12
The Etsy Mafia Empire
Morning light filtered through the velvet drapes, painting golden stripes across the tangled mess of limbs and blankets that had become our sleeping arrangement. I was warm—almost too warm, sandwiched between Lucien's furnace-like body and Azrael's cool presence—but I couldn't bring myself to move. The weight of them around me was a comfort I hadn't known I needed until it became my new normal.
Lucien's arm was draped over my waist, his face buried in my hair, his breathing slow and even. Azrael's fingers were still intertwined with mine, his golden eyes closed in something that looked almost like sleep—though I suspected demons didn't actually need rest. Selene had migrated during the night and was now curled against my other side, her dark hair fanned across my pillow. And Darius—
I turned my head and found him exactly where he'd been when I fell asleep: the chair by the window, his silver eyes openand watchful, a book resting in his lap that he didn't appear to have been reading.
"Good morning," I murmured, my voice rough with sleep.
"Good morning." His lips curved in that faint, rare smile. "You slept well."
"I had good company." I stretched carefully, trying not to disturb the others. "Did you stay there all night?"
"Vampires don't need sleep. And I wanted to watch over you." He paused, his expression softening. "After last night, I needed to be certain you were safe."
My heart squeezed. "I'm safe. I'm here. Thanks to all of you."
One by one, the others began to stir. Lucien grumbled something incoherent and pulled me closer, his nose pressing against my neck. Azrael's eyes opened, golden and luminous, and he pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. Selene stretched like a cat, her emerald eyes sparkling with morning mischief.
"Breakfast," she announced. "I'm starving. And we have things to discuss."
"Things?" I asked.
"Things." She exchanged a glance with Darius, and something passed between them—a silent communication I was starting to recognize. "Official things. Family things."
An hour later, showered and dressed and fortified with coffee and pastries, we gathered in the study that adjoined Darius's office. It was a smaller, more intimate space than the grand library—dark wood paneling, leather armchairs, a fireplace that crackled with cheerful flames. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with ledgers and legal texts and a surprising number of first editions. The windows overlooked the manor's back gardens, where Selene's magical plants thrived in neat, orderly rows.
Darius sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his posture impeccable, his silver eyes moving between us with the careful attention of a general surveying his troops. Selene perched on the arm of his chair, her hand resting casually on his shoulder. Lucien leaned against the fireplace, arms crossed, his amber eyes watchful. Azrael settled into an armchair near the window, his golden gaze soft but attentive.
And I sat in the center of it all, in a chair that felt suspiciously like a throne.
"You've been with us for several weeks now," Darius began, his voice carrying that note of quiet authority that made everyone listen. "In that time, you've survived a kidnapping, learned the basics of magic, and—" His lips twitched. "—thoroughly disrupted every aspect of our carefully ordered lives."
"I prefer to think of it as 'creative chaos management,'" I said.
"Regardless." He leaned forward, his expression serious. "You've proven yourself. Not just to us, but to the household. The staff respects you. The hellhounds adore you—"
"Cerb and Styx are excellent judges of character."
"—and you've demonstrated a remarkable ability to adapt to our world." He paused, and something shifted in his silver eyes. "We've discussed it, all of us. We want to make your position here official."
I blinked. "Official how?"
Selene smiled, bright and warm. "You've been our guest. Our stray. Our aggressively adopted human. But you're more than that now, darling. You're family. And family contributes."
"Contributes," I repeated slowly. "As in... to the family business?"
"Exactly." Darius opened a leather-bound ledger and turned it to face me. The pages were filled with neat columnsof numbers—income, expenses, investments—all written in his precise handwriting. "We have legitimate business interests that serve as fronts for our less... conventional operations. Art galleries. Import-export companies. Real estate holdings. But we've been looking for something new. Something that would benefit from your particular skills."
I stared at the ledger, my mind racing. "My skills? I'm a marketing manager who accidentally stumbled into a supernatural crime family. What skills could I possibly—"
"Creativity," Azrael said softly. "Organization. An eye for aesthetics." His golden eyes met mine. "You transformed this manor from a cold, lifeless space into something warm and inviting. You have a gift for making things beautiful."
"Chaos," Lucien added, and when I glanced at him, his amber eyes were warm. "You're unpredictable. That's valuable in our world. Keeps our enemies guessing."
"And you're human," Selene finished. "Genuinely, unambiguously human. That's rarer in our world than you might think. It gives you a perspective we lack."
