Chapter 18: Breakfast of Champions
The dining room had transformed sometime between the night's exertions and the morning's chaos. Someone—probably Calista, with her eye for the theatrical—had dragged in extra chairs, pulled the heavy oak table to the center of the space, and laid out a spread that could have fed a small army. Golden-plated cutlery caught the light of the enchanted lanterns. A towering stack of pancakes sat at the center, each one dusted with cinnamon that shimmered like captured stardust.
The air smelled of bacon fat and ripe mango. Of coffee and something faintly arcane.
Katrina stood in the doorway, wrapped in one of Casey's oversized robes, and stared.
"How?" she asked, her voice hoarse. "I was awake. I would have heard—"
"Calista," Mandy said, as if that explained everything. She was already at the table, shamelessly naked, loading a plate with bacon. "She gets bored. She bakes. She gets very bored, she redecorates." She bit into a strip of bacon with a satisfying crunch. "By the time we came back from our second shower, she'd already summoned the whole spread from the bakery."
Katrina blinked. "Your sister is a wizard?"
"Half-elf," Calista corrected, gliding into the room with a grace that made the simple act of walking look choreographed. She was naked too, her silver hair still damp from yet another rinse, and she carried a bowl of whipped cream like it was a holy relic. "And it wasn't magic. It was delivery. Rick's bakery does contactless drop-off now." She set the bowl down with a wink. "Well, mostly contactless. The delivery drone got a very interesting show through the window."
Beth snorted from her position at the table, already halfway through a plate of fruit. "Let me guess. You tipped it extra."
"Generously."
Mike shuffled in last, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers he'd apparently located somewhere between the kitchen and the dining room. His hair was a disaster—tousled and still damp from the shower, sticking up in directions that defied physics. He stopped short at the sight of the table, his eyebrows climbing toward his receding hairline.
"Did I miss a holiday?" he asked.
Casey appeared behind him, her own robe hanging open, her silver-streaked hair loose around her shoulders. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and pushed him toward the head of the table. "Sit down, old man. You've earned breakfast."
"I'm forty-nine." But he sat anyway, settling into the chair with a groan that was equal parts exhaustion and satisfaction.
They gathered around the table like a strange, beautiful tribe. Casey took the seat to Mike's right. Katrina found herself guided to the other side, between Calista and Beth, with Mandy directly across from her. Plates were loaded. Coffee was poured. For a moment, the only sounds were the clink of forks and the quiet sighs of people who had spent the night exploring the boundaries of pleasure.
Katrina stared at her plate. The pancakes were perfect—golden brown, still steaming, the cinnamon shimmering in the lantern light. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten something that looked this good. Couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted to.
"You're not eating," Calista observed, her voice low enough that only Katrina could hear.
"I'm..." Katrina hesitated. "I'm not sure I remember how to want food."
Calista's luminous eyes softened. She reached out, her fingers brushing Katrina's wrist. "Then let yourself watch the rest of us want it first. Sometimes that's enough to remind you."
Across the table, Mandy had just lifted a mango slice to her mouth. She bit into it with theatrical relish, juice dripping down her chin, and she caught Katrina's eye.
"What?" she asked, her mouth full. "I'm hungry. We did a lot of—"
"Mandy," Casey warned, but she was laughing.
"What? It's true. I burned at least two thousand calories last night. I checked my fitness tracker." She held up her wrist, showing off a sleek band that glowed with arcane symbols. "It says I climbed forty flights of stairs' worth of... activity."
Beth choked on her orange juice. "You have a fitness tracker that monitors that?"
"It's for pelvic floor health," Mandy said primly. "The stairs are a bonus."
Mike buried his face in his hands. "I can't do this. I can't be related to you people."
"You're not related to me," Mandy reminded him sweetly. "You just fucked me."
The table erupted. Casey was laughing so hard she had to grip the edge of the table for support. Beth had given up on drinking anything and was just wiping tears from her eyes. Calista was giggling in that musical way of hers, her head tilted back, her silver hair cascading down her spine.
Even Katrina felt the corners of her mouth twitch.
Mike emerged from his hands, red-faced. "I hate this family."
"You love this family," Casey corrected, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. "You especially love the parts where we all—"
"Finish that sentence and I'm moving to Miami."
"You'd miss us too much."
The laughter faded into comfortable silence as everyone returned to their plates. Katrina found herself picking up a piece of mango, turning it over in her fingers. She brought it to her lips.
The sweetness exploded across her tongue.
It was the first thing she'd truly tasted in thirty years. The last meal she'd had before Bentley Ridge had been institutional—gray cafeteria food that had no business being called nourishment. But this was alive. Bright and golden and bursting with flavor.
"Good, right?" Beth asked, watching her with a knowing smile.
"Good," Katrina confirmed, and she took another bite. Then another.
The food disappeared quickly. Before long, only crumbs remained, scattered across the plates like evidence of a crime. The whipped cream sat mostly untouched at the center of the table, a mountain of white fluff that seemed to be daring someone to do something with it.
Mandy eyed it speculatively.
"No," Mike said.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it. I could see it in your eyes."
Mandy's smirk was pure mischief. "But what was I thinking, Dad?"
"That you want to—"
He didn't finish. Mandy had already grabbed the bowl and upended it over her own head.
For a moment, everyone stared. Whipped cream dripped down Mandy's face, clinging to her hair, sliding over her bare breasts in thick rivulets. She stood there, a sugar-soaked statue, and then she grinned.
"Food fight," she declared.
"That's not how food fights work," Beth protested, even as her hand inched toward the honey.
"Oh, this is better." Mandy grabbed a handful of whipped cream and flicked it at Beth. It hit her square in the chest, leaving a white splatter over her breast. "Now you have to get even."
Beth's eyes narrowed. She snatched the honey and squeezed it in Mandy's direction, a golden stream that caught her sister across the stomach.
"Honey!" Mandy shrieked. "You used honey! This is going to be sticky for weeks!"
"Worth it."
Calista watched the chaos unfold with the serene expression of someone who had seen far stranger things. She reached for a strawberry, dipped it in the remains of the whipped cream, and held it out to Katrina.
"Open," she said.
Katrina hesitated, then parted her lips. The strawberry slid against her tongue, sweet and cold and perfect.
"Good girl," Calista murmured, and the words sent a shiver down Katrina's spine.
Across the table, the battle had escalated. Mike had joined in—reluctantly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm after Casey smashed a banana into his chest. Now he was covered in fruit and cream, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
Casey had whipped cream in her silver-streaked hair. Beth was painted in honey. Mandy had somehow acquired a bowl of chocolate sauce and was wielding it like a weapon.
"They're chaos," Katrina said, watching them.
"Beautiful chaos," Calista agreed. She leaned close, her lips brushing Katrina's ear. "Are you ready to join them?"
Katrina looked at the sticky, laughing, glorious mess of the Williamson family. She remembered thirty years of nothingness—the void, the silence, the cold. She remembered the loneliness of being the only one left.
"Make me part of it," she said.
Calista's smile was radiant. She picked up the bowl of whipped cream—still half-full, miraculously—and poured a thin ribbon over Katrina's shoulder, down her chest, pooling between her breasts.
"Now," she said, "I think you need to be cleaned up properly."
She leaned in and licked the cream from Katrina's collarbone, her tongue warm and slow. Katrina's breath caught.
The frenzy continued around them. Mandy and Beth were locked together, licking honey and chocolate from each other's skin. Casey had climbed into Mike's lap, grinding against him as she fed him strawberries one by one. The scene devolved into a sticky, syrupy mess of arms and legs and mouths.
But Katrina felt none of that. All she felt was Calista's mouth on her skin, Calista's hands sliding through the cream, Calista's soft laugh as she licked Katrina clean.
"Don't forget," Calista said, her voice low and teasing, "you're not just joining the family. You're joining the whole family."
She gestured with a nod toward Mike and Casey.
"Mandy and Beth are twins in mischief. Mike is... well, he's our anchor." Her hand snaked between Katrina's thighs, stroking the sticky skin there. "But Casey is the heart. She's been through everything with him. She's the one who learns to love everyone he loves."
Katrina looked at Casey. The older woman had noticed her gaze. She pulled away from Mike, her smile warm.
"Come here," Casey said.
Katrina slid out of her chair and walked around the table. Cream dripped from her body, leaving a trail on the hardwood floor. She stopped in front of Casey, her chest heaving, her skin flushed.
"Look at you," Casey said softly. "You're beautiful."
"I'm a mess," Katrina whispered.
"Best kind of beautiful." Casey pulled her close, kissing her tenderly. Her tongue explored Katrina's mouth, tasting the sweetness of the cream. When she pulled back, her eyes glinted. "Welcome to our table. You're going to be a permanent fixture now."
"Ma'am, I don't know how to do this," Katrina admitted. "I was stuck in the void for thirty years. Everything is new to me. I don't know what a modern family looks like."
Casey laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Honey, we're not modern. We're eternal." She traced a finger down Katrina's cheek. "You feel that? That's what you've been missing. We'll teach you everything you need to know."
Without warning, she hopped up onto the table, scattering plates and cutlery. Syrup dripped from the edge as she spread her legs, her cunt glistening.
"Now, let's finish what we started." She beckoned with one finger. "Come taste me."
Katrina looked at the scene around her. At Mike, who was watching with hungry eyes. At Mandy and Beth, who had stopped their own play to watch. At Calista, who was smiling in approval.
She fell to her knees and buried her face between Casey's thighs.
Casey's flesh was warm, soft, slick with honey and arousal. Katrina lapped at her, tasting the sweetness mingled with musk, and a moan escaped Casey's lips.
"Yes," Casey breathed. "Just like that."
Katrina deepened her strokes. She found Casey's clit with the tip of her tongue and circled it, applying just enough pressure to make Casey gasp. The older woman's legs wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
"That's it, baby," Casey encouraged, her fingers threading through Katrina's hair. "Fuck, you're good at this."
Mike moved behind Katrina, his cock hard and dripping. He guided her up off the floor, bent her over the table, and entered her in one smooth motion.
Katrina cried out against Casey's pussy.
"Yes," she managed between gasps, as Casey pulled her face down onto her cunt again. "Fuck, yes."
Mike fucked her from behind, his strokes long and deep, filling her completely. The table rocked beneath them. Plates slid off the edges, shattering on the floor. Nobody cared.
Katrina's mouth found Casey's clit again, desperate and hungry. She licked and sucked as Mike pounded into her, the dual sensation building until she couldn't tell where one body ended and another began.
"I'm close," Mike grunted.
"Come," Katrina begged, her words muffled. "Come inside me."
He did. His hips slammed forward as he spilled his seed deep within her, and the sensation pushed Katrina over the edge. She came with a scream muffled against Casey's thigh, her entire body shuddering.
But it wasn't enough. She needed more.
She pulled away from Casey, turning to kneel over Mike's spent cock. His seed dripped from her, mixing with the syrup on the table. She took his softening length in her mouth, sucking him clean, and he moaned.
"Greedy girl," he said.
Casey slid down from the table, moving to her knees between Katrina's legs. She lapped at Katrina's glistening folds, tasting both Katrina and Mike's release.
Katrina whimpered around Mike's cock.
The world became a blur of sensation. Mandy and Beth joined them, their mouths finding Katrina's neck, her nipples, her thighs. Fingers explored every inch of her.
Calista was there too, pressing her palm against Casey's mound as she kissed the older woman deeply.
"Now you're truly one of us," Calista whispered against Katrina's lips.
Katrina cried out as another orgasm crashed over her, triggered by Casey's tongue and Mandy's fingers on her clit. She bucked against the table, her body arching.
"Yes!" she screamed. "Yes!"
They all came together—a chorus of moans and gasps, of shuddering bodies and desperate pleas. Katrina lost count of her orgasms. Each one merged into the next, an endless wave of sensation that carried her far beyond the void, far beyond anything she had ever known.
When it was over, they lay in a heap on the sticky table, limbs entangled, bodies gleaming with sweat and syrup and come.
Katrina opened her eyes. The lanterns still glowed, casting prismatic light across their tangled forms. Mandy had fallen asleep against Beth's shoulder. Mike was sprawled on his back, snoring softly.
Casey propped herself up on one elbow, looking at Katrina with an expression that held none of the predatory hunger of earlier. Just warmth. Just welcome.
"Welcome to the family, Katrina," she said, brushing a stray strand of hair from Katrina's face. "We're glad you're here."
Katrina stared at her. At all of them.
The emptiness that had hollowed her for thirty years began, for the first time, to feel like it might not be permanent.
The silence that followed was not empty but full—full of soft breathing, of heartbeats slowing in concert, of the distant clatter of Rembrandt investigating the kitchen floor for fallen scraps. Katrina lay pinned between Mike's warmth on one side and Casey's gentle hand on her hip, the stickiness of syrup and sex cooling on her skin like a second layer of existence.
She could feel the weight of the moment. The enormity of what had just happened. These people had taken her into their bodies, their home, their strange and beautiful chaos. They had given her a place to land after thirty years of falling through nothing.
"So," Mandy's voice drifted from somewhere to her left, muffled against Beth's shoulder. "Does this mean we get to call you Aunt Katrina now, or is it more of a sister-wife situation?"
Beth snorted. "You're such an asshole."
"I'm a curious asshole. There's a difference."
Katrina felt the laugh bubble up from somewhere deep in her chest. It surprised her—the sound was rusty, unused, like a door that hadn't been opened in decades. But it was real.
Casey propped herself up on one elbow. "Mandy, be nice. Katrina's been through more than any of us can imagine."
"Which is exactly why she deserves to know what she's getting into." Mandy sat up, unbothered by her nakedness, and met Katrina's eyes. "Seriously. This family is a lot. We're messy and loud and we fuck each other and we love each other and sometimes those lines blur in ways that would make a therapist weep." She paused. "But we're also loyal. We'd kill for each other. We have killed for each other."
"You've killed people?" Katrina asked.
"I've annoyed them to death," Casey interjected, deadpan. "It's a talent."
Mike let out a low chuckle, his hand finding Casey's and intertwining their fingers. "She's not wrong. We've been captured more times than I can count, and every time, we talk the bad guys into giving up. It's our gift."
Katrina studied them. The silver streaks in Casey's dark hair. The grey creeping through Mike's shaggy brown locks. The laugh lines around their eyes that spoke of decades of shared joy and hardship. They were older, softer, more worn than the heroes she'd read about in Golden Wand reports. But there was a strength there too. An unshakeable foundation.
"Calista’s mother tricked me," she said quietly. "Aemelia. She disguised herself as someone I loved and used me to open the rift."
The mood shifted. Not hostile, but weighted. Everyone was looking at her now.
Calista moved closer, her silver hair brushing Katrina's shoulder. "I know. I've struggled with that too."
"She's your mother."
"She's my biological mother," Calista corrected gently. "She only wanted my biological father’s seed so she could create me. But she never wanted to know me. Never loved me." She gestured at the people around them. "These are my parents. They chose me. They raised me. They taught me what love actually means."
Katrina's throat tightened. "How do you forgive someone who used you as a tool?"
"I don't. I just... move forward." Calista's hand found Katrina's, squeezing gently. "I choose the family that chose me."
The silence stretched. Somewhere in the kitchen, VanGogh yowled for his breakfast. Mike's stomach growled audibly.
Casey burst out laughing. "Okay. Emotional moment over. We need showers and real food, in that order." She stood, groaning as she stretched her syrup-sticky limbs. "Katrina, you're with me. We'll get you cleaned up and find you some clothes that aren't bathrobes."
Katrina let herself be pulled to her feet. Her legs were shaky. Her body ached in ways that felt both foreign and welcome.
Mandy caught her eye as she passed. "Hey, Katrina?"
She paused.
"Whatever happened back there in the void, whatever you did to survive it... you're here now. That's what matters."
Beth nodded, her expression softer than usual. "And you're never going back there. We won't let that happen."
Katrina opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. The tears hit her without warning—hot, sudden, streaming down her cheeks. Thirty years of isolation and fear and loneliness, finally finding an outlet.
Casey pulled her into a hug without hesitation, wrapping her arms around Katrina's trembling frame. The older woman's body was soft and warm, still slick with the remnants of their lovemaking, and she held Katrina like she was something precious.
"Let it out," Casey murmured. "Let it all out."
Katrina sobbed against Casey's shoulder, her body shaking with the force of it. She felt Mike's hand on her back, large and steady. Calista's fingers threading through her hair. Mandy and Beth pressed close on either side.
When the tears finally subsided, she pulled back with a watery laugh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"You don't apologize for feeling things," Casey said firmly. "Not in this house. Not ever."
Mike handed her a napkin from the surviving remnants of the table. She took it, dabbing at her eyes. The sticky mess of her skin had been joined by tears and snot, and she probably looked like a disaster.
"Shower," Casey repeated. "Now. You'll feel better."
Katrina nodded. She let Casey guide her out of the dining room, through the hall, and into the master bathroom. The space was enormous—a claw-foot tub, a walk-in shower with multiple heads, heated floors, and a shelf full of products that smelled like lavender and honey.
"Mike installed this when my back started acting up," Casey said, turning on the water. "'Only the best for my girl,' he said."
"He loves you very much."
"Twenty years married. More than that, together." Casey's smile was soft, distant. "We've been through things that would break most couples. Time travel, parallel universes, our son sleeping with our friend from the past... twice." She shook her head. "But we always come back to each other. That's the secret. No matter what happens, we choose each other."
Katrina stepped into the shower, hissing as the hot water hit her skin. The syrup and come and sweat sluiced off her body, swirling down the drain in a rainbow of colors.
Casey followed her in, lifting a bottle of shampoo. "Let me."
She lathered Katrina's long black hair, her fingers gentler than Katrina expected. The sensation was intimate in a way that felt different from the sex—slower, more deliberate. Casey massaged her scalp, working the suds through the strands.
"I know you're afraid," Casey said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "You've been alone for so long. You don't know how to trust that this is real." She tipped Katrina's head back, rinsing the soap. "But it is. We're here. We're not going anywhere."
"How can you be sure?" Katrina asked, her voice cracking. "I don't even know who I am anymore. The woman who went into that rift thirty years ago—she's gone. I don't know what's left."
Casey turned Katrina to face her. The water cascaded around them, steam rising in the warm light.
"You're still you," she said. "Just... more. More experienced. More complicated. More aware of your own strength." She cupped Katrina's face in her hands. "You're not broken. You're just starting over. And you get to choose what kind of person you want to be now."
Katrina closed her eyes, letting the words sink in. When she opened them again, something had shifted. A small flame of determination flickering in her chest.
"I want to be part of this family," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Your family. Yours and Mike's and Calista's and..." She trailed off, uncertain.
Casey smiled. "They're all yours too now. Every single one of them." She pressed a kiss to Katrina's forehead. "Including that chaos agent Mandy, and Beth who's really a softie under all that artistic brooding, and Mike who will absolutely try to show you his stamp collection before the week is out."
"Stamp collection?"
"He thinks it's charming. It's not."
The laugh that escaped Katrina was genuine, bright, surprising her. Casey grinned, clearly delighted to have coaxed it out of her.
"There she is," Casey murmured. She ran her hands down Katrina's body, palms sliding over her slick skin. "Beautiful."
Without warning, she dropped to her knees. Katrina gasped as Casey's mouth found her cunt, lapping at her with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Oh—" The word caught in her throat as Casey's tongue pushed inside her.
Casey ate her out with a practiced hunger, drawing out every moan and gasp until Katrina's knees buckled. She pressed her hand against the shower wall, holding herself up as the orgasm crept closer.
"Let me taste you," Casey murmured against her skin. "Come for me, Katrina."
The words shattered her. She came with a keening cry, her body convulsing as Casey lapped up every drop. The water continued to cascade, washing away the evidence, leaving only the trembling aftermath.
Casey rose, pulling Katrina into an embrace. "Welcome home."
Katrina wrapped her arms around Casey, burying her face in the older woman's neck. She could feel the sticky remnants of their earlier encounters clinging to them both, but she didn't care.
"I don't know if I believe in fate," she whispered. "But I think I believe in this."
"That's enough," Casey said. "That's all we need to start."
She turned off the water, handing Katrina a fluffy towel. They dried off in comfortable silence, then Casey produced a soft cotton robe from a hook behind the door.
"Put this on. I'll find you something more permanent later. For now..." She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I think Mandy's making her famous breakfast scramble. It's the only thing she can cook, but she does it well."
Katrina followed her back into the bedroom. Mandy and Beth were already there, dressed in mismatched pajamas that looked like they'd been stolen from various lovers. Calista sat cross-legged on the bed, brushing her silver hair.
"Took you long enough," Mandy said. "I was starting to think you'd drowned."
"Your mother was giving me a very thorough education," Katrina said, and the words came out easier than she expected.
Mandy grinned. "Bet she was. That woman knows her way around a—"
"Mandy," Casey warned.
"What? I was going to say 'shower.'"
"You were not."
The bickering was comfortable, familiar. Katrina let herself be pulled onto the bed, sandwiched between Calista and Beth. Mike appeared in the doorway moments later, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a faded logo for some band she didn't recognize.
"Kitchen's clean," he reported. "Well, mostly clean. The cats got into the whipped cream bowl."
"Of course they did," Casey sighed.
As the family bickered and laughed around her, Katrina felt something she'd thought lost forever. A sense of home.
She wasn't sure what the future would bring. There was still so much to figure out. Her mother's disappearance. Aemelia's agenda. The rift that still existed, however weakened, in the hills outside a town called Bentley Ridge.
But for now, in this moment, she was surrounded by people who wanted her. Who had chosen her.
That was enough.
That was everything.