Winterstoke Wolves Collection : An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance Bundle

by Sasha Silsbury

  They’d arrive at the scan separately, both taking time off from work, and heading back after. His brothers wouldn’t be there, but Jax would send them the picture after and everyone would coo.

  Okay, maybe he’s thought about it quite a bit.

  It would have looked nothing like this.

  Firstly, Gray won’t sit down. He still doesn’t like chairs. Who doesn’t like chairs? And he just doesn’t seem to get the point of it, even when Jax showed him images of baby scans from the internet.

  “That’s a blob,” Gray says in a confused voice. “I thought it was a picture of a cub?”

  The bewildered expression on Gray’s face is occurring less and less frequently, but it’s still at least four or five times a day.

  Jax points at the white bit that definitely does look like a blob even if he’ll never admit it.

  Gray squints. “Okay,” he says finally.

  Two months of living with the man have taught Jax that “Okay” means that Gray just doesn’t get it but he’s not interested enough to argue. Sometimes that works in his favor.

  “Right, I’ve got the machine all hooked up. We really need to get another one of these things. This thing was around when Moses was a cub,” Sonya says, popping her head around the corner.

  “If you can find a cheaper one...” Jax says getting to his feet. He doesn’t need all this production about it. He’s more than capable of covering his belly in gel and having a look. All he needs to know is whether his cubs are healthy and make sure that his pregnancy is progressing the way it should. It’s a box to be ticked and he wants to get it over with as soon as possible.

  It’s Sonya who’s insisted on doing it properly. She does a lot of scans but not a lot of her boss.

  “Oh no, finding ridiculous bargains is your job. Come on.”

  Jax gets to his feet and makes his way into the consulting room.

  “How are you doing, Gray?” Sonya asks.

  “Fine. Thank you.” There’s a moment’s hesitation before Gray remembers the question that is supposed to come after. He’s doing well with human niceties but sometimes he still needs to be reminded. “How are you?”

  “Very good, thank you,” Sonya says, bustling around getting everything ready. “Ah, here we go.”

  Jax steels himself. He and Sonya have been telling omegas for years to be aware that the gel can be a little cold. In doctor speak, that’s usually the same as ‘just a little pinch’ or ‘this may be a little uncomfortable’, and ‘a little’ usually means ‘a lot’.

  He cringes back.

  It’s nothing at all. Hardly even cool. The tip of the scanner rounds his belly.

  Jax turns automatically to the screen. There they are. Gray was right. There are two of them. Two. That wasn’t in his fantasies either. One at a time. That was the way it was meant to go.

  He turns to Gray, ready to point out which blob is which, but the wild wolf is staring mesmerized at the screen.

  “I can see their heartbeats. Can you see their heartbeats? There, look!” Gray’s voice is filled with wonder.

  Jax feels a flush of love, warming his face and body. In all of his fantasies and thoughts, he’d never once imagined that much wonder in his alpha’s voice.

  It’s going to make the next conversation that much harder. They haven’t talked much about the future in recent weeks, although he knows that they should be.

  Life has been busy. Gray has been spending a lot of time with his brother while Ash recovers, and Jax... well, Jax has been throwing up a lot.

  “Sonya, could you give us a few minutes?”

  “Sure thing.” She leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

  Gray is still watching the monitor, a goofy smile on her face.

  “Gray?”

  “Mmm?”

  “We need to talk about what’s going to happen when the twins get here.”

  Gray looks up. The storm-colored eyes are just as intense when they look at Jax as the day that he was first carried into the clinic, and they still make Jax’s heart miss a beat.

  “I’m going to go back to work. I don’t want to be a stay-at-home dad. I know it works for a lot of people. It just won’t work for me. I won’t be happy.”

  “What’s a stay-at-home-dad?”

  “Someone who stays at home with the children.”

  Gray looks confused. “Where else would you stay?”

  “It just means someone who doesn’t go out to work. Someone else takes care of the children while they’re working. With humans, it’s usually the omega who does it, whether they want to or not.”

  There’s that expression again. The one that means Gray hasn’t quite understood what Jax is talking about.

  Please don’t say ‘okay’. Not now.

  “I thought I was going to look after the cubs while you were working. Does that make me a stay-at-home dad? Is that bad? Am I supposed to be doing something else? And if I’m doing something else, who is with the cubs? Will your brothers do it? Will that make them stay-at-home dads? Human packs are very confusing.”

  Gray breaks off, shaking his head.

  Jax stares at him. “I thought you wanted a job. You said you wanted to provide for us. Be a good alpha.”

  Now there’s even more confusion. “I do. I am a good alpha. Do I need a job? Why can’t I just stay with the babies? Why can’t I be the stay-at-home dad?”

  This isn’t going the way Jax expected at all. It’s far better.

  “That would work out perfectly, actually.”

  He glances over at the screen. Two heartbeats. Two babies. And two packs. They’ll have both of them now. Both parents and both packs.

  He grins widely and takes Gray’s hand and squeezes.

  The fantasy had nothing on this.

  ***

  Scents and Secrets

  Winterstoke Wolves Book Three

  SASHA SILSBURY

  CONTENTS

  Prologue: warm whiskey and a rock with a view

  1. Thomas: staff only signs and barrels of cider

  2. Adam: weddings, christenings and a glass of apple juice

  3. Thomas: puppy dog eyes and the edge of the forest

  4. Adam: Warwick cider and an old cabin

  5. Thomas: dark drapes and a choice of trees

  6. Adam: teething and a newsletter

  7. Thomas: buckets of water and an overgrown beard

  8. Adam: cousins and apple blossoms

  9. Thomas: not a date and nose bumps

  10. Adam: blackmail and cold hard cash

  11. Thomas: we need to talk

  12. Adam: gray storm clouds and a dawn chorus

  13. Thomas: warm rain and cups of tea

  14. Adam: falling rain and shaking hands

  15. Thomas: babbling and a modesty towel

  16. Adam: terrible parking and hidden photos

  17. Thomas: one hundred and ninety-three

  18. Adam: tinny speakers and crazy cults

  19. Thomas: heavy rain and a hot shower

  20. Adam: a collar and a stack of pancakes

  21. Thomas: wet and furious

  22. Adam: rocky terrain and blister packs

  23. Thomas: sunsets and sharp jawlines

  24. Thomas: sandy floors and orange lights

  25. Adam: rubber boots and utter obedience

  26. Thomas: blackmail and apple blossoms

  Epilogue: Adam

  Epilogue: Thomas

  TEN YEARS AGO

  ADAM

  warm whiskey and a rock with a view

  “If you want something, you need to take it, my boy.”

  Dad raises his whiskey glass, his breath thick with fumes. “Just take it. That’s the real secret to leadership.”

  He leans over conspiratorially, “It doesn’t actually matter what you do. As long they believe you mean it, you can do anything.”

  Adam grips both sides of the bar stool to try stop the room from swaying. It works long enough for him to p
ick up the glass in front of him and swallow in one quick gulp.

  The whiskey burns as it goes down, and the warmth starts spreading immediately. He reaches for the bottle and pours himself another couple of fingers.

  Dad bursts out laughing. “That’s my boy. You know, every single one of us has been able to handle his drink. Every single Adam Winterstoke. Ha!”

  He claps Adam hard on the back. It’s almost enough to knock Adam off his stool. Almost. He is the sixth Adam Winterstoke after all. A bit of whiskey isn’t enough to take him down.

  Dad is still talking, mumbling something about leadership being Adam’s birthright. Adam tries to pay attention but the words are starting to blur together. He’s not sure if the problem is his ears or that Dad is getting more mumbly. They’ve both had a lot of whiskey.

  Dad has been talking a lot recently, as if he’s trying to get thirty years’ worth of advice to get out all in one go. He doesn’t have long left. Everyone knows it.

  Adam tries to concentrate. He needs to pay attention while Dad is still here.

  This morning, he stood before all the allied packs of the Aylewood mountain range and signed the alliance agreement as pack leader while Dad looked on. He wasn’t expecting to do that for years, and not until Dad was actually dead. It was a strange feeling.

  He’s Adam Winterstoke the sixth, leader of the Winterstoke pack at eighteen. Youngest ever, and he’s going to be the best. Except for Dad of course.

  “If the pack thinks you mean it, you can do anything,” Dad says again, pointing with his glass. “Make ‘em stand on leg for an afternoon. They’ll do it. And never give a reason. Never. Don’t let them question you on anything.”

  “No questioning,” Adam agrees. His words are starting to come out funny. He laughs out loud. It makes him hiccup and that just makes him laugh harder.

  Dad grins, his cheeks creasing. The weight he’s lost in the last months has made his face wrinklier.

  Dad pushes himself back from the stool and burps loudly. “I’m just going to lie down for a bit. Just a bit, mind you.”

  He staggers off away from the common room, heading towards his bedroom. Adam watches him go, half-expecting the old man to tip over completely, but Dad makes it all the way to the corridor and there are no sounds of crashing once he turns the corner.

  Adam blinks. He could do with a nap too, but he’s got a far better idea.

  The whiskey is burning confidence into his belly and he’s going to do it right now before he changes his mind.

  He grabs the bottle of whiskey and walks – definitely walks, not staggers – towards the kitchen and the phone mounted on the wall there.

  He dials with clumsy finger and gets the wrong number the first time he tries. He hangs up when a strange voice answers.

  He gets it right on the second try. Luckily, Thomas answers the phone and Adam doesn’t have to concentrate on sounding sober to Barbara Warwick. She dislikes him enough as it is.

  “Meet me at the rock.”

  “What? Now? It’s ten o’clock,” Thomas’ voice is smooth as caramel and the sound of it makes Adam’s chest feel tighter.

  “C’mon. Come see me. Pleeeeease.” He knows he’s wheedling but it’s Thomas. Thomas wants to see him too. He knows it.

  There’s a moment’s hesitation on the other end of the phone, then: “Okay.”

  Adam hangs up, suppressing a whoop of excitement. It’s an hour’s run to the rock. That’s plenty of time to work out what he’s going to say.

  He trots to his bedroom, grabs the modified backpack he bought for wolfing out, and slips the bottle of whiskey into it. He dislikes wearing things when he’s a wolf, but it’s practical. If he was taking any of his brothers along, he’d make them wear it. They could look stupid instead. They wouldn’t be allowed to question him on it either.

  Adam is pack leader. His name is on the summit agreement. All the packs in the area recognize him as being in charge. His brothers are going to have to used to doing what they’re told too.

  “Where are you going?” Adam looks up to see Gregor lounging in the doorway. His little brother has grown a foot in the last year and has been boasting that he’s going to end up taller than Adam. He wishes.

  “None of your business. And keep out of my room.”

  Gregor withdraws his feet an inch. “I’m not in it.”

  “It’s still none of your business. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

  “I’m sixteen, not sixty. It’s early still. Where are you going? Can I come with? I’m not going to tell on you.”

  “And who would you tell? I’m pack leader now, remember. You going to tell me on me?”

  “I said I wouldn’t,” Gregor huffs.

  “Just go to bed, kid. Or go bother Luke.”

  “I’m not a kid and Luke’s reading. He told me to go away.”

  Adam stops what he’s doing and gives Gregor a look.

  His little brother rolls his eyes. “I’m going. I’m going.”

  Adam doesn’t need to sneak out when he leaves. Dad is going to be flat on his back snoring for hours. He’s not going to notice anything. Besides Adam is in charge now.

  He tiptoes past Dad’s room anyway.

  He shifts as soon as he is in the meadow behind the packhouse. He’s already the biggest wolf in the range.

  Except for some of the wild wolves, he admits to himself, but they don’t count. Besides, he’s not even reached his full size. He’ll be a giant when he does.

  The forest is quiet but not empty. The scents of the wild ambush him as he runs: rabbits and mice, the myriad trees and leaves.

  The city scents of summer hikers are entwined with all of it. Adam usually gives them a wide berth, but he can’t be bothered tonight. These are his woods after all.

  He races past campsites and cabins, enjoying the sudden startled scents that rise as he passes.

  He picks up Thomas’ scent long before he sees him. Thomas smells like the apples in the Warwick orchards, except even better.

  Thomas smells like Thomas.

  If Adam could bottle it, he’d do nothing but lie on his bed sniffing it like some deranged Thomas addict.

  He can think of worse ways to spend his life.

  The rock is a long flat boulder wedged into the cliff above the ravine. The old Van Zyle cabin is located only a couple of hundred feet behind.

  Martin Van Zyle hasn’t been back to Aylewood in twenty years, and his cabin is now nothing more than a warm place for the Aylewood teenagers to hang out in the colder months.

  It’s not cold now. Adam likes the thought of leading Thomas into one of the bedrooms, but the air is warm and the moon is out. This is the more romantic option. Or at least it will be for what he has planned.

  Thomas, I want you to be my mate.

  Thomas, will you take me to be your mate?

  I love you, Thomas. Let me claim you. I want to bite you so badly. I think about it all the time.

  He hasn’t decided how he’s going to ask yet.

  Everything sounds so unoriginal, but the timing is right. He’s finally officially leader of his pack and he’s drunk enough not to chicken out. He can wing it.

  Drunk has some advantages when it comes to asking someone to be your eternal one-and-only. Sneaking up on them is not one of them.

  Adam tries to be quiet as he approaches, but Thomas picks up his scent or maybe just his crashing through the bush and turns around.

  Thomas has his back against a narrow slip of rock, his feet far from the edge. He’s completely naked. He could have dressed after the run up from the farm, but he didn’t.

  The two of them hardly ever do these days, not if they know they’re going to be alone.

  Adam shifts, and takes a seat beside him.

  He pulls the bottle out of the backpack and offers it to Thomas. “Want some?”

  “Sure,” Thomas takes the bottle and tips it up, taking a long swallow. He bursts out coughing. “Ugh. I don’t know why you drink
this stuff.”

  “For fun,” Adam says, leaning in. “It’s also why I like kissing you.”

  Thomas’ lips are a micro-millimeter away from Adam’s and his breath is hot on Adam’s mouth.

  Adam automatically leans forward, pressing his lips against Thomas’ soft warm ones. Thomas’ tongue dips in between them and slips beside Adam’s own.

  A red-hot shiver radiates out from Adam’s groin and he suppresses a moan. He wants. He shoves his tongue in against Thomas’.

  Thomas draws back laughing. “You’re drunk,” he says accusingly.

  “That’s because I’m Adam Winterstoke,” Adam explains.

  Thomas rolls his eyes. “Well done. At least you still know your name.”

  Adam feels his mouth widen into a goofy smile. That’s his Thomas: dry and sharp and perfect. “I love you, you know,” he blurts.

  The words come out a little more garbled than he intends, but he means it. Thomas is everything. Thomas is beautiful. Thomas is the future. Thomas is going to be his mate.

  Thomas is staring at him with eyes made out of bright blue sparks. Adam reaches over and cups his jaw in his hand. Thomas is so kissable.

  “Also,” Adam continues, “you are completely—”

  He stops, searching for the right word but they all keep slipping away. That’s because there are no words good enough to encompass the whole of Thomas.

  Maybe when he’s sober, he’ll know them all. He’ll write them down. He’ll write down all the Thomas words and make them into a poem. Poetry sounds like a really good idea right now.

  “Do you mean it?” Thomas asks, blue eyes intense and fixed on Adam’s.

  “Mean what?”

  “You said you love me.”

  “Of course, I love you. You are...perfect.” That’s the word. Thomas is perfect.

  “I’m not sure about that,” Thomas says but he’s smiling. “But I love you too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” Thomas says simply.

  Adam leans forward, a little too fast. His teeth scrape up against Thomas’ lip.

  “Ow.”

  “Sorry,” Adam mumbles. Maybe the whiskey wasn’t a such great idea. “I just wanna kiss you.”