Page 172 of Sweet Venom

Now, our little King was five years old, full of life, curiosity, and just the right amount of mischief and grumpiness to keep us on our toes. The greatest joy of my life was being his mom and I was in awe of everything he did.

My son could be a little grumpy at times especially when he didn’t get his way but he had a sweet heart just like his father.

I couldn’t have asked for a better child.

Today was Valentine’s Day, and the entire household had slipped into its usual rhythm. Today, we were all dressed in black. All of us. Azariel, King, the cats, and me—always a little unconventional, a little odd in our own way.

I smiled as I adjusted King’s silver chain, a gift from Azariel on his birthday. I couldn’t believe how much he resembled his father, with those gray eyes sparkling with the same fieryintensity Azariel had always worn. At times, would even draw his father’s tattoos on his own skin, trying to look more like him.

It was adorable.

We were ready to send King off to school—armed with blue roses and heart shaped chocolate cookies to hand out to his classmates, an innocent tradition that I had insisted on for my son. We were a house of assholes, yes, but ones with manners at least.

I watched Azariel inspect the chocolate cookies, his eyes narrowing slightly. Something was off. He lifted the lid of the cookie box, and I saw his lips curl into a slow, amused smile.

Uh-oh.

I knew that smile. That’s the smile he always reserved for his son’s occurrences. Azariel was a stern father and of the both of us he’s the one who laid down the law but I also knew that he couldn’t hide the way King’s tyrannical and grouchy behavior made him proud. He’s raising his son to be strong and independent but also to know that there’s nothing he could ever do that would make us stop loving him.

Nothing.

“King,” my husband said, his voice low but laced with humor, “did you eat the cookies?”

That’s when I noticed the cookie evidence.

My little devil looked entirely too pleased with himself. He had cookie crumbs smeared on his chin and clothing, his hands sticky with remnants of chocolate and dough.

My baby’s grin widened, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybeee.”

I tried to hold back a snort.

Azariel, on the other hand, crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe? You definitely ate them. How many did you eat, King?”

King looked up at his father, eyes sparkling with mischief, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Umm… two?”

I stifled a laugh as I knelt down to wipe his face, not missing the way Azariel’s lips twitched. “Two? Try more like ten, you little cookie thief,” I teased, wiping away the crumbs. King gently pushed my hands away not wanting help.

Azariel chuckled. “Well, he might be a thief. But at least he’s not a tiny liar,” he said with a wink. “I’ll give you credit for honesty, son.”

Oh, God.

I couldn’t help but laugh. We’ve read so many parenting books, and I’m pretty sure none of them covered the part where you reward your kid for confessing to his crimes. Guess I missed that chapter.

King just grinned, wiping his hand on his shirt and looking up at Azariel with that same devilish charm. “I was hungry,” he said dramatically. “And kitty ate my eggs and veggies.” He sneaked a glance back at my still-asshole cat, Prince, and gave him the middle finger. Prince, of course, ignored him— just like he’s done a million times with my son’s antics.”

“That’s not nice, King.” I scolded my baby gently.

“Prince is not nice.” He pouted.

Well… what could I say to that? He’s not wrong. We’re a home of asshole. Charming.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Life with Azariel and King had a way of making every moment feel like magic. There was never a dull moment in our household. But then, King’s small voice broke through our laughter.

“I don’t want to go to school today, daddy,” he said, his brows furrowing as he crossed his arms, looking up at Azariel with that same seriousness that only a five-year-old could manage. “I hate Valentine’s Day.”

He did and with a passion. I had no clue why. I think my son is allergic to all things romantic and friendly.

Azariel’s smile faded slightly, and his eyes softened as he looked down at King. “Then you don’t have to go,” he said, his voice filled with love. “We can take mommy to Venomous instead. Just the three of us. Yeah?”

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