I grinned wickedly, but before I could tell her, I was interrupted by a banging on our bedroom door. “Mommy!” our oldest daughter, Tempest, shouted. “Draven ate all of my cookies!” Then she stomped her foot on the ground like only a wronged six-year-old could do.

“That boy,” Amaia sighed, shaking her head. “His consort better be able to bake if she’s going to be able to handle his sweet tooth.”

“Or learn to cook for himself,” I chuckled. When it came to our children and their magic, we had strict rules about what they could use it for. We wanted them to be self-sufficient without it. However, our eight-year-old son was too clever for his own good. He often found loopholes…such as eating his sister’s cookies, rather than making them himself.

A sniffle from the hallway tugged at my heartstrings. I hated it when any of my girls cried.

“Those were for my school treat,” she said in a watery voice.

“Oh, dear,” Amaia said, her tone sympathetic. “She was so excited.” Then she called out, “I’ll be right there, baby.”

Today was the first day of the school year for our children. Two years ago, an unmated female daywalker had moved into a house down the block. She’d become a schoolteacher a couple of centuries ago, and when she found out there were so many of us in this area, all homeschooling, she put forth the idea of creating a school for “nocturnal” families. We’d all loved the idea and had donated enough money to buy and renovate an old building and pay her salary for at least a decade.

The kids had flipped when they found out, and though she didn’t show it to anyone else, I knew my consort had been a little sad at their enthusiasm to be away from her. But I’d gently explained that it was more about being cooped up inside and being able to see their friends and cousins every day. Then I cheered her up with my mouth between her legs.

They were all starting their second year in the new school, and our very dramatic kids believed the first day set the tone for the rest of the year.

“I’d better get up and help them get ready.” Amaia pushed at me gently, and I reluctantly flopped onto my back. I exhaled heavily, trying to talk my cock into relaxing.

Watching my wife’s round hips and naked ass sway as she walked to the closet did not help the situation. After a minute, I sat up and got out of bed. With a flick of my wrist, I was clean and dressed in a pair of jeans and a white, fitted T-shirt.

Amaia stepped into the room wearing yoga pants and a long tank top that hung loose enough around her middle and hips so that she could keep wearing it as the bump in her stomach grew. She was only six months along, but she was bigger this time around. I wanted her to see Dr. Wright about it, but she kept insisting it was because she was eating more with this pregnancy.

It was complete bullshit since daywalkers stopped aging in their early to mid-thirties. And, though we were not predators by nature, our bodies were still made to entice, so we were frozen in our most appealing forms. However, for the time being, I let her live in her little fantasy, but I kept a close eye on her.

“Cheater,” she mumbled as she took in my appearance.

I laughed and padded over to my beautiful mate. “I’m over half a century old. I don’t have rules when it comes to my magic,” I teased with a wink.

“No,” she huffed. “But I’m trying to set a good example.”

“You are a perfect role model for our kids, darling.” I gave her a soft, slow kiss before grasping her hand and leading her to our bedroom door. Before I opened it, I said, “I’ll deal with our little cookie thief if you handle Tempest.”

Amaia snorted and rolled her eyes. “You just don’t want to see your baby girl cry.”

I shrugged and didn’t bother to deny it. “Nope.”

She giggled, and we opened the door, ready to face the day.

An hour later, I crouched on the front porch with my girls.

“Have a wonderful day, sweetheart,” I said as I kissed Tempest’s cheek. Then I did the same to our three-year-old, Elora.

“Bye, Daddy!” they called as they ran down the drive to the Town Car where our driver was waiting to take them to school.

“See ya, Dad!” Draven went running by me, but I caught his collar and brought him around to face me.

I stared at him until he sighed. “Fine. I won’t eat anymore of her class treats.”

When I raised an eyebrow, he groaned and shuffled his feet. “And I won’t take anything from my sisters’ lunches.”


Tags: Fiona Davenport Paranormal
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