Luke snuggled Ginny Crandall close, inhaling her sweet baby-and-honeysuckle scent. His wolf sighed in happiness having the little female under their care. Nuzzling her cold nose against his neck, she wrapped a wet, mitten-covered hand around his ear and sniffled. He kissed her cheek.
“You’re all right, precious. I’ve got you now.” He wished he could fix all his pack’s problems so easily.
Stefan laughed. “She does like to lead people around by their ears, I’ve noticed.”
Dev’s chuckle brought Ginny’s head up. “Oh, yeah. Gonna be a dominant, this one. Come here to Grampa, sweetie. Let’s go find your grandma. I heard her mention something about cookies.”
“Ookies?” Ginny flung herself into her grandfather’s arms.
“Oof. Later, Luke.”
As they left, a dozen kids raced past laughing and squealing, their arms and legs wheeling in the slippery, packed snow. But it was the sight of Isabelle with her head thrown back, laughing, that had Luke tripping over his own feet.
Damn, had there ever been anything prettier?
“Ah, the mating dance,” Stefan said. “Your father would have liked to see you fall prey to that. ‘Far too independent for his own good,’ he liked to say about you.” He shook his head. “He had no idea.”
Grief swept over Luke. At least a dozen times a day he wished his father were here, to offer advice, a smack in the head, or just to sit and have a drink with.
Abruptly, Isabelle stopped and locked eyes with him, her brow furrowed in concern. For a second he thought a grizzly might have sat on his chest, it was so hard to drag in a breath. But then she offered a shy smile and the world started turning again.
“He would have liked her,” Luke said. “She busts my chops every chance she gets.”
Stefan laughed and cuffed him on the shoulder. “Oh, I dare say he would have. Go on, son. Your mate is waiting.”
Luke didn’t have to be told twice. Isabelle rose from her rocking chair as he climbed the porch steps, gazing at him as if she’d never seen anything like him before.
“Hey there,” he said once he stood in front of her.
“Hi.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Freddie muttered.
Without taking his eyes off Isabelle, Luke punched him in the shoulder. A tap, really.
Isabelle folded her arms across her chest.
“What?” Luke asked. “I was being friendly.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Stop whining, Fred.”
Luke ignored the human’s gritted complaints as he greeted the other ladies. But really, he only had eyes for his mate. Despite her lingering injuries, she looked better today than she had the day they met. A faint blush of color had grown in her cheeks and the tiny muscles around her eyes seemed more relaxed.
“Luke, why don’t you take Izzy for a walk around the yard while I get you both something to eat?” Abby said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He wrapped an arm around Isabelle’s waist and hustled her down the steps before she could come up with an excuse to stay. When she huffed and pushed his arm off, he said, “I like your mom.”
“You would. She’s as bossy and manipulative as you are.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m not bossy. And ‘manipulative’ doesn’t sound very nice. I’m caring and shrewd.”
Isabelle blinked, then there was that laugh again. Oh, yeah. He could get used to that sound. “You’re an idiot,” she said, taking some of the wind out of his sails. “But then, so am I.”
“Oh-kay.” She was a little weird, too, but damned if he’d mention it.
Grabbing her by the waist, he spun her out of the way of one of Dev and Liz Crandall’s grandkids as the boy darted by. Then more yelling juveniles charged through, followed by Hank Dodd yowling like something from a bad horror flick. Branches stuck out of the sleeves of his coat, and a knit scarf was tied around his head, one end trailing in the wind. He dragged his right leg behind him and waved his wooden appendages in front of him like feelers. “Arrrr-ga!”
Luke laughed. “Sugar, your father is a brave man. The demon horde usually intimidates the heartiest souls.”
“Please,” she said with a snort. “He raised foster kids from the streets. Unless one of those hellions changes into a wolf, there’s nothing new they can show him. Um...they won’t do that, will they? Get all grrr argh, right?”
“Uh, no,” he laughed, again.
Here and there people called out to them or stopped to say hi. On the lake side of the house, the land dipped down to the shore, allowing for French doors from the yard into the finished basement. Light filtered out the panes, throwing dancing shadows onto the snow from the pack’s teen contingent playing pool and foosball in the rec room.
A sturdy blue missile flew around the corner and ran right into Luke’s legs, almost laying him out on his ass. “Whoa, Justin!” Dean’s younger son clung to his calf like a leech while several more of the horde gathered around them.
“Uh...” Isabelle said. Half-a-dozen juveniles stared at her and sniffed. Eyes wide, she turned to Luke.
“Little beasts,” he chided, before introducing them to his mate.
Justin, always the ringleader despite being the youngest, let go of Luke and stepped in front of Isabelle. “My momma says you’re Luke’s mate.”
Oh crap. “Justin—”
“Guess she’s right about that,” Isabelle said, knocking the air from Luke’s lungs.
Shrewd green eyes narrowed, Justin leaned closer to her and took a long, deep sniff. “You don’t smell like you’re mated.” She wouldn’t. Not until they’d claimed one another. Then everyone would know they were taken.
“Uh...” she said, squirming a little.
Before Luke could rescue her, Parker Crandall, ten years old and the oldest of Liz and Dev’s grandchildren, piped up. “My grandma says Ms. Izzy saved Rissa from the rogues.”
This statement was met with gasps of wonder and oohs from the horde.
“Well,” Isabelle said, a blush darkening her cheeks. “She came to save us. I just helped when she needed it.”
A collective “ah” rose from the crowd.
Justin nodded sagely. “Because that’s what a pack does.”
Isabelle’s mouth dropped open. Finally, she met Luke’s gaze and a bright light burned in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said. “It is.”
* * *
Izzy breathed a sigh of relief as the kids finally moved off, enticed by the call of food. Their ready acceptance had knocked her for a loop. Hell, so had her own responses.
Luke led her toward the frozen lakeshore a hundred feet from the house. “Are you all right?”
Conversation and laughter drifted from the house. Freddie’s voice rose above the din as he shouted a greeting to someone. Through the enormous windows, she watched Abby nod at something Lena said and Marianne pick up the toddler Luke had cuddled.
“Why are you sad?” he asked, pulling her to a stop under the bare branches of a maple tree.
“It’s just...it’s stupid.”
“What?”
“You’re all so...normal.”
Luke huffed a laugh. “What did you expect? Knockout dominance challenges among the preschool set?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” God, how could she explain all the warring thoughts pounding in her head without insulting him? Well, more than she already had.
He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Tell me.”
She shivered at his touch. “My family is here, surrounded by werewolves. Werewolves. But then there’s this tiny girl toddling around with her big brown eyes and dimples, for God’s sake.”
“And how could you be afraid of dimples, right?”
She nodded, frowning again. That child was just a baby. Lycanthrope or not.
He tapped her on the nose. “That’s Ginny. Don’t let the pink sparkles, teddy bear hat and matching boots fool you. She’s vicious. She’ll steal chocolate chip cookies right out of your hand, without batting an eye.” He shuddered. “Vicious, I tell you.”
“Hardy-har, jackass.”
He grinned, his eyes twinkling in the torchlight. “Well, sugar, got to say you don’t seem too frightened of me anymore.”
No. She wasn’t. At all. Or of his pack. She didn’t even see them as something foreign anymore. They just seemed like...people. And how insane was that?
Taking her hands in his, he shifted to block her view of the house. “Isabelle?”
For years, she and Bess had suffered alone under their grandmother’s cruelty. “Is this what we were missing? Don’t get me wrong, Hank and Abby were”—her voice broke—“everything. But before, could we have had this?”
Luke let out a breath. “Probably not in Chicago with those murdering bastards running the show. But somewhere else?” He stroked a thumb over her cheek, brushing away a tear. “Yes.”
Yes.
The word ricocheted in her brain until it was the size of a ballistic missile. It hurt. Her sister—what would her sensitive and stubborn sister have been like if they’d had a pack, a family like this one for those eight years after their parents died?
Izzy shuddered, sucking in a ragged breath.
Luke cupped her face, his hands gentle and strong. “You can have it now, sugar.”