My five-year-old son, Reed, elbowed me in the nose with a scaly arm as he shouted in victory. His other arm was over my throat, pinning me down.
I laughed, giving him a minute to enjoy his win before I dragged him down to the grass for more wrestling.
Reed fought with everything he had, and after another long battle, I finally surrendered.
Our mates called us over for lunch after some more wrestling, and we towed the complaining kids over to the table of food we’d hauled out to the lake.
Everyone grabbed plates and sat down wherever they wanted, the kids all mingling like the best friends they were. The next generation of kings and queens would grow up united, and we were all fucking proud of that.
I scooped Lila out of Avery’s arms and plopped a kiss on her cheek, making her squeal and laugh. She babbled at me, and I talked with her as if I could understand what she was saying while Avery grabbed her food.
Avery sat next to me a few minutes later, and I set our wiggly little siren down so she could eat with us. Then, I pulled my mate in for a kiss.
She broke it off with a smile, her eyes bright and clear. “That was quite the loss a few minutes ago, Tal. I’m not sure whether to be ashamed of you, or proud of Reed.”
“I’ll start training more,” I agreed.
She laughed, and kissed me again.
“Get a room!” one of Porter and Izzy’s sons, Terren, yelled before he tossed a roll at us. It collided with the side of Avery’s face before falling to the ground.
“Terren,” Izzy threatened, lifting a finger in warning.
Avery grabbed the roll off the grass and threw it back at the punk. He dodged it and laughed loudly before his dad wrestled him back down with a grin. His brothers gave another round of battle cries before jumping back into the war.
Life was pretty damn insane—but it was perfect.
I absolutely loved it.
And I wouldn’t have changed anything, even if I could.
