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Uncle Owen followed close behind, raising an eyebrow at the array of shopping bags and the suspicious remains of Ryker’s glass. “Do I want to know what caused that?” he asked, nodding at the crystalline debris.

“Just a slight… grip malfunction,” Ryker muttered, while a staff smoothly appeared to clean up the evidence.

“Great Uncle Johnathan!” Luca brightened, his fangs peeking out adorably in his excitement. “You have to see what Archer found in this amazing little boutique. They had these traditional vampire ceremonial pieces but with a modern twist, and he said?—”

The eldest Whitlock’s knowing look swept over his three nephews—lingering particularly on Zane’s white-knuckled grip on his tumbler and Archer’s entirely too pleased expression.

“Perhaps we should save the rest of the fashion show for after dinner,” Aunt Senna suggested diplomatically, rising from her seat.

“Yes!” Luca’s enthusiasm shifted immediately to the promise of dinner, though he carefully gathered his purchases. “Sylvie, will you help me put these away first? I want to try on that crystal-embedded outfit later.”

“The one Uncle Archer said brought out your inner vampire prince?” Sylvie’s innocent tone was belied by her mischievous grin.

The wave of possessive irritation that rolled through the pack bond from Zane and Ryker had Archer struggling to contain his laughter.

The formal dining room gleamed under crystal chandeliers, the mahogany table set for an intimate family dinner. Luca settled into a chair between Sylvie and Hunter, while Archer deliberately chose the seat across from the prince—earning another warning growl from Zane through their bond.

“It’s wonderful having you join us for dinner again, Luca,” Great Uncle Johnathan remarked, his eyes twinkling.

Several staff glided into the dining room, carrying silver platters that had Luca’s eyes widening. The aromas alone were torture—herb-crusted rack of lamb, butter-poached lobster tails, wild mushroom risotto that looked like creamy perfection. Each dish was a masterpiece, arranged with the precision of fine art.

“Is that…” Luca leaned forward slightly, “truffle mac and cheese?”

“Chef Graham outdid himself tonight.” Aunt Senna nodded, watching as the staff served portions around the table. “Though I believe Benedict has something special for you, dear.”

Right on cue, Benedict approached with an elegant crystal goblet on a silver tray. “Your evening blood, Prince Luca. Though…” He paused with a small smile. “The kitchen has prepared something rather unique tonight.”

“Oh?” Luca tried—and failed—to hide his wistfulness as he watched Hunter dive into the mac and cheese.

“Indeed.” Aunt Senna’s eyes sparkled. “We’ve been working with some specialists on new blood-fusion recipes.”

Benedict placed the goblet before Luca, its contents a shimmering crimson like liquid garnets. “A blend of O negative and AB positive,” he explained, “infused with essence of winter berries and moonflower.”

“It’s remarkable seeing you out and about,” Uncle Owen commented as Luca took his first careful sip.

Luca’s eyes widened. “This is… incredible! It almost tastes like…” The prince paused, searching for words as the rest of the family enjoyed their feast. The mac and cheese’s aroma was particularly torturous, all truffled decadence and melted gruyere that Luca’s vampire constitution could no longer process.

“Like that chocolate éclair you were eyeing at the café?” Archer suggested, his knowing grin making Luca’s cheeks flush pink.

“I was being subtle about my pastry envy,” the boy mumbled, dabbing his lips with a napkin.

“About as subtle as your territorial display with Isabella,” Sylvie quipped, delicately twirling perfect strands of truffle-laden pasta around her fork.

“I wasn’t being territorial!” Luca protested, though his blush deepened. “I was just… I mean, she was so…”

“Presumptuous?” Archer supplied helpfully, ignoring the kick Ryker aimed at his shin under the table. “What was it you said about her hands and their unfortunate attachment to his arms?”

The staff returned with a parade of side dishes—roasted vegetables glazed with honey and herbs, potato dauphinoise layered with cream and garlic, fresh-baked rolls that steamed when broken open. Luca’s fangs ached just looking at it all.

“Children.” Great Uncle Johnathan’s stern tone held a hint of amusement. “Perhaps we could discuss something other than dismemberment at the dinner table? Though I must say, Luca”—his eyes twinkled—”it’s refreshing to see you taking such an… active interest in social interactions.”

“Indeed,” Owen added, helping himself to more lamb. “Just last week you wouldn’t even join us for movie night, and now you’re defending family honor at the Crystal Palace?”

“He’s finally embracing his inner vampire prince,” Sylvie declared proudly. “You should have seen him put Isabella in her place. All those years of watching anime finally paid off!”

“I still can’t believe you threatened to remove her hands.” Archer grinned, reaching for the mac and cheese that Luca was definitely not staring at longingly. “Very vampire prince of you.”

“I did not threaten—” Luca began, then caught Archer’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, maybe I implied some light dismemberment. But she was being so… clingy!”