Chapter 252

#Chapter 252 – Exhausted Victor comes home late that night, looking exhausted. Alvin, however, is invigorated, running through the house shouting for Ian, eager to tell him all about his day.

“Hello, you,” I murmur, as Victor comes over to my spot on the couch and leans down to give me a kiss.

“Hello,” he replies after our lips part. He then slumps back into the cushions and closes his eyes.

“What did you get up to?” I ask, curiously looking after our son pounding up the stairs. “Lots of Alpha stuff? He’s certainly excited.”

“Of course he is,” Victor murmurs, a little smirk playing on his lips. “He got to spend the whole day crawling all over firetrucks with his absolute ‘favorite person in the whole wide world.’ A direct quote, by the way.”

“His favorite person?” I ask, a little appalled. “I thought that was me…”

“Nope,” Victor says, opening his eyes and looking at me, his smirk growing. “Apparently we both lost out. It’s Mark.”

My eyes go wide as I gasp. Then, I give Victor a swift little kick. “Mark! What the hell are you doing stalking my ex!?”

“Not ex,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Exes. Plural.”

My mouth falls open, confused, but he continues.

“Did Edgar ever mention that in another life he’d like to try being a fireman? Because that’s precisely what he did –“

“Oh gross!” I shout, but I can’t help the laughter that bursts from me as well. “You spent the day with two of my exes! Ew!”

“Yeah,” Victor says, smiling and resting his head back, closing his eyes again. “I got lots of tips. Mark says you like this thing where –“

I give a little shriek of indignation and kick him again, harder this time, but Victor just laughs and catches my foot, starting to rub it. “I’m just teasing you, Evie,” he says, happy. “It was a bit of a surprise, but it wasn’t a big deal in the end. No brawls for your honor or anything.”

“Rude,” I say under my breath, glaring at him and admiring his handsome face as I do. “There should have been at least one brawl. Or a duel.”

“Next time,” Victor murmurs, taking a deep breath in through his nose.

I settle back against the couch pillows, folding a page over in my book and resting it on the floor. I’m not really mad, of course – I’m not ashamed of my love life. Frankly, I should be proud of my little collection of men. I should get an award for it – they’re all very good looking.

“What did you get up to, though?” I ask after a few minutes, letting him wind down. “Did you solve the Amelia problem?”

“Not solve,” he says softly, clearly thinking it over. “But we’ve got the solution started.”

I open my mouth to ask for more details, ravenously curious, but then I shut my mouth, considering that if he wanted to talk about it that he’d talk about it. It’s not that I think he’s keeping it from me – it’s just that…I think he’s tired. And I can live with that.

“Come on,” I say eagerly, leaning forward and taking both of his hands. “Let’s go have some fun.”

“Fun?” he asks, opening one eye and peering at me. “I’m too tired for fun. Just want to rest.”

“That’s all right,” I say, laughing and pulling him up towards me. “We can work with that. Boys!” I shout, aiming my voice towards the stairs. Instantly, I hear a pounding upstairs as they respond to my call.

“Ow,” Victor says, flinching away from my yell and turning his head sleepily against the couch cushion.

“No, don’t call them. They were being so nice and quiet and elsewhere.”

“Too late,” I reply, grinning as the boys come pounding down the steps.

“What’s up, mama?” Ian asks, running over to us, his voice eager.

“Is everything all right?” My sweet Alvin asks, looking between us, always eager to help.

“Unfortunately, no,” I say gravely, my too-serious face letting my boys know that this isn’t really true, but instead the start of a game. Ian gasps dramatically, putting a hand over his mouth as Alvin’s eyes go wide, looking between his father and me. “Your father has been poisoned by a witch!” I say, throwing my hands in the air.

“OH no!” Ian cries, throwing his hands up as well. Alvin dashes to his dad, taking the lapels of his suit in his hands and giving him a worried little sake.

“Yes,” I say, gravely. “He has been poisoned with a sleepy potion, and he’s so tired, and he can’t possibly be urged to move.” I watch Victor as I say this, noting the little smile he works to keep from his mouth as he plays along, pretending to sleep on the couch.

“What ever will we do?” Alvin gasps, a big grin on his face.

“Well,” I say wisely. “The only cure is to make sure daddy is as comfortable and happy as possible. And then he’ll sleep it off and be fine in the morning.”

“I can do it!” Ian says, jumping into action and starting to pull pillows from the couch, heaping them on the floor to make a bed. Alvin joins in, pulling heaps of blankets from the closet and stacking them up.

“Good plan,” Victor murmurs, peeking through his lashes and watching his kids. “This is a game I can get into.”

“I thought you’d like it,” I say, moving forward to lay my body out along the long length of him, resting my head on his chest. “It’s a new variant of my own favorite game – mommy is under a spell where she can’t get up so you have to bring her breakfast in bed.”

“A classic,” Victor murmurs, tracing his hand lazily up and down my spine. I smile, relishing every moment of this.

“Okay, mama,” Ian says, panting a little from his work and coming back over to us. Alvin pops up next to him. “We made papa a bed. What’s next?”

“Well,” I say, sitting up. “You’ll just have to carry your father to the bed and tuck him in. He certainly can’t get up or walk. He’s asleep.”

The boys eagerly jump to it, crawling over their father and tugging on his big Alpha body, working to get underneath him and push him around. Victor, delightfully, doesn’t help at all, instead making his body as heavy as possible. The boys shriek and groan at the heaviness of him and I can’t help the laughter that tumbles from me as they first haul him to a sitting position, and then get his feet on the ground, and then push him until he falls to the floor entirely (making sure to move the couch cushions there first, of course, so he’ll have a soft landing).

Victor can’t help his laughter either as the boys then begin to roll him to the bed they’ve created for him, wrapping him up in the blankets as they go. We’re all four of us laughing hysterically, happily, when Victor comes to his resting spot propped up on a heap of pillows and blankets before the television.

“We have to make him comfy now,” I instruct the boys. “He needs snacks, and the TV turned to his favorite movie.” The boys hop to work, Alvin dashing for the kitchen and Ian heading for the TV, trying to pick something his dad will like.

In the meantime, I curl up at Victor’s side, putting my head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around me. “See baby? Who takes care of you,” I murmur.

“Thank you, Evelyn,” he says a little dryly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you to entice the boys to drag me off the couch and maneuver me around the room like a corpse.”

“Not a corpse,” I murmur happily. “Just under a witch’s sleeping spell. Much better.”

“Papa,” Ian calls over his shoulder, still flicking through the channels. “Do you want to watch a jail movie? Maybe it will give us some ideas so that we can make grandpa John’s stay in his cell more comfy. He didn’t seem very happy when we saw him last time. Maybe he needs more pillows…”

I go rigid when I hear this and sit up straight, looking between my mate and my son.

“What?” I breathe, staring down at Victor.

He grimaces, looking up at me. “Um,” he starts. “So, there’s something I didn’t get a chance to tell you…”