A Grey Wolves Howliday: The Grey Wolves Series Book 14

by Quinn Loftis

  A Grey Wolves Howliday

  The Grey Wolves Series, Book 14

  Quinn Loftis

  For Jesus, the ultimate Christmas gift.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Quinn’s Bookshelf

  Chapter 1

  “On the first day of Christmas my werewolf gave to me, a furball in a fir tree.

  See what I did there?” ~Jen

  “On a scale of one to ten, how worried should we be that Jen is going to retaliate on the whole blue Thia thing?” Fane asked Jacque the following morning. He passed Slate to Jacque so she could nurse him. They’d both been pondering the memories Peri had “taken” from them, and Jacque was sure much more had taken place than the fae had revealed. She really wanted to know the rest of the story. It’s not like Fane and Costin just dipped Thia into a tub of blue tie dye for no good reason. She looked up at her mate who was scratching his head and looking very confused. Okay, so it was totally possible he and Costin had indeed dipped Thia in a tub of blue tie dye for no good reason. It was probably Costin’s idea of a joke.

  “On a scale of one to ten?” she asked. “I’m going to say about twenty.” Jacque began rocking Slate in the chair. Their son was almost a year old, and she knew the nursing days were coming to an end. She would miss the quiet, bonding time, but she’d also be glad to have her girls back to herself.

  “Twenty isn’t on the scale,” Fane pointed out.

  “And that’s why you should be very worried. Jen is bad enough when she’s on the scale. Off the scale, things go downhill quickly.”

  “Maybe we should send Slate to stay with your mom.”

  Jacque shook her head. “I don’t think she’ll retaliate on Slate. You and Costin will incur her wrath. If I were you, I’d pay close attention to all bath products you use on your jewels, babe. That’s where she’s most likely to strike.”

  “I thought we were just going to have a nice celebration of the holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries we’ve missed.” He was practically whining now.

  “Oh, we will,” Jacque assured him. “There was going to be Jen drama, regardless. There always is. At least now we know where it’s going to be directed.”

  “Why did Peri have to give that specific memory back now?”

  “Well, you did say that you tolerated her vagina.” Jacque laughed. “And if I was a jealous mate, I’d be asking you what the hell you meant by tolerating her vagina.”

  Fane held up his hand, shaking it at her. “I said we—males, collectively—tolerate vaginas, plural. Not me, specifically.”

  “Mmm, if I recall correctly—and I do—you, specifically, mentioned Peri’s vagina, specifically.”

  “Could you please stop referring to her vagina as her vagina? You’re going to give me a complex,” Fane snapped.

  “You already have a complex, wolf-man. Lots of them actually. Would you rather me call it her pus—”

  “Jacquelyn,” he growled as his eyes began to glow with his wolf.

  “You’re cranky this morning,” she said, unable to hide her grin. Was she a little worried by what Jen was going to do to get revenge? Because the woman would get revenge. Yes. Jacque was honest enough with herself to admit she feared her friend’s wrath … for legitimate reasons. She’d known the crazy blonde for a long time. The chick be messed up in the head.

  “Maybe we should just cancel Christmas. There’s only a month left until the period of mourning is up and then everything is…” His words faded off, and he met her eyes.

  Jacque couldn’t hide her worry. She’d been trying hard not to think about what was to come. They’d already endured so much.

  “I’m sorry, Luna.” Fane walked over and knelt in front of her, resting one hand on her hip and the other on her knee. “I should have thought before I spoke.”

  Jacque shook her head and swallowed her emotions. She found herself doing that a lot lately. “You can talk to me about anything, Fane. You know that. And I don’t want you to not talk to me because you’re worried about it stressing me out or making me more afraid. I’m not fragile.”

  His beautiful lips turned up slightly. “As if I would ever make the mistake of calling you fragile, mate. You’re anything but, and you’ve proven it more times than I wish you’ve had to.”

  Jacque reached up her free hand and cupped his cheek. He was so handsome. She’d never forget the first time she laid eyes on him. He’d literally taken her breath away. His face had changed a bit over the past few years. It was more angular and no longer held the soft innocence of youth. He wore the lines of worry on his brow, and he smiled less easily. But he was still her Fane. The boy who’d stolen her heart was now the man who held it captive. “We’re not cancelling Christmas or anything else,” she said, her hand gently patting his cheek. “We will all just walk on eggshells while we wait for Jen’s crazy retaliation plan to reveal itself. Then, in twenty years, we will think back and laugh.” Fane didn’t look convinced that he’d ever find anything Jen would do funny … ever.

  “I’m going to have to order more eggnog and rum.” He stood more gracefully than a man his size should be able to.

  “You and Costin are just going to have to man up,” Jacque told him and then laughed when he growled at her. “Put on your big boy wolf undies.”

  “Thank you for giving me the image of Costin in his wolf form wearing a pair of boxers. Just what I wanted to picture this morning.”

  “How do you know they’re boxers? He may be a briefs wolf, or even, gasp, a bikini brief.”

  “If what you’re talking about wasn’t so disturbing, I might be angry that you’re thinking about Costin and his underwear,” Fane rumbled before heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower and try to wash these images out of my head. Thank you, Luna, for the encouraging pep talk.”

  Jacque laughed as the bathroom door closed a little harder than necessary. “Your daddy is afraid of whittle ol’ Aunt Jen.” She looked down at Slate. “To be fair, your Aunt Jen is bat-shniz crazy.” Slate just blinked, then grinned and patted her boob. Yes, Jacque would definitely be happy when only one male was once again laying claim to her girls.

  *****

  “Why in the ever-loving world would you and Fane dye Thia blue?” Sally asked as she helped Titus pick out his clothes for the day. Sally was excited to find out that her little man loved Christmas as much as she did, and he enjoyed wearing anything Christmas themed. She might have gone a little overboard on the festive sweaters and adorable Christmas plaid pants … and the red-and-green pajamas. Okay, she could be honest with herself. She’d gone past “oh, that’s kind of a lot,” to “you’ve got a holly jolly problem.”

  “Why did you and Jacque steal her to begin with?” Costin challenged as he paced their suite. He’d been doing that since he’d gotten dressed an hour before.

  “We were probably trying to rescue her from Jen’s craziness.” Sally stood back and looked at Titus and grinned. “I’m digging that ugly sweater, dude.”

  He smiled up at her. “It’s pretty bad.”

  “Bad enough to annoy Aunt Jen,” Sally said.

  Titus held up a hand to give her a high five. It turned out her son had a little payback streak in him. He’d figured out
a few things that really got on Jen’s nerves, and he exploited them ruthlessly. Sally and Costin probably shouldn’t encourage it, buuuut, Jen deserved it. They’d have to make up for this failure in other areas of parenting, like excellent hygiene. That’s a good thing to teach a kid, right? Sally nodded to herself. Totally makes up for encouraging him to annoy Jen.

  “Are you listening to me, Sally-mine?” Costin’s voice pulled her from her parenting pat on the back.

  “Yep, right here with you, um…”—her brow rose—“…and I totally agree.”

  Costin stopped pacing and turned to look at her. “You agree we should go spend Christmas with your parents?”

  “What? No. Are you crazy? Jen would skin us alive. Besides, my parents will probably come here on Christmas Day. They’ll want to see Titus open his presents.”

  “I thought you were with me and totally agreed,” he said with a knowing smirk.

  “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t listening, I was thinking about what awesome parents we are.”

  “And humble, too,” he added, his dimples making an appearance when he grinned at her. Man, did she love those dimples.

  “Just wear an ugly Christmas sweater, daddy,” Titus offered. “Aunt Jen can’t stand to look at them. She’ll tell you to leave the room when she sees it. She said it was an insult to the awesomeness of Christmas.” He said this with so much glee that both Sally and Costin laughed.

  Sally’s phone buzzed in her back pocket. She pulled it out and saw a text from Jen. Celebration committee meeting in five minutes. Don’t be late. “There’s a celebration committee?” Sally said as she looked up from her phone.

  “Yep.” Titus nodded. “And squads. There’s the light squad, the tree squad, the wreath squad, and some other kind of squad that I don’t think I’m allowed to say.”

  “How do you know this and I don’t?” Sally motioned for him to follow her.

  “Because Uncle Gavril has been teaching me how to hunt.” Titus puffed his chest out proudly. “He says a good hunter scouts his territory and gathers information before deciding when to strike. So, he told me to practice by being quiet and seeing if I could go undetected by my prey.”

  “And let me guess,” Sally said, trying really hard not to smile. “You set your sights on Aunt Jen as your first practice prey?”

  He nodded proudly.

  “I think me and Uncle Gavril are going to have to have a talk about his teaching methods,” Sally muttered under her breath. She shuddered to think what other things her son might have heard while spying on his Aunt Jen. “You coming down, babe?” she asked Costin.

  Just as he was about to answer, his phone beeped. He growled a second after reading the text. “I’ve been informed by the head of the celebration committee that if I don’t come down, she will drag me down by my tail.” Costin’s eyes were glowing by the time he finished talking.

  “Want me to tell her you’re sick?”

  “We don’t get sick,” he replied.

  “There’s an exception to every rule. We’ve learned that by now,” Sally pointed out.

  Costin stalked toward her and Titus. He swung their little boy into his arms, causing Titus to giggle. “I’m not afraid of the big, bad Jen,” he said before marching out the door.

  “We could put a sleeping potion in her eggnog,” Titus offered. “Uncle Gavril said sometimes predators have to trick their prey. I bet Aunt Rachel would make us some.”

  “Holy troll butts.” Sally groaned. “Costin, I think it’s time you had a come-to-Jesus meeting with Uncle Gavril.”

  “Why?” Costin grinned at Titus. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

  Okay, we can just make up for this poor parenting skill by teaching him to help old ladies cross the street and to eat his vegetables. Is it okay to weigh bad parenting tactics against good as long as the good came out on top? She mentally shrugged. Hell if she knew. She was just trying to survive the holidays without Jen permanently maiming Fane and Costin and without her son slipping roofies into people’s drinks. Just another day in the Romania pack.

  *****

  “Maybe you’re taking this celebration thing a little too seriously.” Decebel sat Thia in her highchair and poured some cereal on the tray. Jen stood across from him in the main kitchen of the pack mansion. She grunted and muttered but didn’t look up from the pad upon which she was scribbling. She paused to tap the pen on her teeth, then went back to work on her notes. Decebel tried to frame his words as carefully as he could. “Babe, this can be a … laid back … casual thing, and everyone will still have a good time. The important thing is that we are all together.”

  “Of course everyone is going to have a good time,” she practically growled, still without looking at him. “Obviously they are going to have a good time. Any idiot can throw a celebration where guests have a good time. I want them to have a great time. No, I want them to have a stupendous, colossal, rocking-out-party-of-the-century time. I want this to be—”

  Decebel put the sippie-cup down he’d been filling with milk and grabbed Jen’s shoulders. She sucked in a breath and finally looked up, her beautiful blue eyes meeting his. For an instant, he thought she was going to growl some more. Then her face softened, and her shoulders slumped. “I just want it to be special,” she admitted softly. “This year has been complete crap.” She laughed and then shook her head. “Who am I kidding? The last few years have been crap.”

  “Ouch, Jennifer. I’m trying not to take that personally considering we met, mated, and had a child together during those complete crap times.”

  “There have been moments of awesomeness.” She set the pen down and wrapped her arms around him. “I didn’t mean that all of it’s been crap. I just mean—”

  “I know what you mean,” he interrupted. “Since Fane met Jacque, we’ve all been trying to survive from one bad guy to the next.”

  “Exactly.” She nodded. “There’s barely been time to breathe, let alone celebrate the amazing things that have happened while the crap was literally falling on our heads.”

  “I’m proud of you for saying crap and not the other word,” he teased as he nuzzled her hair. He treasured the moments when she let herself be vulnerable. They were few and far between, and when they happened, like now, Decebel soaked them up like they were the first rays of sunshine in months.

  She snorted. “Yeah, well, turns out mini-me likes potty words as much as her momma. For some reason, she never repeats things I say like ‘that’s adorable’, but”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“if I slip up and say, ‘life’s a bitch,’ she’s suddenly all miss vocabulary and throwing that shit around like it’s confetti.”

  Decebel had to agree. It was as though Thia specifically listened for words she knew she wasn’t supposed to say and then latched onto them like her favorite toy. “Maybe we should tell her not to say a regular word, and then she’d want to say it all the time instead of her current favorites.”

  “Reverse psychology?” Jen narrowed her eyes and looked over at their daughter, who was currently holding up a circular piece of cereal and staring at them through the middle of it. “I don’t know. I think she’s too smart for that. And she’s creeping me out with the non-blinking stare. Thia, blink your eyes, child. You’re being weird.”

  Thia seemed to think this was hilarious. She laughed and said, “Momma weird.”

  “You’re not wrong, mini-me, you’re not wrong.” Jen shook her head at their mischievous girl.

  “So,” Decebel said carefully, “about this celebration. Is a committee—”

  “Yes, B, it’s necessary. It’s a big freaking house, we’re inviting the whole freaking pack, and if nothing is planned, then we’ll run out of food, have rooms that aren’t festive, and it will be a Christmas dud party. I don’t do duds.”

  “Well, obviously, you mated me.” He couldn’t help himself. She’d walked into that one.

  “Ha, ha,” she deadpanned.

  He could s
ee his mate had good intentions, even if she tended to go a little overboard on some things. He paused. Okay, a lot overboard. But he also thought this was part of her grieving process. It was as if she needed to do Alina’s memory justice by making this first “holiday” as special as their former alpha female had been. Decebel wouldn’t rob her of that if it was what she needed. He’d lay the world at her feet if he knew it would help her heal. “Okay, baby, you just tell me what to do and it’s done.”

  Her plump lips turned up into a smile that lit up her face. That alone was enough to make him drag in fifty Christmas trees and put a thousand ornaments on every single one. Anything to make her smile at him like that.

  “As soon as everyone is here, I’ll assign each person to their squad. Then we can lock and load,” she said with the pep back in her step.

  “Squad?”

  “Or we could call them teams.” She tapped the pen against her lips. “Or crews. Ohh, brigades.” She nodded with a grin. “Like the elf brigade, the wolf sleigh brigade, the tree brigade, the—”

  “Wait. Did you say wolf sleigh brigade?”

  She nodded again, this time even more enthusiastically. “Yes, and the tree brigade. Come on, babe, you’re going to have to keep up if you want to be a brigade leader.”

  “Uh…” He decided to pick one battle at a time. “Or we could just say groups.”

  She scrunched her nose up. “‘Groups’ is boring. ‘Groups’ is for duds. We aren’t a group of duds. We’re a pack of badass, Christmas celebrating, lights shining, ornament hanging, sleigh pulling, boughs of holly dancing, holiday furball cheer. Does that sound dud-like to you?”

  “I like the sound of that.” Zara sauntered into the kitchen, tapped Thia on the nose, and then turned to Jen and Decebel. “And no, it definitely doesn’t sound dud-like. It sounds like the Christmas of the century.”