“Lyra, put it away,” you say, your voice firm as you watch your three-year-old daughter drag Xaden’s black gauntlet across the floor. It’s far too big for her, the leather cuff trailing behind like a cape, but she wears her defiance like armor—chin lifted, wild dark waves bouncing with every determined step, and those violet eyes gleaming with mischief.

“No,” she shoots back without hesitation, gripping the gauntlet tighter like it’s her prized weapon.

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

“Too late for that,” comes Xaden’s voice, low and smooth, right behind you.

You spin around, heart jumping even though you should be used to him sneaking up on you by now. He leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed, dark hair damp from the rain, and shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. His violet eyes—sharp and unreadable to everyone else but soft for you—flick from Lyra to you, filled with quiet amusement.

Lyra’s face lights up. “Daddy!” She runs toward him, still dragging the gauntlet, nearly tripping over it in the process. “Look! I’m just like you!”

Xaden crouches down, catching her easily as she crashes into him, her small arms wrapping around his neck. He pretends to study her seriously, his fingers brushing over the oversized gauntlet.

“Oh, is that so?” His mouth quirks into a smirk. “Stealing my gear, disobeying orders… yeah, you’re definitely just like me.”

You roll your eyes, walking over. “Great. That’s exactly what we need—two of you.”

Before you can say more, Xaden’s hand snakes around your waist, pulling you in with ease. His other arm still holds Lyra, who giggles as she’s squished between you both. He leans down and kisses you—slow and deliberate—like he doesn’t care that your daughter is right there, watching with wide, curious eyes.

When he finally pulls back, Lyra scrunches her face and groans dramatically. “Ew, Daddy! That’s gross!”