She grinned. “I know.”
“Minx,” he grumbled and then focused back on the matter at hand, addressing Saffron again.
Jacque decided she’d rather go watch Jen irritate Gavril than hear about the plan for the night. She’d had enough heavy business for a little while. Now she needed the breath of fresh air their young brought … and Jen’s ridiculousness.
“I’ll see you in a bit.” She pressed a kiss to Fane’s shoulder. He patted her on the butt as if they didn’t have a room full of witnesses. Jacque didn’t bother to slap it away. That would only encourage him to show his claim in a much more aggressive manner. Damn fur butts.
Chapter
Five
“Sometimes in life we have to take a good look at our priorities and admit that they need to be adjusted. We rebel against that adjustment, of course, because change is difficult. But no matter how difficult it might be, change is necessary if we are ever to mature and grow. Not that I’m necessarily in favor of growing and maturing. Honestly, I could do without it most days. And no, I don’t give a rat’s ass if you think that’s immature of me. I literally just told you I could do without it. Focus, people. We’ve got a kid to corrupt, a toddler to terrorize, an almost-toddler to, well, we won’t do anything to him or the infant. I’m not that sadistic.” ~Jen
Jen swung the door to the nursery open so hard that it hit the wall and bounced back. She held up her hand to stop it from smacking her in the face, then stepped into the room. “I’m here now,” she sang. “Everyone can stop panicking and prepare to actually learn something.”
Titus sat on the floor looking at a book that appeared to have too few pictures and way too many words for a boy of his age. “No one is panicking, Aunt Jen.”
“Well, you should be Tibideaux. Anytime I’m not around, you should be on the verge of panic. You should be running around like Chicken Little yelling, ‘The sky is falling!’ But when I’m here, you can relax. And why are you reading a book like that? Three-year-olds should read Dr. Seuss.”
“I’m five, Aunt Jen.”
Bloody hell, I can’t even keep up with the ages of the freaking pack pups. And Jacque trusts me to train them? Good choice, Red.
Sally walked past Jen and headed straight for her son. Her stomach was still small enough that she could lower herself to the floor with ease. She crossed her legs and leaned over to press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t mind, Aunt Jen. She’s feeling a little snippy today.”
“When isn’t Jen a little snippy?” Bethany, Drake’s mate, stood at a changing table with Hope, who was half-naked in the process of getting her rear end powdered.
“Don’t think I won’t kick your ass just because you’ve got a baby.” Jen pointed at her. “No bun in the oven means fair game.”
“Bring it,” Bethany challenged. Then she ruined the impressive snip by turning and babbling a string of baby talk to Hope.
“Momma.” Thia’s voice came from behind a sofa. “Come play hell.”
Jen walked over until she could see around the couch. Her daughter sat amidst a pile of dismembered dolls. The girl picked up a headless, limbless torso and tossed it to the side where several other abandoned torsos lay. To Jen’s surprise, a growl rumbled up in her daughter’s chest as the girl picked up a discarded head. She fisted the doll by the hair and held it up in the air. Jen nearly jumped when Thia let out a loud howl that wasn’t human.
“Okay, it takes a lot to disturb me.” Jen’s eyes widened as she continued to watch her daughter organize the plastic body parts. Legs, arms, torsos, and heads each had their own separate piles. “But Little Miss Lecter is definitely doing it. Not to mention, Dec is going to blow a gasket. Whose kid is that?”
Rachel walked out of the bathroom, surveyed the scene, and released a deep sigh. “Oh dear. I probably should have mentioned this recent development.”
A single brow rose on Jen’s face, and she crossed her arms in front of her. “What recent development? That my kid is dismembering dolls and reenacting my less-than-civilized actions? Is that something you think you might have mentioned?” Jen nodded her head vigorously. “Yes! Yes, I think that’s a tidbit you might have shared with me IMMEDIATELY!”
Rachel walked over to where Thia sat and gracefully lowered herself until she sat next to Jen’s daughter. She raised her eyes to Jen. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
Sally’s head appeared over the back of the couch. “Did you say dismembering dolls?” Her voice was shaky, and Jen couldn’t tell if it was because of shock or suppressed laughter.
“I’m pretty sure pregnancy doesn’t make you lose your hearing, Watson,” Jen snapped. “Try and keep up.”
“Don’t get pissy with me just because your daughter has a fascination with executing and mutilating dolls.” Sally huffed. “Titus, I think you dodged a bullet with that one.”
“As if.” Jen glanced over at Bethany, who now held Hope in her arms. “For all you know, Hope is going to turn out to be a nutjob that makes my mini-me look sane. Maybe she will skip the dismembering doll phase and go straight to animals. Maybe Tapioca wakes up one day strapped to the bed with a gag in his mouth and wood blocks between his feet. Meanwhile, she’s standing over him with a sledgehammer.”
Bethany smirked. “I’ve already started showing her how to tie the knots.”
Crina walked around until she could see Thia. The she-wolf’s eyes went wide. She whistled as she took in the neatly aligned body parts. The little girl, for her part, seemed oblivious to her mother’s shock, or any of the others’ discomfort, for that matter. Thia hummed happily as she dropped the head and picked up a different one. “Jacque has mentioned several times that our pack needs counseling. I think we need to extend that therapy to the children … or at least one of the children.”
“No one asked you.” Jen gritted her teeth, feeling hot anger swell in her chest. On the one hand, she wanted to lash out at those around her, to scream and rage and make them feel the pain that boiled up inside her at the most random of times. On the other hand, she wanted to suppress these feelings of anger, to stop herself from lashing out and hurting those she cared for.
“Tapioca isn’t even a name,” Titus spoke up. Like Thia, he didn’t seem the least bit concerned by all the plastic dismemberment. “I think you should start using the internet to find actual names, Aunt Jen.”
