Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8) 7

“Done.”

“How . . . ?”

“Hell if I know, but I’ll fly to the moon and back if that’s what it takes to make you stay.”

Her heart filled, a smile lifting her mouth.

“What else, Natalie? I don’t see how you can keep your practice—I’m sorry—but tell me how I can help you make a difference, and it’s done.”

A small laugh escaped her throat because her dreams—dreams she hadn’t even known she possessed, were all coming true in one swift rush. “Maybe you can help me open the minds of a few more eye doctors to the benefits of vision therapy?”

Wulfe’s smile bloomed slowly. “Start setting me up with eye appointments.” His smile dimmed, his gaze turned piercingly raw. “What else do you want, Natalie? Anything. Anything at all if you’ll just stay.”

She swallowed the lump that had risen into her throat as she saw so clearly what he wanted her to say.

“You, Wulfe. I want you. Forever. For eternity. I love you so much.”

“Eternity is a long time.”

“Too long?”

“Never.” He pulled her tight against him, burying his face in her hair as his big body shuddered. When he pulled back, moisture glistened in the velvet depths of his beautiful eyes. “I’ve waited for you all my life, Natalie. Even eternity won’t be enough.” A precious smile broke across his handsome, beloved face. “Will you marry me, Natalie Cash? Be my mate?”

“Yes, Wulfe. A thousand times, yes.”

Wulfe let out a whoop that she feared might bring down the ceiling, then swept her into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless, wanting, and dizzy with love.

Epilogue

“Woof! Woof!”

The toddler’s voice and the small, pounding feet had Wulfe turning and grinning as he strode through the foyer of Feral House.

“Hey there, tiger.” He knelt as the dimpled, towheaded two-year-old flew into his arms.

“Up!”

Wulfe rose and lifted the boy until they were eye to eye. “This high?”

“No. Up!” A chubby hand shot into the air.

Wulfe lifted him until he could blow bubbles in the boy’s soft belly.

The child screeched with laughter. “Up! Up!”

Wulfe lifted him all the way over his head. “This high?” He couldn’t wait until he could hold his own child like this.

“Daddy!” the boy squealed, and Wulfe pulled him down, placing a quick kiss on his forehead before he set him on his never-still feet.

“Anders, buddy!” Tighe grinned and scooped up his son. They were a pair, those two.

Little Anders, named for Tighe’s Therian father all those years ago, pressed small hands to his father’s cheeks and kissed Tighe’s nose.

Wulfe pretended not to notice the moisture that gleamed in Stripes’s eyes, as he blinked back the moisture in his own.

Delaney strode into the foyer, Kara on one side, Melisande on the other. Delaney was just beginning to show with her second child, a daughter this time. Therians rarely conceived, but apparently humans-turned-immortal conceived as easily as humans, which thrilled all of them. The more children in Feral House, the better.

“Wulfe, did you wake her?” Delaney joined her husband and son, pulled close by Tighe’s strong arm. “We’re ready. Everyone’s here.”

Wulfe grinned. “I’ll go get her.” He took the stairs three at a time, then strode to his bedroom, opening the door quietly. The last thing he wanted to do was startle his sleeping wife, but he found her brushing her hair in front of the mirror.

She turned to him with a smile so full of love it nearly drove him to his knees even after nearly three years of marriage.

“Am I late? You were supposed to wake me.”

“I wanted to let you sleep. You girls need your rest.”

Natalie laughed, her hand stroking her distended belly. “Only one of us slept. Your daughter does not like it when I lie still.”

Wulfe knelt before her and pressed his hand to Natalie’s pregnant stomach. A small foot pressed back. His eyes lifted to Natalie’s in wonder. “I can’t wait until I can hold her.”

Natalie gave a small laugh. “Trust me, you’re not the only one.”

Wulfe pulled her against him as best he could and kissed her soundly. “You are the most beautiful woman who ever lived.”

She pressed her hand to his cheek. “And you are the most beautiful man.” Her words weaved deep down inside, finding truth and purchase. In all the ways that mattered, to Natalie, he was. And he would always, always endeavor to make certain she felt that way.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Of course. Is it just the Ferals and their wives?”

Wulfe smiled as he steered her down the stairs. “With twenty-six of us now, how would we fit anyone else?”

They’d put an addition on the house last spring, doubling the size of the kitchen and dining room, and adding living quarters for the kitchen staff Pink and Xavier now oversaw. They’d also added a playroom for Anders and the soon-to-be-born girls, and a far larger gathering place with sofas and tables for social events like Natalie’s baby shower—a space large enough to hold them all. Plus a few more.

Wulfe steered her there now and watched with pleasure as she saw the decorations—the pink balloons and streamers—and the people.

“Mom,” Natalie gasped, as her mother strode forward and enveloped her in her arms. Natalie threw him a look of gratitude. Though he hadn’t told Natalie he was bringing her mom to her shower, the woman had been to visit, now, many times. He had to wipe her memory, to some extent, each time, but he’d figured out how to do it in such a way that she never forgot that her kids were okay, and she’d see them again soon. She knew the visits had to remain a secret for her children’s safety.

Around the room stood twenty-five of the twenty-six Ferals, the Feral wives, half a dozen Daemons, and several others new to the modern world. Even after more than two years, they were discovering additional races of creatures who’d escaped the Daemon Blade. They’d found some strong allies among the escapees, but also made some bitter enemies. Life was never dull in Feral House.

Only Grizz was missing, on yet another search for Sabine. When he’d returned to Montana after Satanan’s defeat, he’d found her house empty. Deserted. Not even the male tasked with delivering her supplies knew where she’d gone. Grizz had been trying, without success, to find her ever since.

Kara raised a toast. “To our soon-to-be newest edition. And her wonderful mom and dad. Have you decided on a name, yet?”

Natalie glanced at him, a soft smile breaking across her mouth before she made their announcement. “Liesel. We’re naming her for a girl Wulfe knew in his youth, a lovely young woman whose life was cut short and who needs to be remembered.”

When Natalie first suggested the name, he’d balked. The memory of Liesel still had the power to cut. But the more he’d thought about it, the more he knew his wife was right. The name would become his daughter’s, no longer bound to his nightmare. At the same time, this was a fitting way to give the girl he’d failed one final gift. Immortality.

The Feral wives surged forward, surrounding Natalie and whisking her to the chaise that was already surrounded by presents of every shape and size. As the pack of females passed Pink and Xavier, Natalie grabbed a feathered hand, dragging the ever-shy Pink along with her to a peal of sweet, high-pitched laughter. More than a dozen Ilinas had arrived at Ariana’s and Melisande’s invitation, and they stood on the periphery of the feminine clutch, laughing and smiling.

Natalie’s gaze found him through the throng. “Don’t you want to help open presents?”

Wulfe laughed and shook his head as Tighe handed him a beer. He lifted the bottle. “Can’t. Got my hands full.”

Natalie threw back her head and laughed, then tore open the first present.

Tighe’s hand landed on Wulfe’s shoulder. “You have no idea what you’re in for, my friend. Kids explode into your life, leaving everything you thought you knew in shambles. That daughter of yours is going to transform you. After Natalie, she’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

The emotion in Tighe’s voice had Wulfe looping his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Our daughters are going to be virtually the same age.”

Tighe grunted. “You thought we had our hands full with Inir’s evil Mage. Just wait until those two become teenagers.”

Hawke and Kougar joined them, Jag and Fox striding up a moment later, followed by Vhyper, Paenther, and Lyon. One by one, they slapped forearms with Wulfe, congratulating him on the child that would soon be born. Then as one they turned and watched their wives.

“How did we stand this place when it was just us rattling around here?” Paenther mused.

“All those years, just nine Feral Warriors.” Lyon grunted. “Compared to now, this place was like a morgue.”

Tighe lifted his beer. “To the women who’ve brought us light and life, laughter and love. May we make them as happy as they’ve made us.”

“Hear, hear,” Jag said, taking a swig of his beer.

The women exclaimed over one of the gifts, their sweet voices raised in pleasure. But it was only one woman Wulfe had eyes for. His precious Natalie.

She held up a ruffled pink dress that was smaller than his hand for him to see, grinning with delight. But all that mattered to him was the joy that radiated from those calm, gray eyes.

And the love.

For him.