by Sadie Savage
Jolene didn’t know why, but she felt guilty and like she was about to be punished. She hadn’t felt this way since high school, and she did not like it. These werewolves could sure be downers.
Thankfully, Zebe was not like that. He kept on holding her hand as they made their way to the table and sat down. He made sure to sit across from his brother rather than next to him, he was out of claw range that way. Jolene sat next to Anjelica, hoping that she might find some kind of feminine solidarity with her.
It did not seem likely when she caught the other woman’s eye, however. She seemed more annoyed than Luke was.
“How could you let this happen, Zebe?” Anjelica asked. “You knew the plan. You know how important this is. It’s not about any of us anymore.”
Zebe set his jaw at that, taking offence at her tone. He did not like being spoken to as though he was a child who had stolen from the cookie jar. “I’m pretty sure this happened before Jolene’s pregnancy,” he said. “At least before we knew about it.”
“Regardless, you’re putting the twins in jeopardy by letting your feelings get involved,” Anjelica snapped. “This sort of stress and irresponsibility can have detrimental consequences.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
Jolene looked up from the table. She felt sullen and like she was not being considered as an equal part of all this. In fact, she felt as though Anjelica didn’t see her as a living person who was carrying these babies. To her, Jolene was just a shell. A casing for these precious, historic offspring.
Maybe this was why she had never thought about being a mother. Now that she was going to be one, she wished that she could feel at least a little excited about it, instead of constantly being shamed about who she chose to spend her time with or what she wanted to do. She could not sit in bed every day, goddammit!
She hit her palms against the table. “I want feelings to be involved!” she shouted, her voice coming out a lot shriller than she intended.
The six eyes of the wolves were on her now.
Emboldened by their attention, Jolene proceeded. “I know that all three of you care about my babies, but have you ever stopped to care a little about me? They aren’t just your werewolf twins. They’re my twins. My children. And I want my children to live in a happy family. I don’t know, I’ve always had the crazy notion that if I started a family it would be with someone as the father… I know that you all want to help. And I know that we don’t know if Luke is the dad or if it’s Zebe… But I love Zebe. I want to be with him. And I don’t want to be shamed for wanting that. It’s more stressful for me if you just make me sit in the bedroom and not have a life of my own.”
Anjelica was looking at her skeptically now, but Luke at last seemed to understand. It wasn’t easy for him to hear that the lovely redhead he had the hots for was more interested in dating his brother, but he was beginning to see where she was coming from. Now was not the time for bickering or trying to control her. The babies were her babies too, as she said… As a matter of fact, they were her babies first and foremost.
Once Luke looked past the jealousy, he realized that Jolene was right.
“She’s right,” he said then, turning to look at his sister. He still could not bring himself to admit his defeat to Zebe, but at least he could say it to Anjelica while his brother was right there in the room to hear it. “What’s done is done. I can’t keep being mad at them for wanting to be together, and we can’t keep treating Jolene like she’s the babies’ host. That’s not right.”
Then he turned and smiled at Jolene. “We’re wolves, but we don’t have to be animals.”
Jolene smiled back at him, gasping out a pleased and grateful breath. She reached over and took his hand, squeezing it in a show of thanks.
“I won’t lie and say this isn’t awkward,” he said, looking at Zebe then and giving him a slight smirk. “But I am happy for you two. Here’s hoping you name one of these babies something that is less stupid than The Lone Wolves.”
Zebe laughed a little. “Hey!”
Anjelica sighed, but she threw her hands up and gave Jolene a small smile. “Just… be careful. Maybe no more outdoor activities like that?”
Blushing, Jolene nodded. “Okay. That’s fair.”
Suddenly, her stomach growled. She brought a hand to her belly and felt a little kick along with the rumblings of her hungry stomach. Reaching over, she took Zebe’s and Luke’s hands and placed them onto her belly so they might be able to feel the movement of the twins too.
“Are you ready for some dinner?” Zebe asked her, more concerned about her than the babies, which she loved him even more for.
She smiled at him. “Yes, please.”
Luke pulled his hand away from her then, though he smiled at her. It was a slightly sad sort of smile, but it was not without kindness. “Come on, Anjie. Let’s leave these two love birds to it. I’ve got a Vermonster burger calling my name.”
He and Anjelica got up from the table.
Jolene smiled appreciatively at him. “Don’t drink too much,” she said with a soft chuckle.
“That’s impossible,” he said, giving her a wink.
Once he and his sister were gone from the house, Jolene looked over at Zebe and felt a little awkward for some reason. They were well past feeling shy now. The fact that they had essentially been given permission and Luke’s blessing made things feel official in a way that making love in an open field did not.
“I think there’s grass in my underwear,” she said.
They laughed together. At least that decreased the tension.
Zebe nodded towards the front door. “I’ll go get the food from the car,” he said. “Hopefully it’s okay.”
Jolene’s eyes went big when she remembered that she had put his casserole in the bag. “Oh god, I forgot. Your casserole!”
The likelihood of all of that cheese still being edible after sitting out in a car all day was not a very high one. She felt crushed. “I’m so sorry. I meant to eat it now that I was with you… I had saved it.”
Zebe’s smile only grew. “Aww,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and giving her head a kiss. “It’s okay. Let’s see if we can salvage it. Otherwise, I’ll make you another.”
With that, he got up from the table and went out to the car. Jolene put her head in her hands, her eyes filling with tears. She could not stop herself from crying. She knew it was irrational, but she was disappointed in herself for forgetting Zebe’s sweet gift to her in the car. There had been distractions galore, but she still felt stupid.
A few minutes later, Zebe came back inside with the bag of food. He brought it into the kitchen and placed it on the counter, pulling out the casserole container. Jolene stood up and joined him.
“It doesn’t look good,” he said. “But it’s okay. I’ll make you a fresh one.”
She leaned into him, sniffling but letting her tears subside. “I didn’t eat it when I had the chance because I didn’t want to lose the sweetest thing you had done for me,” she said. “You know? I didn’t want to ruin your gift to me by eating it.” She laughed then, realizing how silly it seemed. “But I’ve learned my lesson. I will eat whatever you give me now.”
Zebe raised his eyebrows at her, smirking a sideways smirk. “Don’t tempt me. I might start testing that promise.”
Jolene giggled. She sat at the small kitchen table, letting herself relax now that he had brought in the food and it had been decided that he would just make a new casserole for dinner. “Let me help you,” she said. “Don’t let me just sit here while you do everything.”
He looked at her skeptically, as if cooking a meal was too taxing for a pregnant woman. “You can read the recipe for me?” he suggested. “Look up tuna casserole on your phone and read off the first recipe you can find.”
“Ugh, so I do have to get up,” she joked, standing and going out to the living room to fetch her phone from her purse. She brought it back and sat down, searching the intern
et for the perfect tuna casserole recipe.
Meanwhile, Zebe dumped the old one into the trash and carefully put away all of the other items that she had so meticulously packed away in the bag. He laughed and held up the box of Pop Tarts.
“That’s my signature breakfast,” Jolene joked. “Get used to it. You can back out now if you want.”
He shook his head, beaming down at his casserole pan. “Read me the recipe.”
As Jolene told him what ingredients to use and the order to put them into the pan, Zebe made her a tuna casserole. When it went into the oven, she could smell it and her mouth watered as though she was now a werewolf too.
Her tummy growled and her baby wolves growled along with it, ready to eat the delicious meal their father was making for them. She was eating for three now, after all. That was the perfect excuse. She hoped that there would be many surprise casseroles in their future. Forget cakes or pies. This was somehow even sweeter.
Watching him, she knew she had made the right choice. There was no question in her mind. Zebe’s kind of love was special. It was relaxed and filled her up with happiness, and didn’t make her worry if he would come back to her again. She knew he would.
It was the kind of love she had been hoping to find. It was the best kind of love.
Clan of the Werebears
Lady Arabella Armstrong looked out of her window. The day was bright for travelling and her heart fluttered with excitement. Today she would be travelling from her home in Stirling to the baronial castle of her betrothed, Lord Andrew Grenville Stewart, the wealthy Laird of Inverness. The marriage had been arranged many years ago by her father, Lord William when she was just a girl. He had no son and heir and the match would be a good one. As well as uniting the two clans, she would live out her life in luxury; nothing would be too good for the new Lady Arabella Stewart. Although her father was a rich man, it was nothing in comparison to the wealth of the Stewart Clan, and she would have her own suite of rooms within the castle and maids to look after her every whim.
For months she had been measured and fitted for her trousseau, a beautiful peach silk gown inset with ivory lace. In fact several sets of new clothing had been made especially for her new life in the Highlands, expertly sewn to be both practical against the winter chills and attractive. Most of the items had been packed away, but she had kept out a deep blue woollen tunic for travelling in. It matched the colour of her eyes and she wanted to look her best for her soon to be husband.
She had only met Andrew Stewart the once, when he had visited her family in the summer to make the arrangements for their nuptials. She had felt shy back then, being presented to the worldly wise and older man. He was an enigmatic stranger, the future husband with whom she would share private intimacies. He was very handsome, with jet black hair swept away from his face in a somewhat rather severe manner. His eyes were steely blue and his lips red and thin against the pale skin. He had a reputation for cruelty but he had been kind, bringing her a present of a sparkling blue amethyst necklace, set with diamonds. She remembered how he had fastened it around her throat; his long fingers brushing the nape of her neck, as he bent down to kiss the bare flesh of her shoulders when no one was looking. At the time she had recoiled at his touch, it was the first time a man had been so intimate with her, and the feel of his hot sticky breath against her soft skin had made her flush with embarrassment. If he had noticed, then he had been too much the gentleman to say, but her mother Margaret had seen her daughter’s reaction and had remonstrated with her later. The match was important and Arabella must be brave. Her mother had told her all about the needs and passions of men and it had quite shocked her young mind. At 18 years of age, she had led a very sheltered life. She was amazed that her prim and proper mother had actually committed the acts that she embarrassingly described; she could not imagine her parents clutched together in conjugal bliss, but obviously she was the proof of their past union, and possibly why she was an only child.
Looking at the image of herself in the long mirror, Arabella smiled approvingly. The new dress fitted well and complimented her long, dark hair that fell around her face in soft ringlets. The wedding would take place in a little over a week and she wondered if she would look so young and innocent after her marriage, after her wedding night?
The carriage was prepared and she hurried down the stairs to bid goodbye to her parents. Matilda, her maid would be travelling with her on the long journey and continue to be her ladies maid at the castle. The two girls were good friends and it made the prospect of her new life less daunting.
Her mother and father were waiting in the hall to say goodbye. They were both undemonstrative in their affections, but her father had tears in his eyes as he waved the carriage a fond farewell. Her mother’s last advice had been that she must do everything she could, to please Lord Stewart.
Anything would be better than her mother’s continual instructions, and now she would be free, Lady of her own castle. Surely the sacrifice would be worth her liberty? Once she had given him children, he would probably leave her alone, her mother had said by way of a comfort.
The carriage had been made cosy with blankets and cushions to keep them warm and comfortable on the long journey. They had packed a small meal of bread, cheese and preserves, and would stop off at a halfway point for a comfort break and to drink a glass of warming ale. It would be late by the time they reached the castle and would need some sustenance en route.
As the figures of her parents diminished into the distance, Arabella felt the first stab of fear in her stomach. What if she wasn’t happy, what if she could not please Lord Stewart in the ways her mother had imagined? Margaret had been rather vague about the actual deeds she would be expected to perform, talking in riddles of 'men's ardour' and certain 'urges'. She had also hinted that the first time might be painful, but apart from that she was clueless, and her maid Matilda seemed as naive as she was.
The young maid was very pale except for two red spots on her cheeks. She hadn't wanted to leave Stirling, she had been with Lord Armstrong for most of her working life and she would miss the old familiar place, her own family. But she could not desert Arabella in her time of need.
Looking out of the window she blinked rapidly in an attempt not to cry. She would be sad not to see John Wilson again, the young man who had recently joined Lord Armstrong as stable hand. She had become very fond of him.
"Do ever think that you shall marry Matilda?"
It was the wrong thing to say at that moment, for the young maid was soon in floods of tears, much to the alarm of her mistress.
"Why whatever is wrong with you, surely you are not homesick already?"
Matilda sobbed between words "No Mistress, not really Miss, it is just that..."
"I hope you're not wailing over that new stableman, John Wilson?" she lightly scolded.
"He is a charming young man I have heard but not one to be trusted with the ladies. I hear he was walking out with a young woman from the village, but was caught kissing the cooks daughter, Bessie in one of the stables. Broke both girl’s hearts I believe and he has only been here a couple of weeks. You are well away from that young knave Matilda, just think of all the strapping Highlanders you are bound to meet soon".
The young girl wiped her tears and laughed. Young hearts seldom stay broken for long, and soon the two girls were soon chattering away to each other.
"So, what do you think it will be like on your wedding night, when you are first alone with your husband, in his bed?"
Matilda giggled and blushed at the same time. She had seen the pigs and cows on her uncle’s farm, but she did not think it would be the same with people.
"Imagine seeing a man naked?"
"And him seeing YOU naked!"
"I fear I would die with the shock."
"Or with the pain? I have been told a man’s Roger can be this big, as big as a bulls," and she held up her hands in such an exaggeration that both girls tumbled back into their seats in fits of
laughter once again.
"But what does he do with it?" The young maid had no idea.
"Why, he sticks it inside you and wiggles it about until he gives you a child."
The whole thing seemed so preposterous that it wasn't long before the girls were giggling once more.
"In that case I do not want to be married and will remain an old maid all of my life."
Matilda stuck out her bottom lip in mock defiance and crossed her arms.
"Yet I shall be married in a week’s time and I suppose I must endure my husband?"
"You must, it is his right as your spouse and keeper." The two girls had now ceased their laughter and sat in quiet contemplation.
"I must confess, I am a little afraid Matilda."
The girl grabbed hold of her companions hand and their fingers entwined.
"Do not worry. I don't think it can be that bad. After all, my mother gave birth to 10 children," and that set the two girls off laughing again.
It didn't seem long before they were stopping at ‘The Moulin Inn’ near Pitlochry, to rest the horses and give the girls a chance to stretch their legs.
As the coachman helped the two girls down the steps, a group of rough looking characters stopped their drinking and all eyes were on Arabella. She was a fine sight to behold in her new dress, the tiny waist and blossoming bosom, her long flowing black hair catching the wind.
She was a beauty, there could be no denying and the man smacked their lips as they eyed her slowly from head to toe.
One man, with broken teeth and an eye patch whispered something to the others and they all broke out in a peal of lusty laughter.
No doubt it was something coarse about her and Arabella felt her cheeks flush.
On hearing the noise, the landlady of the Inn, Mrs. MacBrayne rushed out to see what was afoot. She was a cheerful, plump looking woman with a red nose, who would settle for no nonsense in her establishment. On seeing the poor girl’s plight, she quickly ushered the two into a private room at the back of the place, where they could eat their refreshments in peace, away from prying eyes. On bringing two glasses of warming ale to the table, Agnes MacBrayne sat with the girls, intrigued to know their story.
