding. It's like watching a verbal sparring match—intense but oddly fascinating."
Emily snorts, taking a swig of her coffee. "Please, as if I'd ever bond with this overgrown man-child. I have standards."
Lucian clutches his chest theatrically. "Ouch, Em. You wound me deeply. And here I thought we had something special—a connection forged in the hallowed halls of sarcasm and bad puns. Guess I’ll just have to drown my sorrows in more witty comebacks and ridiculous hijinks."
"In your dreams, DeadBoy," Emily retorts, rolling her eyes.
I notice Lucian stiffening, clearing his throat, and mimicking what Rhyland did to me. He swoops Seraphina up off her chair and sits her on his lap, lightly kissing her neck.
Emily looks confused, and I suddenly realize I haven't introduced Seraphina yet. Shit, I'm terrible at this. "Emily, this is Seraphina—my guardian angel—and Lucian's mate."
Emily nearly chokes on her coffee, wiping her chin as it dribbles down. "Hold up, rewind. Lucian'swhatnow?Mate?As in, 'till death do us part, forever and ever, amen' kind of mate?"
Lucian grins, a smug look on his face."That's right, Rainbow Brite. This angelic goddess has won the grand prize: Yours truly, in all my devilishly handsome glory. I know, I know—try to keep a lid on that envy. Green's not your color."
Seraphina smiles, and I swear the whole room gets a little brighter. "It's lovely to meet you, Emily. Dani has told me so much about you."
Still looking shell-shocked, Emily gestures to the seat next to her. "Oh, honey, I am so sorry. Come over here, and I'll protect you from this walking, talking bad decision."
Lucian scoffs, "Moi? A bad decision? I'm the best decision anyone could ever make. I'm like the personification of a good life choice."
Emily snorts. "Please. You're about as good a life choice as a tattoo on your face that says 'No Regrets.' Seraphina, sweetie, blink twice if you need me to stage a daring escape."
Seraphina giggles, snuggling deeper into Lucian's embrace. "That's very kind of you, Emily, but I assure you, I'm quite content where I am."
"Aww, what's the matter?" Lucian taunts. "Feeling a little left out? Hey, I'm sure if you keep stirring that cauldron of yours, you'll conjure up a halfway decent lay someday. Maybe a nice goblin or a particularly well-endowed toad."
"Hmmm... what was it you said a while back? It's right on the tip of my tongue," Emily muses, feigning ignorance before turning to Sable. "Help me out here, Sable. What was that delightful little nickname again?"
Sable chimes in with a grin, "Semen Demon, wasn't it?" before giggling.
"Alright, alright, put a cork in it, you two," Lucian interjects, his voice strained as he tries to regain some semblance of control over the situation. "As much as I'd love to continue this thrilling trip down memory lane, we've got bigger issues. You know, the whole 'fate of the world hanging in the balance, Thanos is coming, we're all gonna die' thing? Ring any bells?"
But Emily and Sable are having none of it, their laughter only growing louder and more raucous at Lucian's obvious discomfort. "What's the matter,Semen Demon?" Emily manages to choke out between laughs. "Afraid we'll spill your dirty little secrets in front of your angelic mate?"
Lucian shoots them a withering glare, his cheeks flushed with anger and mortification. "Oh,ha ha, very funny," he deadpans. "You two should take this show on the road. 'The Cackling Witches of Comedy,' coming to a theater near you. Tickets start at 'go fuck yourselves.'"
Bless her pure little heart, Seraphina looks utterly baffled by the whole exchange. "I don't understand," she murmurs, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What's aSemen Demon?Is that some supernatural creature I haven't heard of?"
Rhyland groans, his head thudding against my back in exasperation.
The question only sends Emily and Sable into another fit of hysterics, tears streaming down their faces as they cling to each other for support. Lucian, meanwhile, looks like he's about two seconds away from launching himself out the nearest window.
"No, baby girl," he grits out through clenched teeth, his voice strained with the effort to maintain his composure. "It's just a stupid joke that Emily and Sable think is hilarious because they have the sense of humor of a pair of twelve-year-old girls hopped up on pixie sticks and Mountain Dew."
I snicker at the absurdity of it all, my laughter bubbling in my throat despite my best efforts to hold it back. "Alright, alright," I manage to choke out, holding up my hands placatingly. "Let's all take a deep breath and try to focus, shall we?"
I will have to talk to Emily and get to the bottom of this mystery later.
After a couple of hours and three pots of coffee later, Emily has us all caught up. According to Emily, the werewolves have claimed four 'areas' and are now glorified guard dogs here in Washington State. Multiple packs throughout the US—California, Florida, the Midwest, Texas, New York, and Colorado.
Basically, all over the fucking place.
I hate these assholes—no good comes from them, and now they're everywhere, like a flea infestation.
Not to mention the same amount, if not more, in witch covens.
"Well, color me surprised," I drawl, rolling my eyes. "I already know who runs Area Twelve. What's their deal anyway?"
