“But you’re my daddy,” Rafe said with a sly smile as he stabbed his fork into the pancake and stuffed it into his mouth.
“He’s impossible.” Viktor rolled his eyes.
“The humans say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Greyson smiled as he took a seat at the table.
“I intentionally saved you, wolf. But believe me, you were more like an accident,” Viktor said. “Put in human terms. You’re the result of a weak pullout game.”
“He’s such a caring father.” Rafe smirked at Greyson and then to Viktor. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Believe me, you have a cake walk compared to our sire, so stop complaining.” Viktor listened for Waverly. While she walked softly, he detected her footsteps. “Please attempt to act civilized around Waverly. She’s not used to all this paranormal stuff.”
“This should be interesting,” Greyson replied.
“I’m not sayin’ nothin’.” Rafe shrugged.
“Keep your clothes on,” Viktor ordered.
“She might see something she likes.” Rafe held a sausage up in the air and took a bite.
“She already has,” Viktor shot back.
“Poor sap here doesn’t realize he’s bonding with her.” Greyson laughed. “I suppose it’s inevitable.”
“She’s your mate? Did you claim her?” Rafe asked.
“Claim her?” Greyson laughed. “He hasn’t even bit her yet.”
“Enough. She’s coming. Just, uh, just act normal.” Viktor shook his head, aware none of them were capable of such a thing.
“Two vampires and a wolf walked into a bar—” Greyson began.
“Enough. Now play nice.” Viktor’s chest tightened as she walked into the room. Her long curly blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, a contrast to the black sweater she wore.
“Morning,” Waverly said with a shy smile. She smoothed her hands over her jeans. “Thanks for the clothes.”
“You look beautiful as always.” Viktor stepped toward her, resisting the urge to take her in his arms.
“You were gone when I woke up.” She looked to Rafe who nodded at her, shoving another fork full of pancakes into his mouth.
“Hey,” he managed, his speech garbled while he chewed.
“Hello.” Greyson stood and bowed slightly, his eyes never leaving the human. “I apologize for the way we met last night. I wasn’t aware my brother had found his—”
Viktor shook his head, his lips pursed tight. Do not say it.
“His, uh…human. And you are a lovely human.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice uncertain. “You are a lovely…um, vampire.”
“Please. Eat.” Viktor gestured to the kitchen table and looked to Greyson. “Would you like—”
“A café au lait.” His brother pointed to the breakfast spread. “Omelet? Pancake? Grits?”
“I could use some caffeine and maybe a pastry.” She reached for the carafe. “Who can resist a croissant?”
“Told you.” Greyson glanced at Viktor then turned to Waverly. “You’re going to need sustenance today. We must look at this painting and find out who’s doing this to you.”
“We?” she asked.
“Yes,” Viktor replied, still unsure if he’d racked up the right dream team. “Rafe is my pupil. This will serve as a training of sorts. My brother will help with the art. Help keep an eye on things.”
“Make sure things don’t go to Hell.” Greyson nodded.
“None of us are going to Hell,” Viktor said. Distracted by the food, he studied the plate of pastries, attempting to recall their taste. He reached for a chocolate éclair and sniffed it.
“You touched it. Now, you have to eat it,” Rafe insisted.
Viktor sighed and sat next to Waverly. He looked around the table and supposed this was the closest thing to family he’d ever experienced. His child, a wolf hybrid. Two ancient vampires and a human. All from different parts of the world, all coming together for a purpose.
They ate in silence, exchanging an occasional glance as if knowing darkness was coming. Viktor never shied away from a challenge. Finding the owner of the painting would lead them to answers.
He considered the very essence of what brought them together. Food, the epitome of the human existence. It represented everything Baxter had beaten out of him.
Viktor looked to the pastry he held in his hand. The life he’d resisted all these years had been summed up in the éclair. Temptation loomed as Waverly glanced at him, a flirty smile melting his heart.
By denying himself love, food, every single last thing that made him human, Viktor had let Baxter win. But no more. As he bit down into the éclair, savoring the sweet chocolate and cream, he reclaimed his humanity. Baxter would no longer hold rein on him from beyond the grave.
“That can’t be possible,” Waverly insisted.
“It is indeed,” Greyson said with confidence. “I was there after she’d created it. This painting appears real.”
“But you couldn’t have…” Her words trailed into silence, and she briefly closed her eyes, attempting to regain her composure.
“Old dudes,” Rafe commented.
“I prefer ancient.” Greyson shot him a look of disdain.
“I prefer newbie vamps keep their fangs up and lips closed.” Viktor studied the painting and pointed to the raised area. “Can you remove this spot here?”
“Well, of course, I can just tear it open, but that’s probably not a great idea,” Greyson said.
“Tear it open? Are you serious? This is a relic. A valuable piece of art.” Waverly pressed the tips of her fingers to her forehead. “This cannot be happening.”
Viktor ran his finger over the painting. A jagged mound of paint edged a corner of its canvas. “Yeah, it’s definitely not paint.”
“You shouldn’t touch it,” Waverly insisted. “There’s something in here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s not just extra paint,” Greyson said.
“I just don’t understand why someone would do this to this painting.” She leaned in closer, examining it with a lens up to her eye. “It could be anything. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to hide something in a painting, or maybe they tried to fix it, and it clumped. It happens. People don’t know how valuable a painting is, so they attempt to repair it. They use glue. Extra paint. Here. The paint is a slightly different hue of blue. It’s a very good job. Just a subtle difference, but it’s not the same color. If we had time, I could date it exactly.”
“Time is something we don’t have,” Viktor said. “We’re protected in my house, but we can’t stay holed up here forever.”
“I don’t have all the proper tools,” she explained. “I just wish I’d already done an x-ray. For all we know there could be another layer of paint underneath this one. It’s not uncommon. Just a few years ago they discovered another painting under a Picasso.”
Rafe approached the painting, sidling up next to Waverly. Viktor watched intently as he sniffed the air. He leaned toward the painting, hovering his nose over its surface.