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Fane shifted awkwardly and then rubbed the back of his neck. “Me.”
The amount of joy erupting across Ephraim’s face would make angels sing. “You found a mate! That’s wonder—"
“No!” Fane and I yelled.
His uncle’s smile dropped. “Oh. But—”
“You brought a girl home?” A boy around ten or eleven sprinted into the room, his long legs eating up the ground until he crashed into Fane. “It’s about time you got a girlfriend. EvenIhave one.” He looked like a mini version of Ephraim with lighter hair and hazel eyes.
A woman in jeans and a flowy top strolled around the same corner the kid had come from, her caramel locks swaying around her shoulders. “Oh, honey, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend. Just a friend.” He nearly choked on the word.
“A friend that you bit?” The kid jogged out of Fane’s range as he tried to grab him. “Who happens to be hot?”
“Dylan.” The woman—probably his mother—playfully pinched his arm. “Don’t be rude.”
“I’m not. She’s pretty.”
Fane rubbed his temples. “This is going to be a long night.”
The woman offered her hand. “I’m Nora, Fane’s aunt. It’s nice to meet you, his not-girlfriend.”
After quickly taking her hand and breaking contact, I crossed my arms over my chest to create a barrier. She felt like a hugger. “I’m Tate.” They seemed nice enough, but they were still nightworlders.
So are you now…
“This little monster is Dylan.” Nora ruffled her son’s blond hair. “Don’t mind him. He learned girls weren’t gross a few months ago.”
He rolled his eyes and jumped on the couch. “I never thought girls were gross. I just thought they were annoying.”
Fane smirked. “And now?”
“Oh, they’re still annoying.” He grabbed his phone from the coffee table. “I just don’t mind them as much. And they smell good.”
The others chuckled at Dylan’s attitude toward girls. They seemed like a normal family, like those on TV and not any I grew up with. I always imagined shifters constantly fighting or enforcing strict rules from overbearing alphas. Hell, even the demon family surrounding that little girl I saved in the Underworld had been more loving than most I’d lived with.
Fane’s gaze burned holes in me, and I angled toward him, arching an eyebrow. “What?”
He ignored me as his aunt hugged him, her slender frame nearly lost in his huge mass. “How have you been, Aunt Nora?”
“Good.” She pulled back and ruffled his hair like he was a little kid instead of a giant beast. “You should come home more often.”
He grimaced and fixed those unruly black locks. “I’ve been busy.”
“Of course.” She studied the two of us, biting back a smile. “Will you two be sharing your room, Fane?”
He groaned. “Teague is not my girlfriend.”
“Well, since she’s not taken…” A guy much older than Dylan vaulted over the balcony, landing on the first floor with the grace of a jungle cat—or a wolf. A crooked grin melted over his lips, and he flicked honey-blond locks out of his green eyes as he approached me. “I’m Preston, Fane’s oldest cousin.” He was almost as tall as Fane but not as broad and lacked the collection of tattoos.
I reluctantly uncrossed my arms and shook his hand. “Tate.” I’d never had this much physical contact with nightworlders unless I was fighting them.
Preston tilted his head. “Why’d Fane call you Teague?”
“My last name.” Being on a first-name basis with him felt too personal. And after we found a way to get this demon amulet out of me, there would be nothing personal about trying to kill each other.
“Well, I’ll call you Tate.” Preston winked. “Or my future wife.”
