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“And? How is it?” Natasha asked Chase, and passed Della a glass.
“Well…” Chase smacked his lips. “It tastes like … sour crap.” He turned to the sink and spit.
They all laughed and all agreed. Wine was a no-go.
The conversation went to Natasha going home. “As soon as Mom’s over the shock, I’ll bring Liam over to meet her.”
“Yeah.” Liam frowned.
Natasha rolled her eyes. “He’s worried my family and friends won’t like him because he’s part African American. Duh, I’m half Chinese.”
“It’s not the same,” Liam said, but he curled his arms around her.
“Not everyone is racist,” Della said.
“But quite a few are,” Liam said. “Still, I’m not going anywhere.” Liam brushed Natasha’s hair to the side and kissed her neck. It was … somehow almost erotic. Just watching it sent tingles running down her spine.
“They are going to love you. Just like I do.” Natasha arched her neck back and they kissed. One of those soft kisses that lasted a little too long to be in public.
Della cut her eyes away, and accidentally met Chase’s gaze. The look he sent her was almost as disturbing at watching Natasha and Liam.
For the next few hours, they sat at Chase’s large French farm table, sampled food, and laughed. At one point, Della realized that while they were four vampires sitting at this table, this was the most normal—human-normal—evening she’d had in a long time. There seemed to be something comforting about sitting around a dinner table with food.
