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“I do wish we had a real fireplace,” Storm mentioned after opening and shutting the oven for the thirtieth time.
Something flashed in Fox’s eyes but when he caught me staring, he winked at me. He knew good and well that all streams of thought came to a stop when he winked. All three of them were too attractive for their own good.
“This is nice though. It’s the normal life we wanted, right? Folding laundry. Watching a digital fireplace on the TV. Two of my mates maybe or maybe not burning the ham.”
“I’m not burning the ham, V,” Bishop barked, but I heard the oven door open and close—again.
“This is the life I always wanted. Quiet. Peaceful. With the woman I love.”
“Aww,” I cooed and leaned over to accept Fox’s kiss. This was why our apartment didn’t need a hint of mistletoe. All of my mates and I were very affectionate. There might’ve been some jealousy in the beginning, on their sides, but there was no hint of it now. Facing the chance of losing your mate, or mates in my case, would get you over yourself and your ego in a second.
When the meal was ready, we settled around the table and dug in. Conversation flowed as we ate, and I found myself more grateful than ever for this life and the people in it.
I did wish Raven and Onyx and even Asher were here. Jeremy and Tess were having Yule celebration with Tess’ family. Jeremy had gone almost green at the thought of meeting his in-laws but swore he would do anything she wanted him to.
“How about we gather around the fire for dessert? I don’t know if we’ll be able to walk after what V did to that eggnog anyway. I can smell the strength of it from the other room.”
I scoffed. “It’s not that bad, Storm.”
“It is,” all three of them replied at the same time.
“Fine. Maybe I went a little overboard. It’s not like the three of you could get drunk anyway with those shifter metabolisms. What is this? I thought you were making fruitcake?” I hated fruitcake, but it was a part of the Yule celebration. I ate a piece and considered it my part in participating in the holiday.
Storm put the pan onto the living room table proudly. It had a crumbly-looking buttery crunch on top of…something. “I know you hate fruitcake.”
“How did you know?” I asked.
“Because one time you said you’d rather eat fruitcake than to see Dean again,” Fox answered.
“And you took that to mean no fruitcake on Yule? Damn…you guys pay attention. And remember. I’d better not do anything bad. We’ll be old and gray, and you three will bring up something I did in my thirties.”
When I looked up, all three of them were staring at me.
“What?” I asked. “Did I already do something you’re going to remind me about?”
Bishop served up four portions of the fruit cobbler, which was a perfect substitution for the fruitcake. “It’s nice to hear you talk about us when we’re older. It’s a reminder that we’re in this for a long time, mate. There was a time when we didn’t know if tomorrow would come.”
The fruit cobbler was gone in a few minutes. It was the best cobbler I’d ever had. My mates were certainly taking this cooking hobby to heart.
When we’d put everything away and settled with our warm eggnog, there was a knock at the door.
“It must be Erik, right?” I relied on my mates’ noses to tell me who was on the other side.
“It is,” Bishop said and opened the door. There was a time when a vamp at the door of our home wouldn’t be welcome, but Erik was now part of the family. Kind of. “Happy Yule, Erik. Come on in. I would ask if you are hungry, but…”
Erik sneered. “That’s funny, wolf. And yes, a blessed Yule to all of you. Valentina, I brought you Diana’s journals.”
I hopped off the couch and grabbed the box from him. It was heavier than I’d expected, so Storm took it from me and put it on the floor next to the couch. “Sit down, Erik.”
“I smell all the Yuletide favorites. I’m glad you four are able to celebrate and enjoy this time of year.”
“You don’t celebrate anymore?” I asked. “Is it because of Diana?”
He reached forward and patted my knee. He was only one of a handful of males who was able to touch me without making one of my mates growl. I thought the shifter possessive thing would fade over time, but a man had touched me last night in the bar, and Bishop nearly took his head off. He’d touched my wrist.
My wrist.
“Valentina, when you have been alive for as long as I have, things begin to lose their luster. If you’ve been to one Yule celebration, you’ve been to them all. Plus, most of the holidays are centered around food and drink, and I am unfortunately limited to blood. And though I have a coven, it’s not the same as having a mate in your life.”
