Page 39 of Monster Daddies

So she's going to be hungry when she wakes up from her nap, and if I can't figure out the bond or buy her more years on this damned planet, I can at least fix her a plate of food. Right?

Problem is... I haven't ever had to cook anything.

Jodrick's in the same boat.

"She likes eggs," he says, holding up a carton with a befuddled expression.

"She also likes not getting salmonella," I mutter, snatching it from him. "Where the hell's the butter?"

He opens the wrong cabinet. Then the fridge. Then the drawer. "Why do humans have so many storage units in one room?"

I finally find the butter, stab it into the pan, and realize we didn't get the bread ready. "Toast," I mutter. "We need toast."

"She likes it thick-cut and golden," Jodrick says, moving toward the loaf on the counter with a determined expression on his face.

"Great. Go whisper sweet nothings to the bread while I figure out how the hell to use this damn pan."

It's not as easy as she makes it look.

The eggs go into the pan early.

Then they stick.

The cheese clumps, and one of the yolks breaks. I hiss under my breath like it personally betrayed me as I stare at it, willing it to just... I don't know… fix itself.

I hate this. I hate how my claws are too big, and how I can't even manage a simple breakfast for my mate.

And more than anything? I hate how soft and damn squishy I'm being.

"Flip it?" Jodrick offers, hovering like he might jump in and take over.

"It's not a fucking pancake."

He holds his hands up in surrender. "Maybe we should have done pancakes instead."

I grunt.

"At least it doesn't smell bad, even if it doesn't look pretty," he says as we're plating the Frankenstein egg on toast to the best of our abilities.

That's when I hear it. Soft footfalls pad across the tile.

I turn around, eager to get my first look at her.

Avalon stands there in a nightshirt that's way too big, hair sleep-mussed, face crinkled from the pillow, and eyes barely open. She looks like something from a dream.

"Hi," she says, voice raspy. Her eyes land on the plate, then us, and her smile turns warm, sleepy, and stunned. "Did you two make me cheesy egg toast?"

Jodrick beams. I scowl.

"It's edible," I say gruffly. "Probably."

She crosses the kitchen and kisses my cheek without hesitation, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Thank you, Daddy."

Then she turns to Jodrick, kisses him, too. "This looks good," she fibs.

Something dangerous swells in my chest. Something that tastes like happiness.

"Now I need to taste it and see if it lives up to its expectations," she teases, climbing up onto the counter.