“Um…” Somehow, Danny didn’t think Daddy would be happy to hear that. “Mommy says it’s not nice to fight people, anyway.”
Daddy snorted. “‘Mommy’ isn’t a lion.” He pointed at a car—a real nice car, sleek and low and so shiny Danny could see his own face in the bright red paint. “Here we are.”
Danny’s eyes widened. “Wow! Is this really yours, Daddy? It’s like a real-life racing car!”
“It is a real-life racing car.” Daddy looked happier, his tight shoulders easing down. “Bet your so-called alpha doesn’t have one like it. In you get. We’re going for a ride.”
Thrilled, Danny climbed into the leather passenger seat—then hesitated. “Daddy, there’s no booster seat.”
“So?” Daddy slid behind the wheel. “There’s a seat belt.”
Danny squirmed, torn between his desire to ride in the amazing car and dutiful obedience to Mommy’s repeated safety warnings. “I’m not allowed to ride without a booster seat. It’s against the law.”
“Human law.” Daddy snorted again. “We’re lions. We make our own laws. Now buckle up.”
Simba nudged him, wordlessly urging him to obey the bigger lion. Danny didn’t need much persuasion. He happily clicked his seat belt shut. “Where are we going, Daddy?”
The car roared like an animal as Daddy started the engine. “It’s a surprise.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Griff
“You have been pining all day,” John announced without preamble, barging into Griff’s room without knocking first. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not pining,” Griff said, without looking round. He lay on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m resting.”
“‘Resting’ involves taking care of your body, oath-brother. You are pining.” John thumped a tray down onto Griff’s bedside table. “I have made you nourishing soup. By boiling things.”
From the smell that hit Griff’s nostrils, John had made soup by boiling all the things. “Thanks. But I’m not hungry.”
John hummed, ominously. Griff rolled over to see the sea dragon glaring at him with narrowed eyes, the mysterious soup rising up out of the bowl like a cobra.
*You will feed yourself,* John said telepathically, as tendrils of soup wove around his outstretched hand. *Or I will feed you.*
Faced with the prospect of having terrible soup magically forced into his bodily orifices, Griff sat up quickly. “Ah…on second thought, I’m starving. Need more than soup. Would you be offended if I made myself a sandwich?”
*I would be delighted if you made yourself a sandwich.* John didn’t stop humming as he followed Griff to the kitchen, the soup coiling around his wrist like a monstrous snake. *I will keep the soup ready, though. Just in case you lose your appetite.*
Griff shot him a level look as he started slicing bread. “John. Did you make terrible soup on purpose?”
*I do not follow your meaning,* John sent, his blue eyes as wide and tranquil as a tropical lagoon. *I am just a simple sea dragon who does not understand your strange land ways. Eat your sandwich.*
Griff shook his head ruefully, but complied. John waited until he’d swallowed the last bite before letting the reeking soup slide off his hand and down the drain.
“There,” the sea dragon shifter said, sounding pleased. “Now you have fortified yourself. Restored in body, you are prepared to steel your soul and face your destiny.”
“What destiny?” Griff said suspiciously.
John slid Griff’s cellphone across the kitchen table.
Griff looked at it. “My destiny involves the phone.”
“Your destiny involves your mate.” John pointed at the phone. “Call her.”
Griff groaned, rubbing his palms over his face. “John…”
“More terrible soup,” John rumbled, “could be made.”