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“Saint–” I pin him with a look.
“He needs an outlet. I’ve been in that place before, and the ring helped me,” Saint replies, shooting a look at Felix that says, ‘stop spilling my secrets’.
Maybe it would help Sin to fight, maybe he would stop seeking pain in other ways. “Thank you.”
Flipping the pancake onto the waiting plate, I slide it to the spot next to Austin, who has been devouring me with his eyes since both of them came into the room. Felix abandons me for the stack of carbs, and I pour a few more into the pan.
When Austin finishes his plate, he comes around the island and rinses it off before putting it into the dishwasher. So thoughtful. Sin would have left it on the other side of the island for someone else–me–to clean up.
His large palm lands on my hip, and he leans over my shoulder. “I don’t have any meetings this morning. I’ll come along to watch your vengeance.”
“Probably for the best. Forewarned is forearmed after all,” I quip.
He nips the side of my neck in warning, and it sends a shockwave to settle in my belly. “I’m not afraid of you, princess,” he says, adding more softly, “Not in that way anyway.”
I want to examine the words and pull them apart. What is he afraid of? Of course I’d never actually hurt him physically; he can be a prickly asshole sometimes, but the only thing he’s ever done is spank me in a way I want to be spanked. So that doesn’t count.
“Pancakes are ready to flip,” he tells me.
I offer the spatula to him. “You want to take over?”
“Please, no, he isn’t the best with pancakes,” Saint answers for him.
Austin huffs out a laugh that flows over my skin, telling me there is more to that story. “That was one time, Saint.”
“Once is enough.”
“Agreed,” Felix says, his mouth full.
“What happened?” Curiosity has a smile playing on my lips as I glance between the two that will tell me the story. And Austin buries his face in my neck, attempting to distract me from my question.
“So, it was a Saturday morning at his family’s house,” Saint begins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Felix and I were just minding our own business when Austin got the brilliant idea to make pancakes for breakfast.”
Felix chimes in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Oh yeah, it was a sight to behold. Austin fancied himself a bit of a gourmet chef back then, before he realized cooking wasn’t for him.”
Austin groans into my neck. His kisses pause as he listens to his pack tell the story.
Saint nods, continuing the story. “So, he rolls up his sleeves, grabs a mixing bowl, and starts whisking away. Meanwhile, Felix and I are just watching, not wanting to ruin his culinary dreams.”
Felix adds, “Yeah, we figured, ‘How bad could it be, right?’”
“But here’s where things took a turn for the ridiculous,” Saint continues, trying not to burst into laughter. “Austin adds a little ‘flavor’ to his pancakes and pulls out a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet.”
“Bourbon, it was bourbon,” Austin says against my neck, sending goosebumps chasing each other down my back.
Felix leans over the kitchen island and whispers like he is imparting a secret, “Now, we’re not talking about a dash of vanilla extract. No, he pours a generous glug of bourbon into the pancake batter.”
Saint can’t hold back his laughter any longer and erupts into adorable giggles, with Felix joining in. After a moment, they compose themselves and continue the story.
“So, Austin pours the boozy batter onto a sizzling hot griddle,” Felix says, shaking his head. “The kitchen instantly fills with this weird, smoky aroma. And then, the pancakes flame up like they’re auditioning for a circus act!”
Saint chuckles, “It was like a fiery pancake rebellion happening right before our eyes. Flames were dancing on the griddle, and we were just standing there, mouths agape.”
Felix nods. “Exactly! And while Austin was panicking, he accidentally knocked the bottle of bourbon off the counter, and it shattered on the floor. Now, we have a flaming griddle, a bourbon-soaked kitchen, and a very alarmed Austin.”
I smile, picturing the scene in my head. A younger Austin, who hadn't yet gained the rough edges and had been taught not to trust omegas, comes to mind.
“That’s when Felix and I did the only sensible thing we could think of–we grabbed the fire extinguisher. Austin was frantically waving a kitchen towel at the flames while we sprayed foam all over the place.” Saint shakes his head with a wide grin pulling at his lips.
