Marcus drives in silence for a moment, his gaze steely, and finally he says, “The salary is ludicrous, Cassian. You’re already taking care of my mother.”
“My family and I will continue to take care of Jeanie regardless of whether or not you accept my offer. I’m not going to put a price on Juniper’s safety.”
“And I would protect Juniper whether or not you paid me. Saints, whether or not youletme.”
Oh, I like the sound of that growled, possessive promise far too much, and have to remind myself that it doesn’t mean what I want it to. Marcus most certainly cares about me. I’ve never doubted that. But though he’s no longer my honor guard, he’s still the same alpha that was selected to protect me because of his unique immunity to me and my scent. That hasn’t changed and can’t change. But saints above, his declaration makes my blood heat.
“So, accept the money.”
Marcus grumbles, but I don’t catch what exactly he says as we turn off toward the pack house, not the Leclerc estate.
Cassian catches my look of surprise and smiles. “My mom absolutely expects us back for New Year’s Eve, but I thought you might want to go home for a couple of nights.”
Home.
And my father can’t take it away from me anymore.
* * *
I catchthe unmistakable scent of mulled cider—sorry,wassail—as we climb the stairs from the garage and shoot Cassian a questioning look.
“It’s his second favorite Yule tradition. Come on, Junes. You can’t deny our mate that.”
“But we already did Yule,” I say, my words trailing off as I hit the top of the stairs.
The lower level of the pack house is just as beautifully decked out for Yule as the Leclerc estate was. Dozens of paper stars hang from the ceiling, and a giant Yule tree takes up the corner of our family room, covered in glittering baubles and lights, wrapped boxes spilling out from underneath it. Six Yule stockings hang over the fireplace mantle, each of them stuffed to bursting.
“Not as a pack, we didn’t,” Cassian says, smiling at me. “Not like this.”
The rest of my men wait for me in front of the tree, and I run into their arms, passed from one to the next for hugs, and then kisses, when Simon mischievously produces a stem of mistletoe and holds it over our heads.
Saints, I wish I could live in this moment forever.
The laughter as we drink wassail and unwrap presents, the heart-stopping kisses we share beneath the sprig of mistletoe, the way we curl up on the massive sofa with new books and gadgets when all the presents have been opened, reading and tinkering late into the night.
Cassian gave me this when he mated me, and again this afternoon, when he saved me from my father.
My home. My perfect pack.
CHAPTER31
We all return to the Leclerc estate in time for lunch on New Year’s Eve, though Ian leaves not long after. Still, we sneak in as many sweet touches and kisses as we can before he goes. While Bethany believes we can trust their party guests to be discreet about my relationship with him, she doesn’t want to put Ian in an uncomfortable position.
In the end, Ian decided to spend the holiday with his father. My other men scatter after lunch, Marcus to visit his mother now that he’s decidedly less mopey, Luca to help Roman on his classic car, Simon to spend a few hours searching for the sigils I uncovered, and Cassian on a handful of errands for his mother.
I wind up with Ellie and Bethany, preparing for the party.
For a Rose New Year’s gala, I’d have already been working on arrangements for hours, but when I ask Bethany what I can do to help, she just shrugs and says she has it under control.
“You don’t have caterers or decorators coming in? I’d be happy to help coordinate them. I’ve usually been the one to do it for my father’s parties.”
Bethany laughs. “Oh, this isn’t one of those kinds of parties, dear. I’ve just got the cooking left to do.”
“Donotlet Juniper help you with that,” Ellie giggles as she ties an apron around her waist. “In fact, don’t even let Junie near the stove. She can’t cook for shit.”
She shoots me a wink, and really, she’s notwrong, but I’ve just mated this woman’s son. I’m supposed to take care of him.
I wince. “Ellie’s right. I’m afraid I won’t be much help, then. And I’m afraid I won’t be able to cook for Cass much, either.”
