by Quinn Loftis
“No, he didn’t,” Jacque said around her laughter.
“Totally did.”
“Costin is the same way. He’s all like, ‘Here’s a heating pad. Do you want me to rub your stomach? Do you need me to get you a tampon? Would it help if we made love?’”
Jacque rolled her eyes. “Always circles back to that.”
“It’s the solution to every problem, in their minds,” Jen added.
“If he knew your parents had been jackasses, his answer probably would have been to try and seduce you.” Sally grabbed an apple that was sitting in a bowl on the island. She took a bite, and the loud crunch filled the empty kitchen.
Jen snorted. “If he’s breathing, then he’s trying to get in my pants.”
Jacque pushed away from the counter. “So, what did you tell your parents?”
“I remained calm, surprisingly. I told Mom the invitation was open, and Decebel even had a plane we could send so they wouldn’t have to fly commercial. Then she made a snide comment about how I had obviously had the resources all this time to see them whenever I wanted. Therefore, I must have deliberately made the choice not to. I bit my tongue again and asked if they’d come. She said they had other plans, told me she loved me, and hoped to meet her granddaughter one day soon. She wouldn’t even use Thia’s name.” Jen pinched the bridge of her nose and then smoothed her fingers across her forehead. “We’re trying to keep them from becoming doormats to the Order, and she thinks I’m being a selfish brat. Which I could have called them, but I’ve avoided it because of this kind of crap. It always turns into a catfight with her. And frankly, I’m just tired of trying to please her and always failing.”
Jacque and Sally glanced at one another. They weren’t strangers to Jen’s battles with her parents. Jen couldn’t seem to make them happy. Jacque knew they loved her, but they had expectations that Jen had never been interested in meeting. She’d always had her own idea of what her life would be, regardless of what anyone, including her parents, thought. She’d decided at some point in high school she wouldn’t keep beating a dead horse. So, she and her parents had lots of fights and Jen spent many nights at Jacque’s house eating Oreos and drinking hot chocolate while she lamented the fact her parents didn’t understand her and didn’t care to try.
“Will you tell Decebel eventually?” Sally asked.
“Yes, but I don’t want to worry him. He’s already worried about me because I’m going a little overboard with this whole celebration thing.”
“A little?” Jacque cracked a smile.
Jen shrugged. “Why do anything if you’re just going to half-ass it?”
“There’s the Jennifer we know and love,” Sally held her hand up to her friend, which Jen high fived.
“Damn straight.” She took a deep breath and then let it out. “Enough girly, bonding crap. We’ve got work to do.”
“Are we really going to have a girls’ night and corrupt poor Zara?” Jacque asked as they started walking.
“I won’t force it on her, but I think a girls’ night would be fun. Pajama party, painting fingernails, pillow fights.” Jen grinned at them. “We could even casually hint to the guys that there might be the possibility of a naked pillow fight.”
Sally shook her head. “That would get us all locked in our rooms.”
“I don’t know about that.” Jacque felt her mate in her mind, his interest piqued. “Naked pillow fights seem like something they’d make an exception for.”
“You obviously weren’t reading my interest correctly, Luna,” Fane said into her mind. “You grabbed my attention when I caught Sally’s statement about locking you in our room. I have no desire to watch you have a naked pillow fight,” he paused, “unless it is with me, of course.”
“Of course.” Jacque laughed.
“Costin’s totally not on board with that,” Sally said, a blush creeping up her neck. There was no telling what her flirty mate had said to her.
“Why on earth would you two even let your mates in on that tidbit?” Jen huffed. “Amateurs. You’re supposed to send them a naked mental picture while we’re at the girls’ night and then tell them we’re having a naked pillow fight … even though we’re not.”
“Some of us don’t feel the need to torture our males on a regular basis,” Jacque pointed out.
“Liar,” Jen muttered. “You just do it in different ways.”
They reached the main living room and saw Peri and Elle helping Crina and Zara out with the lights, though they were doing it the good old-fashioned way. Peri was cursing up a storm and attempting to untangle the twisted cords. She held out her hand as if to use magic, and Jen spoke up. “Don’t even think about it, Peri Fairy.”
“Why is it you always pop up at the most annoying times?” Peri grumbled.
“It’s her superpower,” Sally offered.
“Among other things.” Jacque walked over and opened a new box of ornaments. “I’m going to get started on another one. How many trees are in the mansion, Jen?”
Jen looked up at the immense fir tree standing in the corner. “There are ten right now, but there will be twenty-three total.”
Jacque’s chest tightened as a realization hit her. Jen was putting up a tree for every person who’d died in the battle at the Keep. Her mouth dropped open, then she closed it without speaking.
Peri must have realized the significance of the number as well because she looked around at all the jumbled decorations and then at the rest of them. “What the hell are you waiting for? A royal invitation? We’ve got lights to untangle and trees to deck.”
“I thought it was halls that were supposed to be decked.” Crina was wrestling with her own strand of lights.
“Trees, halls, what does it matter? Let’s just deck it all.”
Jen looked at the group and smiled. Jacque knew her friend saw the tears in her own eyes. Jacque gave her a nod and then took the box of ornaments. She headed for one of the trees that needed decorations. She heard steps behind her and glanced over her shoulder to find Zara holding another box of ornaments. Jacque’s brow raised. Zara smiled.
“Figured you might need some help.” Zara picked up her pace.
“Help is always welcome.” They entered a smaller sitting room. The tree in it was not quite as tall as the one in the main living room, but it was still over nine feet. To Jacque’s surprise, Bethany was sitting in a chair with her feet up, her hands resting on her large stomach. The alpha paused. “You want us to work somewhere else?”
Bethany shook her head. “No, please, come in and give me something to listen to other than my mate grumbling about how I’m not resting enough, not eating enough, even though I’m the size of a small country, and how I should be in bed because for some reason being in bed would somehow keep me safer than sitting in a freaking chair.”
Jacque laughed. “They tend to get a little overprotective when their mate is knocked up.”
“Overprotective?” Bethany scoffed. “How about smothering? I’d say we passed ‘a little overprotective’ five pillows ago. I’m pretty sure he’d sit on me to keep me where he wanted me if he wasn’t worried he’d hurt the baby.”
“I’m shocked he hasn’t tried to tie you to the bed.” Jacque sat the box of ornaments down on the coffee table and then pulled one out.
“Who said he hasn’t?” Bethany laughed. “This is the same man who used a sheet and safety pins to keep me from leaving our suite naked.”
“One thing is for sure.” Zara sat her ornaments down next to Jacque’s box. “It is never boring around here.”
“As Jen would say, boring is for wussies.” Jacque grinned as she hung a couple of ornaments and then headed over to the box to grab another. She looked at the box and then at the tree and sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
“Except she wouldn’t say ‘wussies,’” said Zara.
“True dat.”
Jacque and Zara worked quietly as Bethany watched and hummed Christmas songs. Jacque con
tinually shot glances Zara’s way but tried not to make it obvious she was watching the girl. Apparently, subtlety wasn’t her strong suit.
“Yes, something is wrong.” Zara caught Jacque glancing at her, probably for the tenth time in the span of a minute.
“Thank goodness.” Bethany breathed out. “I was trying really hard not to ask, and you know pregnant women have no filter.”
Jacque nodded. “Accurate.”
“Okay”—Bethany motioned to Zara—“spill it.”
Just as Zara was about to speak, Wadim came striding in with a ladder in hand. He set it up in front of the tree and glanced at his mate. “When you said you were hanging ornaments, I figured you’d probably need one of these.”
Jacque assumed Zara must have been speaking to her mate through the bond … or maybe Wadim was just being nosy. Probably the latter. He was a mated male wolf, after all.
“Thank you.” Zara smiled at him. Wadim simply stood there, a few feet from where Zara was, staring at her. Zara’s eyes darted from Jacque to Bethany and then back to her mate’s.
“Is this awkward for anyone else?” Bethany asked. Definitely a broken filter.
“You’re pregnant,” Jacque pointed out. “Everything is awkward for you.”
Bethany snorted and replied dryly, “Funny, real funny. Won’t be so funny when you’re knocked up and trying not to have to turn sideways to get through a door.”
“Been there, done that,” Jacque sang.
“I totally knew that, just had a momentary lapse in brain function,” Bethany shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I can hear my brain cells yelling, ‘Please help, we’re dying.’”
Jacque glanced back at Wadim, who now had a small grin on his face, though he was still staring at Zara. “Learning a lot about being knocked up?”
Bethany’s eyes widened. “Mother of trolls, are you pregnant?”
Zara’s face was blank as she reached for an ornament, her shoulders stiff as she walked to the tree and looked for an empty spot that wasn’t too high up. “No, Bethany, I’m not pregnant. Pretty sure there has to be some flower pollinating going on for there to be any new flowers growing.”
Wadim let out a low growl that caused Jacque’s eyes to snap to him.
“I’m just going to continue growing this brain cell killer and try to keep my trap shut.” Bethany rubbed her swollen stomach.
“Zara, can I speak with you?” That Wadim asked out loud was not lost on Jacque. Either he was doing it for their benefit or Zara was ignoring his use of their bond.
Zara glanced up at the top of the tree where it was still empty of ornaments. “We have a lot to get done. We can talk later.”
“I would really like to speak with you now.” Wadim’s hands fisted, and then he shoved them in the pockets of his jeans. His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes bore into his mate, who was acting completely oblivious, but her shaking hands gave her away.
Zara’s eyes flashed up to his. “We don’t always get what we want, history boy.”
Burn. Jacque reached into the box to grab another ornament, only her hand came up empty. She glanced down and saw she’d used them all. Saved by the box. “Wadim,” Jacque said, keeping her voice light, “would you mind grabbing another couple boxes of ornaments from the main living room?”
Wadim didn’t take his eyes off of his mate as he answered. “Of course, Alpha.” His body was stiff as he turned on his heel and headed out of the sitting room.
“Zara,” Jacque whispered. “Are you okay?” She felt like she was having déjà vu from the day before when she’d asked Crina the same question.
The girl hesitated before answering. Her mouth opened, but yet again, she was interrupted as Wadim came striding back in, carrying two boxes of ornaments stacked on top of one another. He set them down gently, which was surprising considering his eyes were glowing with his wolf, and he looked like he was ready to chew someone up. Then he headed straight for Zara. Wadim took her face in his hands and leaned down. He pressed his lips to hers in a quick kiss. He pulled back and then, just as quickly, leaned down further to her neck and nipped her. It was hard enough that Zara gasped and then growled at him. The historian jumped back before she could smack him with the hand that was already flying through the air.
“You bit me,” Zara snarled. The girl was still unable to phase due to the pack magic Vasile had used on her. But Jacque had a feeling that if Zara could, she would have been in her wolf form with her hackles raised.
“You denied me,” Wadim snapped back.
Zara’s eyes narrowed. “You denied me first.”
Jacque had no idea what she meant, but Wadim obviously did because if it was possible, he grew even tenser. Jacque could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. Wadim was rarely upset and never with Zara. He took a step toward her, but Jacque stepped in between them. Apparently, she felt like playing chicken with a pissed off werewolf.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Jacque offered.
“That’s a great idea,” Wadim said, his voice rough with his beast. “Zara, let’s go take a break.” Each word was bit out through gritted teeth.
“My bad, I forgot that you guys don’t get signals. Blunt. Have to be blunt,” Jacque said as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “What I meant to say was ‘Wadim, Zara needs a break … from you’.”
Wadim’s eyes slowly shifted to look at her. Jacque felt her wolf push forward as the male stared directly in her eyes. She knew her own eyes were probably glowing now. She pulled on her power and Fane’s as well. Jacque didn’t like forcing Wadim to submit to her, but things were getting intense and neither of them was backing down.
A moment later, Fane came storming in. She could feel his gaze, but she would not drop her eyes from Wadim’s. He was going to lower his eyes first, even if they stood there all day.
“I’m not trying to keep you from her,” Jacque told him. “She just needs some space.”
“Wadim,” Fane said, his voice low as he stepped close to the male and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Look at your female.”
Wadim finally dropped his gaze from Jacque’s, but she didn’t stop staring at him. Her wolf wasn’t angry, but she wanted to make sure he understood that she wouldn’t submit to him, no matter how pissed he was about his mate.
“Wadim, please,” Zara said from behind Jacque. “I’m talked out.”
After several more tense minutes, Wadim finally nodded. “Later then,” he said, and it sounded very much like a command.
Fane watched as Wadim left. “What was that about?”
“You were in my head, wolf-man. You know as much as I know.” Jacque shrugged and then opened the next box of ornaments.
“Zara,” Fane said, looking at the she-wolf. “Is everything okay?”
Jacque turned to look at her.
Zara glanced down at the ornament in her hand. She turned it this way and that, catching the lights on the glitter covered glass. “It will be,” she answered vaguely.
Fane brushed his lips against Jacque’s forehead and then left. Jacque turned to see that Zara was climbing up the ladder so she could reach the higher part of the tree. “I’ll talk to you guys about it,” Zara said without looking down, “but we might as well wait for girls’ night because I don’t want to repeat myself.”
Jacque glanced at Bethany, who simply shrugged.
Looked like girls’ night was going to be more of a relationship intervention. Jacque smiled to herself. Wasn’t that what girls’ night always turned into?
* * *
Chapter 6
“On the sixth day of Christmas my werewolf gave to me six packs of Oreos, five satisfied smiles, four hours of hotness, three growling males, two cursing pups, and a furball in a fir tree.
Yes, there was hot chocolate, and it might have been spiked, but there were more than six of them, so it didn’t fit in the verse. I’m trying to make it work, people. Just keep singing and smiling, singing and smiling.” ~Jen
Unfortunately, girls’ night didn’t take place until five nights later. Everyone had been working their butts off, and no one had the energy to do more than mumble and wave as they headed for their suites at the end of the day. Zara also noticed that none of the males seemed inclined to even give their mates a chance to bring up the girls’ night. The men kept suggesting that everyone needed a good night’s sleep to be able to accomplish all of Jen’s assigned tasks on time. As each day passed, Zara became more convinced that Jacque’s idea of letting the fae decorate the mansion with a snap of the fingers was by far the best thing to do.
Finally, perhaps because the whole thing was her idea, and she loved a girls’ night more than anyone, Jen let everyone quit work at five in the afternoon instead of midnight. After that, despite growlings, rumblings, and downright whining from the males, the girls’ night was a go.
Zara walked into the library, and her heart immediately felt lighter when she heard “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” playing lightly in the background. Several girls sat around on the couches and floor, holding cups of hot chocolate and eggnog, talking and laughing. She stood for several moments, taking in the scene. Considering Zara barely remembered the last time she’d celebrated Christmas, she was almost overwhelmed. She bit her lip and tried to get her emotions under control. She’d been on a roller coaster of them the past six days, and she was ready to get off the damn ride.
Somehow, she’d managed to keep herself from blurting out all of her frustrations in the middle of the day, mainly because Jen was a demanding commander and had decided if she played Christmas music loudly while they were decorating then they wouldn’t be able to stop and speak to each other. It had worked. Yelling over Bing Crosby got old quickly.
“You going to stand there and admire our fine asses all night, or are you going to get your own fine ass in here and drink up?” Jen lay on the floor on her stomach, her legs kicked up behind her, swinging gently. She was holding a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and two Oreos in the other. It was the most relaxed Zara had seen her in a week and a half.
