Page 60 of Return to the Pack

“How fun!” I cry. “Those are my favorite things. I love honeymoons!”

I whirl in a circle and step toward the table where I deposit the bouquet. Ethan grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms. “A celebration calls for music. What do you say? Want to help me pick something?”

In the front room, we flip through ancient vinyl records and old CDs, searching for the perfect music mix. When we find it, we start dancing, bouncing around the room, leaping onto the couch, and jumping for joy.

Axel steps into the room and stands in the door watching until I grab his hand and drag him into the room, forcing him to dance with me. Callan hears the commotion and joins, and Warrick stands in the door, watching me with a lust-filled gaze as I wiggle my hips and shimmy to the muic.

When dinner is ready, we make our way into the kitchen.

Callan sets a platter of fish stew in the middle of the table with sourdough bread.

As I nibble a piece of bread, I eye each man, anticipation churning in my belly.

“What is it, Luna?” Axel asks, laying a gentle hand on mine. “You usually wolf down your food. Are you feeling alright?”

“I think so,” I say shyly. “But I have an announcement.”

They all start banging their spoons against their glasses. “Luna has an announcement,” Ethan bellows. “Hurrah!”

When they quiet, I set down my utensils and flatten my palms on the table. “I haven’t been feeling so good for a few days,” I say. “And then I missed my moon.”

“Are you saying what I think you are?” Axel asks intently, looking like he might pounce over the table at me.

I nod. “I think… I’m pregnant.”

Ethan whoops. “That’s fantastic!”

Callan wipes his eye and pretends the pepper in our food is making him tear up.

“We’re going to be dads,” Axel says, staring at me. Suddenly he jumps up, wraps his arms around me, and twirls me around and around. “I’m so happy, sweet Luna.”

When he sets me down, I turn to Warrick, my stoic mate. “What about you, Daddy?” I ask, sliding onto his knee and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Are you happy your baby girl is having a baby?”

“So fucking happy.” He puts his hands around my rump and guides me up onto his lap, straddling him. His cock is rock-hard and enormous against my pussy.

“Is this the part where we get to have sex before we eat some more?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he says.

With my legs wrapped around his hips, he carries me into the bedroom and lays me on his king-sized bed.

“What about the others?” I ask.

“Get your asses in here, and let’s start honeymoon,” Warrick bellows. “Or I’ll fuck our baby girl full of pups all over again.”

As the others file in, strip me bare, and worship every inch of my young body, I know I’ve got to be the luckiest wolf in the world. Four amazing older men to teach me the way and love me the way I love them, as only we can, with full love and acceptance of who we are. Life thrumming through my veins, safe now that all the threats to us have been eliminated. A baby in my belly who will grow up loved and with plenty of room to run. And the promise of a lifetime of happiness as we bring the next generation of wolves into the world.

Epilogue

Luna

Five years have passed since that terrible time when giant, maneating wolves almost destroyed the pack, the vampires, my men, and me. But in those five years, so much has happened. First, we reclaimed the packland from the vampires. Axel and our family took the clearing he’d envisioned as the perfect place for our family.

The lair the vampires had designed and started to build was too froufrou for our tastes. They wanted a winding staircase and crystal chandelier kind of dwelling. We used the framework and existing structure the vampires had already started to build a roomy, spacious home to our liking—simple, spacious, and functional. That’s what we got, thanks to my men building it themselves. It’s beautiful inside and out, with plenty of light and flowers always on the table.

Today I stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame, tea in hand as I watch Ethan pushing our son on the rope swing hanging from the Tupelo tree.

“Harder, Daddy,” our fearless firstborn yells, laughing and kicking his legs.