"Did you just quote Shakespeare while arguing about Marvel movies?" Dani snorts.
"I contain multitudes," Lucian sniffs. "Unlike Mr. Stoic over there, who probably thinks 'Netflix and chill' means sitting in silence while watching the weather channel."
Erik's silver eyes narrow. "At least I don't cry during Disney movies."
"That's a low blow! Moana's journey of self-discovery is emotionally compelling, and you know it!"
"Speaking of compelling," I cut in, "remember when meals didn't include pop culture debates?"
"You mean those boring years before I graced your lives with my sophisticated taste?" Lucian grins.
"There's nothing sacred about watching a guy eat shawarma for two minutes," Erik continues.
"That shawarma scene was PIVOTAL to character development!"
"It was product placement."
"Says the man who thinks reading ancient war scrolls counts as entertainment," Lucian fires back. "Some of us prefer our entertainment without dust and decomposing parchment."
Bryn perks up. "I like war scrolls."
"Of course you do," Lucian rolls his eyes. "You're perfect for each other. You can bore yourselves to death together."
"Better than your idea of foreplay—making Seraphina watch all your comic book movies chronologically," Erik says with a smirk.
"Hey! That's called cultural education!"
"That's called torture," I chime in, earning a betrayed look from Lucian.
"Rich coming from you, Thunder Struck. At least I don't make my mate listen to Viking metal while—"
"Finish that sentence," I growl, "and I'll shove those post-credit scenes somewhere very uncomfortable."
"Kinky," Lucian winks. "But I don't think they'll fit next to that stick up your—"
Rosa's wooden spoon connects with the back of his head again. "¡Basta! No more! You want to act like children. You can eat like children—in the corner, on the floor!"
I try not to laugh as I settle beside Dani just as Rosa slides a second-heaping plate in front of her. The special treatment would sting if I didn't love watching my girl finally get the pampering she deserves.
"So what's the deal with that thing—Brax?" Dani asks.
Lucian lays out the Braxos situation. Lilith and Morgan ripped open a damn rift chasing some vampire soul, and this demon slipped through in the chaos. Now he's Emily's bound servant—her personal demonic attack dog.
Might come in handy.
"What the hell are they doing ripping shit open?" Dani snaps, crunching into a salsa-loaded chip with the righteous indignation that makes my cock twitch even when she's pissed.
"Who the fuck knows," Lucian shrugs, gesturing dramatically with his fork. "That crazy ass has a reason for most of the shit she does, leaving us over here scratching our heads like we're extras in her personal villain origin story."
I watch them banter, my jaw tightening at the mention of Lilith. Even her name in our kitchen feels like contamination. But watching my mate's fire, the way her honey eyes flash when she's worked up—that never gets old. And as much as I hate to admit it, having Lucian's irreverent ass around keeps things from getting too heavy, even when we're discussing interdimensional rifts and demonic hitchhikers.
"What about Damon?" Dani asks around a mouthful of enchilada, those eyes narrowing with protective sister instinct. "Is he okay—getting better with...you know. Introduction into vampirism?"
My woman doesn't miss a beat, even with her cheeks stuffed like a damn chipmunk. That's what I love about her—takes apocalyptic revelations, realm-hopping, and her brother's transformation into a bloodsucker all in stride, then demands updates between bites of Rosa's cooking. That fierce loyalty to family runs bone-deep in her, a trait we share even if my version comes with a few more centuries of blood and violence attached.
Something shifts in the room—subtle, but in my lifetimes of reading people, catch it instantly.
Lucian's jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, his usual smartass demeanor cracking. "He's with Sable."
