“It used to bother me more, but then I realized that family is more than blood. It’s what you make it, and I found a pretty great family here, you know?”
Bryce couldn’t exactly relate to that since his family was pretty amazing, but he’d always yearned for close-knit friends. Like everyone at the cafe. They were all friends, sure, but it ran deeper. He’d seen it in the way they rallied around each other and invested in each other’s lives. In the way they’d instantly welcomed him into their circles.
“What about Toni’s family? Are they cool?”
Jude chuckled and shook his head. “Not really. I mean, a few of his sisters are pretty chill, but for the most part, we don’t really see his family. We had lunch with his mom a few weeks back because she was ‘trying’.” He made air quotes. “But she mostly spent the time being passively racist and then getting offended when Toni corrected her.”
“Damn.”
“Mhm,” Jude hummed around a sip of his drink. “She can’t get over how exotic-looking I am.”
Now, Bryce was a basic white guy who’d grown up in small-town Montana, but even he knew that was bad. “Yikes.”
Jude seemed to find it more funny than offensive as he laughed it off. “Hence why we don’t hang out with the Marynos much. We stick to our chosen family.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Willow, Glyma, and Quin. Like the first time, Willow greeted Bryce with a warm hug, and he scooted down the booth so she could sit beside him. Glyma and Quin, the owners of the cafe where Zef and the others worked, shook his hand, reintroducing themselves.
Quin was a short, thin Daemon with brick-red skin, shoulder-length black locs, and curling rams horns above her ears. Her red-pupiled eyes and reserved, almost aloof demeanor were intimidating. Scary, even, if he was being honest. He’d grown up Catholic, and Quin reminded him of every depiction of Satan he’d ever seen. The keratin-tipped devil tail only reinforced the image. He wondered briefly if she owned a pitchfork.
Her wife, Glyma, was the opposite in nearly every way. Friendly and bubbly, she was tall and chubby, with an apron belly, serpentining tail that ended in a fluffy tuft, and vertical, corkscrew horns. Her hot pink eyes were kind and animated, and Bryce was honestly taken aback by how drop dead gorgeous she was. And purple; she was so very, very purple.
As a Succubus, her aura made it difficult for him to focus on her words of introduction as he—unintentionally—imagined burying his face in her cleavage and motorboating her. Which made him feel like an absolute creep. He was grateful Jude seemed just as dazed when Glyma leaned in and pecked his cheek in greeting.
A dopey grin curled Jude’s mouth as he stuttered out, “H-hi, Glyma. You look really nice. Like, that dress is really pretty on you.”
“Aw, thank you, Jude. That’s so sweet.” Glyma simpered, and Jude’s cheeks darkened in a blush as he gulped down his whiskey sour.
While Quin and Glyma took their seats, Bryce leaned in and whispered, “Did you want to motorboat her too? Like for a second before you caught yourself?”
Hiding his responding laugh in his elbow, Jude nodded sheepishly. “We all initially wanna motorboat her. It kind of comes with her being a Succubus.”
“Glad it’s not just me,” Bryce said in relief.
“Straight crisis?” Jude teased, but Bryce shook his head.
“No, I like girls well enough. I just don’t usually want to, you know, dothatwith strangers.” He rubbed the back of his neck as Jude snickered again.
“Fair enough. But don’t worry, you get used to it. It’s easier to shake off the effects of her aura the more you hang around her.”
Rusty arrived ten minutes later, decked out in black clothes that contrasted with his pink fur. His poofy, striped tail hugged his right leg, like he was attempting to keep it out of the way as he slipped through the crowd. His shirt was cropped, stopping above his thick belly that spilled over the waistband of his jeans like a muffin top, and he was barefoot—bare-pawed?
It wasn’t the first time Bryce had seen Rusty, but he still found it strange watching a humanoid pink raccoon walking around on two legs. Not that Rusty was an animal, of course, but his resemblance to the night bandits was uncanny.
His sharp claws were painted black, with the exception of his pinkie nails; they were a dark red. The claws of three fingers on his left hand had been filed down to blunt edges. Bryce wasn’t the most sexually experienced person, but he knew what that choice meant.
Jude must have noticed as well because the moment the Pyclon sat down at the edge of the booth beside Willow, Jude leaned over Bryce to say, “Nice manicure, Rusty.”
“What?” Rusty said, even as he lowered his hands to hide them under the table.
With a shit-eating grin, Jude sat back in his seat with a sing-songy, “Never mind.”
Rusty arched a fuzzy, mauve brow as his fluffy ear twitched, but he changed the subject, his husky voice coming out with a bit of a growl ashe said, “You and Ollie need to stop sending me raccoon videos. I’m not a raccoon!”
Bursting into laughter, Jude folded his arms on the table and shook his head. “Sending you raccoon videos will nevernotbe funny.”
“It’s never funny! Gem sees them and loses his fucking mind. Then he tries to recreate them,” Rusty practically snarled.
“Don’t tell me you don’t like belly rubs,” Jude teased.
