Pure × Isaac Lahey

29.

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       The bloodline of the Danielsons dated back over a thousand years to Norse roots in the age of Vikings.

        It had never once been tainted; powerful, pure bred witches and warlocks for centuries.

        That was, of course, until Dean Danielson fell in love with Taylor Hale.

        Trying to obtain normal lives at a university on the West Coast, the warlock and werewolf obliterated the lengthy bloodlines of both the Hales and the Danielsons.

        But with that came a new kind of blood; magic and beast.

        And her name was Elora.

x x

        Hale green eyes opened, their owner groaning. "Not again," El mumbled as she rubbed the top of her head. The pain vanished from where she'd rolled over in the bed and hit her head on the side dresser.

        Elora sat up in her bed, pulling away her duvet from her body as she slid out. Ruffling her hair, she put on her slippers and wandered downstairs in her pyjamas of one of Isaac's sweaters and her flannel shorts.

        Barely 42 and still with a young spark to him, Dean whirled a finger in the air over a bowl of pancake batter. "Hey Ellybear. Wall or table this time?"

        "Table," she replied as she took a seat at the breakfast counter in the Grecian beach home.

        "Third time this week." Taylor entered as she pulled up her dark hair into a short ponytail, her mild Hispanic complexion still gorgeous. She kissed Elora's cheek as she went around the counter to Dean. "Morning, Bear."

        "Morning, Mom," El greeted with a smile. She motioned to the fridge, a container of orange juice appearing in front of her.

        "Someone's showing off," Taylor jokingly said as she curled into Dean's chest.

        "It's not showing off, it's magic." El snapped a finger, a glass cup suddenly next to the juice. Giving a cocky smile, she poured out the orange juice for herself without touching it.

        "I don't think she meant the magic, sweetheart," Dean said as he made the batter pour itself out onto the griddle in perfect circles. He wiggled an eyebrow, motioning to her sweater.

        "Oh," she glanced down to the Beacon Hills High School lacrosse sweater, "that."

        "Yes, that," Taylor reiterated with a light laugh. "You haven't told us much about him."

        "Isaac, isn't it?" Dean flipped the pancakes, looking over to his daughter.

        "Do you remember the owner of the cemetery there?" Elora asked as she held her juice glass.

        "Lahey, yeah?" Taylor looked over her shoulder, pouring out two mugs of coffee.

        "It's his younger son," El told her parents. "Actually, before Der lost his power, Isaac was sort of his beta."

        "Jesus, were you trying to have Derek kill him?" Taylor asked with a grin. "So, werewolf?"

        "Like father, like daughter." Dean laughed, offering out a fist bump to El. "Don't leave me hanging."

        "So lame," Elora said as she hit her fist to her dad's.

        "Did Derek do anything about it?" Taylor questioned as she poured creamer into one and handed it over to Dean before drinking hers black. "I know how protective he gets with you."