Beside me, you grumbled, “Never have I ever invited a serpent into my bed.”
Lucian smiled roguishly and drank, muttering about there being too many times to count, and I teased you with, “What about that anaconda?”
It took a moment for you to get the joke, but when you did, you nearly bust a gut laughing at my crude humor. I was about to take my turn when Lucian lifted one hand to silence us. I heard it too. Several heartbeats were approaching, and footsteps, marching toward us.
“What is it?” you asked. Your hearing must have been dulled by the wine.
“She’s back,” Lucian said in a quiet, tense voice. His expression could have been a sneer or a smile.
“Who’s back?” Stefan asked in confusion while I sat there, paralyzed.
“Our mother.”
