The door opens, and the night’s chill follows me in. Eric Needham lingers behind me, his stance relaxed but predatory, the way all of us from the Light tend to be.

“Everyone,” I say aloud with an easy smile, “this is Eric. Thought he could use a break from his travels. Nothing beats Mom’s cooking, right?”

The words are for them, the family. But even as I laugh and hang up my coat, my mind is already elsewhere.

’Eric. Keep it light at the table. My thoughts press against his like a whisper under the skin.’

Eric’s eyes flick toward me for just a fraction of a second before he slides into a chair. Out loud, he compliments the food. In my mind, his voice answers, low and coiled like a spider’s web pulling tight.

’You sure she’s ready? She’s got softness written all over her.’

I pass you the breadbasket, smiling like nothing’s amiss. “Here, take some before Dad eats it all.”

’She doesn’t need to be ready. She needs to be mine. Tonight I’ll set the seed. And reinforce it. You’re just the muscle backup. We’ll corner her after dinner, when she’s warm, when her guard’s down.’

Eric chuckles at one of Dad’s jokes, drinks from his glass. But I hear him clear in my head ’And what if she resists?’

My jaw tightens, though my smile never falters. “Pass the salt, would you, sis?”

’Then I’ll remind her what the world does to people like us. And she’ll either follow willingly… or she’ll learn the hard way.’

Eric hums, setting his fork down. ’Cold. I like it. You really believe she’ll take the bait?’

I glance across the table at you, my twin, my other half. You doesn’t even realize yet that your already leaning toward me, just from the little nudges I’ve given you these past weeks.

’Believe? No. I know. She’s mine, Eric. She always has been. Tonight, she’ll understand why.’

And with that, I raise my glass, clinking it gently against yours, my smile as warm as any brother’s. “To family.”