radicalducati Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Five years had remade everything. I zipped Ava’s backpack, checking a third time that her lunch sat snug between art supplies and the stuffed wolf.
“I want to ride with Daddy on his motorcycle!” Ava planted small hands on her hips—the stance she’d learned watching me negotiate with elders. “Uncle Alex’s car is boring.”
“Absolutely not.” I met her mutinous look with practiced authority. “After yesterday’s unauthorized joyride? Not happening.”
Kieran’s unrepentant laugh rolled from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, amber eyes bright with zero remorse for sneaking our five-year-old onto his bike for a loop around the property.
“You’re not helping,” I told him, mouth twitching despite myself. “Yesterday was dangerous and irresponsible and exactly the kind of behavior that gets fathers in trouble.”
“How long will you hold this against me?” He pushed off the frame and crossed to us, all contained power. “Your wolf’s been cold-shouldering me since dinner. Should I assume you’re actually upset and not performing for our daughter?”
“Oh, I’m keeping track.” I lifted my chin. “Consider this remembered until approximately her eighteenth birthday. Longer if you try it again.”
“Thirteen years?” His mock horror failed because his eyes were still laughing. “Punishment for a perfectly safe ride around our own land?”
“‘Perfectly safe’ is generous, considering she had no proper gear and you hit speeds that—”
“Mama, please?” Ava tilted up those melt-stone blue eyes. “Uncle Alex drives so slow. We could be there in five minutes on Daddy’s bike instead of twenty in the car. That’s math. I’m good at math.”
“Nice try, sweetheart.” Kieran scooped her up, settling her on his hip with the ease of a devoted father. His voice shifted to the tone that ends negotiations—gentle but absolute. “Uncle Alex is driving you today, tomorrow, and every day until your mother decides my penance is complete. Keep arguing and it gets worse.”
Ava’s lip jutted, but she nodded. “Fine. When I’m eighteen, I’m getting my own motorcycle.”
“We’ll discuss it in thirteen years,” I said, kissing her forehead as Kieran carried her to the door.
Right on schedule, Alex pulled up. He took Ava from Kieran as I pressed one more kiss to her cheek. “Be good for your teachers,” I murmured. “Learn everything. Tell me all of it tonight.”
“I will, Mama.” Already angling for advantage, she turned to Alex. “Since Daddy’s in trouble, can I sit in the front seat? Just this once? It would make me feel better about the boring car—”
“Back seat, munchkin,” Alex said, swift but fond. “Same as always. Your mother would skin me alive. Besides, the back has the best view—you might spot deer.”
“You’re no fun,” she grumbled, yet went without fuss. Alex buckled her in, and the car rolled away, leaving quiet in its wake.
Kieran’s arm slid around my waist, pulling me against his chest as we watched the car disappear down the drive. “Finally.” His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the mate mark that still sent electricity through me. “Alone.”
The kiss tasted of heat and promise, deeper than our usual morning goodbye. His hands spread across my swollen belly, greeting the twins with the reverence he never failed to show.
“They’re active,” he murmured, fingers tracing. “Strong. Impatient. Like their mother.”
“Their father,” I countered, tilting my head for him. “You can’t sit still five minutes. They’ll run us ragged.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” No fear—only excitement. “Sleepless nights. Constant feedings. Two wolf pups learning to shift together. Bring it on.”
“You say that now.” My heart swelled at his easy certainty. “Wait until we’re at two a.m., both crying, and neither of us remembers who just ate.”
“Then we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.” He turned me in his arms, eyes burning. “I’m taking the day off. Cleared my entire schedule.”
“You’re what?” Disbelief sharpened my voice. “You’re Alpha of two merged packs, CEO of enterprises across three territories, father to a child who requires supervision. You don’t have days off.”
He laughed, rich and satisfied. “I’m aware of my calendar, love. I also know you have an appointment with Dr. Holland this afternoon. And—” his smile went wickedly pleased—“I persuaded her to join our clinic permanently. She’ll be overseeing your prenatal care from ten minutes away, not forty-five.”
Joy detonated through me. “You brought Dr. Holland here? Kieran, she’s been my doctor since—”
“Since you needed someone who documented everything, asked the right questions, and kept you safe when no one else would.” He framed my face with devastating gentleness. “I know what she means to you. I’ve been negotiating her transfer for three months. She signed last week. Starts today.”
“My mother predicted this,” I whispered, remembering Mother’s certainty years ago. “She said I’d have my next children in one of your clinics. I thought she was being dramatic, but—”
“But I’m predictable where your safety is concerned.” He kissed my forehead, cheeks, the corner of my mouth. “I’ll bring you whatever you need, Harper. Always.”
Gratitude and love hit like a wave—the vulnerability of being fully seen and wholly cherished. My eyes burned; pregnancy hormones had no mercy.
“You can’t just—” my voice broke—“say things like that and expect composure. I’m emotional, I’m carrying your twins, my wolf’s been desperate for you because you’ve worked late all week, and now you’re thoughtful and perfect and I want you so much I can’t think.”
Heat flared in his eyes, focused and serious. “Harper—”
“We have time,” I cut in, hands sliding up his chest to lock behind his neck. “Two hours before the appointment, and she’s ten minutes away now. We’re alone for the first time in days. Do I need to spell it out?”
His laugh rumbled darkly. “I’m an extremely intelligent Alpha. I can connect those dots.”
He scooped me up despite my belly, carrying me toward the stairs with deliberate slowness that coiled anticipation tight. Each step deepened the thrum of the bond between us.
“I love you,” I said against his throat, simple words heavy with everything we’d survived. “More than I can express.”
“I love you more.” Emotion roughened his voice. “I’ve loved you since I was fifteen. I’ll love you until I die and after. You’re everything.”
Happiness had become muscle memory—built on Ava’s safety, our coming twins, and the mate who held me as precious beyond measure. Built on second chances that defied rules of time and fate. Built on the impossible made real by a love fierce enough to rewrite destiny.
He carried me into our bedroom and kicked the door shut. For the next two hours, nothing existed but the two of us and the life we’d built from the ashes of what we lost—finally, completely, eternally home.