Page 54

Across the table, a dark-haired woman is sharpening a stake between bites of toast, turning the wood in her hand and running the whetstone along the point without once needing to look down at what she’s doing.

Scar, who I know is a vampire, beside her, reaches toward her plate. Without even looking up, she shifts the stake and plants the sharpened tip against the back of his hand.

His fingers stop an inch from her bacon.

“Try it,” she says.

Scar’s mouth kicks up at one corner. “You know, Cali, most women threaten their vampire boyfriend with something that isn’t specifically designed to kill him.”

“Most women aren’t me, baby.”

Scar smiles at her. “Thank fuck for that,” he says, and he steals the bacon anyway.

Cali finally looks up, staring at the empty spot on her plate before slowly turning that stake in his direction.

Scar is already chewing. “Worth it.”

I have absolutely no idea what their relationship is like, but apparently attempted breakfast theft with a side of possible staking is normal around here too.

A woman stands at the stove flipping pancakes, her red-gold hair piled messily on top of her head while she somehow keeps track of three pans at once. For a second, the skin along her forearm roughens, taking on the texture of bark before smoothing out again.

I stare, because apparently that’s what I do now.

She catches me and smiles instead of calling me out on it. “Morning, honey.”

“Morning.”

She turns another pancake. “You hungry?”

My eyes move to the ridiculous amount of food already covering the table. “Is saying no an option?”

Her smile gets wider. “Not really.”

Right.

Good to know.

“I’m Ivy,” she says, sliding a plate toward the space Roxy nudges me into. “Eat. You look like you haven’t in days.”

I haven’t. And I don’t get the chance to say so before someone with flame-red hair shot through with gold claims the chair across from me, boots up on the table until a low growl from somewhere down the line makes her roll her eyes and drop them again.

“Yo… I’m Ash,” she offers, her amber eyes flicking over me with the kind of assessment that isn’t unkind, just thorough. “You’re the siren that had Carnage acting weird all night.”

“I didn’t do anything to him,” I growl out defensively.

“Didn’t say you did.” Her mouth curls. “Just said he was weird. Weirder than usual. It’s a compliment, trust me.”

Beside her, a softer voice cuts in before I can figure out how to respond to that. Silvery-blonde hair, dark eyes that hold mine a beat too long, like she’s already reading something in me I haven’t said out loud yet. “Hi, I’m Luna,” she says quietly, and something about the way she says it makes the noise around the table fade half a step. “It’s good you’re here.” I know what she is almost immediately. Selkies are a close relative of the sirens, and she is one hundred percent a selkie. They’re rare in the wild, and it’s nice to see one that hasn’t been hunted for her fur. I smile, and she smiles back kindly.

Apparently, introductions around here happen whether I’m ready for them or not.

The man across from me leans forward first, planting his forearms on the table and reaching across a plate loaded with enough bacon to feed three people to offer me his hand. He’s gaunt, which should make him look weak, but somehow does the opposite, all sharp angles and lean muscle, with eyes that sit a little too deep and a grin that shows entirely too many teeth.

“Wreck,” he says, his voice low with an eerie tone to it.

I look at his hand, then slowly lift my eyes back to his face. “That a warning or a name?”

His grin spreads wider, which really doesn’t help his case. “Depends on how breakfast goes.”