Page 39

Jaxson

PULLING OUT THE trays of food I prepared before Xander and I left to check the location for the singles mixer, I close the fridge door with a tap of my socked foot and place the two trays down on the island. My eyes scan the great room. Not seeing Billie, I lift a brow at Xander, who’s seated on the opposite side of the island, laptop open, fingers already flying across the keyboard, and we’ve been home for no more than ten minutes. “Do you want to talk about your mother’s frosty attitude tonight?” I ask.

He scoffs a humorless laugh and slightly shakes his head. “Not really.” His eyes stay on the screen, and I work on unwrapping the cling wrap from the trays. “Obviously I was as taken aback as you,” he comments. Tap, click, tap, clickity-tap go his fingers. “Hopefully it was a one-time flare up that has been tempered for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s the luna thing, isn’t it?” I hedge, throwing the balls of plastic wrap in the trash, then taking the bowls of sauces and putting them in the microwave to warm up. “The fact that our mate is, at this point, uninterested in the position.”

“I assume so,” Xander mutters, still clicking away. “Seems like my mother’s got her replacement lined up in any case.”

The microwave buzzes, and I turn back around, getting some serving spoons out. “Cortney,” I guess, and he dips his chin. I shake my head. “I just don’t see the rush, the reason behind it. It’s not like your father allowed your mom to be a true luna when he was alive. You’d think she’d want to hold the role.” My fingers scratch behind my ear, and I lowly wonder, “And Cortney... I mean, I get that her wolf is definitely capable of being a luna, but with every that’s happened, her going after Billie, the assault by your father—it seems a little rushed, a little rash, yea?” His response is an undiscernible muttering under his breath. I take the hint and switch topics. “What about this weekend? How are feeling about the meet-and-greet fundraiser and tour of facilities?”

He takes a moment to consider, focused on what he’s doing, and I hear the whirring of the printer starting up in the office. Ruffling his hair with his fingers, he blows out a breath. “I’m apprehensive and on edge about it.” His eyes finally raise to mine as he says, “I know this needs to happen, that we need to go down there and meet with these”—his upper lip hitches into a sneer— “scientists. We need to gather intel, get a sense of the company, see firsthand what they’re working on, and try to make connections in hopes of bringing some employees onto our side.” The color drains from his face, his eyes lose focus, and his throat bobs. “But these are most likely the people who killed her parents, that tried to kidnap her—and we’re bringing her to them. It’s beyond risky. I’m worried they’ll still have an interest in her.”

The microwave dings. Grabbing the potholders, I turn around and open the microwave door. Pulling out the caramel and hot fudge, I carefully place them back down on the fruit and dessert trays. Tossing the potholders on the counter, I grab the small serving spoons and give each dish a swirl. “I think it’s safer for us to assume that they still want her. Fuck, more likely that for the rest of our lives people are going to want her.” In my head, I continue: Want her compliance. Want her as theirs. Want her power... Want her dead.

“Shit,” Xander grunts, his fingers not just raking through his hair but harshly tugging at it. “You’re right. You’re so freaking right.”

I nod. “But as for this weekend, we’re not going in there blind, and we’ve got backup.” My eyes widen, and my brows lift. “Lots of backup. People that they couldn’t have even guessed.” Help that we didn’t expect—well, besides our mate, who looked at us like we were daft for not having thought of them.

“And it needs to happen,” Billie chirps like a baby chick—a ninja baby chick, popping out of nowhere right behind Xander, startling both of us. A sparkle of mischievous pride shines in her tired eyes, and she snorts a laugh. “Man, either wool socks are the cat burglar’s secret weapon or you’re both too distracted to be aware of your surroundings.” She pulls out the stool next to Xander and climbs up to kneel on it, her hungry gaze locking in on the food. Taking a strawberry and dipping it the chocolate, she hums, “I’m gonna go with the socks because the latter would be most concerning.” She bites into the chocolate-covered strawberry and moans. I’m about to tell her, No snacking until we’re all set up , when I feel the heat of Xander’s stare. I look at him, and he shakes his head once in the negative, and then slides his eyes to our mate, his brows dipping in worry.

“Wilhelmina,” Xander says, placing a hand on her thigh, his brows furrowing even deeper. She half turns to him and raises her brows. He licks his lips. “You... have... are,” he stutters, searching for the right words.

“What’s up with the long johns?” I ask with a head tilt.

She picks up a slice of apple and dips it in the caramel. “Don’t know.” She hitches a shoulder before biting into the apple. Another moan of pleasure. “Just like wearing them lately.”

“Are they a normal part of your winter wear? Are you cold?” Xander questions.

“Just like the extra layer,” she mumbles around some more apple. “It gives me additional temperature control options, and it’s comforting or whatever.” She looks between us and sighs. “I know I’m dressing a little sloppy, possibly Boston Street Chic —as in, like a homeless person during the winter. I feel like being bundled up lately, having many layers to keep on or take off.” Grabbing a napkin and wiping her hands, she takes the two trays and spins off the stool. “Come on, let’s get this premiere playdate going,” she calls over her shoulder, using her super-sleuthing wool socks to silently slide across the wood floor of the great room all the way down the hallway. A few giggling yelps fill the quiet as her need for play almost costs her, her balance and us the snacks.

When I hear the fast tempo of her feet lightly padding down the stairs to the basement, where Ethan’s setting everything up, I slide my gaze to Xander and lift my brows in question. He’s plucking his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger in thought. “You know,” he says with a crease between his brows, “we haven’t actually seen her naked—like, completely naked—since coming home after dealing with the Callahans. And even then, she curled around me from behind.”

I pull my head back, thinking he must be wrong because we’ve definitely had sex since then, but... “Shit, you’re right,” I puff out. “You think something’s going on?”

“I think this playdate is just the opportunity for us to explore that concern,” he comments while shutting down his computer and pressing up to standing. Grabbing the bottles of champagne from the fridge, I hand them to Xander while I get the glasses and napkins.

“Well then, let’s get this Jax’s favorite Hallmark holiday movie night started,” I say with a brow waggle and smile as we leave the kitchen and make our way down to the gym that’s being transformed into a mini-movie theater, with pillows, bolsters, and blankets piled high on the matted area and a sheet hanging in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, a projector set up across from it.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I stop in my tracks and stare around in slacked-jawed awe at what I didn’t expect. Christmas lights. Elegant soft-white Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling. Antique-looking, lighted tin stars hanging around the top of the squat rack. The dumbbell tree decorated like a freakin’ Christmas tree with silver beads for garland, and a gym-inspired tree skirt that looks like a red-and-green forty-five-pound bumper plate, with three small wrapped presents laid out on it. “How?” I start.

“Ethan,” Billie preens around a mouthful of marshmallow and chocolate, based on the dark stains at the corners of her pink mouth.

I spin my head around to Ethan, who’s standing off to the side, still working on getting the projector just right. Flicking his gaze from me to our sheet screen, he tosses me a lopsided smile. “What? Thought it was a playdate, and watching movies didn’t seem to be enough.” He makes a few more minor adjustments before nodding his head and standing back up. “We need plenty of play for our first official playdate. And”—he shrugs a shoulder, his gaze circling around the space— “I thought picking a few tasteful pieces ahead of time would set a good tone for decorating the new house.”

In the Christmas spirit, my heart swells like the Grinch’s, and I float over to him and then take another half step close enough to feel his warm breath breeze over my cheek. I stare into those onyx orbs that at times feel like they hold twin galaxies. He not only meets my stare but opens his for me, and I lean forward just enough so our bodies rub. His lips part with a sharp inhale, and I watch desire sparkle in those night-sky eyes. “I love it, thank you,” I murmur, brushing my lips against his.

“My pleasure,” he moans, rubbing that ring along my bottom lip, sending shivers down my spine. Our mouths stay close, not pulling away, not pressing deeper. We just keep letting them graze against one another. So featherlight, so delicate—it takes all of my attention to feel his soft skin.

Crunch . . . chomp, chomp . . . crunch .

Ethan’s eyes flit to look behind me, and I feel the smile stretch across his lips. Turning my head, I follow his gaze and land on our mate perched on a pile of pillows, a tray of food balancing on her tucked-in knees, her eyes glued on us, a half-eaten graham cracker dipped in chocolate in one hand, with the crumbs from the other half stuck to her mouth.

“Should have picked a less noisy option, love,” Ethan teases, his hand stroking the side of my waist and around to tap my bum before gliding away.

“Didn’t think you’d be one to get stage fright, E,” she saucily counters, licking the crumbs from her lips before taking another bite.

“Nothing to do with you watching,” he drawls, strolling up to her. Her position on the floor puts her head just below the prominent bulge bouncing under his joggers. Definitely not wearing underwear . He brushes a few wisps of her hair back and trails his first two fingers down the side of her face and under her jaw, tilting her chin up. The small touch is like a magic wand putting Billie completely under his spell. Her eyelids drop to half-mast, and her body melts as though his fingertips are the hook her entire being is hanging from. He slowly rubs his thumb along her lips, spreading the trapped chocolate out.

“You watching turns me on,” he pauses, and I feel the brush of him through our bond, while his eyes never leave hers. “Turns us on. But I’d like to enjoy this night before you succumb to sleep.” As if he knows what’s about to happen, his other hand slips under the tray right before he releases her chin, and she falls backward like her strings have been cut, leaving him holding the tray. “So, let’s get the show started,” he says, giving me a wink over his shoulder.

And then our mate comes back to life, popping up from her prone position like a defective jack-in-the-box. “Oh!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together and bopping over to the dumbbell tree. “Can’t forget the presents!” she squeals, grabbing the three small gifts. She tosses them in the middle of the blankets. “Pick whichever one you want!”

“It doesn’t matter?” Ethan questions, squatting down, inspecting the presents like we all don’t know he’s going to pick the one wrapped in matte black paper with shiny black snowflakes.

“Nope,” Billie answers as she begins burrowing her way under the blankets and fluffing up the pillows. Ethan nods, then he tosses the cream-colored one with silver and gold reindeer to Xander, who catches it with one hand while the other pops the champagne. Show-off . Obviously, I get thrown the one with the cartoon elves. I inspect it a little closer, and my eyes fly up to Billie, who’s got a huge grin on her face.

“These are some dirty elves, Billie,” I tease, waggling my brows at her. Her cheeks blush, and her tongue darts between her lips.

“What about you?” Xander asks, handing her a glass of champagne and then one to Ethan before pouring two more and placing them on the small TV tray near where he and I are standing at the edge of the makeshift nest.

“Oh... um... don’t worry about me,” Billie blusters, waving a hand in the air and taking a sip of the champagne like it doesn’t matter, while the blush of her cheeks deepens.

Xander, Ethan, and I share a look, and at the same time, we open our first—

“Wait!” I yell out. “Wait, hold up.” Xander’s and Ethan’s fingers freeze on their gifts, both of them looking at me expectantly. “Sorry... just—” I choke over the emotional lump in my throat, my eyes welling with tears. “Just my—” A tittering laugh—a manly one—slips past my lips, and I set my blurry gaze on our mate. “Fuck, my Hallmark-loving heart just thumped realizing these... these are our first presents from you.”

“Um,” Billie drawls while tugging on her ear. “Shit, Jax, I didn’t—they’re not,” she splutters, her eyes sliding to Xander, then back to me. “Feck, are we all having issues talking lately or what? Sleep deprivation man.” She sighs. “Anyway, they’re small, like no biggie. So just open them already.”

We return to our presents, Ethan methodically unwrapping his to make sure he doesn’t tear the paper, or the tape for that matter. Xander picks one end to open, leaving most of the paper still intact. And me? I destroy the paper like a five-year-old on Christmas morning.