He smirks. “You were an entitled little shit from the moment I met you.”
Zeus ambles over to us. “The fight only stops when the beef between you two is settled.”
The moment Zeus turns to walk away, Draco blindsides me with a jab to the temple, then slams me with a savage right hook. My head snaps sideways, stars bursting behind my eyelids.Motherfucker caught me lacking.
Our bloodthirsty brothers roar with excitement, always eager to watch a fight.
“You need some discipline beaten into you, boy,” he growls.
I dip low, dodging his next swing by a hairsbreadth, then bury my fist into his gut with everything I’ve got. He doubles over with a ragged whoosh, all the air ripping from his lungs.
“And you think you’re man enough for the job?” I snarl, driving my knee into his nose with bone-crushing force. He hits the ground hard, blood pouring from his nostrils like a busted faucet. “Okay, give it your best shot.”
I raise a booted foot, aiming to shatter every bone in his face, but he rolls away at the last second, and my foot slams into the dirt. Before I can make my next move, Draco seizes my ankle and yanks my leg out from under me, sending me crashing to the earth beside him.
His elbow smashes into my mouth, splitting skin on impact. Blood spills onto my tongue, harsh and bitter.
We lurch to our feet and circle each other, waiting for the smallest opening to strike. He got hands, I give him that, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from the son of Zeus.
“You’re a hothead and one day it’s going to get you fucking killed,” he spits, his voice sharp with unrestrained anger.
“Didn’t know you gave a damn,” I retort sarcastically.
“You’re my brother,” Draco snaps, frustration cutting through every word. “Of course I give a damn. I don’t want my nieces and nephew growing up without their father.” He stills and pierces me with his intense gaze. “I don’t know what happened to you as a kid, but you need to get the hell over it.”
“Easy for you to say!” I thunder. “You didn’t get the shit beat out of you nearly every fucking day!” I hammer him with three punishing body shots, smirking in satisfaction at hearing the pained grunts spilling from his lips.
We trade blow after blow until we’re both left sprawled in the dirt—bloody, breathless, and drenched in sweat.
“I’m sorry your childhood was fucked,” Draco says between heaving breaths. “But that’s not going to stop me from riding your ass every time I catch you doing some reckless shit.”
“Like you said, I’m a father now,” I shoot back, just as winded as he is. “I’ve got no intention of being reckless, you fucking carrot.”
Zeus appears above us. “Is this done?”
“Yeah,” we grunt at the same time, ending our feud for good.
Mayhem barrels into me the moment I walk through the front door, a whirlwind of fur and uncontained energy.
“Hey, buddy.” I crouch down to his level and gently scratch behind his ears. “How’s our girl doing? You taking good care of her?” He lets out a happy bark. “That’s my good boy.”
I glance into the living room to check on Harley and find her passed out on her bed before making my way upstairs.
Zilphia will be in the nursery. She’s been sleeping there for the past six weeks, but that changes tonight whether she likes it or not. I’ve tolerated her silent treatment and cold stares long enough.
I head into the bathroom, snag the first aid kit from under the sink, and face the wreckage in the mirror. Draco really did a number on me. One eye’s almost swollen shut. Blood’s crusted undermy nose. My top lip is split open. My cheek is a mess of red and purple. And that’s just above the neck.
No doubt I’m covered in bruises from head to toe.
I patch up my battered face as best I can, then step beneath the steaming spray of the shower. The near scalding water cascades over me, a searing balm to my bruised and aching body.
Once I’m dry and wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, I step into the nursery and freeze at the doorway, drawn in by the quiet intimacy before me. Zilphia is fast asleep in the rocking chair, her robe hanging open, revealing one plump breast. A pearly thread of milk glistens as it escapes her soft brown nipple.
Zahara is nestled in her arms, sleeping peacefully, her tiny body rising and falling with each subtle breath.
I step deeper into the room and sink to a crouch in front of them. My eyes hungrily drink in the woman who brought our twins into the world.
Thick, wild curls barely tamed by a hair tie. Long lashes rest like shadows against her smooth, caramel-brown skin. Her full, heart-shaped lips parted ever so slightly, soft and irresistible. Shapely, pliable legs give way to dainty feet, each toe perfectly proportioned, her copper-colored nails meticulously trimmed. I trail a finger over one, barely grazing the surface.
