Page 76 of King’s Kismet

“I’m not fucking telepathic. I can’t share them with you.” He glanced down, tilting his head. “But she’s taken nudes on this rug.”

I studied the shag carpet. “How are you going to respond to that challenge? Other than your resolve breaking and you fucking her into next week like she wants.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, stomping away from me. “You haven’t fucked her either.”

I chuckled at him as adjusted himself and fixed his shirt before he swung the bathroom door open.

“You,” Briggs began, momentarily tongue-tied while bouncing his finger at Sloane as she turned the water off. “Are not a good person. You’re always up to no good.”

I couldn’t see her expression from the bedroom, but I heard the smirk in her voice as she confirmed his statement.

“I am not a good person. Are you going to join me?”

“No,” he quickly replied.

Then he carried her out of the bathroom at arm’s length, keeping her nakedness as far away from him as possible. He set her right outside the bathroom, dripping wet with no towel, as he growled at her and slammed the door. She cackled, her head thrown back as her eyes twinkled with pure amusement.

She was every bit the namesake the vampire had taken to calling her. But I called her kitten because of those hidden claws. Sometimes she had them sheathed when she swatted at us…

Until she didn’t.

That was how we ended up with her claws sunk too deep in us to remove.

By the time I was out of my quick shower, Briggs was wrapped around Sloane’s back. His breathing was even and shallow as he relaxed into sleep, though she wasn’t ready to give in.

I climbed into the bed, lying on my right side and tenderly brushed her damp silver hair away from her face as I whispered, “I’m going to go to Oren. I didn’t want you to wake up in a couple of hours and not know where I was.”

She gave me a drowsy grin. “Going to see your parents’ house?”

“Yeah, Kitten.” I nodded, not really knowing what else to say. “I’m going to fly, so I’ll be back by sunrise.”

“Don’t fly. Take Pete,” she murmured, surrendering to sleep.

Who the fuck was Pete?

Family Fireworks

Saturday, July 4th

Afternoon

Spending the day with my parents was normally entertaining. However, this was the first time I’d spent an afternoon—or any extended time—with all five of them.

My guys were all scattered about, giving me a few hours alone before they showed up for dinner. Jack would eventually pop in with Blaire, Grim, and Baylor in tow. Then the celebration would really begin.

I’d been playing chess with Raguel for the last two hours. My father quietly observed us from the corner, lounging in his favorite armchair while reading a book so worn its spine held no text. Papi and Dad were bugging Amelia in the kitchen…

And I could honestly say calling them all different names had gotten ridiculous to keep up with, so I was converting to using their first names. I was struggling to use Papi’s name, mostly because he didn’t look like a Sam to me… Samuel felt too formal.

As I watched the five of them interacting with each other, I couldn’t decide what the strangest thing about their mate group was… But I was leaning toward the massive age gap.

Amelia was the youngest, though Charlie was maybe a century older than her.

Nate and Sam were close in age. How many decades or centuries spanned between them? They couldn’t exactly say.

Mathing was difficult when you were that old.

But Raguel stumped me.