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I roll my eyes at Thorne. “Charlie is three months old, Thorne. He won’t walk until he’s around eleven months.”
Thorne smiles. “Good.”
“Good?”
“I like him like this. Small. Portable. Cute.”
The ermine hisses at Thorne, and Thorne snarls back. “Easy, little beast.”
Ever since Charlie was born, the ermine has appointed himself the full-time guardian of our baby. It’s pretty cute, if you’re me.
If you’re Thorne, it comes with a pretty constant stream of ermine bites.
Seeing Thorne and Charlie together, as always, makes my heart squeeze. There’s something about seeing a hulking man holding a tiny baby that just really makes one’s lady parts squeeze.
I can’t wait to have another.
We definitely will. Someday soon.
After Thorne gets over the shock and trauma of me giving birth.
I thought it went fine. Apparently at some point after delivering Charlie, I passed out for one tiny microsecond.
In that time, Thorne freaked out and threatened to eat Coral if she didn’t fix me. Coral, whose capable hands saw me through the whole birth experience with zero issue, hadn’t liked that.
She made Thorne’s coffee taste like salt for weeks after.
Still, everything turned out fine. Charlie is a perfectly healthy baby boy, and I can’t wait for him to turn fifteen so we can see what color wolf he is.
Personally, I hope he’s a sandy brown like his father, but there are some thoughts that he’ll be a stark, arctic white.
Like an ermine.
Thorne hands Charlie back to me, and I cradle him, placing a kiss on his head. “What time is everyone going to be here?”
“In about ten minutes,” Thorne responds.
I nod. “Are you ready? Grill on? Veggies chopped?”
He smiles. “Yes, sweetheart. Steaks are seasoned and veggie kabobs are ready for the grill.”
“Good choice. Maybe I can get some more veggies in you?—”
“Not a chance,” Thorne cuts me off with a laugh, swooping in for another kiss.
I give him one, then pull back. “I love you, Thorne.”
“I love you too, Iris. More than you’ll ever know.”
“Time to get our hosting hats on,” I say with a grimace.
We’re having a barbeque today for Evander’s birthday. He’s turning twenty-eight today, and while it’s happy, it kind of feels a little… dark too.
Two years left before Evander needs to find his own mate.
I know it’s been bothering him. He comes over daily to play with Charlie or hang out with Thorne, and I can see that every day he gets closer to thirty, his face gets a little more…
Well.
