A Grey Wolves Howliday (The Grey Wolves #14) by Quinn Loftis

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.”