by Holley Trent
“Tess, I really don’t think this is necessary.”
“Better to know conclusively, right?”
“Maybe I don’t want to know.”
“That’s not how grownups act.”
“And this isn’t how wolf magic works.”
Tess snorted. “Right.” She plopped the boxes in front of the bemused cashier along with a couple of twenties. “Says the woman in the weirdest wolfpack in the whole of the United States. None of you Norseton wolves are quite right, are you?”
“No, but no one else is an omega.”
“Does every pack have an omega?”
“If a pack has been established long enough, there tends to be one in every generation. That’s the lore, anyway. I’m sure Norseton will have one born here eventually.”
Tess accepted her change, handed Angel the bag, and turned her toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Back to the mansion. No use leaving the evidence around where your mother can find it.”
“I’m twenty-six, not a teenager.”
“Yeah, and I’m thirty. That doesn’t stop me from acting like a sneaky teenager around my grandmother. Why not keep some things a mystery until you figure out how to feel?”
“How’d you get so wise?”
“I’m not wise. I’m Viking trash with a magical pedigree. That’s all.”
Angel doubted that, but there was no use arguing with Tess. The queen always won.
___
Queen Tess hadn’t explained why she wanted Grant to move their initial meeting up from February, but he didn’t want to offend the lady. He bribed his brothers with the promise of unlimited steaks into keeping an eye on the ranch, and drove down to Denver to meet her, her chieftains, Norseton’s alpha—Adam Carbone—and his wife, their quartermaster, Arnold, and a couple of other folks she’d mentioned who Grant hadn’t bothered committing the names of to memory.
He grabbed his overnight bag out of the passenger seat of his truck, got Pete out of the back of the cab, and pushed his cowboy hat down onto his head. His overgrown hair was unkempt and looked like he’d combed it with a pitchfork. He hadn’t had a chance to get a haircut, but he doubted anyone cared. He was a werewolf, not a supermodel, and it wasn’t like he was trying to turn anyone on, anyway. In fact, he preferred for folks to just stay the hell away from him.
Ma had said he’d stop pining away eventually, but he could tell she was lying, because she didn’t say anything else. She just looked at him like he was pitiful.
As he approached the reception desk of the hotel Tess’s assistant had selected, he put his phone to his ear and waited for his call to connect.
“Yo.”
“Hey, Arnold. I’m checking in now.”
“Damn, you made good time.”
“You around?”
“Yeah. Just about to clean up for dinner.”
“You bring Leo and Kinzy?”
“I did. They went out shopping with Mrs. Carbone. They should be back before we get too hungry.”
“Text me your room number when you get it. I’ll come scoop you up when I get out of the shower.”
“Got it. Bye.”
Grant got his keycard from the registration desk, listened halfheartedly to the directions the clerk gave him to his room, and didn’t bother looking at the number until he was inside the elevator. Folks were staring at him, waiting for him to say his floor number.
Annoyed at his own distractedness, he sighed. “Sorry. Twelfth floor, please.”
They got the elevator moving, and Pete shuddered in his arm.
“Yeah, elevators make my butt clench, too,” he muttered.
Some lady behind him snorted, and then said, “What a cute baby.”
Grant wasn’t in the mood for flattery. Responding would lead to conversation, and he wasn’t in the mood to swap generic pleasantries with strangers.
He got out at his floor, glanced at his room number again, and then studied the directional sign.
He took a right.
“Must be all the way at the end.” He’d asked for a quiet room away from the elevators, and figured they’d been able to oblige.
At the end of the hall, he dropped his bag in front of 1240, slid the key out of the sheath, and nudged it into the slit.
The electronic lock whirred and the little light flashed green.
He turned the handle, pushed the door in, and kicked his bag into the room toward the crib housekeeping had set up at the end of the foyer.
The television was on.
He leaned back out and double-checked the number on the door. It matched what was on the key’s cover.
“I’m eating my way through San Juan!” came the excited voice of the guy on the television.
Grant furrowed his brow. He knew that dude-bro voice. He’d seen that show, and with Angel. That was her scent being pushed by the aggressive central air toward him, and his scent, too, because he’d bitten her and marked her as his. No matter where she went, she’d always be his.
“Angel? Honey?”
He let the door close behind him and stepped over his bag.
He passed the bathroom on the right and found Angel curled up in an armchair beneath the window. Her eyes were wide and smile tense. The wolf in her was calm, though. That was good enough for him for the moment.
“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t want to make things harder.”
“I—” She shook her head, and obviously whatever words she was going to say fell away with the shake.
She set her socked feet on the floor, closed the gap between them, and took Pete. He recognized her like she hadn’t left them, and started patting her ponytail and babbling at it.
“Um. Maybe you should sit,” she said.
“Why? I sat for three hours driving down here.”
“I-I guess I’ll just…” Swearing softly, she grabbed a little red gift bag off the end of the dresser and thrust it out at him.
“What’s this?”
“Science. Magic.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He peeked into the bag, and even seeing the plastic sticks, couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.
Three of them, all different, but they all said the same thing. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
He sure sat then, and fortunately, there was a bed behind him.
“You’re having my baby?”
“Yes.”
“You shifted? Because if you shifted, you would have…”
“Miscarried, if I hadn’t gotten the right drugs.”
“You had them, right? This isn’t just a tease?’
She grimaced and carefully unwrapped Pete’s fingers from her hair. “I don’t need them. I’m pregnant, but I still can’t shift.”
“Say what? That’s not how things are supposed to work.
“I know. Trust me, I know.” Angel raised one shoulder and let it fall. “Adam thinks I will probably never shift. No one ever said getting the right alpha’s bite would make an omega shift, only that he could make me ovulate.”
“So you’re saying—”
“That you’re the right alpha, Grant.” She fidgeted with the pocket flaps of Pete’s snowsuit and glanced shyly at Grant. “I’m sorry if I made you think you weren’t strong enough. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think there was any alpha who could—”
“Hush, woman.” He tucked his fingers into the kangaroo pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled her forward. “Kiss me.”
She furrowed her pretty brow and leaned back from him a bit. “You’re not mad at me?”
“Hell no. Am I upset about moping around like an unloved puppy for the past month? That would be a yes. I’d only wish that particular malady on my worst enemy. Am I mad that you’re going to have my baby?”
She cleared her throat and tugged her collar away from her neck. “Um. Babies. The thing about never ovulating is that you risk releasing more than one when you finally do.
”
“Two?”
She nodded. “Tess got me an ultrasound appointment.”
“Gods.” He’d been right. He was going to end up owing that queen more favors than he could repay, and suddenly, that didn’t seem like such a bad fate. “And they’re okay?”
She smiled. “They look okay, but the doctors at Norseton are still trying to make sense of wolf pregnancies. We gestate for less time.”
“You saw heartbeats?”
“Yes.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding and put a hand against her belly. “I want to see them. I didn’t get to see any of that with Pete.”
“Of course, Grant. You can have anything you want.”
“You coming home with me, Angel?” He pulled her onto his lap, being careful not to squish Pete, and hooked his chin over her shoulder. He had to hold her. No one was going to keep him from holding her ever again.
“I probably would have come to you anyway. I wasn’t doing so great.”
“Me neither, honey.” He kissed the side of her face, and her jaw, and then her neck when she tilted her head and gave him the room to do so. “A wolf shouldn’t be without his mate. Maybe I wasn’t doing all that great before I met you, but I’m really no good knowing you’re out there and I’m not with you.”
“I think we’ll both be better now.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” He smacked a hand to his forehead, finally gripping the gravity of the situation. “Holy shit. I’m going to have three kids. Did you do that math?”
“Don’t make me laugh. I throw up when I laugh.”
“Okay. Sorry.” He planted a kiss on the side of her face, then another, and other. He couldn’t get enough of her, and in his opinion, he was behaving admirably well. “Can I make my mate smile? Is that okay?”
“I’m happy somebody wants to. I never thought I’d be here, Grant. Never thought anyone would want me.”
“And I didn’t really want anyone before you. Oh, honey, I’ll show you exactly how much I want you as soon as Leo gets back and can take Pete.”
“What about dinner?”
He snaked his hand up the front of her sweatshirt and traced his fingertips over the scar his bite left. “Damn. That’s right.”
He nudged her face toward his and sipped on their sweetness ever so briefly. In less than ten minutes, his mood had improved two hundred percent, and he knew it was only going to get better. He was going to get to take his son and his Angel back to Wolverton—to his ranch and the little house on it—and he could imagine the vain wolf in him strutting like a peacock.
He’d have three gorgeous kids, and he wouldn’t even care if two of them turned out to be omegas like their mama. The Wolverton pack could use a little sweetening, and those sweethearts would have a very proactive alpha for their daddy. He’d make sure they fit in, just like he’d do for Angel.
“Dinner first, because you’re eating for three,” he rasped. “After that, though…”
“Yes, after.” The smile in her eyes made all his suffering worth it. “I can’t wait.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Readers:
Norseton Wolves is a series within the Afótama Legacy saga. Obviously, you don’t need to read those modern Viking stories to understand where the Wolves are or why they’re there, but doing so does add richness to the overall reading experience.
The first four Norseton Wolves stories are set at approximately the same time. Angel occurs later in the timeline. The characters from all the stories appear throughout the series and spill into others, as well.
Suggested Reading Order:
The Viking Queen’s Men (The Afótama Legacy #1)
The Chieftain’s Daughter (The Afótama Legacy #2)
Prince in Leather (Hearth Motel #1)
Unwrapping Mr. Roth (Hearth Motel standalone)
Viking’s Pride (The Afótama Legacy #2.5)
Viking Flame (The Afótama Legacy #3)
Knight in Leather (Hearth Motel #2)
The Viking’s Witch (The Afótama Legacy #4)
Norseton Wolves
*The Norseton Wolves stories are all set after The Chieftain’s Daughter.*
Beast
Loner
Idler
Scion
Maker
Elder
Scout
Seer
Angel
Don’t forget to subscribe to my new release alerts so you don’t miss a single story set in the Norseton world, or any of my other paranormal romances, either!
ABOUT HOLLEY TRENT
Holley Trent writes contemporary and paranormal romances ranging from sensual to erotic that are usually set in her home state. Her humor is sometimes subtle, often ribald, and regularly inappropriate. If any of her stories seem overly serious at first glance–keep reading.
She’s a winner of the inaugural CIM-RWA Abalone Award (for My Nora) and a three-time Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence finalist (My Nora, Calculated Exposure, and A Demon in Waiting). A Demon in Waiting was a RomCon Readers’ Crown finalist in 2014. Her Den of Sin novella Winterball was a 2015 Passionate Plume award winner.
To see her full list of books, visit holleytrent.com.
COPYRIGHT AND CREDITS
ANGEL
Copyright © 2016 by Holley Trent
First published in the SHIFERS IN THE SNOW: BUNDLE OF JOY anthology in November 2016.
Cover art © Madison Silver/Silver Heart
Copy edits by K. Stein, Missed Period Editing
All rights reserved. Reproduction of any part of this book in any format, except for reviewing purposes, is allowed only with prior consent of the author.
ANGEL is a work of fiction. Names, places, entities, and scenarios in this book are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
