I arch an eyebrow at my brother. "Better than getting lost in your own ass, which is where your head usually lives."
"Aw, you noticed! I've been doing squats."
"Boys," Rosa warns, wielding her wooden spoon like a weapon. "No fighting at the table."
"We're at the island," Lucian points out, then yelps when the spoon connects with the back of his head.
It's clear Rosa holds a special place in Lucian's heart—she's the only one who can put my smartass brother in his place with nothing but a wooden spoon and a disapproving look. Hell, even I've seen him bite back his usual shit-talking when she gives him that motherly glare. For an asshole who takes exactly zero shit from anyone else, watching him cave to our tiny human cook is fucking hilarious.
Dani snorts into her water glass, and the sound makes my chest tighten with contentment. This is what we fought for in Zephyria—these moments, this family, this home. My mate is safe and happy, surrounded by the people we love, even if half of them are idiots.
Especially the idiots.
"And what about my plate?" I ask Rosa, watching her arrange more tortillas for Dani.
Rosa scoffs. "You have hands, sí? The stove is right there."
"Seriously?" I glance at Dani, who's too busy inhaling her chile rellenos to show any sympathy.
She pauses long enough to shrug. "Not my fault she likes me better."
"The savior gets special treatment," Rosa says primly. "You? You're just a handsome face with fangs."
If she only knew the weight behind those words. Being "just a handsome face with fangs" doesn't quite cover it—I'm neck-deep in this savior prophecy shit right alongside my mate. But I keep that particular bomb to myself, just smirking at Rosa while she fusses over Dani. Some revelations can wait, especially when they involve ancient prophecies and my newfound status as the son of gods. Let her think I'm just the muscle for now.
Dani takes another bite andlets out a moan that should be illegal outside our bedroom. My dick grows thick in response, and I have to mentally recite ancient battle tactics to keep it in check.
"Where's the rest of the circus?" Dani asks between bites. "Emily? Sable?" She wrinkles her nose. "That creepy demon?"
"Emily's probably still primping," Lucian drawls, but when he mentions Sable, something flickers across his face—too quick to catch, but enough to set off warning bells. "And our resident demon? Last I saw, he was practicing his shape-shifting in front of the mirror. Kept switching between Chris Hemsworth and Robert Downey Jr., muttering something about 'method acting' and 'understanding the character arc.'"
"He does know they're not actually Thor and Iron Man, right?" Dani asks.
"Bold of you to assume he cares about reality," Lucian snorts. "Yesterday he tried to convince me the infinity stones were just cheap knockoffs of your realm stones."
"To be fair," Erik cuts in, carefully showing Bryn how to wrap a tortilla, "he's not entirely wrong about the power comparison."
"Don't encourage him," Lucian groans. "He already tried to organize an Avengers-themed game night. In costume."
Bryn looks between them all, confused. "What's an Avenger?"
The horrified gasp Lucian lets out could rival any soap opera diva. "Oh honey, we need to fix this immediately. Movie marathon. Tonight. No arguments."
"Last time you organized a movie marathon, it lasted three days," I point out, finally managing to plate some food.
"Because some people," Lucian glares at Erik, "don't appreciate the artistic merit of the post-credit scenes."
"They're advertisements," Erik deadpans.
"They're LORE!"
"They're bathroom breaks," Erik counters, showing Bryn how to load a tortilla chip with guacamole properly.
"You take that back!" Lucian clutches his chest. "Phina-baby, defend my honor!"
Seraphina doesn't even look up from her plate. "You're on your own, Sparky. I'm having a moment with these enchiladas."
"Betrayed by my own mate! Et tu, Brute?"
