Page 66 of Bellamy

Ah, right.

Simon owned an antique shop. He opened every day at eight o’clock and was only closed on Sundays. I had memorized his schedule when searching for the ring with Asa’s soul trapped inside. That felt like eons ago, when in reality, only a year had passed. Now look at me. I was standing in their kitchen as they pestered each other and set the table.

Gray jogged past, then came to a sudden stop. His big brown eyes peered at me suspiciously. “Hi.”

“Hello,” I said, just as suspiciously.

“I still think you’re a butthead.”

Bellamy quietly chuckled at my side.

“And I’m still mad at you for hurting Mason,” Gray added.

I glanced at the human towering behind Gray—an ex-Marine with a huge chip on his shoulder. That chip seemed to have lessened since the last time I’d seen him. “I’d say he and I are even now. He shot me in the heart.”

“Well, you threatened my husband,” Mason said. “I’d shoot you a million times over.”

Gray smiled and hopped on Mason’s back. The two walked beneath the archway that led into the dining room.

Warrin poured a large mug of coffee before turning from the counter. He always had such a serious expression. Cold, even.

“You’re not gonna eat?” Raiden asked him before shutting off the stovetop burners. There were platters of bacon, pancakes, and scrambled eggs.

That coldness melted a bit as the ice dragon commander subtly smiled. He nodded to the mug in his hands. “This is a bribe for Daman.” His Russian accent was thick as he spoke. “Coffee in the morning makes him less grumpy.”

Bellamy snorted. “He’s such a damn diva.”

“I find it endearing.” Warrin’s smile lingered at the edge of his mouth as he left the kitchen.

“Endearing, he says.” Castor leaned against the counter with a mug of his own. “Daman’s like a feral cat when he first wakes up.” The red-haired Nephilim then looked at me. “Collared like a mutt. Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

“Cas,” Bellamy said, a note of warning in his tone.

“Hey, I’m keeping my hands to myself,” Castor responded. “But my mouth has no filter. You know this.”

“All too well.” Bellamy sighed before guiding me into the dining room.

Breakfast was awkward. Each time I glanced up from my plate, I found one of them staring at me. Raiden quickly looked away when our eyes met, but Castor’s scowl deepened. Gray nibbled a strawberry and stared at me with interest.

“It’s hard to eat with all of you watching me,” I said.

“Then starve.” Castor shrugged.

“Knock it off, Red,” Kyo told him. “You’d flip shit if your brothers treated me the way you’re treating Phoenix.”

“You’re not a backstabbing demon. It’s different.”

Bellamy’s hand curled into a fist beside his plate. “We’ll eat on the patio.” He stood from his chair.

“Bell…” Castor said.

“I don’t expect you to trust him,” Bellamy told his brother. “But I won’t sit here and—”

“Sit back down,” Alastair said, entering the dining room. He took his place at the head of the table and sat with a cup of tea. Then, to Castor he said, “Keep your smart-ass comments to yourself.”

“That’s like asking water not to be wet,” Raiden said. “Or to put a big, juicy cheeseburger in front of me and say I can’t eat it. Smart-ass is Cas’ first language.”

Bellamy retook his seat and put his hand on my thigh. I threaded our fingers together, and he slowly exhaled, letting go of some of his tension.