“And if it’s a boy?”
He shrugged. “I suggested Floyd, but she’s not digging it. I guess we’ll meet the little fella first before we give him a name. Or her. Either way, I’m having a bunch of babies with that woman, so we’ll have plenty of opportunities to choose names,” he said with a laugh.
Lorenzo felt his chest constrict. The idea of family had never struck him as profoundly as it did now. For a fleeting moment, he imagined Ivy with a full belly, sun shining on her honey-brown skin, soft hair cascading down her back. Then a realization entered his mind that she had once reflected that very image, and no one had admired her beauty or glow because she was only a child herself. Then to have her baby cast away as a shameful secret filled him with rage. Not even her father had given her unconditional acceptance.
What he felt for Ivy was more than an alpha’s desire to care for a woman in need. Why else would his heart soften when thinking of the way she smiled at him? Or her sweet laugh when she called him Thunder? Even that nickname roused an unexpected heat in him. He loved the way she’d throw back her shoulders when standing up to him, and he loved the resilience in her spirit that made her accept her fate of having a limp, because she had endured much worse pain in her life. Sorrow and heartache—emotions he wanted to erase with a kiss on her lips and tender words whispered in her ear. He had never been struck by anything so fast as the love he felt for Ivy.
Love. Something he knew little of when it came to women. Was his grandmother right in that they were fated? Then he thought of her prophecy of blood.
“Uh-oh,” Jericho said. “I’ve seen that look before.”
Lorenzo cleared his throat, coming out of his thoughts. “What look is that?”
“There’s nothing innocuous about the faraway look in your eyes. Especially combined with that ghost of a smile that you probably didn’t even realize you were doing. Not to mention the blush on your face when I suggested it, and yeah, men don’t blush unless it’s over a woman or someone finding their dirty magazines. Not to mention the contemptuous look you’re giving me right now. Yep. Someone’s been acquainted with lady love. Can’t say I blame you; Ivy’s one of a kind. But just remember she belongs to our pack, and I’ll say this in the nicest way possible—don’t fuck with my sister’s head.”
“Tell me how that redheaded wolf in there came to fall in love with a man with one of the worst reputations in town.”
Jericho laughed and shook his head. “You can’t help who you love. It is what it is. You remember how as kids we used to tug their hair and call them names? Well, paybacks are a bitch. That’s when you know you got her heart in your pocket—when she can’t stand to look at you. You represent something she hates, or you’ve done something to hurt her. But either way, she’s mad as hell at herself for loving you, so she spits fire. They don’t make it easy.”
“And that one in there gave you trouble?” Lorenzo asked. Redheads were known to have fiery tempers.
Jericho lifted the bear claw and turned it in his hand, staring at the tip. “A good woman doesn’t make it easy. They want to push all your buttons to see how willing you are to chase after them. You don’t get a woman like that by saying you love her. You’ve got to write them a song, walk through fire, jump off a building, or slay a bear. And you know what? If you love ’em enough, you’ll do it. I wake up every morning at five to get my woman donuts, fry her bacon, or just make love to her. And not because she asked me to. When you can do all that and because of it feel like more of a man and not less, then that’s the girl. That’s the one. The only one. It never gets old either.” Jericho let the necklace fall against his shirt and glanced around the room. “There isn’t a woman in this world that compares to my Isabelle. Even when she’s yelling at me because I got potato-chip crumbs in the bed or when she’s hiding her face because it’s too early and she thinks I won’t love her anymore when I see her morning face.”
“Love is a weapon,” Lorenzo remarked. “I’ve seen it ruin men.”
Jericho snagged a cigarette from behind his ear and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a silver lighter. It made a melodic clink when he opened it. After a few puffs, he blew a steady trail of smoke upward and nodded. “Maybe so, but I don’t care.”