Page 76 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

Two weeks later…

Please let this not be Franken-dinner , she thought.

“I can do this. I can totally… do this.”

Just as she plunged her ladle into the sauce, male voices percolated down at the front door.

“Upstairs, yeah?”

“Yup,” Dev answered her twin. “And then everything else in the basement. She wants to clean her weapons on the second-story porch so they don’t stink up the house.”

Heavy footfalls boomed an ascent up the stairs, and she looked overhead to follow the creaking of floorboards as the males made their way to the corner room that faced the back view.

She imagined the two of them chatting back and forth about something, nothing, anything, as they unpacked the gunmetal that had recently come into her life.

Refocusing on her pan, she put a ladle’s worth of sauce on the bottom to help things not stick, then she started laying out the noodles shoulder to shoulder, just like her granmahmen always had.

“Her weapons” was certainly a new phrase, at least as it related to Lyric.

But she’d been learning all kinds of things in the Brotherhood’s training center, like how to shoot a handgun, a rifle, and a shotgun, or throw a grenade, or fight with a knife or with only her hands.

She didn’t know where it was all leading, and if she was honest, she didn’t see herself out in the alleys, hunting for lessers .

Not with Lash knowing who she was, not with the chance of her running across him. If the head of the Lessening Society got ahold of his seriously estranged son’s mate? Yeah, nobody needed to think about that outcome.

Still, she was getting physically stronger, mentally tougher, and more secure in herself.

She hadn’t figured out what she was going to do long-term, but she was already helping her mahmen amplify her Etsy business with some good social media engagement.

After all, she was well familiar with how the algorithms worked, and whaddya know.

Using what she’d learned for a higher purpose, to help Luchas House and Safe Place?

Made her feel good.

“Okay, next…” As her voice trailed off, she went for the plate of shredded soft cheese. “It’s the mozzarella and then the cottage cheese.”

No ricotta. Her father Qhuinn was not a ricotta guy, and she was making this especially for him—

“Are you sure you guys want to do this?”

She looked up at her grandfather. Rocke had just come out of the bedroom, his hair wet from a fresh shower, his flannel shirt pressed, his khakis, the same.

As he settled himself onto the stool in front of her, Lyric’s heart ached for him.

He was having a hard time of it, which was not unexpected.

All those years of a happy mating? For godsakes, she and Dev hadn’t even been together for a month and she would be utterly lost without him. After a hundred years or more?

“We’re very sure,” she said with a smile as she glanced out toward the hearth.

The beautiful cloisonné urn that contained her granmahmen ’s ashes sat in a position of honor in the center of the mantel, right under a photograph of the gazebo and the pond that had been enlarged and framed.

They’d had a beautiful celebration of life last week, and everyone from their little community had come.

Seeing all the people standing around, hearing stories and sharing laughter and tears, had been a reminder of how supported they all were—and she had caught Dev standing off to the side, staring over the males and females with a banked expression of humble surprise.

It was as if he had been alone for so long, he’d forgotten what being in a crowd of family was like. Or… perhaps he had never known that closeness, and didn’t that make her glad he was with all of them.

“Well, I’m happy you’re here,” Rocke said. “You two fill the house up. But I don’t want you to think you have to take care of me.”

Lyric started on her next layer, working with the noodles again. “Oh, I promise it’s not that. He and I want to live together, and your basement is perfect for us. We’re grateful you’re taking us in.”

And okay, sure, fine, it was a little to take care of her grandfather.

He’d lost some weight, and though he was resolutely composed in the old school way of things, the dark bags under his eyes were the telltale that he was not sleeping during the day.

She also had the feeling he just wandered around a lot, going from room to room, no doubt reliving happier times.

They kept finding cans of Coke or half-eaten sandwiches or books that were cracked open in all these odd places in the house.

Like he kept trying to find a place to settle, and never quite got one.

The truth was, they’d all been a little worried about him, and with her and Dev here to keep an eye on the male? It was a good thing, all the way around—

More voices percolated down from the front entrance, and Rocke turned to the sounds with a happy flush, his eyes lighting up.

Yup , she thought as she went for more sauce. This is a very good thing .

Xcor and her mahmen came into the family room first, and Qhuinn and Blay were right behind them.

The quartet were speaking in a rapid-fire doubles match, completing each others’ sentences, skipping from subject to subject, and she had to grin.

She’d grown up with them like this, and recognized that she was lucky.

Her family wasn’t just blended, it was a damn smoothie.

“Lyric! You’re doing so well!” Layla came around and inspected what she had made so far. “It’s perfect—”

Xcor swooped in for a hug. “Absolutely, and I’m ready to eat—”

“Just like my mahmen would have done,” Blay tacked on as he got misty.

While the comment registered, there was a moment of silence, and it was like that now. From time to time, someone would say something, or point at a picture, or mention the way the moon draped the gazebo in gentle, wintery light—and the quiet would come as the elder Lyric was remembered.

“I can’t wait to have some,” Qhuinn added softly.

As Lyric’s own eyes welled up, she hugged him and then brushed her tears away with the inside of her forearm. “She always made it for you. And now, I will.”

It was what she had promised, after all. And she was a female who kept to her word.

“—say goodbye to my sister.”

Rhamp entered while talking over his shoulder, and in response to the announcement, he received one big frown from everybody.

“You’re not staying?” Lyric asked.

“Nah, I’ve got plans I can’t change.”

As their eyes met, a sliver of unease rippled through her. “I thought you were off schedule tonight.”

“Training.” He came around and gave her a hug. Softly, in her ear, he whispered, “You worry too much.”

While he said goodbye to everybody else, she zipped her lip and got busy again with the lasagna.

She had a bad feeling about whatever her brother was doing, and it made her think about the aftermath of everything that had happened on Lake George.

She and Dev had been honest with everybody, especially the King and the Brotherhood, about who he really was, who his parents were.

She hadn’t been sure whether or not she would be banished, but Wrath, the great Blind King, had stared at Dev for the longest time.

And then he had nodded once, and that was done. Her mate was accepted.

Well, and maybe Rhamp’s testimony about what had happened when she’d been shot had something to do with it. Her twin had been clear that without Dev, she wouldn’t be here.

Go figure, that had opened a lot of minds and hearts—and so had the fact that she’d put her life on the line for L.W.

Glancing up again, she looked down to the front door. Dev was coming in with another box just as Rhamp hit the threshold. There was a pause as they talked, and then the two males embraced, clapping each other on the back. She was glad to see their closeness.

When the time came, maybe Dev could help her talk some sense into the fighter.

After Rhamp stepped out, Dev shut the door and came down to the kitchen.

As he went along, he peeled that construction jacket of his off his heavy shoulders, and she had to smile as he hung it on a peg next to her grandfather’s parka.

Everyone greeted him, and while he returned the hi-hello’s, his eyes were only on her.

His beautiful blue eyes… that had lost the black rim around the iris.

As he came over to her, and dropped his head for a kiss, she leaned into him, keeping her messy hands out of range like she was a surgeon.

“Everything’s inside,” he said as he straightened. “We can sort it after Last Meal. Oh, and Fritz wants to come pick up the van, but there’s no need. I can take it back—”

Instant silence, all the way around, to the point where he looked up in alarm. “I’m… sorry?” he hedged.

While Lyric tried to find the right words, Qhuinn spoke into the shocked silence. “Listen, son, you’ve been doing great. I mean, really. Taking care of our girl, moving her things—”

Xcor cut in with, “You’re a good sparring partner.”

“Always willing to lend a hand,” Rocke murmured from his spot on the stool. “And you’re a Jets fan, no matter how hard that is.”

“Very respectful,” Layla added. “Lovely manners.”

Blay nodded. “A good listener, too.”

“And we trust you,” Lyric concluded. Which, given the circumstances, was everything.

“Buuuuuuuut…” Dev intoned.

Over at the refrigerator, Qhuinn dipped in and came out with a beer. As he brought the Sam Adams across to Dev, he popped the cap with an opener.

“Here’s the deal.” Her sire handed the bottle over. “There’s one thing you cannot do in our little world, one thing that’s right under treason against the King in terms of the fuck-around-and-find-out. Am I clear?”

“Yeah,” Dev said. “Yeah, totally. Just tell me what it is.”

The answer came from all corners of the kitchen: “You don’t—”

“—don’t help the—”

“—the butler—”

“— ever .”

They all said it at once. And for a moment, Dev lifted a brow like surely this was a joke and the pause that followed was for the punchline.

“Never ever,” Lyric said. “It’ll make him cry and you won’t get over that. Trust us. That’s a nightmare you do not want to volunteer for.”

There was all kinds of muttering agreement, with everybody shaking their heads ruefully as personal memories of the one mistake made clearly haunted the assembled.

“Wow,” Dev murmured as he lifted his lager in salute. “Well, even though it feels rude as hell, I will not help the butler.”

The clapping and approvals burst out, and Dev shrugged, all when-in-Rome.

As conversation re-bubbled and Lyric set about finishing her layers, her mate fell into talk with Qhuinn and Xcor, the three males becoming instantly animated as they discussed who was making it into the Super Bowl.

Then there was Blay, who was chatting with Layla, the Chosen nodding and gesturing with her elegant hands, and finally, Lyric’s grandfather, sitting on his stool with a banked half smile, like he was getting a break from his mourning.

It was all so beautifully… normal. So perfectly ordinary.

So sublimely non-dramatic. Which didn’t mean there weren’t stressors.

For sure, the war and the plot against the King loomed as always in the background, and then there was whatever crap her twin was getting himself into.

But this right here, all of them together in the house, a lasagna about to go in the oven, people talking and laughing?

This was what she had always remembered and loved about this home, this family… this Sunday night Last Meal—

And that was when Lyric saw her granmahmen .

Over by the hearth, in the glow of the warm fire, the female was standing off to the side, wearing one of her handmade flowered dresses, her short hair tucked behind her ears, her carriage straight and proper, as it had always been.

Instantly, tears sprung to Lyric’s eyes, but she got with the program, tilting the now-heavy lasagna-filled pan in that direction so her namesake could inspect it. In response, the elder Lyric beamed and gave a round of silent clapping. Then her granmahmen nodded at Dev and smiled in a knowing way.

“You were right about him,” Lyric whispered.

“Right about what?” Dev said.

Jerking to attention, she lowered the pan back down onto the counter and glanced at Dev. When she looked to the hearth once again, the apparition was gone. Ah… but the presence remained. Her granmahmen was all over this house and always would be, for however long the rest of them were here.

And knowing the female, she might well haunt whoever moved in later, may that be many, many, many years in the future.

Dev frowned. “Lyric? Are you okay?”

“I love you,” she managed to choke out.

Emotion bloomed on his face and especially in his eyes… a reflection of what he felt in his heart, down to his soul. “And I love you. Always.”

As Lyric took a long, deep, easy breath, she smiled up at her mate and plunged her fingertips into the tub of parmesan.

Making it snow over the top of the lasagna she’d made for the very first time, she said, “Everything turned out all right. In the end… everything’s worked out, just as it should.”