Angel Fever (Immortal Legacy #3) - Ella Summers Page 0,2
not so sure.” A smirk broke his hard lips. “On the other hand, monsters don’t cook this well.”
He clearly didn’t want to talk about this, and I wasn’t going to push him. Instead, I glanced down at the pancakes sizzling in the frying pan.
“We’re about to eat dinner, not breakfast,” I reminded him.
“Pancakes work at all times of the day,” Damiel replied in a very matter-of-fact tone.
“It’s exactly this sort of roguish behavior that will get you into trouble, Damiel Dragonsire.”
“One can only hope.”
Suddenly, his intentions became all too obvious.
“You’re making pancakes to provoke my father, aren’t you?”
My father believed in following etiquette to the letter. And pancakes for dinner did not at all fit into his order of the universe.
“I’m making pancakes because they are delicious,” Damiel told me.
“They are delicious,” I agreed.
He nodded, looking quite pleased with himself.
“And yet in twenty years of marriage, you’ve never shared your secret pancake recipe with me.”
“You’ve looked into my soul, Cadence. What is a pancake recipe compared to that?” he replied smoothly.
“Important.”
His chuckle was the epitome of smugness. “You must really like my pancakes.”
I shrugged. “They’re all right, I guess.”
Truth be told, Damiel’s pancakes were heavenly.
“I’m beginning to wonder if you love my pancakes more than you love me.”
I winked at him. “Only when I’m hungry.”
He leaned in closer. “You make me hungry.” His hot, whispered words fell against my lips as his hand traced down my arm.
Heat blossomed inside my body, a fever storm of cascading sensations, crashing and building. My hands plunged down his back and grabbed his butt. Something was burning, and it wasn’t just the food.
He chuckled into my parted lips. “Any time, love.” He lifted me onto the countertop.
A boom of thunder shook the kitchen.
“Dragonsire, you idiot. You’re letting my dinner burn,” my father’s voice cracked like a lightning-charged whip.
2
Family Dinner
I hopped down from the counter and took a step away from Damiel. My father had a talent for making me feel like a teenage girl, rather than the full-blown angel I was.
Damiel met my father’s stony stare. “She is my wife.”
“Unfortunately.” My father folded his arms across his chest, making no secret of his displeasure.
“Of course I’m on time. To be tardy is to err.” My father looked at me. “And angels don’t err.”
Most angels prefer to be fashionably late so they can enter with much fanfare. But not General Silverstar. He prefers to barge in without notice, Damiel said in my mind.
Could you please try to play nice, Damiel? If not for my sake, then for the sake of your living room furniture.
Damiel’s furniture hadn’t survived our last family dinner here, several months ago. Damiel and my father didn’t agree on anything—except for their mutual dislike of each other.
“I noticed that you arrived on my balcony rather than using the front door, Silverstar,” said Damiel. “Or knocking. You missed your calling as a magic lock-picker.”
“Such a pitiful lock was hardly difficult to circumvent. I didn’t even have to try.”
And this was how our family dinner kicked off.
Unfortunately, it was not unlike every other family dinner since I’d started the tradition twenty years ago. Dinners with my father were always an ordeal, as he and Damiel still couldn’t get along, even after all these years. They were always making jabs at each other. Granted, they were generally very clever and elegantly-worded insults, but they were insults none the same. I just couldn’t get the two of them to get along, not even for Nero’s sake.
“May I offer you a drink?” I asked my father, trying to ease the tension. Right now, it was as tense as an overinflated balloon in here.
My father’s nod was as crisp as his uniform. “Yes, tea.”
“I already have it ready for you.”
I poured tea out of a pot, and handed him the cup I’d already set out for him in anticipation of his arrival. Tea was my father’s drink of choice. I’d rarely seen him drink anything else.
“You are an admirable hostess, Cadence.” He picked up the cup with regal grace. “It’s a shame your manners haven’t rubbed off on your husband.”
“How are things, Dad?” I cut in quickly, before Damiel could respond to him and escalate the situation further. “I hear you have some rogue bandits causing you trouble in Europe.”
“They are causing more than just ‘some’ trouble. They are a pestilence on my territory. But they aren’t bandits.”