CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOBy the time Tucker returned that night, Leslie was no calmer than she had been when he left. She paced back and forth after having fed the babies and rocked them to sleep. She had even gone to check the babies’ stored milk supply and finding enough there for a few days, afforded herself a couple of glasses of wine to try to settle her nerves.
“What happened? Is he alive?”
“He’s going to be fine, Leslie. I had him taken to the shifter’s main doctor to get examined and he has nothing more than a concussion.”
“People have died from concussions!”
“He’s not going to die. It’s not that bad of one. I know you were scared, but you didn’t hit him that hard.”
“That’s good, I guess. I’m not looking forward to running into him again, but I’d have been horrified to have killed someone. There was so much blood!”
“You just broke the skin and the head bleeds a lot. It looked much worse than it actually was. Okay?” His attention was drawn to the bottle on the counter behind her and he looked at her, puzzled. “Are you drinking?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“What about your milk?”
“I have enough pumped for this to clear out of my system before I give them anymore.”
“How long do you have to wait?”
“They say a few hours after a glass. I’ve had two, but I have enough pumped for three days and I need to let that get used up before pumping again.”
“Well, in that case, how about we have another glass or two together?”
“I don’t know. I am a lightweight. You might have to carry me to bed if I drink much more.”
“I can do that,” he said with a smile.
He poured the remainder of the bottle into her glass and fetched another from the wine chiller built in below the counter, talking to her as he uncorked it and poured a glass of his own.
“You won’t be running into him or several more that have caused problems anymore. I’ve exiled them from the pack. By the time we arrive there tomorrow afternoon, they’ll be gone or face the consequences.”
“I didn’t mean to cause all that,” she said.
“You didn’t. They caused it themselves. I told you there were people there who still support my brother and that’s fine if they think he would make a better Alpha, but tomorrow, we’ll be gathering for a little “Come to Jesus” meeting, as my father called them. I plan to let them know exactly why I came back and inform any of them that are still lurking and doing my brother’s bidding that they can either shut off communications with him or join their friends I’ve already sent away.”
“That’s not going to win you brownie points with the pack.”
“I don’t care. Being weak won’t win me any brownie points either.”
“I suppose not,” she said.
“Come on. Let’s take this to the den and relax. Marla has the girls, right?”
“Yes. She’s already taken care of their evening feeding.”
“Good. Then let’s do some winding down.”
There was no more talk of the nonsense from the club. Instead, they sat down and looked through swatches and paint cards for the new house. It was well ahead of schedule and they’d need to know where they wanted to go with the inner decor soon. By the time they decided to go to bed, Leslie had finished off four glasses of wine and felt much better. It had been a long time since she’d been able to allow herself to be tipsy. She was like a giggling schoolgirl.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Tucker said, putting his arm around her waist and helping her up the stairs.
He undressed her and laid her in the bed, pulling the covers up around her. She grimaced as her nipples rubbed across the sheet. They were tender. She realized that even if she wasn’t going to give the milk to the girls, she should have pumped. She started to climb from the bed, but Tucker stopped her.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to get my breast pump from my room,” she replied.
“You said you can’t feed the babies milk from while you’re drinking or a while after.”
“No, I can’t, but it still builds up and it hurts if I don’t relieve them by either feeding or pumping.”
Tucker considered this for a moment and then looked at her with a somewhat bashful expression as he spoke.
“Maybe I could help you with that instead,” he told her.
“You’re going to go get my pump for me?” she asked, not catching on in her tipsy state.
“No. I was thinking more along the lines of relieving the pressure myself.”
Leslie still looked at him for a moment, puzzled, and then it hit her.
“Oh! You mean . . .,” she started to say but stopped. It wasn’t the first time he had sampled from her breasts, but he’d never actually fed from them to such an extent as to empty their full load. Rather than finishing the sentence, she climbed back in the bed, leaving her breasts exposed to him, a smile on her face.