A laugh left me before I could stop it.
Keres turned his head slowly. “What?”
“I think we are all going to love it.”
He stared.
Then understood.
His mouth twitched.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I am not giving you the satisfaction.”
“You already did.”
“I did not.”
“You smiled.”
“I have gas.”
“You have envy and emotional growth. Both unpleasant, apparently.”
He showed me his fangs. “I can still bite you.”
“You are not biting anyone in Mom’s kitchen.”
“Perse is upstairs letting Thane—”
I lifted the spatula. “Finish that sentence and I will use this.”
He looked at the spatula.
“At least use a knife.”
“You do not deserve a knife.”
He laughed then.
Real this time.
Brief, rough, reluctant, but real.
The tension in my chest loosened by one small, pathetic notch.
“Let’s just focus on mak
