Tempting.
“I’ll call you if anything happens and you need to come rushing back.” They nodded toward the door. “All work and no fun makes for a snippy healer.”
“Snippy?” I balked. “I’m not snippy.” But, of course, I’d said it in my snippiest tone.
Briggs only laughed and turned to walk away, shouting a quick, “Get out of here, Wyn,” over their shoulder.
Well, if I’d learned one thing in my years of being the pack’s doctor, it was the importance of not arguing with the nurses.
CHAPTER 2
Fenris
I didn’t make a habit of coercing overworked healers out of their safe space for a night of fun with the pack. If she wanted to hide away in that tiny office and waste her life doting on everyone else, who was I to tell her otherwise?
But I cared about Wyn. I had ever since we were pups, and she’d trail after Mill and me with her big smile and her halo of curly hair, unruly and wild around her face. She was as much a part of my family as my little sister, Lyra, and I looked after my family. Especially when they didn’t have anyone else to take care of them.
She’d been right. Mill was off honeymooning with his new mate, and their little brother, Caelum, had his own shit to deal with. Being a newly transitioned wolf in his mid-twenties meant he cared more about sliding in between a female’s legs than he did about making sure his sister stayed healthy, which left it to me.
Wyn and I were alike in that way. We threw ourselves in front of bullets to protect those we loved, often at the expense of our own well-being. And if she was busy caring for everyone else in the pack, it made me wonder who was taking care of her.
“There he is!” Our sergeant at arms, Moose, said as he wrapped an arm over my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. He already smelled like whiskey and cigars, which told me the party was in full swing.
“How ya’ doing, old man?” I asked with a laugh.
Moose wasn’t much older than me, but I liked to tease him.
“Hanging in there.” He patted my shoulder and handed me a red plastic cup with a few inches of amber liquor at the bottom. “Here. Drink up.”
I took a sip and glanced around. An enormous fir tree sat in the corner of the rec room, decorated with sparkling lights and glittering ornaments. Handcrafted snowflakes made by the pups hung around the space, and garland accents made the place feel even more homey. Cinnamon and nutmeg wafted through the air, complemented by the smoky aroma of the roaring fire under the mantle at the far side of the room. Children ran and played while the adults laughed and drank and touched.
This was what I lived for. This cozy atmosphere was what I’d sworn to keep safe.
“Happy Yule, Fenris,” Maeve said, walking up to my side so she could pull me into a hug. Mill stalked behind her, his careful gaze never leaving her. Of course, he didn’t have to be so protective here at the homestead, but these mated males were a force unto themselves. He’d never let her be far from his side.
“Happy Yule, Maeve,” I said and returned the embrace before yanking my buddy into a tight squeeze. “You too, Mill.”
He groaned at the attention but allowed the contact before pushing me away with a scoff. I laughed and clinked my cup against his before taking another long sip.
“You see your sister this afternoon?” I asked.
“No.” He furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes with suspicion dancing behind them. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Just wondering.”
“She okay?” he asked.
“She hasn’t left the infirmary in days,” I replied.
He sighed. “I’ll say something to her.”
“Already did.” I smiled and did my best to look innocent. “I tried to get her to come out tonight. But she wasn’t having it.”
“Isn’t there another healer in the pack?” Maeve glanced between us. “It seems unfair that she carries such a burden.”
“That’s what I said.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “But you know how growly she can get. Practically terrifying.”
Mill smiled, and Maeve balked, and the festivities went on around us. Kodiak gave a speech about the history of Yule, how our ancestors would have hunkered down in their dens to wait out the long night together, praying for the return of the sun in the morning. We may have the safety of the homestead, but not much else had changed. We were still family. We were still reliant on each other to defend what was ours. We never understood that more than in moments like this, when we could be together and cherish our shared community.
