by T. S. Joyce
“You made this?” he asked, lifting the trinket and looking at it in a new light.
“I made all your Christmas gifts. I know they weren’t much, but I was a young raven and couldn’t carry anything big. I thought about you all day on Christmas and wished you were with me. Sometimes I imagined it. You playing with me and eating beside me. One Christmas, I wouldn’t let anyone sit in the chair directly to my right because I’d reserved it for you, even if you couldn’t be there. Even if you didn’t even know I was a shifter and not just some friendly raven. I always imagined what it would be like to spend a whole Christmas day with you.”
Ana’s voice had begun to shake and soften, and something warm and moist made a tiny splat against his ribs. When he looked down, she was wiping her cheeks.
“I wished every year I could bring you that whole feast because I hated that you were hungry and alone. And when my dad took me away from you, after he found out I’d been spending time with a grizzly shifter, I didn’t like Christmas as much anymore because I didn’t get to bring you gifts at night. I looked forward to those presents all year long. You always smiled and said I was a good friend.”
“Sweet Ana,” he crooned, stroking her damp cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Now we’re together. No more imagining.”
Ana laughed thickly and held him tightly, then jolted. “Oh!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, panicked.
“The baby. It flutters sometimes.”
“It does?” he asked on a breath as he lowered himself beside her, eye level with her stomach. Carefully, he placed his hand over the slightly rounded mound, but he couldn’t feel anything. “What does it feel like?”
For a moment, she got a faraway look in her eyes. “My mom used to give me eyelash kisses on my cheek.” Ana leaned over and fluttered her lashes against his neck. It tickled a little. “It feels like that, but on the inside.”
A slow smile stretched his face as he looked from Ana’s stomach to her dancing eyes, then back to the swell of her belly. When he pressed his lips against her taut tummy, some strange emotion washed over him. Something he didn’t recognize and had never felt. It was heavy and weighed on his chest, making it hard to breathe. Closing his eyes, Beaston pressed his ear against her stomach and listened. There was a slow bum bum, bum bum that belonged to his mate, but there was something more. Something fainter and faster. A tiny drum that meant the little baby was okay.
Startled by the wash of feelings, he jerked his head up and said, “I don’t think I should go to work today. I should stay here.”
Ana gave a surprised laugh and cocked her head. “Beaston, the Gray Backs need you up on the landing. It’s Matt’s day off today.”
Beaston frowned at Ana’s perfect little innie belly button. He didn’t want to leave her. It made him feel sick to think about it. This wasn’t like before, when she might fly to a branch on the landing and watch him. There would be no seeing her until he came home from work. This was instinct. This was his bear snarling inside of him to protect her—at all times—while she was growing their child. “Ana,” he rushed out as he sat up on the bed. “I can’t do it.”
“Silly bear,” she said on a breath. “You can’t watch over me every minute of the day.”
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t. I have things to do, and you have to work.”
“What things to do?”
“I’m going to make you a Christmas present, just like I used to. It won’t mean the same if you watch me make it.”
“A Christmas present. Woman, you’re giving me a cub.” He frowned. “Or a raven.” As realization dawned on him, he grinned and pulled her gently against his chest. “Are you going to give me a little raven, just like you, Ana?”
She giggled, and the noise settled something restless in him. “Would you mind?”
“No. Grizzly or raven, doesn’t matter. Either will be okay, and I’ll be happy.”
“You’re going to be a daddy.”
A shiver trembled up his spine and landed in his shoulders.
Ana laughed as she tickled his ribs. “You like that,” she accused.
He liked the idea more than he could ever put words to. Beaston wasn’t good with those—not like Ana. He wouldn’t have to wait for Creed and Gia to need him to watch Rowan anymore. He could care for his own baby, with Ana. If she lived.
Stupid fucking thoughts. He gritted his teeth and made himself get up to shower. Creed would be giving the ten minute whistle soon, and Ana was right. As much as his instincts screamed to follow her everywhere, she wouldn’t be happy constantly watched. His mate was more independent than that. She deserved better than him stifling her. It would be hard, but he would force himself to leave her and hope that tomorrow would be easier, and the day after that even easier.
He showered quickly. Not because he was in a rush for work on the landing, but because he wanted to spend every second he could with Ana before he left her for the day. He hurried to pull on a red flannel shirt over his jeans, and work boots.
Ana’s humming perked up his ears and drew him to the doorway of the kitchen. She hadn’t hummed in months, and something about the change in her happiness tightened his throat. She stood over the small stove, one foot propped on her other knee like a flamingo. She always cooked like that, his Ana. Today, she’d put on colorful tights under calf-high snow boots lined with wool. A tight, black sweater clung to her new curves like a second skin, and he wanted to take her back to bed right then and there. He wouldn’t, though. Not when she was gifting him this moment. He would be still as a hunter and enjoy the happy notes drifting from her lips.
With a sigh, Beaston relaxed against the frame and listened as her humming morphed to the words of a song. It was one about silver bells, but she was replacing “bells” with “bears.” His bear was silver. This must be one of those holiday songs Willa had been belting out at the top of her lungs for the past month. Ana wrapped up an egg, bacon, and cheese biscuit into a strip of foil and shoved it into a paper bag with the rest of his lunch. She liked making his food in the mornings, though he was perfectly capable. He used to try to convince her to sleep in, but she always refused. And eventually he’d stopped urging her, because she always smiled so pretty when she finished packing his lunch. Damon was right. Ana was a nurturer.
Beaston strode across the wood floors, his boots clunking hollowly against the laminate. With a soft, satisfied growl, he slid his arms around her waist and cupped her belly from behind. “I think I won’t be able to stop touching you now.”
Ana relaxed back against him as he tasted her neck with kisses. “I think I won’t mind.”
“I really missed you,” he admitted low. He should explain, but couldn’t find the words. He’d missed how close they were. How in sync they always seemed to be. Ana read him better than anyone, and for the past couple of months, the distance between them had hurt more than he’d realized. Now, she’d closed the gaping wound in his heart overnight.
He should explain, but when he opened his mouth to try, she turned her head and laid a sweet kiss on his cheek. “I missed you, too.”
Creed’s ten minute warning whistle blasted through the woods. Beaston helped Ana into her heavy winter jacket, and then he shrugged into his own before opening the door for his mate. She liked to come with him in the mornings and wave him off. Sack lunch in hand, he closed the trailer door and watched Ana take off running with a teasing giggle. His breath steamed in front of him in a minty fog as he laughed and ran after her. She was easy to catch, his little raven, especially now that she seemed to run more carefully. Beaston spun her around and hitched her knees around his hips so he could carry her like he wanted, pressed against him.
His affectionate mate rubbed her cheeks against his, one and then the other and back again. Happy. She was happy, and it made him feel like a king that he could put that smile on her face and in her heart.
She was the best thing that ever happened to him. The best.
He stopped his trek through the woods and over the crunching snow to lean forward and kiss her like she deserved. Long and slow, so she would know he loved her. He didn’t say the words much, but she’d told him that was okay because he showed her all the time. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like saying the words, but he didn’t talk much. Never had. Ana understood him.
With a soft moan, she tightened her arms around his neck and brushed her tongue against his, exploring his mouth. Sexy mate, giving him silent promises of what he would come home to.
She eased away and rested her forehead on his. “Beaston?”
“Yes, Ana?”
“I really, really like the decorations you put in our home.”
Pride zinged through his chest, and he stood prouder, hugged her tighter. “The beer cans are okay?”
“I want beer cans on every tree for every Christmas. And maybe tonight, we can tie some of the shiny trinkets I brought you onto the limbs, too.”
He laughed and nodded. His Ana liked shiny things. “Okay. When I come home. Wait for me.”
She grinned and nipped his bottom lip playfully. “Always.”
“Geronimo!” Willa crowed as she tackled them from the side.
Beaston splayed his legs to keep them balanced and settled Ana on her feet so Willa could hug the devil out of her.
“We’re gonna have another baby!” Willa jumped from Ana’s giggling embrace into Beaston’s arms. “A baby Beaston!”
He used to hate touch. Hated hugs, avoided them at all costs, but the women of the Gray Backs had come in and made him softer. He wrapped his arms around Willa’s shoulders and rested his cheek against her bright red hair. “My own baby,” he murmured, still stunned.
The other Gray Backs trailed through the woods, and as Ana wrapped her arms around him and Willa, the others opened their arms like wings and hugged them up tight until they were a pile of laughing Gray Backs. Ana was crying, and usually he worried when her eyes leaked like this, but she was smiling big as their crew congratulated them. Beaston relaxed. He couldn’t take his eyes from her as Matt, Creed, Damon, and Jason clapped him on the back and made stud jokes. His mate was too damned beautiful to look away from as she hugged the women in their crew, her bright blue eyes glistening with happiness. Gia had her hand on Ana’s belly and was crying right along with her, and when Ana looked over at him, pride was pooled so deeply in her beautiful gaze, it cut right to his middle.
He’d almost kept this from her. A wave of guilt washed over him, but he would make it up to her. He would.
His Ana deserved everything.
Chapter Six
A knock pounded against the door, and Aviana squeaked. Everyone was probably waiting on her. “Come in!” she called as she zipped up her riding boots over her skinny jeans. She would have to buy some maternity clothes soon since she already had to loop a rubber band around the button of her biggest pair of jeans.
Willa pushed the door open and grinned. “You ready?” She tilted her head. “Beaston’s warming up the truck so I told him I’d come get you.”
“Yes. I think. Is this okay for the party?” She held out her arms and did a little turn in her skintight red sweater over her dark jeans. This was the first annual shifter Christmas Eve party at Sammy’s Bar down in Saratoga, and she didn’t want to walk in there underdressed.
“Yeah, you look hot. What about me?” Willa did a little sashay hip turn and poked her little boobs out as far as they would go. Her sweater read If you’re happy and you know it, hug a worm. She wore it over black tights and rounded out the look with a pair of rainbow Converse sneakers.
“You look perfect,” Aviana said through a grin.
“I know. Dude!” she exclaimed, soft brown eyes bulging at the Christmas tree in the corner. Aviana and Beaston had decorated it with all the trinkets she’d made for his Christmas presents when they were kids, and underneath was stacked brightly wrapped presents for the Gray Backs. The festive-colored trinkets and presents weren’t what held Willa’s attention though. “Beer can ornaments?”
“Beaston decorated it while I was gone to surprise me.”
Willa nodded slowly, looking stunned. “That’s fucking awesome.” She yanked open the door and yelled, “Griz!”
A moment later, her mate, Matt, hollered, “What?”
“Beaston has beer cans for ornaments.”
“So?”
“I want some on our tree!”
There was a second of hesitation, and then, “Will you wear the glasses tonight?”
Willa opened her mouth and silently laughed as she pulled a pair of thick-rimmed glasses from the neck of her shirt and waved them at Aviana. She turned and cupped her hand around her mouth, sounding put upon. “Fine.” She closed the door and grabbed her middle, giggling. “He loves nerd shit. Every time I wear these, he talks filthy to me.” Willa slipped the glasses on and pushed them up her nose. “I was going to wear them, anyway.”
Aviana cracked up and pulled her coat from the rack near the front door, then followed Willa through the woods to the trailer park. Three trucks were warming up in front of the semi-circle of trailers—Creed’s, Beaston’s, and Matt’s—and already, the Gray Backs were piling in.
“Mason called shotgun in Beaston’s truck, so looks like you’re the monkey in the middle. See you there,” Willa called over her shoulder as she bounded off through the snow toward Matt’s ride.
Aviana grinned as her eyes landed on her mate, looking dashing in dark jeans and a black sweater that clung to his defined chest and shoulders. His eyes blazed a wild green as he stood by the passenger side of his old Chevy, holding the door and waiting for her. He’d always been a caring mate, but since he’d found out she was pregnant, he had turned even more thoughtful. His answering smile mirrored hers as she thanked him with a kiss and slid into the middle. Mason sat beside her and closed the door as Beaston made his way around the front of the truck and got in behind the wheel.
“Hey, bird,” Mason said, his dark eyes dancing. He was a boar shifter, but not the cute kind. She’d seen him Changed one time when they’d all fought with Damon against an immortal dragon. Mason’s change had shocked her to her bones as she’d been flying overhead. No, he wasn’t the cute kind. He was a giant, demon-black, spike-furred, curve-tusked giant Russian boar. She used to be afraid of predator shifters, like all of her raven people were, but then she’d gotten to know the Gray Backs. She’d gotten to know Damon, Mason, and all of the dominant, half-broken grizzlies, and then she’d gone and married the scariest bear shifter of all—her Beaston. Timid, she might be, but not much scared her anymore.
Aviana bumped Mason on the shoulder in greeting and placed her frozen fingertips in front of the already warm heater.
“Where are your gloves?” Beaston asked, a worried furrow darkening his brow.
“I forgot them.”
“Here,” he said without hesitation, pulling his own gloves off his hands.
She couldn’t help her smile as he pulled the gloves over her fingertips. He might be a Beaston to others, but to her, he was the sweetest, most protective man she’d ever met. And he was hers. The thought of that still rocked her sometimes. After everything, he’d chosen her.
“I saw the cartoon you put in Beaston’s lunch today,” Mason said as he helped buckle her seatbelt. Twisting around to search for the hiding contraption wasn’t as easy as when her tummy had been smaller.
“Yeah?” she asked, ghosting a glance to Beaston.
He was grinning as he pulled out onto the snow-covered gravel road behind Creed’s truck.
She’d drawn a picture of a grizzly bear in a tree sitting beside a bird’s nest with a little white egg in it. A cartoon raven stood on the rim of the nest.
“It was badass,” Beaston said low.
“He showed everyone,” Mason said, rolling down the window by a few inches. “Damn, Beaston, I forget how scary your bear is. Are you riled up?”
Beaston shrugged, and Avia
na frowned.
“No,” he said. “I feel fine.”
Aviana snorted and tried to feel what Mason was feeling right now. She was apparently used to Beaston’s bear and staggering dominance, but she did remember how hard it had been to breathe around him in the beginning, and especially in tight spaces.
She patted Mason’s leg. “Only two more hours until we reach Saratoga.”
“I put the cartoon in my tackle box under the bed,” Beaston murmured. “It’s special.”
The baby fluttered in her stomach, or perhaps that was just butterflies, she couldn’t tell. Beaston found a Christmas station on the radio and filled the cab of his truck with songs of the season. That was for her, she knew, but Mason drummed his fingers at the top of his open window and nodded his head along to the catchy beat. Her cheeks heated with pleasure, and she settled under Beaston’s arm as he draped it across her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. And there she stayed the entire trip to Sammy’s Bar, safe and warm.
By the time their caravan had arrived at Sammy’s, Aviana was pretty sure she’d sung every Christmas song on the station twice through. Mason even sang along with her, and while Beaston didn’t know the words, he kept giving her those sideways glances he did when he was amused or working something out.
In the parking lot, Mason helped her out of the truck as Willa and Georgia bounced around in circles, chattering about how excited they were for eggnog. Aviana wouldn’t point out that Willa’s version of eggnog was just straight rum. Georgia would find that out soon enough.
The bar was rocking when Beaston led her through the front door. A couple of the Ashe Crew boys were really good on guitar and at the mic, and they were singing Christmas carols with a country twang. The shifters of Damon’s mountains were all here. The Ashe Crew raised their glasses and greeted them. The Boarlanders were near the stage, drinking like fish and tossing back shots, and the small Lowlander Crew of gorilla shifters were spread out here and there. Kong was behind the bar with his mate, Layla, and the owner of Sammy’s, Jake, pouring shots and drinks like there was no tomorrow.
