by Bella Knight
He kissed her. “You didn’t ruin anything. Besides, you needed a good soak.” He turned away to turn down the bed for her.
He turned back, and she dropped her robe. “Come here, lover,” she said. He did as she asked. She grabbed the back of his head and kissed him, softly, slowly, then more deeply. They came up for air, and she pulled off his robe. “My love,” she said, and kissed his neck, “I love you.”
“Strange,” he said. “I think I love you, too.”
She laughed, stroked his shoulder. “Take me to bed,” she said.
He led her there, and they slipped in. He kissed her mouth, her forehead, her cheeks, and nipped at her earlobes. He kissed a trail down her neck. She reached down, and grabbed his cock in her hand. He groaned. He made it down to her right breast, then her left one, kissing and sucking each, before she came, arching her back. She flipped over, and led him into her. They came together, their movements slow, then faster, then slow again. He kissed her, turned her, then looked into her eyes. She leaned back, clenched, and came in great rolling waves. He drew her to him, kissed her, and came in a great whiteout of his senses.
He came back to himself. She laid on him, with him still inside her. He stroked her back slowly, gently. She reached over and grabbed the wet wipes out of the drawer, and cleaned them both up. Then, she laid back down on him again, kissed his heart, and put her head down, her knees by his hips. He stroked her, up and down, and gently kissed her head. He felt her slip into sleep. Damn, he thought. Didn’t get to give her the present.
When she awoke, she smelled coffee, and heard Keiran and Pavel give their pancake orders in excited voices, until Ace shushed them. She looked at his pillow, and saw a blue box tied with a ribbon. She opened it, and gasped. There was a diamond solitaire on a silver chain. She put it on. There was a note in it.
It said, “Wife, mother, lover. You are my everything. Happy Yule, Ace.” With trembling fingers, she put it on.
She padded into the bathroom, did her business, and came out. She put on thick socks, soft-blue yoga pants, and a cranberry, soft-wool top. She took out a box from her nightstand and put it in the pocket of her yoga pants. She padded out to the kitchen. The dogs paid close attention to her, but Pavel told them to stay. Every single one of them had a fat dog treat bone in its mouth.
She waited until Ace plated blueberry pancakes for Keiran and strawberry for Pavel to go up and kiss him. “Merry Christmas Eve,” she said. “You are my everything too,” she said, and kissed him. She held up the box. “I’ll flip, you open.” She flipped his apple pancakes.
He opened the box. Inside was a silver ring, a flattened version of the traditional skull ring. He looked inside, holding it up to the light.
It said, “You are my... everything.” He put it on, and kissed her, while Keiran and Pavel whooped. They managed not to burn the pancakes, and they all had breakfast.
Farm Yule
The Valkyries celebrated Yule, the longest night of winter, in a big way. They did it at the farm —a log, spiked and un-spiked wassail, drums, dancing. Exchanging presents, one each, in private, in some isolated corner of the barn, spooking the horse a little. The Nighthawks descended again, families in tow. It was only three o’clock in the afternoon, and the party had only just begun.
The wind was like ice, the sky overcast, the temperature dropping. Some came in trucks, vans, and cars, but most came roaring up on Harleys, in so many layers they all looked like fat, slow people. They came in; in twos, and threes, and fours, and fives. They stomped off the dirt on the porch mat. They went inside, stripped off layers of leather coats, gloves, and mufflers, and hung them on two hall trees that were groaning. Soon, they began to fill up the hall table, then they rolled up their things in piles and stuck them under the table.
They were greeted by the kitchen smells. Beer, sodas, and flavored waters that were in ice chests, and the wassails were clearly marked “kids” and “adults.”
There was also a huge pot of Kona coffee, with all the fixings. Even more card tables were out, boxes of games and cards on them, and more folding chairs. There were beanbag chairs along the walls, movies on the television (Iron Man, loved by all). There were bassinets and high chairs for the babies, another couch, and the kitchen island groaning with food. They cooked roasts, chickens, and hams. Vi make up batches of herbed cheesy biscuits. Henry made giant salads —Caesar, potato, and corn, all in a variety of colors. There were clam chowder, potato bacon soup, and lentil stew, and brown bread with butter.
Partygoers could either graze or sit down for a full meal. Conversation flowed, kids ran around like banshees, and back bedrooms were opened up for moms to nurse babies in peace and quiet. The kids broke out the chips and salsa to go with their sodas, finished Iron Man, and went on to The Avengers. Everyone cheered when Agent Phil came on; they all watched Agents of Shield on Netflix.
They played every game under the sun; from new ones like Splendor and Apples, to old ones like Dominoes. Chinese checkers, and Risk were also added into the mix. The adults would swing through, get trounced by teens or children, and move elsewhere in shame.
Tribal elders hung out in the glassed-in atrium with the Owls —those that weren’t playing games with the kids, or cheering on Tony Stark and friends. Henry, David, Nantan, Chayton, and Inola gave a report on each teen, and received updates that all the ones who left Nevada were doing well.
“This program is amazing,” said Keyan, who came from Arizona to see his brother, Chayton. “Three to six months, getting them to work and get their GEDs. Including training them on various jobs, helping them move into apartments. We’re just stunned.”
“Some have stayed longer,” said Henry. “Some just plain stay. We are amazed and gratified, ourselves. The first crop were terrified. The last ones were so excited, half of them didn’t sleep on the trip back from the Grand Canyon.”
“We are amazed that you are making so much headway at creating Ute, Sioux, and Apache materials,” said Little Bill, down from Arizona. “Can you branch out?”
Chayton nodded. “If I can get an expert in that language, yes. I am especially worried about the tribes with few members. We’re going to lose the languages entirely. I want to contact all of the Nations, giving them my template, having them do their own stories. I am terrified of losing what little language diversity we have left.”
“I’ll help with that,” said Keyan.
“I will, too,” said Little Bill.
“I will as well,” said Numa. “We have already given all of Chayton’s work to the Northern Paiute. They are very excited. The Dine already have done much work in this area, but they did thank us for the stories and templates. The Hopi, Apache, and Sioux are all very pleased. The Hopi are working on their own stories. We need to reach out to more First Nation people, the Cheyenne, Blackfoot, Ojibwe, Cherokee… there are so many that can benefit from this.”
“Your program is very special,” said Little Bill. “You have such a long waiting list, because so few of us have prosperous farms, and you are close to such a large city where our people may go to school and find jobs. And, Numa and Henry, you excel at helping these students find scholarships and grants.”
“We should not be the only ones,” said Henry. “The waiting list gets longer and longer, and I have people filled to the rafters. I’m going to have to buy another barn.” Everyone laughed. “Seriously, I don’t have unlimited funds. We need more housing. The pods are a great way to fit a lot of people into a small space, and still give everyone privacy. We can take on more, maybe, but we need the living space.” He sighed. “We also rescued four more horses over the past month, and their veterinary care is expensive. We recoup that when we sell the horses to good homes, but that is a huge cost.”
“You need a grant,” said Chayton. Everyone looked at him. “You already got one for the solar power, right?”
Henry nodded. “It’s the only way we could have afforded it.”
“There has got to be an orga
nization that wants to help First Nation youth. Or, just youth in general to get trained and find jobs. That’s what we do here, right?”
“Yes, but there must not be strings attached,” said Henry. “Every single one of us has gone through foster parent training, and continuing parental education training. All these kids are First Nation, and we have tribal agreements for them to be here, and parent or guardian contracts, as well. We can’t have anyone messing with what we do or how we do it, or they’ll destroy everything we have built in less than a year. I’ve seen it happen.”
The others listened as he spoke. His wise words were true.
His face grew bleak. “People who know nothing about us think they have a solution, and they are determined to implement it their way, even if nothing they are saying will work in that environment. They are also remarkably good at not listening to a thing anyone says against whatever conceptions or notions that they have going.” They all nodded. They had all seen these things.
“What about crowdfunding?” said Keyan. “There are richer tribes. We don’t have to do it online, exposing this ranch to the world. We could ask other tribes for help, even have short-term loans with interest.”
“That could work,” said David, slowly. Everyone stopped to listen carefully; a medicine man was never ignored. “But, some bad elements have entered some nations, following the money. We will not know if the people we approach are the good or bad ones, so we may be asking for more, unwarranted trouble.”
“Also,” said Nantan, “What will they want in return? We can take on the youth of other nations, but we can’t grow, not indefinitely.”
“What about Kiva?” asked Keyan. “They ask for small loans of twenty-five dollars for many people, then the people receiving the money pay them back.”
“I would rather not take the money from the First Nation people in Peru,” said Little Bill. Everyone stared at him. “What? I have two Kiva loans out to groups of women growing crops there. They look very First Nation.”
Nantan sighed. “We need more businesses, with apartments with pods on top, and workrooms underneath. Granted, all our businesses are doing well, especially with the hydroponics farm working year-round. Many people on the res are working with us, such as the Alpaca Sisters.” Everyone laughed, except Little Bill and Keyan. “There are ladies on the res, two of whom are former Wolfpack, and they raise alpacas and goats, and use the goat milk to make expensive cheeses, and the alpacas to make sweaters and rugs from brushing their coats. The ladies also work with Ghost and Killa from the Nighthawks, making the straps that go in boxes. The ones that go on the back of motorcycles to hold dogs,” Nantan explained.
“I’ve seen the boxes,” said Little Bill. “Ingenious.”
“So, the businesses intertwine,” said Keyan.
“Exactly. Our Owl Pack make beaded things and knit as well, and sell their work in my shop,” said Numa. “They get the alpaca fur from me. I buy it from the ladies, and wash and spin it.”
“We need to think deeply,” said David. “We must all find ways for those on the reservation to work. Many Paiutes are on our res, the one just off the back forty of this farm. They make things they sell online, or they do accounting or something else they can do without having to leave the res. There are opportunities we did not have even a few years ago. We must learn to take advantage of these ways.”
“Alo and his feed,” said Nantan. “A Wolfpack boy. He took his knowledge of what I grew, Inola’s knowledge of animal husbandry, and designed feeds for horses and rabbits that are used here on the farm, and locally. It is his contribution that keeps the farm in the black, along with the food delivery business.”
“We need to pay attention,” said David. “Our own children sustain us. We must find ways to bring in money, without killing Nantan. And even with two permanent Wolfpack helpers, he does far too much.”
“He does,” confirmed Chayton. Nantan ducked his head.
“I will get you some money, a short-term loan, nation to nation,” said Little Bill. “Five percent interest, so don’t argue with me. In the meantime, we must do as our medicine man has said, and pay attention. The young have ideas. We must heed them.”
David smiled. “Good. Now, I am very hungry. I suggest we eat, and enjoy the good friends and family around us.”
They all stood. Henry’s pocket buzzed. He saw the text, and ran out of the room. David, Numa and Nantan followed.
“Wraith,” said Henry to Gregory, who was leaning against the hearth and telling a story to Ace.
Gregory pointed across the room. Wraith had Katya’s baby Ivan, and was making him giggle. Henry stepped around all of the revelers in his way. Wraith saw him coming, handed over the baby to Katya, and stood up.
“Spiked or not?” Henry asked, referring to the doctored wassail.
“Un-spiked. I never know if I’m going to be called into duty.”
“Follow,” said Henry, and they all went to the front. Gregory and Ace stopped talking to one another, and they met him at the door.
There was some confusion while they sorted out whose jacket belonged to which person.
“Report,” said Wraith, and she crowed with triumph as she found her jacket, muffler, and gloves.
“Helaku is in the hospital. Tito dropped off Helaku and Ruby at an ATM two blocks from the apartment, and went to the nearby grocery store to pick up stuff to bring here. He dropped his basket on the floor and ran out of the store, and back to Helaku. Ruby texted him that she and Helaku were attacked. Some idiot arrested Helaku, even though he’s the victim.”
Wraith whipped out her phone, once she zipped up her jacket. “Which hospital?”
“Valley,” said Henry. They stepped outside, gasping at the frigid air.
“Denise? It’s Wraith. Serious issue. Some idiot just arrested an eighteen-year-old victim of an attack. He’s Native American, so we think it may be racism. Helaku is his name, and he’s at Valley being treated for his injuries. No, that’s all I know. Yes, meet you there.”
By the time she hung up, they were all at their bikes. “Valley. Gregory, stay here and look after the family. Henry, Nantan, Ace, let’s go. The rest of you hold down the fort here. I’ll send info.”
“Stay safe,” said Gregory. Chayton kissed Nantan briefly. They rode out.
Katya was in the doorway, holding her arms across her chest. “What is it?” she asked.
“Two of our Wolfpack were assaulted,” said David, darkly.
“They made a serious fucking mistake,” said Gregory. He grabbed his phone. “Tito, where did this happen?” He nodded. “We’re going to go there, take pictures, see if they arrested the yahoo who did this. Yeah. Henry’s going to the hospital. Yeah. Bring your family here, we’re going to take care of this. No, it’s not your fault, it was still daylight, wasn’t it? Yeah. Me too. Bye.” He ran over, kissed his wife, and said, “Nighthawks business.”
“Get the evil people who would hurt one of ours,” she said.
“On it,” he said. “Go inside. David?” David took off his own jacket, put it around the shivering Katya, and walked her back inside.
“You two with me?” Gregory asked.
“Absolutely,” said Chayton.
“Let’s ride,” said Ace.
The rest of the people inside continued on; they enjoyed each other’s company, most of them oblivious to the news. They would all support each other, no matter what. They were great friends that had now become… chosen family.
“It takes a village to make sure parents don’t die from exhaustion.”
Afterword
A huge "Hi" to all my fantastic readers! Thank you so much for reading my latest title. I hope you loved it so very much!
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- Tough Love
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Sending all my love and gratitude. Always yours, Bella Knight!!
P.S. Thank you ever so much, I'm sending all my love and best wishes, always.
About the Author
Bella Knight writes what she loves--romance, Bad Boy Bikers to Hot Rockstars to sexy Sports Romances. She feels the love from her Las Vegas home from her rescue animals and her various love interests. She is constantly reading and writing, and she also leaves the animals with friends from time to time and hops on planes. She enjoys life to the fullest.
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