My lips pinched in an effort not to laugh as Ezra sighed, giving her a little wave as everyone’s heads flew back and forth between mom and son, watching. He pointed at the buffet, and herded me in that direction, just as we heard his mom state loudly and gruffly to the entire packed dining hall, “Show’s over, people. Eat your damn food and quit gawking.”

A chuckle did escape me as Ezra sighed again, rubbing his face, cheeks pink. “Aw, she loves you.”

“Damn embarrassing,” he muttered, grabbing two plates. “I’ll never hear the end of it from the Vamps.”

I snorted, and whispered as the dining hall began to resonate with quiet chatter, “Just threaten to invite your mom to their gatherings and they’ll shut up.”

Ezra hummed as I picked up two plates. “Not a bad idea.”

Sitting at their table with our trays loaded with plates and drinks, Ezra and I politely ignored the way his parents eyed our food. It was the usual wide-eyed expression most adults had at seeing our normal intake of yummy grub. Although, they didn’t seem surprised by Ezra’s — their gazes pretty much stuck to my tray, which held just as much as his. In their silence, we did our normal: set the desserts between us, eyed each other’s food to see what the other had gotten — just in case we had missed the other sneaking in something extra tasty — then pretty much reached over each other to snag items we really wanted…because it never failed that someone else’s food looked better than your own.

Grass…greener…yada, yada.

But I was proud I remembered to place my napkin on my lap. I wasn’t one to go without manners, so I carefully stuffed my mouth full of sausage drenched in syrup from Ezra’s plate. God, that was good. Okay, maybe a little moan escaped as I forked another one, even as he nabbed a few strawberries off my plate.

But he did the unthinkable. He tried to take my strawberry jam packet. I growled, my wolf taking voice, slapping his hand. “Mine.”

His eyes narrowed, and he slowly took the banana pudding from its place between us. He held it far away, my eyes avidly on it. “Then this is mine, since I got it.” His head tilted toward the buffet, slowly grinning, his eyes still slitted. “And I got the last one.”

My hand fisted on the strawberry packet, lips pinched, the smell of bananas wafting toward me. “Fine, I’ll split the jam.” My other hand reached for the pudding, fingers waggling.

“Thank you,” he nodded, setting the banana pudding between our trays again. “Jam, please.”

I grumbled, but handed it over, watching him closely as he picked up his knife, positioning it over the opened packet. “Nope.” My finger flicked. “To the right a little.”

He gave me a cross look. “This is half.” And he sliced into it.

No, it wasn’t.

I waited a moment, then stole his knife with the jam on it. “My half.” I grabbed my toast before he could argue, spreading the jam. I bit into it, grinning around my bite. “And it’s good.”

He growled, his predator ticked, but grabbed his knife back and spread his jam on his bread.

Vivian cleared her throat, and we both jolted in our chairs, our attention snapping to her. Again, we had forgotten about the people sitting with us. I wasn’t sure if it was a food thing, but Ezra and I were making a very bad habit of this. His parents were both resting back in their chairs, staring.

Stupidly, I mumbled, “We like food.”

“I don’t believe that escaped our attention,” Cahal stated dryly.

“You would think they hadn’t eaten in weeks,” Vivian murmured absently.

Ezra cleared his throat and picked up a cup of hot chocolate, holding it out to her. “I got this for you.”

I stared at the wafting steam rising off it, the scent of creamy chocolate — my hot chocolate I had asked him to grab for me — filling my nostrils as he tried to give it away.

“Dear, I think you had better put that back down,” Vivian stated quietly.

“Shit,” Ezra mumbled, my attention avidly on my drink as he set it back on his tray and grabbed the cup of steaming tea next to it, holding it out to her. “I meant this one.”

Covertly, I lifted my hot chocolate off his plate, putting it on the far side of my tray so he wouldn’t try again to give away what was mine, as Vivian took the tea, saying, “Thank you. Although, I am surprised you thought of me during your raid of the buffet.”

“Was there anything left?” Cahal drawled.

“Give us a break, Dad,” Ezra grumbled. “You were young once.”

Cahal chuckled. “It feels like forever ago.”

Ezra grinned, grabbing his coffee off my plate. “It was.”

Vivian smiled at Cahal. “Wide open.”

I glanced at each of them while chewing my waffle — my mouth closed. They were one of those families. The cutesy kind. All smiles and love.

There had been plenty of smiles and laughter in my family, too, but there had also been an underlying caution. We were always watchful. A bit wary of those around us, at all times. Even at our dinners we would always have half our attention on the front door as we joked with one another.

Cahal caught me staring, his eyes quickly assessing. “So, Ms Ruckler,” too late to glance away, dammit, “we know scarcely anything about you. What can you tell us about yourself?”

Hardly anything. I pointed at my chewing mouth. Stalling. Organizing my thoughts, I wiped my mouth and took a few swigs of my coffee, then stated, “You know Antonio and my mom, Angela Springs, raised me. After Antonio left, my mom passed away, and my uncle,” Ezra growled a bit, “took over my guardianship until King Kincaid took over that duty. I was mated to Dominic Kincaid before he was murdered. His power went to me at his death, and I became the Prodigy Shifter. The rest you pretty much know from there.”

My head tilted. “I also love to read for pleasure, my original degree being in Creative Writing before I was put on the fast track to graduate in Political Science. I enjoy the outdoors as long as it’s not snowing. Hate materialistic items unless they serve a valid purpose, although, I have a secret passion for tattoos,” I whispered, “They’re hot.” I cleared my throat, moving on, “I’m an extremely skilled driver. Need a getaway driver and I’m your gal. I’ll pick a romantic movie over an action flick any day, but give me a great comedy and it’ll be a toss-up…unless it’s cartoons, in which case, reverse everything I just said. I don’t agree with rules that hold no meaning except for ‘they just are’. I loved my mom, and amazingly, I still love Antonio. Also, my favorite food is ice-cream.”




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