reasons? We can’t dump this problem on his shoulders.”
I’d repeated those same words, over and over again, in my head for ten years. Nero deserved to feel safe, to feel loved. He would have a long immortal life to worry about these kinds of troubles. For a few years, he deserved to live with nothing more than the usual drama facing a ten-year-old Legion brat.
But I still felt guilty for hiding the truth of his existence from him.
“He looks so content.” I walked to the doorway and watched Nero speak to my father in the living room.
“Yes, well, he’s very pleased with himself right now.”
I returned to the stove. “I was referring to Nero. And you really need to finally start getting along with my father.”
“Because he makes it so easy.” Damiel scooped the finished pancakes onto a serving platter. “I’ll say this for your father: he always endeavors to make a dramatic entrance.”
I chuckled. “As do you. Male angels are such drama queens. You’re always puffing out your chests and rustling up your feathers.”
Damiel grabbed me around the waist. “I much prefer when you puff out your chest and rustle up your feathers.” His hands rounded my butt.
I whacked his hand away, hissing, “Not now, Damiel. We have an audience.”
He glanced toward the living room. Nero and my father were not in sight.
“Don’t trouble yourself with them. They’re quite busy discussing magic grenades, flaming swords, and battlefield tactics.” Damiel pulled me in so close that I could hardly see where his body ended and mine began. “They aren’t paying us any mind.”
My heart fluttered in anticipation. Damiel and I had spent precious little time together lately, and my body was definitely missing his touch.
But this was a family dinner, not a romantic one-on-one.
“We have a responsibility to our guest,” I said.
“What about your responsibility to your husband?” he spoke against my mouth. His teeth playfully nipped my lower lip. “Or your responsibility to yourself?” He inhaled deeply, drinking in my scent. “I know how much you want me right now, Princess.” His grip on my butt tightened and he pressed me against his hard body.
I tried to keep my breathing steady, even though I wanted nothing more than to grab him by the belt and drag him off to bed. I hated that we had to live a few thousand miles apart—and that our work too often kept us away from each other.
“Your halo is glowing especially bright tonight,” he whispered into my ear. “Let’s see how much hotter I can make you glow.”
“Is dinner ready yet?” my father called out loudly from the living room. “An archangel is not accustomed to be kept waiting for his food.”
Damiel growled a few choice profanities under his breath.
“Please try not to lock horns with my father,” I pleaded with him.
Damiel put on a bright smile. “I am always nice to him. That’s why I made pancakes.”
Then he grabbed the platter of pancakes off the heating plate and strode into the dining room. I followed closely behind him with the baked turkey. Various side dishes bobbed gently in the air around us, levitated by magic.
Perhaps it was wishful thinking to hope that, for once, our monthly family dinner would go by without any drama. We were angels, after all. That’s why we rotated locations between my father’s territory of Northern Europe, mine on the Elemental Expanse, and Damiel’s here on the east coast of North America. The territorial behavior of angels meant we all felt better on our home turf.
Whenever the dinner was in Damiel’s territory or in my father’s, the drama cranked up a few notches. I’d once suggested that we always hold the dinner at my castle—where neither of them had the upper hand—but both my father and my husband had vehemently rejected the suggestion. They’d accused me of trying to gain the upper hand.
They were both too clever to really believe that.
I won’t lie. I’d considered the possibility that Damiel and my father enjoyed fighting with each other. If that were so, then these family dinners were doomed.
“Dinner is served,” I said brightly and set down the turkey. I directed the bobbing dishes to land on the tabletop.
We all took our places around the table. Damiel, as the angel of this territory, took the head seat. My father’s sharp eyes locked on to him. He was already opening his mouth to start a fight.
I spoke first. “Dad, Nero is now attending the new Angel Preparatory Academy. It’s just across