Anthony growled beside me, then stepped forward, placing himself between me and them.
"What the hell?" His voice rumbled low with disapproval, his glare sharp. "Why are you both in my house?"
Mrs. Mary only chuckled, her knife tapping against the cutting board as she chopped carrots. Her gaze flicked briefly to me, a sly glint in her eyes. "Good morning, Alciai."
Eric didn't even bother to look impressed. He glanced over, saw us half-dressed, and simply shrugged before turning back to the sizzling pan. "We need to finish before either of you wakes up," he said, as if our presence barely mattered.
Anthony slapped his forehead. I almost did the same, but instead I stared at my bare feet. We really needed to grab some clothes and join them in the kitchen. Something smelled sweet and warm—carrots and whatever was frying in the pan. I wondered what they were celebrating.
