“Bossy,” I murmur as I look towards the kitchen, where the boys are sitting on the table digging into the ice cream and Bridgette is taking a few tentative steps towards Rafe, his head lowered to look closely into her eyes. “Yes,” Victor agrees, running his nose against the soft skin behind my ear
Victor wakes the next morning with Evelyn curled in his arms, her head tucked neatly under his chin. He pulls her more tightly against him, lowering his face to get a good sniff of her still-damp hair, closing his eyes as he does. His mate gives a little mew of contentment in her sleep that makes hi
Ian grins at his dad as he climbs up to explore the cereal cabinet. “We covered all the bases,” he says. “Like good Alphas.” “Very good Alphas,” Victor confirms, putting a filter in the machine and starting to load it with coffee. “Listen, kid,” he begins, “I’m going to need your help today.” Ia
I wake at the sound of a drawer closing and the light click of ceramic on wood. I sniff the air and smile, opening my eyes to see a lovely cup of coffee just inches from my face. “Oohhh,” I say, pleased and sitting up. I smile up at Victor, standing next to the bed. “And to what do I owe this grea
“Yeah,” I sigh, handing the phone back to him. “She’s doing this to get at you.” He gives me a little derisive look, as if my methods for drawing this conclusion are ridiculous, but then he takes a second look at the images and shrugs a little. I smirk, pleased he sees my point. “Well?” I ask. “
Alvin gasps as Victor slows the car down, pulling up to their destination. “I know where we are!” he cries, pressing his hands eagerly to the car door and bringing his face close to the window. “You do?” Victor asks, frowning at his son in the rear view mirror. “Yeah!” Alvin replies, nodding eager
“You too,” Victor says fondly, meaning it. Working with the Betas hadn’t been the same since Edgar left. Victor looks hesitatingly at Alvin for a second, but Mark steps in. “The tyke can stay with me,” Mark says fondly, ruffling the kid’s hair, “if that’s helpful.” “Really?” Victor asks, pleased a
Ian and I are sitting at the kitchen table that morning, going through some of the books that his tutor sent for he and Alvin to explore this upcoming week. “I hate these books,” Ian grumbles, pushing them away from him and frowning petulantly at the pile. “What?!” I cry, genuinely surprised. “Wha