Emily orders something withenough caffeine to power a small city, while Seraphina requests a virgin piña colada with such sweetness that the waiter practically trips over himself, promising extra cherries on top.
"It wasn't that terrible," Seraphina muses, her honey-gold eyes scanning the menu as our waiter leaves. "Much easier than my first time, thank goodness." Her lips curve into that sweet smile that's picked up a hint of wickedness since falling for Lucian. "Though the 24-hour waiting period doesn't apply to me. Celestial healing has its perks."
She glances at Bryn with a conspiratorial smile. "If you have similar healing properties, you wouldn't need to wait either. Men don't really know the difference—you could use it to your advantage. A little teasing goes a long way."
Bryn arches an eyebrow. "Please, I'm a Valkyrie. A little wax isn't going to slow me down."She smirks, her gaze turning predatory. "Something the silfrhár is about to find out firsthand."
"Oh, well that's just wonderful," Emily explodes, throwing her hands up. "Some of us humans don't have magical healing coochies! Twenty-four hours of throbbing lady bits while you supernatural types get to prance around pain-free? The universe is a twisted bitch."
I burst out laughing at Emily's outburst, nearly choking on my water. "Well, Em, maybe Brax can kiss it better? I hear demons have magical tongues—though I'm not sure that's what the brochure meant by 'aftercare.'"
Emily narrows her eyes at me. "You know what, Pierce? Just because you're getting Viking thunder every night doesn't mean you get to be smug about my human recovery time. And Brax isn't even going to—" She stops abruptly, her cheeks flushing.
Emily's eyes suddenly widen as she catches my expression, and I can practically see the "oh shit" moment flash across her face. Nice try, witch bitch, but you're not escaping this interrogation. She's been dodging me these past few weeks, and I'm officially done with her shit.
I place my elbows on the table, resting my chin on my folded hands and batting my eyelashes with exaggerated innocence. "So... ready to spill the tea on why you've been walking around like you rode a mechanical bull for eight hours straight?"
Emily takes a long sip of her water, the ice cubes clinking as she stalls. "What?" She shrugs with practiced nonchalance. "Like you can judge anyone's sex life, Miss 'I'm-Banging-A-Thousand-Year-Old-Corpse.'"
"Excuse you," I fire back, brandishing my breadstick like a tiny sword. "My Viking's preservation status is not the topic of discussion. We're talking about why you've been sneaking around like you're smuggling contraband dick across state lines."
"Fine. Jesus," Emily throws up her hands in surrender, nearly knocking over her water glass. "Yes, I'm sleeping with Brax. Happy now, Nancy Drew?"
"We already knew that," Sable chimes in, like Brax's shapeshifting abilities are yesterday's news.
I bite back a grin—I already know how Brax transformed into a perfect replica of Captain America (shield included), but now I'm dying to know what other celebrity skins my best friend has test-driven in the bedroom.
I immediately soften, my inner scientist pushing through. "I need to know," I lean in, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Does his... you know... equipment shapeshift, too?"
Emily gives me a wicked grin that tells me everything before she even speaks. "Well, yeah," she says, like I've just asked if grass is green.
"Oh my god!" I practically bounce in my seat, giddy with the implications. "Okay, spill everything. Details. Dimensions. Diagrams if necessary."
Emily rolls her eyes but leans in. She knows our friendship contract includes full disclosure on all sexcapades—I told her every delicious detail about Rhyland's performance at the Playful Pint. Then that night at the sex club, it's only fair she shares the mechanics of her customizable demon dick.
Talk about the ultimate upgrade from store-bought toys.
"Hisdefaultmode," Emily says, lowering her voice, "is absolutely..." She holds her hands apart in a measurement that makes my eyes bulge. Brax is packing something that belongs in a stable, not a bedroom, if what she's indicating is accurate. "Let's just say demons are... proportional."
"Sweet Elysium," Seraphina whispers, her cheeks flaming pink.
Bryn lets out a low whistle. "Even Thor's hammer isn't quite so... impressive."
I choke on my drink, sputtering. "Holy shit, that's not a dick, that's a lethal weapon! You've actually taken that, you ambitious ho?"
"Jesus—hell—no." Emily cackles, gainingwandering eyes from three tables over. "What do you think I am, a size queen with a death wish? My va-jay jay doesn't have magical expanding properties just because I date a demon." She takes a smug sip of her water. "Although I did try once—purely for science, you understand—and let's just say the safe word got deployed faster than a paratrooper from a burning plane."
"Actually..." Sable taps her chin thoughtfully, "there might be a spell for that. I've come across some in my grandmother's grimoire with enchantments for magical... expansion."
Our heads whip around so fast my neck pops.
Oww.
"What?" She shrugs at our collective stares. "It's basic mystical anatomy modification. Totally doable."
The mental image alone is killing me—like some supernatural vaginal stretching infomercial.
But wait, there's more!
