Page 133 of Vengeful Mates

“What is it, angel?” Alaric whispered.

I stroked his arm and tapped it with my thumb. “Just imagining all the competition heating up between the boys and the identity of the future Jackals’ president.”

Alaric nuzzled the back of my head. “I’m getting a headache thinking of it. I’d say we have at least eight years before it really heats up.”

I chuckled low in my throat to avoid startling and waking the slumbering quads.

We were lucky to bring them into the world after the close call with Colton. I went into a rage when he threatened to cut them out and send them to my mates. Sick motherfucker. That rage still simmered within as my young ones slept peacefully. Isis roared like a lion, and it thundered through my body. The mother goddess in me would do anything to protect her babies and ensure their survival.

Isis brought the wrath in us both down to a mild annoyance.Think of the babies now. Feeding and nurturing them. They are safe and well.

She was right. Colton was gone, along with any threat to the club.

Absently, I twisted the ring on my finger, rose gold with Lapis Lazuli, designed by Castor. Fuck. I was a married woman. Officially, and not just on paper. Officiated by a Love goddess, no less.

Who would have believed that I’d fall in love with, marry, and bear the children of the Jackals when this adventure began? We started off as enemies, me believing they killed my dad, somewhat infiltrating their club for answers. The Jackals learning my real identity and keeping me captive in the club basement. Sorting out our misunderstandings, building trust, the kindling attraction on our mate bond turning into a never-ending blaze of love.

I leaned on the crib, watching the beautiful, serene, innocent cherubic faces of the product of our love and mating. Belle Stone, Abayad Redding, Maddison Hawk, Jackson Blade Vincent. Okay, Slade got his way there on the middle name with our kid. I was the sucker for accepting the bet. At the time, I was a thousand percent positive that a Glock had an external safety mechanism. Wrong. What did an avatar of healing know about guns? Last time I made a stupid mistake like that.

The smell of something mustardy and creamy hit me. “Damn. What’s Castor making for dinner?”

“Poulet á la Moutarde Française.” Alaric mocked Castor’s pronunciation.

I elbowed him and laughed softly. “Leave him alone. I love his sexy French accent.”

Alaric gave me a final squeeze as Zethan entered the babies’ bedroom. “He’s going all out to impress your mom.”

I loved that they were all making an effort to settle old feuds and misunderstandings.

“Hey, Hellhound Dick.” I reached out an arm for my brutal, intimidating man.

“Language in front of the little ones.” He gave my ass a light tap.

I groaned into his chest. “You sound like Hades.”

He groaned right back. “I’m going to wash your mouth out with my cock for comparing me to that grumpy asshole.”

I snorted and hit him on the arm. “Language, Mr. Stone.”

All my men took two weeks paternity leave from work to settle the babies in, and would have a week off alternating across the next two months to support me in managing the four infants.

Zethan’s VP cut crackled as his arms looped around me and I held onto him. Stored it in Slade’s drawer, it hadn’t lost its scent of leather and oil. I glowed that Slade held onto the vest, hoping his best friend found his way back to the club.

Yesterday, the Jackals’ president put the topic of the VP position to a vote. Reinstating Zethan was a unanimous election without Brix there to stir up derision and discord between the men. Zethan judged the dead souls in the Underworld. In a role reversal, the club acted as his judge and jury, conceding his redemption.

Slade and my mates already forgave Zethan and were thrilled to have him back. Castor didn’t take the club’s decision to heart. He preferred the role of enforcer, where he solved problems with a fist to the nose or through a delicious reckoning. A job that suited him better when he served as Thoth’s tool of retribution.

Speaking of punishment, I earned the honorary title of Reckoner goddess for what I did to Colton. Slade never stopped praising me as his vicious little War goddess, a title that made me squirm with unease. The more Colton threatened my mates, my family, and our future, the more vengeance took hold of my heart.

Wanting to bury that history, I leaned my head back on Zethan’s chest, enjoying the soft rise and fall and the contented rumble in his throat. “Happy to be back as VP?”

My tall man rested his chin on my crown, his beard prickling my scalp. Since the birth of the babies, he didn’t get much time to trim his facial hair. “Yes. I don’t feel like I earned it, though.”

Zethan promised to deliver Colton to Slade and give the president the honor of finishing off our enemy.

I tipped my head back to stare at him. “Sorry I stole your thunder.”

In an unexpected twist, Slade declared a truce with Colton, pledging forgiveness for all past offenses, for mine and the babies’ sake.

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