by Lowe, Anna
Val blanched.
“Oh…” Sage took a step back, her face falling. She turned to Mercy. “Did she not know yet?”
“She suspected,” Mercy said. “It seems it’s coming as a bit of a shock.”
Sage wrung her hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to warn you earlier. With all the feast preparations, I never noticed.”
“It’s fine,” Val said. “I’m fine.”
“The pack will be able to help you with everything,” Sage said tentatively. “It’ll be fun!”
Val stared blankly ahead. What if someone went hungry this winter because of her child? She’d never be able to forgive herself. Should she run away? Get a job in some other place, some other city to not burden the pack?
“Val.” Mercy pushed her firmly into a chair. “This is a good thing. A great thing. Stop panicking! The Alphas are going to order a celebratory feast, I guarantee it.”
But they’d spent hours poring over their supply lists, making sure they wouldn’t have to resort to rations in case of a long, harsh winter. What if Val ruined all their carefully laid plans? She tried to keep breathing evenly, though she could tell her pulse was racing—Mercy and Sage would be able to hear if she began to hyperventilate.
“I know this is unexpected,” Mercy said, “but the pack’s going to be thrilled. Just wait, Val. You’ll barely believe the parties they’ll throw. Packs always go crazy over pups.”
Pups? Val had never thought she’d have a pup. But shifter babies could be born in animal form, from the stories she’d heard. What if hers came out as a wolf? What if it refused to shift? What if she couldn’t talk to it? Putting her head between her legs, Val tried to breathe. If she wasn’t ready to raise a normal child, she definitely wasn’t ready to raise a shifter baby.
“Breathe, Val,” Sage said. “Here, smell this.”
She waved something under Val’s nose. The smell was so foul that Val began coughing, struggling to pull in air.
“Skunk salts,” Sage said. “Sorry about that, but you were looking deathly pale.”
“Talk to us.” Mercy laid a blanket around Val’s shoulders. “We can help.”
“Please don’t tell the Alphas,” Val whispered.
Mercy and Sage exchanged a concerned look.
“We won’t,” Mercy said, “but you do know that they’ll find out sooner or later, don’t you? And I don’t think they’re going to be unhappy about it.”
“I’d tell them soon, Val,” Sage said softly. “Within a few days, they’ll be able to smell it.”
Val hugged her knees to her chest. Couldn’t she keep a secret for a week or so, just long enough to get used to the idea? Letting out a shuddering breath, Val eyed Sage’s skunk salts. She didn’t want them to be waved under her nose again.
But how was she supposed to get used to the idea when she’d never considered having children in the first place? She’d been raised to hunt vampires. All her thoughts of the future had always revolved around hunting missions and weapons practice—until she’d met Ash and Blaze, of course.
Val sighed.
“Talk to us,” Mercy said. “Please?”
“I never thought I’d have a child,” Val said. “But then again, I never thought I’d end up living with shifters, either.”
“Or becoming the mate of two Alphas, I’d guess.” Mercy smiled. “But that turned out to be better than your wildest dreams, right? Having a child could be the same way.”
“It will be,” Sage said. “It takes a pack to raise a pup, and you have one of the best.”
“You’re right,” Val said. “I’m still not ready to tell the Alphas yet, though.”
“That’s all right,” Sage said. “Stay in here and help me with the glaze.”
Val spent the rest of the day trying to avoid her mates. Luckily, she didn’t have to try very hard. For some reason, they were nowhere to be found. That was very strange, but they would have found her behavior stranger still. And they would have coaxed her secret out of her in no time.
Wrapping a fur around her, Val stuck to the shadows. It was odd being in the cavern. A fire was roaring, shifters were drinking and singing. They were making the most of Yule Eve, but Val felt distinctly removed from everyone else.
She slid a hand over her belly, making sure her movements were hidden by the fur. This child would change everything. Despite Mercy and Sage’s reassurances, in the darkening night it was harder to believe that Ash and Blaze would be completely excited. They were going to be fathers. They already had the responsibility of being Alphas—were they ready for more?
Brynn and Thea brought out plates of food, but Val could barely eat. All she could think about was the secret hiding within her. Her Alphas’ imagined reactions kept running through her head, and none of them were good. But Ash and Blaze wouldn’t really throw her out into the snow, would they? Surely that was too far.
Val crouched near the fire, huddling in her fur. She almost wanted to shift so no one could read her expressions, but could she even shift without harming the unborn child? She had no idea. She’d have to ask Mercy.
Val stared into the dancing flames. She knew she should find her Alphas, tell them what was happening, but she wasn’t ready—not now.
Curling up, she prepared to go to sleep.
“You have to tell them,” Mercy whispered, bending low under the pretense of collecting Val’s mostly untouched plate.
“I will… tomorrow.”
“All right, Val. Happy Yule Eve.”
Val didn’t see what was happy about it at all.
Chapter Five
The next day was a blur of preparations. Brynn asked Val if she would be willing to help in the kitchens. Val did her best, but she was so stressed about her secret that all she could do was try not to burn anything. After a few hours, Sage gently coaxed her out into the main cavern with a cup of tea.
“Get off your feet for a minute,” Sage said. “And try to relax.”
When Val returned to the kitchens, Sage kindly but firmly turned her away.
She spent the rest of the afternoon dodging her Alphas and trying not to think about the only thing that plagued her mind. There wasn’t room in her heart for celebration or joy or gift ideas. Sitting by the fire and trying not to look miserable, Val bit her thumb. She would have to think of something to get the Alphas. Anything. If she had nothing for the gift exchange tonight, they would know something was wrong.
“Hey, Val.” Parker trotted out of the hall carrying a towering pile of plates. “Would you help me set the table?”
“Sure.” Val took half of the stack of dangerously piled plates before they toppled.
“We only use these once a year,” Parker said as he flung his plates onto the table, “so of course we need a hundred of ’em.”
Val laid the plates on the stone table, carefully making the appropriate murmurs in response to Parker’s comments. It was hard to pay attention to his chatter when she was so worried about how her Alphas would react. With every plate she set, her stomach grew tighter, for every plate set was one second closer to when she’d have to tell her mates everything.
“Are you okay?” Parker asked, breaking through her ruminations. “You seem quiet.”
“I’m fine. Just hungry.” Val smiled, hoping that would forestall him asking any more questions.
He frowned. Val clenched her fists, hoping he couldn’t smell what his mate had so easily.
“I could ask Sage for a sample, if you’d like,” he said.
“I’ll be all right,” Val said, “but thank you.”
Parker nodded, trotting off at Lynx’s call to help unearth the boar.
Before she knew it, night was falling, and it was too late to come up with a gift. That was the least of her worries now. She was going to have to find some way to tell her Alphas what she’d been hiding from them.
“Ember pack!” Mercy called. “The sun has set!”
They assembled in the main cavern, a hush gatheri
ng. Val realized that everyone was looking at her. Did they know? Their stares were unnerving.
Her Alphas sauntered up beside her.
“Help us light the Yule log,” Ash said.
Blaze handed her a piece of kindling. “This is from last year’s log,” he said. “Use it to light the new one.”
The pack watched solemnly as Val set the kindling to the hearth fire’s flames. Once it was lit, she set it atop the Yule log. Someone had scored the surface, and thin shavings of wood curled as they caught fire. Soon the flames had spread to the log itself.
Val could sense the pack’s excitement rising as the Yule fire burned.
“It’s officially the start of Yule,” Ash said. “Twelve days of celebration.”
“And we’re going to make the most of every one,” Blaze promised.
“Enough talk,” Fury called. “Let’s eat!”
They all took their seats. Val’s mouth watered at the spread that lay before them. There were fat loaves of bread, meats soaked in cider, fruits, and nuts. Brynn and Thea passed jugs brimming with ginger tea, spiced cider, birch beer, mulled wine, and other spirits. Besides the odd empty space in the middle of the table, there wasn’t an inch of surface to spare. The food and drink seemed unending.
“Don’t dig in yet,” Ash whispered to Val. “The guest of honor has yet to make his grand entrance.”
Val frowned. Guest of honor? She hadn’t known anyone was visiting.
Just then, an otherworldly scent rose into the air.
“It’s here!” Fury called. He and Lynx carried the roasted boar on a huge spit between them. Grunting, they heaved it onto the cleared space in the middle of the table.
Ash stood, carving into the boar and eating a slice.
Blaze nudged Val. “Follow our lead. The ceremonial first cut. Alphas eat first, you know.”
Val would have preferred to have less attention on her, but she took a bite of the boar after Blaze. A bit of the juice dribbled down her chin. The meat was so tender and succulent that she chewed slowly, savoring it for as long as possible.
She sat, hoping the movement looked natural.
“Dig in, everyone,” Ash said. “Let the feast begin!”
Blaze grabbed a roasted pheasant on a platter, pulling it toward him proprietarily. It was only then that Val noticed the dish that had been hidden behind it, laden with sweets. In the middle were cinnamon cakes, three tiers of them dusted with powdered sugar.
Hardly daring to believe her luck, Val reached for one.
Ash pushed the entire dish toward her. “Don’t even think about it,” he said. “You can’t eat one cinnamon cake. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Val held the small cake on her palm, breathing in the heavenly scent. Holding it to her lips, she nibbled an edge. It tasted divine, delicious beyond imagining. She ate the entire thing in three bites, then finished a second just as quickly. Not wanting to spoil her dinner, she saved a third for later.
“Here, Val,” Ash said as he passed her a prime cut of boar. “This is the piece you pierced with your spear. I think you deserve it.”
Val laughed as she cut into the slab of meat, juices running onto her plate. She didn’t know if she could finish such a huge piece by herself, but she was going to do her best.
Down the table, Mercy yelped. “Fury!” she cried. “I know you did this!” She turned to show the table her cinnamon cake. Breaking it in half, she revealed a Yule goat—red ribbons and all—inside the hollowed-out confection.
Fury cheered as the rest of the pack roared with laughter.
“Let that be a lesson to you,” Fury crowed. “You won’t be getting any more of your infernal goats past me this year.”
“Oh?” Mercy raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
Val turned back to her meat as the pack descended back into their usual banter. She’d have to compliment Sage on her glaze—it was phenomenal.
“Thirsty?” Blaze poured her a mug of birch beer. “This’ll unparch you fast.”
Val took the mug gladly. She was about to take a huge gulp when Mercy appeared at her elbow.
“Did you try the rabbit, Val? It’s amazing.” She shoved a plate next to Val’s face, knocking the mug onto the table. It clattered across the stone, spilling its contents.
“Mercy!” Ash glowered at her. “Be more careful.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Mercy set to mopping up the spill with a cloth. “I didn’t get any on you, Val, did I?”
“You spilled Val’s drink,” Blaze growled. “The least you could do is refill her mug.”
“Of course,” Mercy said. “What were you drinking, Val? Spiced cider? Tea?”
“You know she likes birch beer,” Blaze grumbled. “And this pitcher’s empty. Here, you can have my mug, Val.”
“Are you sure you want that?” Mercy asked. “I can get you something else. Anything else.”
Val’s eyes widened. Mercy was trying to tell her that she shouldn’t be drinking alcohol. Val blanched. She’d completely forgotten.
“She’s fine,” Blaze said, glaring. “Thanks, Mercy. You can go now.”
Mercy returned to her seat, glancing back at Val.
“Keep your mug.” Val thrust it back toward Blaze. “I can just get something else.”
“Take it. I insist.” He kissed her forehead. “I know birch beer’s your favorite.”
Val set the mug by her plate, almost afraid to touch it. She’d have to get rid of it somehow—nothing would be more suspicious than forgoing her favorite drink. Why did her mates have to be so wonderful and caring?
She waited until her Alphas were distracted by Chase and Haze fighting over the last piece of gingerbread. As Ash ruled that they’d have to share it, Val dumped her drink under the table. By the time she’d finished, another plate of cookies had been discovered behind a bowl of fruit, and the crisis was averted.
Within an hour, the pack had picked the boar clean. While the fruit bowls were mostly empty, the dessert plates were cleared even of crumbs. Happily, Val ate the last of her cinnamon cake. She sat back with a sigh, feeling fuller than she ever remembered. The merriment and laughter of the pack around her almost made her forget her troubles.
Sage and Brynn left, returning with a loaded tray.
“I hope you saved some room,” Sage announced, “because the Yule log cake is here!”
The cake they set on the table was a masterpiece. It looked just like a real log, the frosting textured like bark and complete with a forking branch. The edges were covered in glistening red berries. If they had told her that it had just come out of the forest, Val would have believed them.
She wished she could have taken a few moments to stare at the wondrous cake, but the pack was clearly more interested in the taste. Sage and Brynn were obviously a well-practiced team, Sage cutting and Brynn loading the pieces onto plates. She passed Val the entire forking branch with a wink.
“Make sure you eat the part with the berries last,” Brynn said. “They’re sweet as anything.”
Val stuck her fork into the cake, fascinated by the swirl of icing inside. They must have rolled the cake into this shape. Next year, she’d have to see how it was done.
She tasted dark chocolate and the slight hint of cinnamon. Though she was already sated, she couldn’t have stopped eating her piece of cake if she tried—it was just too satisfying. She followed Brynn’s advice, and was glad that she did. The piece with the berries tasted better than anything she’d had all night, and that was saying something.
The feast continued, until not a hint of food remained. Then, on their Alphas’ cue, the pack rose from the table. Val followed Ash and Blaze, standing between them as the pack ringed around the burning Yule log.
As one, they began to sing. Val didn’t know the words, so she simply smiled, letting the pack’s chorus wrap around her like a warm blanket.
I fear no winds of winter
I fear no sleet or snow
Because my pack is
with me
Wherever I may go
Though storms may rage outside
We’ll stay warm deep in our den
And count the days of winter grays
Until it’s spring again
So let the bonfires burn
Throw holly on the log
Now raise a glass, there’s time to pass
As we’ve eaten all the hog
The pack raised their mugs, clinking them together and downing the contents. Thea and Winter passed a basket around the circle. When it came to Val, she found clusters of holly leaves inside.
“Take a sprig,” Ash said, “then throw it on the fire. It’ll bring us luck in the new year.”
Val selected the holly with the shiniest leaves and brightest berries, then passed the basket on. Copying Ash and Blaze, she threw her holly on the Yule log. Val clasped her hands tightly as it burned away. She was going to need all the luck she could get.
“And now,” Blaze said, taking her hand, “the best part.”
“The best part?”
“Yes, the gifts! Come on!” He pulled her toward the stairs.
“It’s in our room, Val,” Ash said as they ascended, “so you’ll have to close your eyes once we get into the hall.”
“We would have wrapped it,” Blaze said, “only it’s too big and we don’t have wrapping paper anyway.”
Making sure her eyes were covered, they led Val into their room.
“All right,” Blaze said. “Open your eyes.”
Slowly, Val took her hands away from her face. Lying across their bed, its ends hanging off both sides, was a beautiful toboggan, painted red. Unable to speak, Val touched the shining wood of the smooth front curve.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
“We made it, of course,” Blaze said proudly. “Steaming the slats was murder, but we couldn’t have bent them nicely otherwise.”
“You made this? For me?” Val was overcome. She hadn’t known her mates were so talented. “But this must have taken days!”
