A Grey Wolves Howliday: The Grey Wolves Series Book 14

Chapter 1-2

Decebel put the sippie-cup down he’d been filling with milk and grabbed Jen’s shoulders. She sucked in a breath and finally looked up, her beautiful blue eyes meeting his. For an instant, he thought she was going to growl some more. Then her face softened, and her shoulders slumped. “I just want it to be special,” she admitted softly. “This year has been complete crap.” She laughed and then shook her head. “Who am I kidding? The last few years have been crap.”

“Ouch, Jennifer. I’m trying not to take that personally considering we met, mated, and had a child together during those complete crap times.”

“There have been moments of awesomeness.” She set the pen down and wrapped her arms around him. “I didn’t mean that all of it’s been crap. I just mean—”

“I know what you mean,” he interrupted. “Since Fane met Jacque, we’ve all been trying to survive from one bad guy to the next.”

“Exactly.” She nodded. “There’s barely been time to breathe, let alone celebrate the amazing things that have happened while the crap was literally falling on our heads.”

“I’m proud of you for saying crap and not the other word,” he teased as he nuzzled her hair. He treasured the moments when she let herself be vulnerable. They were few and far between, and when they happened, like now, Decebel soaked them up like they were the first rays of sunshine in months.

She snorted. “Yeah, well, turns out mini-me likes potty words as much as her momma. For some reason, she never repeats things I say like ‘that’s adorable’, but”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“if I slip up and say, ‘life’s a b***h,’ she’s suddenly all miss vocabulary and throwing that s**t around like it’s confetti.”

Decebel had to agree. It was as though Thia specifically listened for words she knew she wasn’t supposed to say and then latched onto them like her favorite toy. “Maybe we should tell her not to say a regular word, and then she’d want to say it all the time instead of her current favorites.”

“Reverse psychology?” Jen narrowed her eyes and looked over at their daughter, who was currently holding up a circular piece of cereal and staring at them through the middle of it. “I don’t know. I think she’s too smart for that. And she’s creeping me out with the non-blinking stare. Thia, blink your eyes, child. You’re being weird.”

Thia seemed to think this was hilarious. She laughed and said, “Momma weird.”

“You’re not wrong, mini-me, you’re not wrong.” Jen shook her head at their mischievous girl.

“So,” Decebel said carefully, “about this celebration. Is a committee—”

“Yes, B, it’s necessary. It’s a big freaking house, we’re inviting the whole freaking pack, and if nothing is planned, then we’ll run out of food, have rooms that aren’t festive, and it will be a Christmas dud party. I don’t do duds.”

“Well, obviously, you mated me.” He couldn’t help himself. She’d walked into that one.

“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned.

He could see his mate had good intentions, even if she tended to go a little overboard on some things. He paused. Okay, a lot overboard. But he also thought this was part of her grieving process. It was as if she needed to do Alina’s memory justice by making this first “holiday” as special as their former alpha female had been. Decebel wouldn’t rob her of that if it was what she needed. He’d lay the world at her feet if he knew it would help her heal. “Okay, baby, you just tell me what to do and it’s done.”

Her plump lips turned up into a smile that lit up her face. That alone was enough to make him drag in fifty Christmas trees and put a thousand ornaments on every single one. Anything to make her smile at him like that.

“As soon as everyone is here, I’ll assign each person to their squad. Then we can lock and load,” she said with the pep back in her step.

“Squad?”

“Or we could call them teams.” She tapped the pen against her lips. “Or crews. Ohh, brigades.” She nodded with a grin. “Like the elf brigade, the wolf sleigh brigade, the tree brigade, the—”

“Wait. Did you say wolf sleigh brigade?”

She nodded again, this time even more enthusiastically. “Yes, and the tree brigade. Come on, babe, you’re going to have to keep up if you want to be a brigade leader.”

“Uh…” He decided to pick one battle at a time. “Or we could just say groups.”

She scrunched her nose up. “‘Groups’ is boring. ‘Groups’ is for duds. We aren’t a group of duds. We’re a pack of badass, Christmas celebrating, lights shining, ornament hanging, sleigh pulling, boughs of holly dancing, holiday furball cheer. Does that sound dud-like to you?”

“I like the sound of that.” Zara sauntered into the kitchen, tapped Thia on the nose, and then turned to Jen and Decebel. “And no, it definitely doesn’t sound dud-like. It sounds like the Christmas of the century.”

“I knew from the minute I saw you, you would be my new favorite.” Jen smiled at Zara like a proud parent.

Zara shrugged. “It is hard not to love me.”

“Damn straight.” Wadim walked in behind his mate and patted her on her rear.

“Language,” Decebel growled.

Wadim laughed. “Beta, that ship has sailed, crossed the ocean twice, and been lost in a storm.”

“Damn hell!” Thia yelled as she tossed her cereal in the air.

“See?” The historian chuckled.

Decebel reminded himself that the pack needed Wadim since he was the pack historian, and it would hurt Zara’s feelings if he maimed her mate. Pick your battles.

“Morning.” Bethany waddled in. At five months pregnant, she looked bigger than Jen had at that stage in her pregnancy, but Decebel was smart enough not to mention that. Drake was right beside her. He did not say good morning. He was too busy casting worried looks at his mate. Decebel imagined they had quite an interesting discussion about the fact that Drake didn’t want Bethany up, moving around, and wearing herself out. To which Bethany would have told him that “when he was pregnant, growing a life inside of him, then he could give her advice on how to be pregnant.” Decebel nearly grinned as he stared at the pair but refrained when Drake glanced at him with a pleading look. He shrugged at the male. Decebel was not about to get in the middle of that.

“Bethany, are you sure you should be … you know … upright?” Wadim asked.

Drake took a step behind his mate, his eyes wide. He made a slashing motion across his neck. Clearly an abort signal. Wadim, who had not had the pleasure of having a pregnant mate, was oblivious.

“You’re waddling around like the pup’s going to drop out of you at any second,” the historian continued. “Should you actually be waddling at this point? I thought that happened closer to the nine-month mark.”

Drake’s shoulders slumped. Bethany’s head turned slowly. Her lips turned up at the corners, but the look on her face showed anything but a smile. “Wadim,” she said through clenched teeth, “have you ever been pregnant?”

Wadim’s brow rose as he shook his head.

She took a step closer to the historian. “Then you have no idea that the reason a pregnant woman is waddling might not be because she’s about to give birth.” She poked him with a chubby finger in the middle of his chest. “You wouldn’t know that perhaps the pregnant woman is simply trying not to pee herself. You…” She poked him again.

“Ow.” Wadim took a step backward, but Bethany closed the distance and poked him a third time.

“…wouldn’t understand the precious …” poke “… amazing …” poke “… life …” poke “… the pregnant woman is carrying is kicking her bladder every three seconds.” Another poke and another yelp from the historian. Wadim looked like he was about to turn and run from the room, and Bethany sounded as if the life growing in her belly was anything but precious or amazing. “Have you ever been kicked in the bladder, Wadim?”

He gulped and shook his head.

Bethany leaned in until she was inches away from Wadim’s face and hissed. “Would you like to be?”

“Uh-oh.” Jacque sauntered in with Slate sitting on her hip. His eyes lit up the moment he saw Thia. “I see someone was dumb enough to give pregnancy advice.”

Decebel cleared his throat. He wanted to kick Wadim himself a few moments ago. Now, he felt sorry for the historian. “Wadim, apparently we need to have a meeting for the ignorant males of the pack.”

“Yes,” Fane chimed in. “A lesson on proper etiquette around pregnant females is in order. Who, by the way,” he glanced at Jen, Jacque, and then Bethany, “are simply amazing because they can grow a life inside of them and suffer through nine months of hell that we males cannot even begin to understand.”

“Hell!” Thia mimicked.

Decebel sighed.

Fane kept going. “And then endure the agonizing pain of childbirth, just to ensure the survival of our very species. I mean, wow. That’s all I can say. Just, wow.”

“Okay, wolf-man,” Jacque patted him on the shoulder. “Now you’re laying it on a bit too thick. But we do appreciate the effort.”

Wadim took another small step away from Bethany, and a look of relief came over his face when she didn’t follow. “My apologies … um … ma’am.” All the males in the room groaned.

“Did you just call me … ma’am?” Bethany asked.

“Bethy,” Drake interrupted. Everyone except the historian knew—perhaps because he’d spent entirely too much time poring through centuries-old tomes instead of hanging out with actual women—that calling a woman ma’am when she was under the age of some indistinct number of which no male was entirely certain and therefore wisely avoided the term altogether, was an insult of the highest order. “Would you like me to get you a glass of orange juice, my love?”

Bethany immediately turned to her mate. “Orange juice sounds outstanding.” Suddenly, the girl was all smiles, and the tension in the room fell several levels. The storm had passed as quickly as it had appeared. Decebel let out a quiet breath of relief. His eyes met Fane’s, and the alpha, too, looked relieved.

Jen stared at her to-do list, which was six pages long and counting. They had just under four weeks before Christmas Eve, and she was determined everything would be done before the big day. She glanced up around the room to see who was missing. As she was doing the head count, Gavril, Rachel, Crina, and Adam walked in. They said their good mornings, but she wasn’t paying attention. Four of Jen’s brigade members were missing. Her mate had suggested calling them “groups.” She mentally rolled her eyes. I mean, could we get any less original?

“You remember I can hear you, right? Decebel said through their bond.

“How could I forget? You remind me, frequently. You seem to forget that my every thought is not directed at you.”

“But your mind is such an interesting place, baby. I can’t help but eavesdrop.” His tone had deepened and taken on what she referred to as “the bedroom voice.”

“Nice try, Casanova. Your seduction tactics will have to wait for about four weeks. I got too much to do and not enough time to do it.”

“I’m sorry, did you say four weeks? Because I’m pretty sure I did not hear you correctly.” She nearly laughed out loud at the indignant growl.

“B, I have to assign the brigades … or squads. I still haven’t decided what to call them. And that’s one more thing I have to do, but I digress. After assigning everyone to their brigade /squad/company, I’ll have to explain in, no doubt, a ridiculous amount of detail what they are to accomplish, order more decorations, and create the menu, while also making sure we have Christmas treats to eat from now until the Christmas/everything celebration party. Not to mention I’ve got to get Thia’s first birthday cake, which she gets to eat by herself.”

“Why does she need an entire cake to herself?”

“It’s a thing. If you don’t believe me, look it up on that awesome invention called the Internet. I also need to get Slate a pre-one year birthday cake because there will be no time to celebrate his birthday once it gets here. By then, the s**t will have hit the fan. I have to get Titus a ‘happy adoption, we consider you family even if you didn’t come out of Sally’s v****a’ cake—”

“You’re not really going to put that on the cake, are you?” he interrupted.

She looked at the list where she’d written this particular task. “I’d like to, but I don’t think it would fit.”

“Bloody hell, I hope not,” he muttered, though she didn’t think he meant for her to hear it.

She made a question mark by the note and then continued. “I also need to order the Happy Everything/Merry Christmas cake. I need to make sure each of the rugrats has appropriate attire for the Christmas party because Sally will no doubt have Titus dressed in one of those ugly-as-hell sweaters that are supposedly all the rage.”

“Do we really need that many cakes?”

Decebel’s words reminded Jen of another thing that she’d mistakenly skipped over. “Crap, thank you, B. I almost missed the cake I need to order for Bethany’s baby shower.”

“We’re having a baby shower, too?” His voice rose an octave.

Jen’s eyes moved from her list to his face. “Don’t you think a baby is a big freaking deal, especially in the wolfy world? I mean, how often do Canis lupus have babies to celebrate?”

“Well, lately we’ve had two, and a dormant child,” he pointed out. He wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t the point.

“They were the first two in nearly twenty years, Decebel. Bethany’s child will be the third. It’s a big freaking deal, and she deserves a flipping cake.” Jen knew she needed to bring it down a notch. She was getting a little, or a lot, defensive over a cake. But it was a big deal. Hell, being pregnant in the human world was a big deal. Being pregnant in their world was a colossal deal.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice serious. “It is a big deal, and we should celebrate it.”

Jen blew out a breath and tried to get her crazy under control. “Sorry. I’m being batshit again, aren’t I?”

“You’re being thorough.” A small smile of understanding came over his handsome face.

“I’m pretty sure no other male on the planet, in any realm, would put up with me the way you do.”

Decebel reached up and ran a finger down her cheek. He still touched her just as reverently as he had when they’d first realized they were mates, which humbled Jen to no end. She could feel through their bond that, regardless of the fact that she was not the easiest person to be mated to, he adored her. “I would kill any other male who attempted to put up with you the way I do.”

She snorted out a laugh. “Only you could take a sweet, tender moment and mention killing someone as a way to show your devotion.”

He shrugged as if talking about killing someone was a normal, everyday conversation. To be fair, for them, it sometimes was an everyday conversation, mostly because she loved to ruffle his fur. She was just about to tease him about it when Peri and Lucian appeared in the room, causing several people to jump. Judging by the smirk on Peri’s lips, she thoroughly enjoyed the reaction. A second later, Elle and Sorin appeared as well.

Jen glanced back down at her list. “Finally.” She sighed. The room was filled with talking, the sounds of breakfasts being prepared, and a few growls, which were ubiquitous when more than one dominant wolf was in the room with his mate. Jen rolled her eyes. As if any of the men in this room were interested in one of the other females that wasn’t sharing their bed. “Okay, now that everyone has dragged their butts from their beds—”

“Or showers,” Adam piped up with a cheeky grin. Crina elbowed him, her face turning a light red color. Her mate simply winked at her.

“Thank you for that image, Adam, I’ll add it to my—”

“You’ll add it to nothing, female. Get on with your long as—I mean really long list.” Decebel growled as he stumbled over his words to keep from cursing in front of their daughter.

“Killjoy,” she muttered, but then kept going because she had a lot to cover. “Now that everyone has dragged their butts from their beds and/or showers…”

“Thank you,” Adam bowed his head at her.

“We’ve got a lot to cover, so listen up, take notes, or record on your phones because I will not be repeating this crap.” She knew she totally would be repeating this crap, probably a million times, but the fewer times she did have to repeat herself, the better. “And I don’t want to hear any grumbling. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, with joy to the world, fa-la-las, and holly on your own front door, so I want to see some holiday freaking cheer.”

“I feel like we’ve been drafted into Christmas elf bootcamp, with no way to go AWOL,” someone whispered, but Jen didn’t know who because she was too busy looking at her list.

“All right, listen for your name and the squadron you’re assigned to.”

“Nailed it,” Jacque whispered as she high-fived Sally. “Elf bootcamp.”