Retribution (Moonstruck Genesis #4)

Chapter 22

THE BOYS bent over studying the tracks left in the snow. There were two sets—one resembled deer tracks the others were made by large human feet.

“See!” Cody pointed at the trail in the snow. “I told you so.”

Liam crouched and carefully touched one of the smaller tracks. “It’s probably just a deer.”

“No!” Cody remained insistent. “It had antlers. It was a reindeer and those are Santa’s prints. All sudden, Cody squealed. A powerful hand gripped him and his knees almost buckled.

Liam’s reaction was stronger and far more ferocious. He howled and doubled over as adrenaline spiked in his system. Twisting his head, he snapped at the fingers curled over the crest of his shoulder. His upper canines pricked his bottom lip and the part of his brain that was still Liam cautioned him to pull back. But he was scared and his wolf was in full fight-or-flight mode.

The front door crashed open and the space filled with two very pissed-off Wolves, followed closely by six more, all crowding to get outside. Mac and Sean were off the porch in a bound ready to confront the danger threatening their children.

Cody had recovered and realized that Nick had snuck up on them. As Sean scooped him into his arms, he tried to explain why they were outside, standing barefoot in the snow. His words tumbled out as he gestured wildly toward the tracks they’d discovered.

Liam’s situation was totally different. He’d collapsed to his hands and knees, head hanging low as he panted. Mac choked off the urge to rip out the throat of the man standing over Liam.

“Easy, son,” Nick urged.

Mac wondered if the man meant him or Liam. He uncurled his fists. Losing control now would not help his son. He dropped to one knee beside the boy and placed his palm on Liam’s back.

“He’s right, Liam. Slow and steady breaths.” Mac almost lost it again when he saw the bright drops of red staining the snow. When a hand gripped his shoulder, he glanced up with a snarl.

“At ease, Command Sergeant Major.”

Mac shook his head, breathing through his nose and exhaling from his mouth. That raspy voice sounded so damned familiar but he couldn’t place it. The command was implicit though and his brain reacted to it. He slowly calmed.

“Let’s all go inside, folks.” Nick herded the group still gathered on the front porch back toward the door. “The Sergeant Major and Liam need a moment. And your presence young Cody, is requested inside. Miss Nona needs someone to taste her cinnamon rolls to make sure they are fit for human consumption.”

Cody’s face lit up. “ Cimmanem rolls? For real?” He hugged Sean’s neck. “Did you hear that, Dad? Did you?”

Sean stopped breathing. This was the first time Cody had called him “dad.” His gaze sought out Annie, to discover her eyes moist and a happy tear threatened to spill down her cheek. “Yeah…” Sean cleared the lump in his throat so he could continue. “Yeah, son. I heard. Cinnamon rolls.” He sniffed the air. “And hot from the oven.”

The little boy squirmed to be put down and once his feet hit the ground, he was off like a jackrabbit. Sean and Nick followed at a slightly more sedate pace. As the older man drew even with Liz, with Micah hitched on her hip, the toddler stretched out his arms.

“Sanna! Sanna!”

Liz almost lost her grip on the active child but Nick stepped closer and tousled Micah’s dark hair. He stopped squirming until Cody’s delighted shout echoed from inside.

“Mom! Dad! Come see! Comeseecomeseecomeseeeeee!”

Hand-in-hand, Annie and Sean joined their son as he stood at the entrance to the great room. The rest, all but Hannah, who remained at the front door watching Mac and Liam, trooped in from the porch. As the adults stood in stunned silence, Cody ducked between them and dashed back outside.

“Liam, Liam, you gotta see this. Mr. Nick was right. There is Christmas magic.” Cody slid to a stop in front of Liam and dropped to his knees. “You gotta come see, Liam.”

A shudder danced through Liam’s body and he shook like a puppy dunked in a cold bath. His eyes slowly focused on Cody’s face and his wolf retreated with a growl. After a long, heaving breath, Liam sat back on his heels.

“Are you okay?” Mac tried to soften his voice and squelch the worry suffocating each breath he took.

Liam nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Dad. He scared us and I…I sort of freaked.”

Mac stood and offered his hands to both boys to pull them to their feet. Cody bounced to the front porch and waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in his impatience.

Laying a warm hand on Liam’s shoulder, Mac smiled down at his son. “It’s okay, Liam. I’m here now. We’ll get through it together. I love you, buddy. Everything will be fine.”

Cody nodded like a jack-in-the-box bouncing on its spring. “Yup. Because that’s what dads do, Liam. They fix things. Make everything just right. Just like my dad.” He ran ahead of them, brushing past Hannah.

Mac, his arm around Liam, climbed the steps and father and son joined her. On impulse, he slipped his other arm around Hannah. She stiffened, as if from habit, and he almost dropped his arm, but didn’t. Instead, he pulled her closer and tucked her in against his side. After a moment, she relaxed and leaned against him. He breathed easier for the first time in what felt like forever.

Inside, the group parted so Liam, Hannah, and Mac could see the great room. Liam gasped and stepped closer, eyes wide with shock. In one corner, a massive fir tree towered above the room, every limb glistening with lights, shiny ornaments, and tinsel. At the very tiptop, a snow angel glowed, her beautiful porcelain face lit by the candle clutched in hands made of delicate china.

Hannah had no idea where their hosts had found the tree, and snow was mostly powder in this part of the country—certainly not the fluffy stuff outside. She stared at the doorway to the kitchen, speculation narrowing her eyes.

“Mom? Dad?” Liam couldn’t believe what he saw. Cody stepped up beside him, holding Micah’s hand.

“See? I told you Santa was real, Liam. I told you!”

A fire crackled merrily in the grate and a long series of stockings—stuffed full—stretched along the massive timber mantel. Names were hand-stitched on each one. Liam. Cody. Micah. Grace Marie. Ian. Hannah. Sean. Annie. Michael. Elizabeth. Danny. Sally. Rudek. Isabelle. Antoine. At the far end, two more stockings hung—Nona and Nick.

“Come in. Come in, everyone. Find a place to sit.” Nona bustled in carrying a tray of ceramic mugs bearing cheerful Santa faces, a fur-trimmed red cap forming the handles. “Isabelle? Give us hand?” She passed the tray to the surprised woman.

“Liz, might you and Annie help me in the kitchen a moment? The coffee’s almost perked and there’s another pan of cinnamon rolls to come out of the oven.”

After ten minutes of bustling around, everyone finally settled in. The boys fairly hummed from containing their curiosity. Wolfing down their cinnamon rolls, followed by hurried gulps of hot cocoa, they wiped their faces and hands on linen napkins embroidered with reindeer and Christmas wreaths.

“Liam, would you and Cody hand out the stockings?” Nona smiled so big her eyes crinkled shut.

That’s all the permission the boys needed. With Micah tumbling around their feet like a playful puppy, Liam carefully unhooked the stockings and passed them to Cody for delivery. The last three stockings belonged to Liam and his parents. He delivered those personally.

Presents soon followed, and were unwrapped among laughter and shouts of glee from the kids. Micah had as much fun with the boxes, discarded wrapping paper and ribbons as he did with the toys.

After a massive lunch of turkey, beef tenderloin, and sides of every description—including a whole bowl of pitted olives just for Cody—and desserts too numerous to count, everyone sprawled in the great room. Christmas music played softly in the background. Grace Marie napped, curled up under a hand-crocheted afghan, a stuffed wolf tucked in her arms. Liam, Cody and Micah built a castle of Legos while their parents relaxed.

Mac occupied a massive leather chair. Hannah perched on one arm, leaning on his shoulder. For the first time in months, she felt the connection between her and the man who was her heart, the connection that had been missing since her miscarriage, the connection she’d been too angry to truly miss until now. She laced her fingers in his and bent to kiss him.

Gathering Hannah into his lap, Mac deepened the kiss. Still holding hands, he threaded the fingers of his other hand through her short hair. He broke the kiss to nibble her lips before kissing his way along her cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” Mac whispered against her skin.

“Oh, Mac.” A soft sob caught in her throat. “I’ve missed you too. I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh, baby. It’s okay. I love you.”

Hannah curled closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “I love you too, Mac. I’ve been crazy since…since…”

“I know, baby. Me too. Me too.”

They clung together, absorbing each other’s heat and love. A peace settled over them, a peace they’d sorely missed. A few minutes later, Liam climbed up on the wide leather ottoman in front of the chair.

“Everything okay, buddy?”

“Yeah.” Liam swallowed and avoided his father’s gaze. “No.”

His parents both tensed and reached for him. Liam dodged their hands. In a whisper, he added, “I’m all hot and itchy, Dad. I feel really weird. Everything is too bright and too loud.”

“Ah. C’mere, buddy. We’ll talk. You, me, and your mom.”

Antoine sat apart from the others, watching with half-lidded eyes. Camaraderie and good cheer swirled through the room so tangible he could almost taste it. But he couldn’t. He was alone. Apart. He should be used to the feeling, but after meeting these others of his kind, he realized everything he’d missed growing up wild in the bayous, with little human contact beyond his mother and Isabelle.

Without thinking, he rubbed his fingertips over the ache in his chest. He closed his eyes, wishing he was far away from people and the trappings of happy families. When he opened them, Izzy and Rudy stood in front of him.

“Merry Christmas, Antoine.” Izzy laughed, the sound clear like tinkling bells. She bent and kissed his cheek. She sat on the arm of his chair and gave his shoulder a bump with hers. “When I was little, I always wanted a big brother. And then one day, I realized I had one. I mean I know you’re my uncle and all, but…I really feel more…well… I feel closer to you than that. Like you really are my big brother.”

The icy loneliness encasing his heart cracked a little. Rudy offered his hand. When Antoine gripped it, Rudy covered their clasped hands with his other.

“Family is a foreign idea, Antoine, but I am learning what it means with the help of Isabelle and the Wolves. It is important for you to know that she and I…that we both feel this way about you.”

Another chink of ice broke away. Antoine’s senses flared and he looked past the couple. All the Wolves and their mates watched. Rather than take offense or retreat, his wolf waited, both curious and nervous.

“Yeah, dude. It’s Christmas and this is all about family. You are, Antoine. You know that, right?” Sean craned his head to see around Rudy’s broad body.

Unable to breathe for a moment, Antoine glanced toward Mac. All these men were strong, could be alphas in their own right, but they deferred to this man. He was the undisputed pack leader. As he watched, Mac whispered something to Liam and Hannah then heaved out of the chair and approached.

Stopping next to Rudy, Mac placed his hand on their still-clasped ones. “Brothers. All of us. Maybe not by blood, but of the heart.”

The cold resignation Antoine had lived with since the age of twelve warmed. Hope. This was what it felt like. Izzy slipped away, only to be replaced by all the Wolves. They surrounded Antoine, welcoming him—and Rudy—into their midst.

In the arched pass-through to the kitchen, Nona leaned against her husband. He slipped his arm around her waist and bent down to kiss her temple.

“Mighty fine fixins t’day, darlin’.”

“Yes, indeed, Nick. I think we do good work.” Her eyes twinkled as she gazed up at the white-berried greenery wrapped in red ribbon hanging above their heads.

Nick chuckled and bent to kiss his wife. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Klaussen.”

“Merry Christmas, General Klaussen.”