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

Because what’s Christmas without a baby being born?” ~Jen





“More?” Thia dug through the wrapping paper piled three feet deep around the tree. Slate rolled around in it, completely ignoring his gifts, enraptured by the crinkling paper that he’d also decided—as an added bonus—tasted delicious.

“Yep,” Jen nodded. “You’ll get more. Next year. Now go start playing with your toys. And be sure to drag out all the little pieces and scatter them around before Daddy gets everything assembled.”

Thia turned to Decebel and gave him her million-watt smile while holding one of her presents. “Daddy put together?”

Decebel was putty in her hands. “Come here, beautiful girl.” He held out his hand to her. She leapt into in his lap, and he began to remove the toy from the package. Dude was whipped. Jen grinned to herself.

“I heard that.” Her mate grumbled in her mind.

“Would you believe me if I said what I meant was you were whipped cream?”

“Not even a little.” Humor laced his voice as he continued to open the boxes at Thia’s direction.

Jen looked around the room, taking in the mess. She easily looked past it all to see the joy that filled the eyes of her closest pack members and friends. This core group was the foundation of the Romanian pack, including those that had been added—no, adopted was the right word, not added—somewhere along the way. This group was her heart.

The grandparents,—aka Lilly, Dillon, and Tanya—had dropped by that morning for a little while, and Sally’s parents had come and gone. They’d watched the kids open the presents, or in Slate’s case, stare at them and slap them until someone showed him how to tear the paper. They’d snagged some cake, hot chocolate, and pictures before heading home to relax. All the while, Jen had told herself she was fine, even though her own daughter’s grandparents weren’t there. She wasn’t going to dwell on it. There was no reason to. Jen had learned to enjoy the present and take every moment she could get. And these were some pretty awesome moments.

Jacque crawled through the mess of wrapping paper and sat down beside her. Jen leaned her shoulder against her BFF and sighed. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?” Jacque asked.

“It was more. It was crazy, exhausting, fun, emotional, and a bunch of other adjectives I’m too tired to list.” She turned to look at Jacque. The alpha’s green eyes glistened with unshed tears, which made Jen’s own eyes water. “Dammit,” Jen growled. “There’s not supposed to be crying on Christmas Day.”

“As your alpha female, I’m going to have to disagree with you on that one. I think tears of joy, tears of pain, tears of all the things we wish could be different but can’t change, and tears of acceptance are completely appropriate for this Christmas.

“You’ve made it amazing, Jen. Just like everything you do in life, you gave it all you have and then some. Thank you. This pack would not be complete without you.” Jacque wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. Jen’s arm instinctively moved around her best friend as she returned the hug. She couldn’t help the fact that she was probably holding Jacque a little too tightly. Her wolf had risen up and sought the comfort of her new alpha. She needed it just as badly as the human did. Jen felt the bond that now linked wolf to alpha tighten, growing stronger, as they helped one another bear their burdens.

“Am I missing out on a group hug?” Bethany’s voice broke through their moment.

“Was I that annoying when I was pregnant?” Jen whispered to Jacque.

Jacque snorted. “Sorry, babe, but you were worse.”

“Scale of one to ten?” Jen’s brow rose.

Pulling back, Jacque met Jen’s eyes. “I’ll have to go with ‘What is one hundred and fifteen?’ for the win, Alex” Jacque answered with a cheeky grin.

“That’s not how I remember it,” Jen muttered.

“If I remember correctly—” Jacque started.

“Which you don’t because the high fae jacked with our brains,” Jen interrupted.

Jacque ignored her and kept talking. “We’ve got video proof of your amazing prego-assery.”

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you,” Bethany called out. “Group hug or not?”

Jen turned to look at the pregnant she-wolf. She was sitting on the couch sideways with her legs laying across her mate’s lap. “If you can get your butt up off that couch, without any help, waddle over here, get down on the floor with us, all without peeing on yourself, then yes, you get to join the hug, which is not actually a group hug because there’s only two of us.”

“That begs the question of what constitutes a group.” Zara pulled out her cell phone.

“A few of you are older than petrified wood. Do any of you know the answer to that?” Bethany asked.

“That was a good one.” Jen laughed. “Old as petrified wood. Love it.”

“Good point.” Sally said. “Y’all should have some knowledge that us younger, non-petrified people don’t yet possess.”

“So, because we’re older and wiser”—Peri’s eyebrow cocked, and her head tilted to the side when she looked at Sally—“we should have an intimate working knowledge of the vagaries of the English language?”