Destiny laughed until her stomach ached over an incredibly competitive game of white elephant. The queen had challenged everyone to find something weird, awful, or completely mundane to wrap for the game. Destiny had chosen a stress ball some marketing swag company had tried to sell her. She’d passed—it was weird having her face on something people were supposed to crush when they were upset—but she’d kept the sample they’d given her. Alexander zeroed in on Destiny’s gift, cheating and schmoozing to get it. He made a big show of unwrapping it and showing it off, to lots of laughter and applause from the rest of the group.
Destiny marveled at the way she seamlessly slotted into the family circle, everyone accepting her as if she were an old friend. She chatted easily with the queen, who looked like a regular mom in leggings and an oversized sweater, her flaxen hair in a messy bun. The kings lounged in sweatpants and slippers, keeping up a steady stream of dad jokes that made their children groan. The princess and her best friend wore matching reindeer onesies and acted like regular teenagers, posting pictures on their social media and whispering their adolescent secrets.
And Pack Stepanov was always nearby, casually draping an arm around her shoulders or placing a hand on her knee, making sure she ate, and including her in the conversation. When hermom video called, the alphas insisted Destiny answer and then proceeded to have an hour-long conversation, passing Destiny’s phone around to the rest of the family. Just as extra as ever, her mom made sure to probe Pack Stepanov about their “intentions with her daughter” and even Destiny’s embarrassment had a sweetness to it because a part of her was proud that everyone could see their chemistry.
She wanted people to know Pack Stepanov was hers.
After family time wound down, it seemed natural that Destiny would spend the rest of the evening with Pack Stepanov. After a quick detour to her room, she was back in the packhouse, sitting on the floor in front of the fire, strumming idly on her guitar. Hunter sat in a nearby armchair, staring into the flames as he sipped a glass of baijiu, Aly asleep in his lap. Ivan stretched out beside Destiny on the hearth, watching the guitar strings vibrate with great interest.
“Don’t even think about it you rotten bugger,” Greyson warned the cat, setting a cup of chamomile tea beside Destiny before settling into another armchair with his own cup. “Keep your claws away from the lady’s guitar.”
Destiny scratched Ivan’s chin before taking a sip of her tea. “This little angel wouldn’t dream of hurting my guitar, would you sweet boy?”
Ivan blinked slowly at her, obviously unwilling to make any promises. Destiny shifted her guitar a little farther out of his reach.
“I wouldn’t leave him alone with it if I were you.” Alexander advised from the couch, where he lounged while scrolling on his tablet. “He can’t be trusted.”
“I wouldn’t leave it with you either,” Destiny countered, strumming a few more chords. “You’re every bit as likely to cause trouble.”
“More likely,” Hunter corrected.
Alexander sighed heavily. “You know it’s treasonous to slander your prince.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth,” Destiny replied. “That’s what friends are for.”
The prince snorted. “Truth is subjective. Art is more honest. Play us a song, Frosty. I want to hear your pretty voice.”
Destiny rolled her eyes, even as her fingers began to pick out the melody of an old song. It’d been in her head when she woke up that morning, and she’d caught herself humming it throughout the day. Closing her eyes, she searched her memory for the lyrics.
“Picture me upon your knee,
With tea for two and two for tea,
Just me for you,
And you for me alone.
Nobody near us,
To see us or hear us.
No friends or relations,
On weekend vacations.
We won't have it known, dear,
That we own a telephone, dear.
Day will break and I'm gonna wake,
And start to bake a sugar cake,
For you to take,
For all the boys to see.
We will raise a family.
