Page 2 of A Wilde Christmas

“I don’t know.” Daphne closed her laptop and came down the stairs. “This could be the year my dad murders yours.”

“Her Highness, the vampire queen, has a point,” Weston said. “Uncle Reece is more uptight than usual this year, and Uncle Jude is already provoking him.”

Daphne rolled her eyes and gave him the finger.

He grinned again. “Aw, can’t you feel the love? Makes me all warm and tingly.”

“Ew,” Daphne said.

“And we haven’t even dipped into the eggnog yet. This is gonna be fun.”

“We have very different ideas of fun,” Davey said.

“Everyone’s here except my sister. She’s off being Saint Tessa again. Oh, here.” Quick as a snake, Weston snapped up the bags of gifts from the floor. The sly little shit had been waiting for his opening to strike. “Let me grab those for you.”

“I’m capable of?—”

“It’s no problem. I’ll put them in by the tree.” He didn’t give Davey a chance to argue further and disappeared into the living room with the bags.

Davey bladed his hands on his hips and stared up at the ceiling, praying for patience. His whole family had treated him like he was as fragile as a fucking egg since he was discharged from the hospital in Germany and returned Stateside for physical therapy. It was starting to grate on his nerves.

“I told you,” Daphne said and retreated up the stairs. “Run.”

He glanced at the front door and seriously considered it for a split second. The naked woman he’d left in his bed at home was a lot more fun than this… but he shook his head. “It’d break Mom’s heart. She’s looking forward to having all her boys home for Christmas this year.”

Daphne’s lips curved into a brief smile. “You really are the best of us, aren’t you?”

His stomach soured. He wasn’t sure about that.

Daphne tilted her chin toward the back of the house before sitting down with her computer again. “Aunt Libby’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks.” He released Luka to explore and headed toward the back of the house, passing Daphne’s sister as she came out of the kitchen. The twins were identical but were as different as two people could be. Each took after one of their parents, who were a classic case of opposites attract. Daphne was a dark and intense storm cloud like their dad, Reece, and Celeste was sparkle and color, a chaotic rainbow like their mom, Shelby.

Celeste’s Christmas outfit was a soft pink sweater with a giant bow on the shoulder and a red skirt that swirled and shimmered with her every movement. Davey knew little about fashion—he was a jeans and T-shirt guy when he wasn’t in camo and combat boots—but he always thought Celeste’s outfits shouldn’t work. She liked colors and patterns that shouldn’t fit together, yet she always pulled them off. Her dark hair sported several more pink streaks than her sister’s and fell around her face in carefully constructed ringlets. She topped the outfit with pink reindeer horns that, again, should look ridiculous, but she made it look like a hot new fashion accessory from a Paris runway.

“Is my dear sister hiding out here with her computer?” she singsonged, then lit up when she spotted him and threw her arms around him in a hug. “Oh! Yay! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He tugged on one of her bright pink curls. “And, yes, Daphne’s hiding on the stairs. How did you talk her into the pink? I thought she was allergic to color.”

Celeste gave a smile that was all sweetness and bright as a sunbeam. “Blackmail.”

The abrupt laugh caught him by surprise. He hadn’t laughed much over the last year, and… he missed it. He’d missed this. Them. His family in all of their crazy, loud, meddling wildness.

Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He leaned in to kiss Celeste’s forehead. “I don’t know how you can be both adorable and terrifying at the same time.”

“It’s a gift. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go pester my sister into being social. She’s moodier than usual, brooding over some guy she met on her last mission.”

“Really?Daphne? Our Daphne? Brooding over a guy?”

“I know, weird, right? Failed relationships are usually my specialty.” She lowered her voice and leaned in as if telling a secret. “But she’s been all tight-lipped about the whole thing since she got home. Whatever he did to her, he better watch his six. I’m scary, but a pissed-off Daphne is a thing of nightmares.” Then she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

He waited as Celeste bounced up the stairs, counting the seconds in his head until… Yep. There was Daphne’s growl of annoyance right on cue. He continued into the kitchen with a smile on his face.

The kitchen had always been the heart of their home. His parents both enjoyed cooking, and he remembered many evenings sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, doing his homework and admiring how they moved together in the kitchen as they made dinner—like a choreographed dance that they never had to practice. After dinner was cleared and homework finished, they’d spend nights at the table playingcards or board games until bedtime. Of course, being Wildes, the games always devolved into mini-wars.

Sometimes, he missed those days when the only wars he fought were with his brothers.

---