Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  Neither was the cashmere sweater I wore, but sometimes you just had to suck it up when you were prima.

  I didn’t see any sign of Kelly. I said carefully, “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” Then he glanced over at me. His face still had that taut, overly controlled look to it.

  “Where’s Kelly?”

  “Gone,” he replied, then added, “Really gone this time, I think.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His shoulders lifted. “Why? Everyone else seemed to see this coming except for me.”

  Well, that much was true. I’d missed out on a lot of family gossip during my time with the Wilcoxes, but the elders had let me know trouble was brewing between Evan and Kelly, that she wasn’t settling down into the knowledge of what it meant to be a civilian in the McAllister family. She wanted to move to Phoenix, didn’t see why Evan couldn’t get a dispensation from the de la Paz clan in the southern part of the state so the two of them could relocate there where she would be able to have more of a life.

  Her words, of course. You could have plenty of life right here in the Verde Valley if you just worked at it a little bit.

  Setting aside the fact that I couldn’t quite understand why anyone would voluntarily move to Phoenix, I also found it irritating that she couldn’t accept the rules of the family she’d married into. It could be hard, but that was part of the deal. Evan should have explained all that to Kelly. Since I hadn’t been privy to those discussions, I had no idea what she’d been told. All I could do now was help him pick up the pieces.

  Then Evan gusted out a breath, a cloud of mist escaping from his mouth in the cold air. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. The elders tried to talk me out of it, but I just had to marry her. Now the whole clan is going to have to pay for my mistake.”

  I didn’t bother to contradict him, because he was right. We McAllisters did marry civilians from time to time, but we also made damn sure beforehand that those marriages would last, that the connection was just as strong as a match with someone who had witch-blood. Because if a witch/civilian marriage did break up, things could get messy if any of those ex-spouses decided to tell all about the family they’d once married into. And that meant quietly paying them off so they’d keep their mouths shut. It wasn’t exactly “retire to the Bahamas” money, but it was definitely enough to provide a nice cushion and an incentive to stay quiet. If the secret got leaked, the money was yanked.

  As far as I knew, no one had ever talked.

  But because I could tell that Evan had already beaten himself up enough on the subject, I said, my tone firm, “You don’t need to worry about that. We can handle it. The important thing is to take care of yourself right now. If you really think it’s over.”

  He reached up to push his hair off his brow. A few years ago, I would have wondered what it was like to run my fingers through that hair — dark red and thick, although he didn’t have a redhead’s freckled complexion. Now I just wished I knew him a little better so I could give him a reassuring hug. He was just enough older that he wasn’t in the group of cousins I’d hung out with growing up. I’d mostly admired him from afar.

  “Oh, it’s over,” he said bitterly. “Truth is, it’s been over for a while. I was just too stubborn to believe it.” He glanced down Main Street — was that where Kelly had taken off? — then back over at me. “You shouldn’t be standing out here in the cold, Angela. I’m fine. Don’t let me ruin your Christmas.”

  “You’re not ruining my Christmas,” I replied. “I’m sorry that Kelly ruined your Christmas. And you shouldn’t stand out here for much longer, either.”

  “Oh, I won’t.” He hesitated, then said, “I’m going home. I don’t think I can deal with everyone staring at me right now. There’s nothing like a room full of people thinking ‘I told you so’ at you to kill the holiday spirit.”

  “I doubt that’s what they’d be thinking, but I totally understand wanting to go home. I’ll cover for you.”

  A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks, Angela.”

  He turned then and headed down the side street away from Spook Hall. I knew he didn’t live up here in Jerome, but down in Cottonwood, and so he must be headed to his car. He’d probably left a jacket or coat behind in the hall, but I wasn’t going to stop him to ask about it. One of the other family members who also lived in Cottonwood could take it to him after the party broke up.

  Letting out a sigh of my own, I headed back into the building.

  Chapter 5

  Eyes full of questions, Connor leaned over as I sat back down, then asked, “What was all that about?”

  “Family drama,” I said quietly. “We can talk about it more when we get home.”

  He nodded, still looking puzzled, but he didn’t push it. And neither did anyone else. We McAllisters knew the drill. I had no doubt that the eruption between Evan and his soon-to-be ex-wife would be the topic of discussion for almost everyone after they left the hall, but for now, we were going to be a big happy family, enjoying “Yule-mas,” as Kirby referred to these gatherings.

  There really wasn’t that much of the party left by that point, anyway. Years ago, before I was even old enough to remember, the clan had done a sort of anonymous gift exchange so that everyone got a small present to open at the party. According to Rachel, even that modest custom began to get out of hand, and so the family abandoned it a while back. Here and now, all the gift-exchanging would have happened at people’s homes the night before, or earlier this morning. Since everyone had more or less eaten their fill, the clean-up crew started gathering the leftovers and setting them to one side so that the people who’d brought something could claim their platters and bowls and whatnot.

  Both Rachel and Tobias looked troubled, and Kirby and his boyfriend just seemed awkward, as if they didn’t quite know what to say. I feigned a yawn, then remarked, “Well, I think that turkey’s starting to work on me. Time to go home and take a nap along with the babies.”

  “Do they sleep a lot?” Kirby’s boyfriend Jordan asked. He was looking at the babies in their carriers as if they were members of an alien race that he hadn’t decided was friendly or not.

  “Yes, but not always at the best time,” I said. “They’re big fans of the midnight feeding. And the 3 a.m. changing. And the — ”

  “I think Jordan gets it,” Connor broke in. “But since they’re sleeping now, it’s a good time to slip out.”

  True. Better to go while they still looked like little angels instead of screaming their heads off. We headed toward the door, waving goodbye to everyone we saw, and made it out to the Jeep without incident. Ian did wake up and start to fuss a little, but we managed to get him inside the SUV before he really let loose, followed immediately by Emily, who clearly had decided she needed to get in on the act, too.

  At least it was a short drive up the hill, and we hurried the twins inside basically as soon as Connor got the car in park. Then they needed to be changed, and fed, and somehow it was already almost five before they fell asleep again, this time in their own cribs. I picked up the baby monitor and brought it downstairs, although I was fairly sure the twins wouldn’t be up again for a while. All those unfamiliar voices and faces at the family gathering had probably worn the little things out.

  By that point, I felt as if I wanted to go to sleep, too. But that probably wouldn’t have been a very good idea. Although some people had been drinking at the party, I’d decided against it. Trying to explain to some of the older set that having a glass or two while nursing wouldn’t cause any harm just didn’t seem worth the effort.

  Now, though, Connor poured us a couple of glasses of pinot noir, then led me into the living room. Normally we would have relaxed in the family room at the back of the house, but I guessed that he wanted to be where the Christmas tree was.

  I sat down on the sofa and set the receiver for the baby monitor on the coffee table while he went and got another fire going. Easy enough for a warlo
ck; stack the logs, point your finger, and instant flame. It sure beat messing around with newspapers or starter logs or whatever else civilians had to use to get a fire started.

  Then he came back and said, “So….”

  “So Evan’s married to a civilian and it’s falling apart, and we’ll have to pay her hush money for the rest of her life so she doesn’t go blabbing about her ex-husband’s family. You know, the usual.”

  Connor winced. “Don’t feel too bad. We Wilcoxes have had to do the same thing a time or two as well.” He picked up his wine glass from where he’d set it on the coffee table and took a sip. “It’s a risk. I guess we should count ourselves lucky that these things work out more often than they don’t.”

  I supposed he was right. Considering how high the divorce rate was in the general population, it probably wasn’t too bad that we McAllisters only had to deal with one of these clan/civilian divorces every ten or fifteen years or so. I had to wonder why Evan had been so set on Kelly when I knew the elders had tried to talk him out of the marriage.

  Well, I didn’t have to wonder too much. She was gorgeous. Just another reason why I’d really disliked her back in the day. Ah, jealousy.

  Should I tell Connor that I’d once had a crush on Evan? Probably not. Such a revelation wouldn’t serve any useful purpose, and it was all water under the bridge at this point. Connor was the only man for me and always would be.

  “You’re right, of course,” I told him. “And it’ll really be up to the elders to get it all sorted out. I don’t envy them that — I have a feeling that Kelly will try to squeeze as much out of them as possible.”

  One eyebrow went up. “You don’t like her very much, do you?”

  So much for being discreet. “Not really. I mean, she’s pretty and blonde, but there’s not much there there, if you know what I mean. Evan deserved better.”

  “Oh, he did?”

  Despite my best efforts to hold it back, I could feel a flush rise in my cheeks. “Yes,” I said, knowing that my tone sounded a little too casual. “He’s a strong warlock. A — well, I guess you could call him a fixer.”

  “A fixer?”

  “If someone casts a spell that goes wrong, or is too strong, or whatever, he can come in and make it better. Not always all the way back to normal, but enough that a situation doesn’t turn into an outright catastrophe.”

  Connor looked impressed. “I hadn’t heard of that one. We definitely don’t have anyone like that in the Wilcox clan.”

  Although the Wilcoxes did have people with talents that the McAllister witches didn’t possess. But that was how our magical talents worked — they could bounce around, skip generations, disappear altogether. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to it that I could tell, although some of the more useful talents, such as healing and weatherworking, did tend to be fairly common. And then there were outliers, like Evan.

  “I don’t know of anyone else who has it, either,” I said. “But anyway, because he’s such a strong warlock, of course everyone in the clan would have preferred it if he’d married a witch, not a civilian. Yes, children of witch/civilian pairings can have strong magical talents, but there’s just as good a chance that their gifts won’t be anything to write home about.” I shrugged and picked up my glass of wine, then took a sip. The dark, rich liquid spilled down my throat, and I could feel myself start to relax a little. “And, well…I guess I had kind of a crush on Evan back in the day.”

  “You did?” Connor’s eyebrow went up again, but he looked more amused than anything. “Should I be jealous?”

  “Of course not. I’m just saying that’s another reason why Kelly isn’t exactly one of my favorite people.”

  He seemed to consider my remark for a moment as he sipped from his own glass of wine. “Well, I can totally understand that.”

  “So…it doesn’t bug you?”

  “Why should it?” Connor set down his wine glass and moved closer to me, then put his hand on my knee. His fingers felt very warm through the fabric of my jeans, and once again heat stirred within me. I sent a wary glance at the baby monitor, but I hadn’t heard a peep from it since we’d sat down on the couch.

  Maybe….

  “Are you jealous of the girls I dated before I met you?” he went on. I shook my head. No, I really couldn’t be, since none of them seemed to have mattered anything to him, and he hadn’t seen anyone else after he met me at the Jerome Halloween dance. “Well, then, I can’t really be too upset by a crush you had on someone before we even met. I feel bad for the guy — he’s in a tough situation, and he’s probably giving himself all kinds of shit for getting himself into it.”

  “Are you always this awesome?” I asked, leaning my head against his shoulder. It felt so good to be there, feeling the slight scratch of his wool sweater against my cheek. There was something special about it being just the two of us in that moment, no babies that needed to be changed or fed or comforted.

  “Most of the time,” Connor replied. His hand found mine and tightened around it. “Of course, you make it easy to be awesome.”

  Then he bent down so his lips could brush against my hair, and once again heat flickered inside me. Goddess, I wanted him. I needed him, needed to renew the connection between us.

  Being Connor, he seemed to sense my yearning immediately. Voice quiet, he said, “It sounds as if they’re still asleep.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. Without speaking, he shifted so he could put his arms around me, could lift me from the couch. I gasped, but remembered enough of myself to snag the baby monitor’s receiver from the coffee table before Connor carried me out of the room and up the stairs. One of the steps creaked under our combined weight, and I winced, praying the sound wasn’t loud enough to penetrate to the nursery where the babies slept. But I didn’t hear any answering wails, nothing to indicate that the twins weren’t still completely passed out.

  I’d forgotten how strong Connor really was. The weight had started to come off, but I certainly wasn’t back to what I weighed when we first met. That didn’t seem to matter as he carried me into the bedroom and laid me down on the bed. A flick of his finger, and the fire in the hearth came alive, sending a warm orange light dancing on the walls. I dropped the baby monitor on the nightstand as he came and lay down next to me, pulling me close, his mouth finding mine.

  Oh, Goddess, the taste of him. We’d kissed over the past few weeks, but not like this, tongues caressing one another, mouths open, our bodies pressed together as if trying to meld into one. Heat was surging through me, veins on fire, as Connor’s hand moved over my hip and then to my belt buckle. I felt it come loose after he tugged on it, and then his fingers were on the button of my jeans.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered. “Is this too soon?”

  “It’s fine,” I whispered back. “I’m ready. Eleanor’s been helping me along, you know?”

  He nodded and undid the button, then went on to pull down the zipper. In the next second, his fingers were moving under my panties, slipping into me. I’d been worried that my body wouldn’t respond the same way it used to, but in that instant I realized all the warnings I’d read about needing lube for postpartum sex obviously didn’t apply to me.

  I moaned, but softly, not wanting to make any noise loud enough to carry down the hall to where the twins might hear. And then Connor was tugging my pants down all the way, my underwear going along for the ride, even as he pushed up my sweater so he could trail kisses across my stomach. I noticed he was avoiding my breasts, so I whispered, “It’s okay. They’re — I mean, you can kiss them. It’s not like feeding the babies.”

  He let out a soft sigh. “Thank God. I didn’t want to do anything that might — ”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Please.”

  His mouth closed on me, but gently, tongue soft on my flesh even as he stroked me with his fingers. And there it was, that delicious pressure and heat building within me, the sensation I’d f
eared would never be the same again.

  I had to bury my face in his shoulder as I came so my cries would be muffled. He held me as I shuddered in his arms, riding the last of the waves until they were done rippling along every nerve ending.

  We stayed that way for a moment, but then I realized that, as good as it had been, I needed more. I needed him.

  My fingers found his belt and undid it hastily. Then I pushed his jeans down, and his boxer-briefs, my hand going to feel the rock-hardness of his erection. He groaned, but softly as well, his cock seeming to grow even more as I stroked it. A minute or so passed, and then he murmured, “Angela — ”

  I knew I was going to make him come if I kept at it. And while that would have been all right if I’d been at all worried about being with him completely, right then I knew I needed more.

  “Now, Connor,” I whispered.

  He rolled over and positioned himself on top of me. His hair had escaped the rubber band that held it back, and sooty black strands fell in front of his eyes. Even so, they weren’t enough to obscure his features, to hide the face of the man who had become everything in the world to me.

  And then he was slipping inside, and I had to let out a relieved breath, because even though I’d been wanting him, wanting this, I didn’t know for sure how well it was all going to work when the time came. But we fit together as perfectly as ever, and although I felt a slight twinge from the mostly healed scar in my lower abdomen, it wasn’t enough to detract from the exquisite sensation of our bodies joining once again, moving together, sealing and strengthening our bond.

  This time the climax was slower, longer, pulsing through me in waves of delicious warmth. Connor came a few seconds later, and I whispered the words of the contraception charm in my mind.

  Blessed Brigit, now is not the time. Bestow your blessings elsewhere.