Chapter 450

I wake up to the feeling of Jackson’s broad hand stroking over my hair and I squeak, petulant, turning my face so that my other cheek is pressed to his chest. Then I nuzzle close, my eyes pressed determinedly shut, refusing to wake up.

“Ariel, it’s nearly noon,” Jackson murmurs, laughing a little.

“No, it’s not, the clock is a filthy liar,” I murmur, shaking my head, laying my hands flat on his lovely warm skin.

“Lazy wolf,” he whispers, far too cheerful and awake for my tastes. “What, you think just because you’re all done saving the world that you can sleep all day?”

I just snarl and turn my head a bit to press my teeth to his skin, mock warning. “Shush or I will bite.”

He snarls in return, his pleasure at the idea evident in the swell of desire that comes down the bond, and I can’t help but laugh as he quickly shifts, snatching me up in his arms and rolling me to the side, pulling me up closer so that we’re face-to-face and he can press a warm kiss to my mouth.

“Nooo,” I moan, breaking the kiss and pretending to wriggle away. “Take me back – I want my pillow –“

“It’s my body, Ariel, not your pillow –“

“Yes it is!” I whine, going limp in his arms like a kid having a temper tantrum. Jackson laughs harder, gathering me close and pressing kiss after kiss to my cheeks and neck and shoulder until I’m laughing too, and kissing him back, my fingers curling in his hair and over his soft beard, which he kept at my request.

“Mean to me,” I murmur, opening my eyes a little, peering at his beautiful face as I press my belly to his.

He just snarls, hungry, letting me know that he can be a bit meaner to me if I want him to. I bite my lip, quite liking that idea, but a quiet knock comes at the door.

Jackson gasps, sitting up straight, spinning towards the door like he’s getting caught doing something bad.

I laugh, looking up at him. “What?” I ask.

“Ariel, someone is here –“

“Duh,” I say, rolling my eyes and sitting up with a sigh, snatching at the discarded pieces of the pajamas I barely wore last night. “I have a gigantic family packed into six tiny rooms in this royal suite. There’s always someone here.”

“But I’m –“ Jackson panics, looking down at his naked body, only covered by the blankets.

“So put something on!” I laugh, pulling my pajama pants up before I grab my top, tugging it on as I head for the door. “You’ve got like, eight seconds –“

Jackson gasps, grabbing for his pants as I laugh and reach for the door handle. I only open it a little bit, enjoying Jackson’s panicked cursing as I peek outside. I grin to see my mom standing there.

“Hi, baby,” she says, smiling at me, her eyes flicking towards the room. “Enjoying torturing your mate?”

“Yes, mommy,” I say, leaning against the door frame and continuing to block her view as I hear Jackson hastily putting on his clothes. My eyes flash to the tray in her hand and the three wheeled trollies behind her, all stacked with covered dishes. “What did you bring us?”

“Sustenance!” mom says with a happy sigh. “Jackson is too skinny.”

I burst out laughing. “He’s huge!”

“He lost a great deal of weight being all magical and pining for you,” mom says, laughing even as she narrows her eyes at me. “Come on, let me fatten him up.”

“Be my guest,” I say, opening the door wide once I hear Jackson finish finding his clothes. When I turn I see him glaring at me, well aware of my tricks, but when he turns his eyes to my mom he smiles – because she’s a great favorite of his, we’re all well aware. And even if he’s annoyed at me, he can’t help but beam at her.

“Did you bring that for me?” Jackson asks, eager, looking at the tray in her hands.

“Yes!” mom says, happily walking over to him and holding out the tray. Jackson lifts off the lid and groans when he sees the stacks of pancakes and eggs and sausage and bacon.

“You’re my favorite, Ella,” Jackson murmurs, eagerly taking the tray and sitting down on the bed, settling it onto his lap and digging into the bacon with his hands.

“Jackson, there are utensils!” I call, scolding, as I wheel in the first trolly from the hall. His eyes go wide when he sees it.

“All of that?” he gasps.

“You said you were hungry,” Ella says with a happy sigh. I just laugh and shake my head, settling the trolly against the wall and going out for the next one.

“Some of this is for me,” I say, eyeing the big pot of coffee with particular interest.

“Fight me for it,” Jackson murmurs, a little growl in his voice, making us both laugh.

But Jackson shares much more willingly than he pretends, which is easy considering that my mother has brought a ridiculous amount of food. Jackson does fairly impressive damage to the supply and mom and I mostly just watch in fascination as he eats way more than we thought he could.

“Damn,” I murmur, when Jackson goes back for fourths. The three of us sit comfortably on my bed and I sip at my coffee, my own finished plate of waffles set in the blankets before me.

“He’s so cute,” mom says on a sigh, sipping at her own coffee, watching him. I laugh at her, because only mom would think a voracious Alpha restoring his magical body weight is adorable. Well, her and me. Jacks ignores us, reloading his plate with another stack of pancakes.

A creaking sound brings my attention to the door and I burst into a smile when I see Rafe shuffling forward, his eyes half closed, his nose lifted in the air sniffing.

“Help,” my brother mutters, leaning hard against my doorframe. “I need sustenance.”

Jackson snarls from his place at the tolly, possessive, but we just laugh and ignore him.

“Poor baby, did you let your wicked cousin get you all drunk?” mom says, reaching for Rafe, who shuffles into the room and collapses onto the bed, his head landing in her lap. Miraculously, mom and I manage not to spill our coffee everywhere.

“No this is all my fault,” Rafe murmurs. “I can’t blame Jesse, unfortunately. The only way to get my wolf to shut the hell up last night was to drown him in whiskey.”

Mom coos consideringly, softly stroking Rafe’s hair as Jackson comes over with two plates and generously lays one before Rafe’s prone body. I send a swell of gratitude down the bond to Jacks, realizing perhaps more than the others that it is a mark of great esteem to share the food he needs to refill his body weight and magical storehouse after basically starving for a week.

Jackson brushes off my gratitude and comes around the bed to sit next to me, leaning close and offering me a strawberry which I happily take, popping it into my mouth.

“You’ve certainly got a challenge in front of you, meatball, when it comes to our spicy little Maryam,” mom says, her voice sorry but not truly full of pity. “How are you feeling about it?”

“I don’t know,” Rafe sighs, opening his eyes a little to peer at the food and then seeming to turn slightly green at the sight of it, perhaps changing his mind about what he needs. “I need to talk to her. But I have a feeling she’s not going to let me get close.”

“She will, Rafe,” mom says quietly, continuing to stroke her favorite’s hair, smiling softly at him. “You just have to be patient with her. Let her get to know you. She’ll come around.”

“Just let her see you with your shirt off,” a voice says from the door, and all of our heads turn to see Jesse standing there, looking utterly exhausted, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “That was your tactic with all of your other conquests, wasn’t it?”