Greyson arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Just…stand there and look intimidating. It keeps the others from bickering,” she teased, flashing him a quick, mischievous grin.
“I believe I can manage that,” Greyson replied, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching her move around his kitchen like she owned the place.
For the next half hour, the kitchen was a blur of organized chaos. It was the most domestic I’d felt in three hundred years.
Raiden was humming some ancient war song while the bacon sizzled, Nate was whisking eggs with rhythmic intensity, and I was busy making sure the table was set, mostly by sliding the silverware across the marble like I was playing a game of high-stakes poker.
But my eyes kept drifting back to Callie. Every time she reached fo
