FORTY-THREE

Alessandro

I'VE KNOWN THE twins for well over a decade. They are my bodyguards, royal pack-mates, and friends. Though they show very little emotion to others, I know them well. I've seen who they are underneath. We are bonded. I know their souls, just as they know mine. We've been through many trying times, seemingly insurmountable obstacles, political power struggles, and challenging situations.

But this morning? Them trying to determine what to wear to a friendly dinner and pumpkin carving at la duchessa 's house? MOMMA MIA !

When I informed them Councilmen Swanson and MacNeill would be joining us, they merely grunted and continued on with their breakfast as normal. But when I added that Annabelle, Councilman Swanson's daughter, would also be attending, they both went still mid-sip of espresso. They sat up straight and stared at each other, for many long minutes. Finally, Assad turned to me, and I noticed a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. After taking several deep breaths, he inquired whether there was anything urgent that would require their presence this morning, and if not, whether they could have it off. Seeing them so off-kilter, I debated giving them false tasks just to watch them squirm, but truthfully, seeing my royal pack-mates, my brothers who grunt as a form of communication, this, oserei dire , emotional, I couldn't play with them in this way. Not this time at least. Not to mention they already compiled more information than I've been able to get through and haven't once brought up Annabelle since getting her scent at the soccer game. Consummate professionals, always.

We left our house, a lovely Queen Anne Victorian situated across the large back field of la duchessa's residence, fifteen minutes later than I had wanted. The house hadn't been up for sale, but when the royal treasury is opened, most things become available.

The twins were running late, having managed to find a stylist to come to the house to trim their beards and eyebrows and freshly cut and style their hair. Both opted for fishtail braids, which was a debate I still can't believe I heard. The deciding factor was cleanliness during the pumpkin carving.

We've parked our white Range Rover next to Jaxson's Dodge Charger and are making our way to the front door—well, I am. Glancing over my shoulder for my bodyguards, I find they're not with me, nor are they focused on me. Instead, they are helping each other straighten their new flannel shirts, belts, and dark denim jeans.

"I'll head in then," I say with a wry grin. At the sound of my voice, they turn to me. Immediately shaking their heads and lowly muttering something in Persian, their native language, they jog up beside me.

"Our apologies, Principe ." Heydar bows.

" Si , we've forgotten our place and roles, Principe. It will not happen again," Assad avows, quickly stepping ahead of me, while Heydar stays behind, both reprising their roles as my bodyguards. Assad's head swivels on his neck, checking out the area before ringing the bell and lightly tapping his knuckles on the door. Ringing the bell and knocking the door? Non , he's not nervous at all.

We hear voices and rushed footsteps before Jax swings the door open. "Please, do you come in," he greets in a mockingly genteel tone, bowing and sweeping his arm out as if he were a butler.

The twins grunt their amusement, and I half bow in return. " Grazie , Jaxson."

The drumming of feet bounding down the stairs is joined by the excited voice of la mia stella exclaiming, "I thought we'd start with carving pumpkins first!" Setting my boots into one of the open cubbies, I look up to catch her halfway down the stairs, and a smile spreads across my face. The bouncing of her loose braid stops with the slowing of her feet when her gaze lands on the twins. She checks them out from head to toe, her eyes widening at their appearance. Her lips curve into a giddy smile, and when her eyes meet mine, they sparkle with happiness and mischief. We share a look of anticipated entertainment, both of us softly laughing.

Her wool-socked feet slide across the floor, and she skates her way over to me with arms spread open. I eagerly meet her partway and take her into my arms. We hug and sway our greeting as if we've been doing so for years. The warm welcome of her arms has me inhaling, smelling only her refreshing scent of clementines and ocean spray, not the floral variation I smelled that day on the bleachers when she watched Xander play football. My heart clenches at the truth of divine-mates. However, holding her and feeling how she's holding me, there's no denying we both feel something. I squeeze a little tighter, and she returns in kind.

Feeling longing and hope rise within me and not wanting to overstep, I force myself to pull back. Unable to let go yet, I rub my hands over her shoulders. Lifting my gaze, I meet Xander's thoughtful regard as he casually leans a shoulder against the hall wall, watching our interaction. I grin, though how can I not around la mia stella, and say, "I see you both have signed up for my Italian 101 class next semester."

La mia stella bounces up and down on her toes, and her excitement dislodges my hands from her shoulders. She claps and exclaims, "Yes! Yes!" Tilting her chin down the hall where Jaxson headed after letting us in, she adds, "Jax and I have both signed up for Assad and Heydar's combat skills class too! Actually, all the girls signed up for both!" Oh yes, I am well aware that Annabelle signed up for both. The brothers have been poring over old training manuals and practicing giving instructions as if in front of a class, with me as their trial student.

" Si, Duchessa," Heydar grunts, flattening out the front of his shirt and joining us at my side. "We are most excited and grateful we were able to convince the dean to take us on as instructors."

Xander's steps over to la mia stella. Clasping his hand around her nape, he gives her a firm squeeze, and my next breath is tinted with the scent of orange blossoms. She glares at him, and he meets her glare with a deep inhale and a lick of his lips. Feeling a brush of arousal and a sting of painful longing, I turn to keep pace with the twins, who are heading toward the kitchen. "Come now, donations always make things easier," I comment, taking several deep breaths and feeling pleased they are filled with the smell of roasted chicken and seasoning.

"What made you decide to teach?" Ethan queries from the far side of the kitchen island, where we all seem to be congregating while waiting for the arrival of the rest of our guests.

"Ah, amico mio ," I reply with a raise of my brows. "Remember, when we first came here, we did not think we'd stay for so long. But, well. . ." Pausing, I push up the sleeves of my new red thermal, something I bought thinking perhaps Wilhelmina would like it, since her mates wear them, and cast my gaze around the group of us. "I'd like to think we've formed a community around a purpose here, at least for the foreseeable future. While what we are working on with the council is of high importance, most of it, at this time at least, is"—my lips turn down— "rather dark and unpleasant." La mia stella has inched closer to me. I give her a friendly nudge of the elbow and a lopsided grin. "As foxes, we like to have fun, to remember life has light in it and not just darkness, si ?"

Flitting her gaze between Jax and me, she smiles and says, "For shizzle my. . ." She pauses and snorts a laugh. "Fizzle!"

Her mates release a few mocking groans while I lightly laugh. " Esattamente, la mia stella ." Returning my gaze to Ethan, I lift a shoulder. "Teaching will give us something bright to look forward to on a consistent basis. In addition. . ." I falter because although this is a minor part, it is true. "WMU has a large population of shifters among the faculty, alumni, and students. I'm still searching for my true-mate and thought tonight would truly test my theory." A familiar feeling of cold loneliness creeps over me like the only shaft of light disappearing from a door being shut. My body shudders, and I place my hands on the cool quartz of the kitchen island to steady myself. A small hand covers one of mine, warming my flesh. That act of tenderness cracks open that door, letting light spill in again.

Swallowing, I lift my head and gaze at Heydar and Assad. Their faces are weighted with concern, something I do not want them to feel. Non . Today of all days, they should feel light and freely happy, for the loneliness I feel is not one they can fill. I put myself in their place, and I imagine what it might be like for them, to know that, in moments, they will experience the divine. I let the image infuse me, inhaling air filled of joy and hope, for it will only support the reality I want. I smile and proclaim, "That the divine will shine her gift on three very worthy souls."

"The divine will shine on you, Alessandro," La mia stella affirms in a soft, clear voice. I adjust my hand under hers so I can hold her fingers. Gazing at her, I see empathy in her green eyes and determination in her jaw. She's not merely saying this—she's making a vow. Her thumb rubs over my knuckles. "You are too good of a being, and far too fun of a soul, to be alone. We will find your true-mate, Alessandro. And my fox and I will be by your side until you do." Her eyes flare, and she shakes her head, snorting a short laugh. "And after you find your true-mate, I don't think you'll be able to get rid of us." Her words, they touch something deep inside me and my fox, as if we're remembering a similar vow between our souls, one that we've kept for eons. I exhale a breath, and my inner light shines brighter.

Billie

"So that's how shifters that know they're shifters act when they meet their true-mate, huh?" I blurt out.

Leaning back in my chair at the dining room table, I watch through bulging, unflinching eyes Annabelle, my adept, highly professional soccer captain, a bear-shifter, and a councilman's daughter, make out—and I mean with mouths, hands, and bodies—with Heydar and Assad, Caspian tiger-shifters, bodyguards, and royal pack-mates to a royal shifter prince, on our kitchen island.

I don't know what exclamation is more appropriate: holy schnikies or holy wet panties!

I can't believe what I'm seeing, and I wanna see more. I tilt my chair back to balance on two legs. Oh wow, you go, Annabelle! But I can't really see Heydar. Just a little more... the wobbling is fine... where's his left hand? A little...

"Oh shit!" I scream as my chair falls backward with me in it. Luckily Jax's reflexes are faster than they were in the pumpkin patch this afternoon, and he catches the back of my chair before I hit the floor. However, my spoonful of pumpkin guts gets tossed in the air, the spoon and its contents splattering across his face, which startles him enough that he loses his balance and we both end up going down.

"Smooth, love," Ethan drawls, coming to our aid with paper towels in hand. Bending down, he reaches his free hand out to help Jax off the floor. He hands the paper towels to Jax, who tilts his head down at me, and I'm not 100 percent sure, but I think he's scowling. It's really hard to tell with pumpkin guts and seeds pasted over half his face.

Ethan reaches down to help me up, and that is when I feel the gooey drip of something on my chin. Swiping my hand over my chin, I pull it back, seeing some pumpkin flesh and seed. A bubble of laughter rises up my throat. I toss a smile at Jax, who's still wiping his face clean. I hitch a shoulder, saying, "I think pumpkin is good for the skin and hair, so yeah"—I wink— "no need to thank me." That gets the whole table laughing—almost. One of us may not be laughing. I won't say who.

Jax continues to wipe off what he can while smearing some deeper into his skin. "Good to know, mate," he dryly replies, handing me the paper towels. "I'll be sure to return the gesture. Skin and hair care is so important in the winter months after all."

Taking the proffered towel, I wipe away what I can feel and try to ignore the mischievous glint in Jax's dark-blue eyes. I don't want to know what his payback will be. But thanks to our bond, it doesn't seem to matter what I want to not see, since the mind link hits me with images of cum in my hair and all over my face. Tosser.

"Yes, Billie, how they're acting is completely normal and encouraged," Councilman MacNeill affirms after Jax and I have gotten resituated and cleaned up. Councilman MacNeill has his long hair in a braid and the sleeves of his brown fisherman's sweater pushed up. He gracefully traces a design on his perfectly round, perfectly scooped-out pumpkin. This is the first time I've spent with him in a nonofficial environment, and his relaxed persona is even more calming here. A sage-like presence swirls about him as if he's come for a week-long meditation and has found a way to simply flow with the river of existence, knowing he will be doing exactly as he should be. He continues, "Many adolescent shifters take a year off of after-school programs to attend a year of shifter schooling training."

I'm still scooping the guts out of my pumpkin; I swear, some things I work the hardest at and I'm still the last one to finish. Both Xander and Ethan have already completed their designs. Ethan's now cleaning up where he can, while Xander's sitting next to me, hand on my thigh, watching my efforts with enjoyment. At least he's here with me, with us, instead of him excusing himself to retreat to his bedroom office—two things I think should never be combined, like horror movies and mushies. A nightmare of a bad trip.

"What does that entail?" I query, inspecting the inside of my pumpkin one more time. Xander leans in, inspecting my work for himself. I glare at him over my shoulder, letting him know exactly how I will feel about any unsolicited commentary or advice. Taking my glare as nonthreatening, he returns it with a lopsided grin. Then he slugs some of my beer while his damn hand on my thigh inches it's way higher. Whatever, he can use me as his entertainment, so long as he keeps his mouth shut about my pumpkin. I reach for one of the books of designs.

"Well," Annabelle hums. "Obviously you learn about the signs of true-mates and pack-mates in the event you do happen to come across your fated mate." She falters as twin blushes paint her cheeks. "Or mates, then you'll know." I keep my head down, looking through the designs, trying to not show my shocked reaction to this forward, sultry, sexy side of my captain. I listen for signs of an earthquake or some sort of natural disaster indicating the end of the world, when the twins, who are sitting across from Annabelle, purr a chuff. Not a grunt but a purring chuff in response.

I've found a design of a Day of the Dead skull that doesn't look too hard, and rip it out. I start adhering it to the pumpkin with a wet sponge. "You also learn about the Shifter Code of Ethics, proper procedures to follow, shifting, and potential powers and how to use them," Councilman Swanson adds, also focused on his pumpkin.

"Not just Sundays?" Jax queries a look of confusion creasing his brows.

"No," Councilman Swanson answers. Casting his gaze over my mates, his brown eyes turn down at the corners as they settle on Jax. "As I mentioned to Alexander when we were discussing the sentencing, it seems that many of the wolf packs have been curtailing the education of their youth, focusing mostly on pack laws and very general shifter principles. Besides just the basics concerning Shifter Laws and Ethics, there is information about other subspecies that I fear has been left out of your education."

Sawing through my pumpkin, I grumble to myself. "I definitely could use some help in all of those areas. I don't even know what my fox and I are capable of, let alone how to access and apply any of it. Or any of regulatory stuff for that matter." I take a sip of my Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale, placing it back down on the table between Xander and me, and focus on my pumpkin.

Unaware of the silence that's fallen around the group, I continue carving with a tongue-hanging-out-of-mouth level of concentration, fiercely trying to do my best to catch up with everyone else. Glancing over at Alessandro, I see he's about as far along as me. I sigh in relief, as does he. As if we're of one mind: we look at each other, both of us with our tongues out and the same frustrated but determined look on our faces, we swing our gazes around the table, and every one of them is staring at us.

"It's freakin' uncanny, yea," Jax chuckles. The rest of the table chuckles and nods. Well, the twins grunt.

Alessandro and I meet each other's eyes and just shrug, getting back to our pumpkins. "I could help you, la mia stella ," he proposes, his green eyes flitting between Xander and me. "In fact, I could help both you and Xander with the royal aspects of your power, in addition to your fox's own innate abilities."

"And I could help with the additional information my father mentioned," Annabelle offers, her eyes sliding over to Councilman Swanson. An endearing smile peeks out through his bushy beard, and he nods his approval.

"That would be much appreciated," Xander states, his hand roaming higher up my thigh, which I didn't think was possible. He squeezes, and my Day of the Dead skull's canine and incisor become one. Whatever. There's no dental care for skeletons, it was bound to happen. "We really do need to bring you up to speed faster than we have been, il mio cuore ." He sighs, and it has a little rasp to it, maybe because his pinky finger has found itself stroking my seam. My legs spread for him. "That became painfully obvious in Southie," he tersely states. The hard edge in his voice has me turning to face him. His pupils may be dilated, but the grinding of his jaw has me worried about more than my skull's teeth.

Forgetting my pumpkin carving for the moment, I wipe my hands off with one of the dish towels and stand up to face him. Cupping Xander's face, my thumbs brush up and down the sharp rise of his cheekbones, the skin soft from his recent shave. Placing his hands on my hips, he spreads his legs and guides me between his strong thighs.

"Professor Knight," I state firmly with an arched brow. Seeing his lips tug up on one side has mine doing the same. "You, Jaxson, Ethan, and Annabelle did the very best you could have with my shifter education, considering the extenuating circumstances, the amount of information that needs to be taught and"—I roll my eyes— "maybe the initial flight risk of your student."

"Your student did have a pattern of bolting." Jax snickers from across the table. So helpful.

Xander's warm, rough hands slip under my shirt, pushing it up. Arching my torso toward him, he leans forward and speckles several soft kisses over my belly. My flesh melts like butter under his warm lips. Tilting his head back and resting his chin on my upper stomach, he looks up at me through his dark lashes and murmurs, "That was true, but not anymore."

Sweeping my fingers through his silky hair, I meet his awaiting stare. "Definitely not a flight risk anymore."

"Soccer ends this week," Annabelle comments bringing our attention to her. "That should free up some time."

Xander pulls back just as a pair of large hands replaces his. Ethan tugs my shirt back down and guides me around drawing my bum down onto his lap. "That could work," he affirms, handing me my carving knife, cuing me to get back to my pumpkin. "Though, I don't know how you'll find the time, Xander," he adds in a ho-hum type of voice that seems a little too ho-hum for Ethan. His hands softly brush up and down my thighs. I pause my cutting and take a deep inhale. I will not let my pussy fuck up any more teeth.

"Wilhelmina takes precedence over everything else," Xander bites back, as if the very idea of him not finding the time to train with Alessandro and me is insulting. And now two molars are fused into one. Super.

"Then you'll need to share more of the workload, Xander," Ethan counters flatly. Though his tone is calm, the gripping of his fingers around my legs is communicating the opposite. I glance up at Jax, who has paused midway to the kitchen. With bowls of pumpkin guts in his hands, he half turns around and meets my awaiting gaze. His brows crease, and his lips twist. Yup, he can feel it too. "You're barely letting me help you," Ethan continues, my legs feeling like a dough he's working over. "Jax and Billie are more adept than they're willing to admit, especially the little fox on my lap."

I straighten my spine and rotate in my seat to gaze at both Xander and Ethan. Their stone-faced expressions give nothing away as they stare at each other. Based on what I'm feeling in the bond, there's a lot we're going to have to deal with, and now is not the time. Turning back around, I cut out my last piece and fling it at Alessandro, taunting, "Finished."

" Cazzo! " he shouts out as the piece hits him on the forehead.

Chuckling I say, "Alessandro, we'll take you up on your generous offer. Can we discuss the details later? I think we need to get our schedules and workloads figured out." I look over my shoulder at Ethan and Xander, who are still staring at each other like they're waiting for the other to break first. I return my gaze to Alessandro and blow out a long breath. "First."

Alessandro observes the entire interaction with empathetic eyes and nods. "Of course, la mia stella , whatever you need."