Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 248 – Spies in the Bushes

Victor wakes the next morning with Evelyn curled in his arms, her head tucked neatly under his chin. He pulls her more tightly against him, lowering his face to get a good sniff of her still-damp hair, closing his eyes as he does. His mate gives a little mew of contentment in her sleep that makes his heart swell.

God damn it, how did he ever get this lucky.

Usually, the last thing he’d want to do is get out of bed when his mate is wrapped soft and warm in his arms. But today is…special. Or at least, he intended it to be. Doing his very best not to wake her – Evelyn being asleep was actually a pretty big part of the plan – Victor slowly moves his body away from hers, his mouth pulled into a grimace as he silently prays that she doesn’t wake up.

He gets lucky. A few moments later his feet are firmly on the ground and he’s able to silently stand, tucking her in beneath the blankets so that she stays warm, a pillow tucked beneath her arm to replace his body. Victor takes a moment to watch her sleep, a small smile on his mouth, but then his excitement propels him to move.

Quietly, he bends down to open the drawer of his bedside table, reaching to the back to take out a little velvet box that’s been there for months. It was risky, he guessed, to leave it in so obvious a spot but…well, Evelyn never looked in his bedside drawer. The only other thing in there was a couple of mints.

Victor slips the box into his pocket, glancing at Evelyn’s still-sleeping face as he tiptoes to the door, eager to get started on his day. He slips out, pulling it shut quietly behind him, and moving to the boys’ bedroom door, eager to wake him.

He stops in his tracks, though, at the sight of the little boy sleeping at the threshold to his bedroom.

“What the…” Victor mumbles, frowning down at Ian, who sleeps with his mouth slightly open, a little line of drool falling from it. He’s stretched his full length out across the entrance to his bedroom with a blanket pulled over him and a pillow from the couch tucked under his head. In hands he clutches a toy bow and arrow, which rests neatly against his softly-rising chest. Baffled, Victor kneels down next to his son and gives his shoulder a little shake.

Ian gives an unhappy little moan and frowns, turning away, but Victor persists, shaking again. When Ian’s eyes flutter open, he slowly smiles at Victor.

“Hey dad,” he says, raising a hand to rub scratch his head, acting like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Ian,” Victor asks, “what are you doing out here?”

“Guarding the door,” Ian says like it’s obvious, blinking up at him. Then he raises the bow and arrow so that Victor can see it more clearly. “So nobody can get in to disturb Aunt Bridgette while she sleeps.”

Victor has to bite his lip, hard, to keep from laughing. “Well,” he says seriously after the moment he needs to pull himself together. “That is very chivalrous of you.”

up. “I am a very chivalrious

tip from his son’s hands,

eyebrow. “Who said

same eyebrow, his face a mirror of

raising his chin. “But Alvin said mommy said that Uncle Rafe was bad to Bridgette, and we

stands up and puts out a hand, beckoning him to follow. “It was very nice of you to do, Ian,” Victor says, looking warmly down at his son as they head down the stairs. “But sometimes,

though!” Ian says, beaming up at his dad as they reach the kitchen. “Sleeping on the ground was like

glances into the living room and can’t keep himself from laughing again when he sees Rafe curled up on the couch and Alvin sleeping on the easy chair positioned across from

up to explore the cereal cabinet. “We covered all the bases,” he says. “Like

the machine and starting to load it with coffee. “Listen, kid,” he begins, “I’m going to need your help

from the living room. Victor turns to see Alvin rubbing his sleepy

success, Ian!” Alvin

down from

couch and looking around.

when the nerf bullet hits him in the face. Then, he glares

to do that all night. It’s kind of a waste if I didn’t get

prison, Alvin,” Rafe murmurs, sitting up on the couch. “You have no taste for mercy, even when your captive displays good

buttons on the machine and setting it to brew. Then he leans against the table, crossing

Ian confirms, nodding and sitting up. “I

at him. “It was…”

moving to the couch and curling up next to Rafe, who puts a begrudging arm around the nephew who just shot him. “You can tell dad.

Rafe asks, frowning down

room and handing one

looking between the two of them. “That