Chapter 71 Danica #2
"I contain multitudes of cruelty, sweetheart. Just ask my Xbox after I rage-quit Dark Souls."
I take a careful step forward, like approaching a spooked horse. "Better?"
Sable nods, her fingers twisting in her pink hair. "Yeah, it's... clearer now. Your scent is still like mainlining pure sugar, but I'm not feeling quite so... bitey."
"Bitey is not your best look," Emily chimes in. "Stick to unicorn accessories."
"I can still come closer?" I ask, watching Sable for any sign of distress.
Behind me, I can practically feel Rhyland coiling like a spring, ready to move if needed. His protective instincts are sweet, if slightly overdramatic. Then again, this is the man who once tackled me to safety because I almost walked into a spider web.
"Yeah," Sable manages a shaky smile. "Just... maybe no hugging yet? I'm not sure I'm ready for full contact."
"Daddy Vamp?" Rhyland looks at Lucian like he's an idiot, his deep voice rumbles with a suggestive edge that makes my cheeks heat, "if anyone's earning the title 'daddy' around here, brother, I think Dani would agree it's not you."
Lucian gasps dramatically. "Was that... did you just make a dirty joke? Quick, someone check if Hell froze over!"
"I've had a lot of practice," Rhyland smirks, his hand sliding possessively around my waist. "Unlike some people who still giggle at the word 'duty.'"
"You said 'doody,'" Lucian snickers, then straightens up. "I mean, how dare you question my maturity? I'm a responsible Maker now. I have..." he thinks for a minute, "Ah yes, adulting skills."
Emily snorts so hard she nearly falls out of her chair. "You spent three hours yesterday trying to teach Brax how to dab."
"It's an important cultural milestone!"
"Cultural milestone, my ass," Emily mutters. "You just wanted TikTok content."
"Hey, my followers expect quality entertainment!" Lucian protests. "Do you know how hard it is to keep up with Gen Z meme culture when you're technically old enough to be their great-great-great-grandfather?"
"At least you're trying," Sable offers, slowly sinking onto the edge of the bed. "Damon still can't figure out how to use Instagram filters."
"The dog ears are deeply unsettling," Damon defends himself. "And why would anyone want to look like they're vomiting rainbows?"
I lean back against Rhyland's chest, savoring the normalcy of the moment. My crazy, supernatural family is bickering about social media like we aren't a collection of vampires, witches, and whatever the hell I am these days.
"Speaking of unsettling," Emily perks up with that dangerous glint in her eye that usually precedes chaos, "wait until you hear about Brax's latest obsession with Marvel movies. Tell them, Luci."
Lucian groans. "No."
"Tell us what?" I ask, already grinning at his discomfort.
"He's been practicing his Thor impressions," Emily cackles. "Complete with cape and everything."
"It's a cloak," Lucian corrects automatically.
"Don't forget the hammer," Sable adds, smiling now. "What was it he kept saying?"
"'I am worthy!'" Emily booms in a terrible accent, raising an imaginary hammer. "While wearing one of Lucian's designer bathrobes as a cape—I mean, cloak."
"That was a $900 bathrobe," Lucian mutters darkly.
"Pure Egyptian cotton. Now it smells like burnt ass hairs and disappointment.
" His expression suddenly shifts to pure devilish glee.
"Though not as much disappointment as when I caught someone getting rather.
.. patriotic with our resident shapeshifter.
Tell me, Emily, does he really embody America's ass when he's wearing the Caps face? "
Emily's face flames redder than a fire hydrant. "I—that's not—"
Wait. What's going on—
"No," I gasp, staring at my best friend. "Em, you didn't. Please tell me you didn't bang a demon while he was cosplaying Steve Rogers!"
"He has very convincing shapeshifting abilities!" Emily squeaks, burying her face in her hands. "And those shoulders! Have you seen those shoulders?"
"I cannot believe you fucked a demon wearing Captain America's face," I wheeze. "What happened to 'I have standards, Dani'?"
"Have you SEEN Chris Evans?" Emily peeks through her fingers. "Those are very high standards!"
Lucian is practically vibrating with glee. "Don't forget the part where he kept quoting 'That IS America's ass' at very... specific moments."
"I hate you all," Emily groans, covering her face. "Especially you, asshole. I know where you keep your limited edition Pokemon cards."
"Touch my holographic Charizard, and they'll never find your body."
Oh. My. God. My best friend is hooking up with a literal demon. And not just any demon—a shapeshifting demon with a thing for superheroes.
Mental note—Corner Emily later with a bottle of tequila and demand every single X-rated detail. Starting with whether his... patriotism... extends to all parts of his anatomy.
For research purposes, obviously.
"You're just mad he pulls off the cape better than you," Emily fires back, fully committed to tormenting Lucian.
"Again, it's a cloak," Lucian holds up a finger. "And second, I look fabulous in everything. Even that time, I had to wear bell bottoms in the 70s."
"Please tell me there are pictures of this." Sable perks up, her earlier fear almost forgotten.
"Absolutely not," Lucian says, while Erik simultaneously answers, his voice calling from the hallway, "Third drawer of my desk."
"Dick!" Lucian yells. "I thought we agreed the Disco Era was off-limits! You Emo Crusader Extraordinaire!"
I can't help the pure and genuine laugh that bubbles up from my chest. This. This right here. All of us together, safe and whole. Emily plotting chaos, Lucian being dramatic, Sable slowly coming back to herself, my brother rolling his eyes but smiling, and Rhyland...
His arms tighten around me as he feels my happiness radiating through our bond. His chest rumbles against my back with quiet laughter as Lucian continues his tirade about brotherhood and betrayal.
"I love seeing you smile," he murmurs against my ear, low enough that only I can hear.
"Look at them," I whisper back, watching Emily demonstrate what she claims was Lucian's signature disco move. "We're all here. We're all okay. For once, nothing's trying to kill us or end the world."
"Yet," he adds, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Don't jinx it, Lightning Rod."
"GET THE PICTURES!" Emily suddenly shouts, launching herself toward the door. "I need to see Disco Lucian!"
"NO!" Lucian races after her. "Erik, I swear to god, if those photos see the light of day, I'm telling Bryn about the Renaissance Fair incident!"
"What's a Renaissance Fair incident?" Bryn's voice drifts up from downstairs.
"NOTHING!" Both Erik and Lucian shout.
Sable's laughter rings through the room, the sweet sound making something in my chest expand with warmth.
Even Damon—my usually always serious brother—breaks his composure, his shoulders shaking as he joins in the mirth, one arm still protectively around Sable's waist.
I lean back against Rhyland's chest. This is what matters.
This hodgepodge collection of misfits we've somehow stitched together into something resembling a family.
Despite the cosmic chess game we're unwilling pawns in, despite death and resurrection and magical stones and evil queens—we still find these pockets of normalcy.
Where vampires debate superhero movies—witch BFFs sleep with shape-shifting demons, and my man holds me like I'm the anchor to his centuries-old soul.