by Lane Whitt
I lean against a bedpost as Jace joins them on the bed, placing the baby down on a free pillow to prop him up. This, right here…is perfection. I could watch this for the rest of my life. I don’t realize I’m crying until Kellan comes to stand next to me, a long finger swiping happy tears from my cheeks.
“Hey now, none of that,” he whispers.
Tilting my head up to accommodate his tall form, I meet his eyes. “I’m just so happy,” I tell him through a wide smile.
He smiles back. “I know. It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”
I nod my head, reaching up on my tiptoes to kiss his pouty lips. “It is.”
He guides me over to a short bench against one wall that sits in front of a beautiful table with mirrors. “Take your time brushing your hair and whatnot, we’ve got the little ones.” With a kiss to the top of my head he joins the others, leaving me to stare at myself in the mirror.
The table holds all manner of things. I reach for some lotion that smells like crisp red apples and start applying it to my face and arms. I find a bright blue comb, using it to untangle my wet hair as I watch the guys behind me through the mirror. I can’t keep the smile from my face. Meeting my own eyes in the mirror, I shake my head. What have I done to deserve all this? I can’t imagine being happier. Despite Kellan’s words I rush through brushing my hair out, leaving it to air dry.
Joining the guys on the bed, I squeeze between Reed and Finn, leaning into one and holding hands with the other. My eyes rake over each baby, noticing that each outfit has a matching blanket and socks. They eat up all the attention they’re receiving, eyes flitting from each person to the next. Only the blonde is being held, but I knew he would be. He’s a snuggler, that’s for sure. Held in Reed’s arms he faces out at me, his shocking eyes making me smile even more. One eye is a mix between green and blue, the other a light brown that turns darker depending on the light. It’s stunning. He smiles when he sees me admiring him. I smile back, leaning in to kiss his little light blonde head.
“It still amazes me that they look like three-month-olds. That’s going to make tracking their growth rates near impossible,” Kellan muses.
“It should be fine. We’ll measure and track them for future reference, but we’ll have to keep in mind not to compare them with typical charts,” Finn responds. He turns his head to look at me. “How are you feeling? I trust the shift back allowed you to heal nicely?”
I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. It definitely doesn’t feel like I squeezed out five babies. My boobs are weird, though,” I tell him as I cup my breasts, inspecting them again.
“How so?” Kellan asks.
I make a face. “I don’t know. They’re not sore really. More like heavier and feel too full. Like pressure is building in them,” I try to explain.
“Ah, that’s normal then,” he responds absently as his gaze drifts over the babies, who look to be falling asleep now. “They don’t appear to be hungry at the moment. Would you like to try to pump? That should relieve the pressure.”
“You mean go milk myself like a cow?” I cringe.
Logan laughs. “You’re the prettiest cow I ever did see.” He leans toward me, kissing my lips, eyes shining with mirth.
“Come here.” Kellan holds out a hand, helping me off the bed and wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he leads me to a door on the side of our room. “I won’t pretend to know what it feels like to go through the changes of motherhood, or where your head has been for the last week as you cared for our young on your own.”
“You guys took care of us, too,” I’m quick to interrupt.
“We did what we could.” He smiles lightly, pushing open the door I thought was a closet but actually leads to the nursery. “I’m trying to say that we know a lot of things will be on you when it comes to the pups, but there are ways we can help you.” He guides me to a set of padded glider chairs, urging me to take a seat in one of them. From a compartment in the table between the chairs he pulls out a machine, setting it on top of the table.
“One of which is helping with the feedings,” he continues as he pulls out tubing and other pieces, hooking them all up. Pointing at a counter with a changing station and sink with dark cabinets underneath he explains, “There’s a small fridge and freezer over there, along with a bottle warmer on the counter. Trying to feed five human babies with only two breasts would be quite a challenge. However, if you try to pump when you’re in human form, the guys and I could take over some of those duties. It would allow you to spend more time as you, and less time as your wolf. Besides, as a human, your breasts will become engorged if you allow the milk you’re producing to build up.”
“Won’t milking me make it so that I don’t have any milk left when the babies go to eat from me?” I ask, now curious. I mean, if I pump out all the milk, that means they’ll never nurse from me, right? That doesn’t seem right.
Kellan chuckles lightly, slipping the straps of my cami down my arms. “Not at all. The female body is a marvelous thing. You are capable of producing as much breast milk as you want, given that you remain hydrated and nourished properly. The more you take from your body, the more you will produce. Almost like a failsafe to ensure infants never go hungry.”
“Just to be clear, I can pump out milk and still breastfeed our babies?” I ask.
“Of course,” he responds, kissing my lips.
I watch as he inserts a bottle into either cup, flipping on the machine that mimics a sucking motion. Handing them over to me, I fumble to get the right angle needed. Seeing my frustration Kellan takes one suction cup from me, gently lifting my breast to fit properly. He seems content to help me hold that one while I follow his lead with the other. It’s an odd feeling, a machine sucking at my nipples, stealing milk meant for my babies. When the pups were nursing from my wolf, I had the advantage of my animal’s mindset. It was natural, necessary, and never gave me pause. Sitting here with Kellan and the machine I wonder if the act should feel sexual in nature, but it doesn’t.
“This feels weird,” I tell him after the silence gets to me.
“It’s new, but you’re doing great, Kitten. You can always choose not to breastfeed at all. We could supplement with formula if you’d like. It’s your choice,” he informs me.
I shake my head immediately. “It’s not that. It’s just the machine.”
“You’re doing us all a favor by pumping milk for future use. You’ll be able to rest, or do other things on occasion when the babies want to eat. Feeding them will also give us men time to bond with the little ones and make us feel useful, as well,” he tells me.
“You guys don’t feel useful?” I frown.
He laughs. “Not really. We had to watch you suffer through the births, nurse them, and keep them safe and warm. All we did was feed you and change some blankets.”
“That’s not true. You all took care of Mikey, and you finished the renovations so our home would be ready for our babies. You also provided us a safe environment to hole up in that room. That’s not nothing, Kellan,” I tell him softly.
A peaceful quietness settles over us, only the occasional swapping out of bottles as they become filled distracting us. When my breasts begin to hurt from the pumping and the milk seems to run out, Kellan hands me a warm washcloth from the cabinet and I clean myself up. Thankfully, the odd pressure I was feeling earlier is gone.
“Hold on, I’ll be back,” he tells me as I recline back in the glider. It’s quite a bit more comfortable than I expected.
Looking around the finished nursery, I’m beyond pleased with how it turned out. The guys have made obvious changes in here, making adjustments for the unexpected quintuplets. The low crib Ash originally made is gone, replaced by a much larger one with five rounded curves to appear as though there are five separate cribs; but really, it’s a just one long one. Carved into the dark wood are depictions of regal wolves and playful pups chasing the moon. It’s stunning, really. He must have worked so hard to get this completed so soon
. Hanging over each rounded section is a flowing curtain draping over the back of the crib. The ends are the same vibrant green most of the room is decorated in, the inner sections a soft silver, with the very center done in a soft, creamy pink. Just like I described when we visited the store. Of course, Logan would perfectly match what I had in my head. He’s brilliant like that. And a good deal sweeter than what he pretends to be.
Next to the crib, built into the alcove, is a square box-like mat filled with oversized pillows to lie on with random blankets strewn about. Hanging above the pen-like lounging area are bookshelves already filled with children’s books. I can just picture all of us lounging in there, the pups crawling all over us as we listen to Finn read to us.
“What’s that smile for?” Kellan asks as he returns with our son, who smells of him and his twin. The baby is asleep, wrapped tightly in a fluffy blue blanket with satin edges. Only one small hand peeks out from his wrapping, clasping at his father’s shirt.
“I was just picturing our life in here,” I tell him softly.
His grass-green eyes dance with unspoken emotion as he smiles softly at me. “It’s a good smile. You should do it more often,” he tells me as he takes a seat in the other glider.
I watch him as he stares at the baby, gently rocking in the chair and rubbing his pouty lips over the baby’s head like he can’t stop kissing him. I understand that compulsion; their heads smell so damn good.
“What about Killian?” he asks, eyes still on our son.
“Hmm?”
“For a name. The guys and I have spoken about names for them many times. We didn’t want to do anything without you, of course, but we’re comfortable naming the ones that take after us. Finn and I like the name Killian. It denotes our Irish heritage, yet is modern enough as well. What do you think?”
“Killian…hmm. I rather like it. Just as long as no one shortens it to Kill; that doesn’t seem right for a child,” I joke.
Kellan laughs softly so as not to wake the baby. “What do you think, little man? You want to be Killian, Prince of the Ivaskov pack? Hmm?” The little hand gripping his shirt reaches up for Kellan’s face, brushing over his cheek. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He smirks down at Killian.
“So, we have a redheaded Raider and a green-eyed Killian,” I state.
“Yep. Sounds almost poetic.” He smirks.
“It does,” I agree, closing my eyes. Concentrating on the soft breaths and pattering hearts of my two men in the room, I drift off.
When I open my eyes next it’s to see my mates piled up in the alcove with Mikey, apparently deciding to nap with me and the babies, who lie soundly in their handmade crib. Seeing all my men together piled up like puppies, I really wish I had a camera. On second look, one is missing.
Tristan.
Having no doubt as to where I’ll find my world-renowned chef, I head straight for the kitchen. I take up leaning against the archway, watching as he moves quietly throughout the room. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing him command and control his surroundings like he was born to it.
“Are you going to stand there watching me, little wolf?” he asks amusedly, without even looking in my direction.
I smile. “It’s a pretty good view.”
Turning to me with a devilish grin, he gestures me forward. “It’s better from over here,” he tells me, gripping my hips and setting me up on the countertop.
Staring into his chocolatey eyes, I sigh. “You’re right, it is.”
With a step forward he presses between my knees, hands going to the outside of my thighs. “I thought you’d be resting.”
I shrug. “I was, now I’m not. Everyone else is still in there, though. Why are you out here?”
“Figured I’d get started on dinner. I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks.
“No. I didn’t hear you in here. You know I almost never use my wolf hearing.” I smirk.
He smirks back. “Yeah, I know.” He leans his tall frame down to gently nip at my throat. I giggle.
“Tristan?” I hedge.
“Yes, my dear Luna?” he responds playfully.
“Are you…okay?” I all but blurt out.
His dark eyes are on mine in a second, searching. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m okay. I’m not always…like that, Kitten,” he says a little defensively.
I shake my head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that…I know you, and I wonder if you think not fathering one of the kids is some sort of cosmic punishment. I want to know if you’re okay with all that,” I try to explain.
He closes his eyes, body starting to shake. I grip his shoulders, panicked that I’ve upset him. Then he starts laughing. Loud, carefree, and happy laughter. “Sorry, baby. You just couldn’t be more wrong,” he says once he’s somewhat gotten himself under control again.
“How so?” I ask as he wraps me up in his long arms and rocks me back and forth.
He bends down so that his face is level with mine. “For one, I am a father.” He flicks my nose lightly. “Don’t ever underestimate my bond with my brothers. Those kids are ours. Not one of us would have ever thought differently, even if circumstances were different.”
I nod, swallowing thickly. Sometimes I forget how close these men truly are. They’ve been sharing a life way before I came into the picture. I make a mental note to never forget that again.
“Secondly, I don’t feel as if I’m being punished, sweet girl,” he continues. “I can’t describe what happened to me when we were in that room when you were giving birth. Something happened to me, something changed. It was like the chains that bind me were finally broken. Or something. Like I said, I can’t describe it. For the first time ever, I felt blessed. It was only in that moment that I was able to believe that I wasn’t a monster, that something so cosmically right could happen to me. Remy and the others, and now you, have tried to tell me I deserve to be happy. But I didn’t believe it until that moment. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” he asks me almost desperately, like he needs me to really get it.
“I think I do,” I respond honestly.
“Good.” He kisses my head. “So, don’t worry about me, or Logan and Jace for that matter, feeling like we’re left out. We don’t see it that way, Kitten. We never looked at you as our first and only opportunity, and we’ll never look at those children as anything other than family. We wouldn’t want to do any of this without each other. Not even if it was possible to have our own mates and children. That’s why you’re so perfect for us. Why all of this is so perfect. That’s how I know that everything happening now was fated.”
“I understand, Tristan. I get it,” I tell him, feeling like I really do get it.
He nods, still staring into my eyes. “Then I need you believe that I now think I’m going to be okay. That we’re all going to be okay. Also understand that I can’t have you in my kitchen without feeding you,” he jokes. Well, kind of jokes, because I know he’s dead serious.
“Hmm, I suppose I’d allow you to feed me…under one condition,” I tease, pretending to think it over.
“Oh, yeah?” His voice drops into that silky-smooth tone he usually saves for the bedroom. I almost forget what the hell I was going to say. The sexy devil.
“You have to kiss me,” I whisper huskily.
“You drive a hard bargain,” he chuckles in my ear, practically lighting my body on fire.
Tristan’s smooth lips take mine before I can form another thought. He kisses me softly and passionately, the way only he can. The taste and feel of him never ceases to drive me insane.
Reluctantly, we break apart so he can find something for me to eat. I feel beyond spoiled by this man as he feeds me directly from his fingers—all while he prepares dinner, too. When memories of going so hungry that it caused pain try to surface, it feels surreal. I know without a doubt that this amazing mate of mine will never allow that to happen again. Even if we didn’t have money, or weren’t wolves, he would make it his mission
to take care of me. I don’t know who to thank for men like him existing.
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you sure this isn’t too soon, my Luna?” Albert asks as he joins us in the conference room.
“It’s just a phone call. It shouldn’t take that long. Thank you for your concern, though.” I smile at my Omega.
“Getting all the Alphas to agree to a meeting place and date could take a while. It’s better that we get the ball rolling now, in case Kendrick and the Australians raise any hell,” Remy adds.
And thus begins the seemingly endless series of calls. We start alphabetically, the irony of this not lost on me. Seriously? How do the humans get anything done on a global level? It’s hard enough to contact as many wolf packs as there are, let alone if we had to contact as many countries there are in the world now.
Wolf territory is an odd affair, drawing their own lines, while still using human territory names. Such as the Prussian pack. I find all the territory issues ridiculous, but it gives me another idea to bring up in our future meeting. As our last call wraps up, it becomes apparent that getting everyone on the same page will be harder than I first thought.
“Well, this was a waste of time,” Jace sighs, unbuttoning his jacket and relaxing in that polished, rich boy way of his.
“Not necessarily. If anything, we’ve learned which packs have issues with each other. That could be useful information,” Finn replies.
Logan snorts. “If we were information-gathering, maybe. Who knew grown-ass wolves could act so childish? Petty bastards make more demands than a cheer captain attending her first prom.”
Jace shakes his head. “I wasn’t complaining for the sake of it. I’d like to take a different approach, if you’re all in agreement.”
“Let’s hear it,” Remy states.
“I know this began as a friendly meeting between Alphas, but we could make it more than that. I suggest we announce a place and date for attendance to a United Nations of sorts, for wolfkind. Those who show will obviously be open to new ideas and changes that affect us all. Those who don’t will eventually feel left out, meaning they would eventually be left behind, or agree to get with the program,” Jace explains.
