Marrying Her: The Keeping Her Christmas Wedding (The Keeping Her Series Book 5) by Kelly Lucille Page A

a snap of temper coming in right behind the words, and the
sarcasm flared interspersed with the sweet.  “If your mate is not a big tough alpha
know it all, or three ,who sees himself as the only thing keeping
you alive while you walk a paved path, you might be okay.”
    Clytie thought about
Demon and his big tough alpha overprotectiveness, and added the thought of a
baby on the way.  She sighed and dropped her head into her hand.  “I am so screwed,”
she mumbled into the phone.
    “Yes,” the other woman
was all sympathy now, “and not in a good way.”
    Clytie snorted out a
laugh at that.  “You don’t know Demon.”
    “Trust me, once you get
so fat they worry about hurting the baby . . . It won’t matter that you’re
hormonal and horny, the honeymoon is definitely over.”  Clytie was thinking
that might have been too much information when someone on the other end took
exception to Rebecca’s words.  Rebecca snorted in answer to something Clytie
couldn’t hear.  “I am too fat.”  Then, “Big talk.  No action,” she said to
someone who had to be one of her mates, if the sexy taunting sound of her voice
was any indication. 
    Clytie heard a growl close
to the phone, Rebecca gasped, and then she was abruptly disconnected.  She
hoped for Rebecca’s sake she was finally getting screwed, in the good way. 
Knowing what she did from Demon about how wolf alpha’s took challenges, Clytie
would bet money Rebecca was going to be a little less frustrated, and soon.
    Clytie placed her phone
in the seat beside her and thought about what she had learned.  She sighed
again, deeply.  “Maybe it won’t be so bad with just one to deal with,” she
mumbled to herself.  Even she didn’t believe that whopper of a lie.
    ***
    Demon was not happy.  Eli
was with his wife on clandestine missions and when she wasn’t with fucking Eli,
she was looking at pictures of wedding dresses and deciding on menus, or oohing
over shoes with Cassandra and Jordan. He liked Jordan, but she was a constant
presence around the house before the wedding planning began; these days she had
a room of her own.  Now with Thanksgiving the day after tomorrow, the whole
house smelled like pies and she was in the kitchen with Cassandra, Mac, and Ben
planning and preparing for the elaborate feast, while Eli and Crow taste tested
and talked about fucking video games and computers from their semi-permanent
stools at the kitchen island. 
    Not that any of that was
a bad thing.  When he was finished with his shift in the control room, he would
switch places with whoever was on next and join them there.  And it must be
said that Clytie could bake, even with Roxy standing on her chair and ‘helping,’
it was always good.  He could also admit that he liked the glow she was
sporting lately, with all the activity and wedding plans.  She was happy, hell
she was sparkling with her happy, so he should be happy.  But he was not
fucking happy for one reason and one reason only.  He could not get any time
alone with his mate.  Sure, they ended every night together in bed, but by then
Clytie was dragging her fine ass around and looking adorably exhausted.  So, he
cuddled her and waited until morning to fuck one or two screams of pleasure out
of her.  Then she was gone again in her happy exhausted funk.  He would likely
not see her alone again until they were back in the bedroom that night.  The
plain truth was he needed more of her, when he could see she was running
herself ragged to get everything done, take care of Roxy, and even Crow when he
let her, finish up the last of her art pieces for the showing in January, and
all the other things she did that made life good for everyone in that house.
    Just admitting it made
him sound like a dick, so he didn’t admit it out loud.  He just watched his
glowing happy mate whenever he could, touched her at every opportunity, and
wished every one of their family and pack to the fifth ring of hell.
    So,