Corey sipped at his beer, smiling at the sight of Hannah feeding their daughter. She was a wonderful mother. He'd always known she would be, even when she'd worried about her abilities while she carried their first child.

Quinton came out like most Warrior babies: squalling, hungry, and completely besotted of his mother. He was an easier baby than most, and when he was difficult, all it took was snuggling to Hannah to calm him again.

Their strong attachment remained, even when Callum was born four years later. After that, it had taken an agonizing decade for the Stone to decide to bless them with another child.

And She gave me a daughter. Was it sacrilege to wonder if the Stone had done so to reward Corey for his tireless protection of--and perhaps his love of--Hannah? If it was, he wasn't certain he cared.

Reward or not, Kyra was glorious.

Their daughter had been born only weeks before Christmas. Though Corey had expected Hannah to beg off their usual trip to the manor for the holidays, she'd embraced the trip whole-heartedly and had accepted the pampering the family had heaped on her with gusto.

Not that the men felt free to touch her, of course. That hadn't changed at all. Then again, even if Hannah had accepted it, Corey wasn't sure he would be able to control his anger at the sight of it. Warriors were a territorial lot, and Corey was no exception to that rule.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Corey's attention. From the flash of black, he knew it was one of the men or older boys. The women and children wore a wide array of bright colors for the holiday, so it wouldn't be one of them.

A spike of jealousy at the idea of another man staring at his mate while she was feeding their daughter had Corey shooting a glare at... Quinton.

Their older son stared at his mother, his expression a shifting, indistinct mix that confused Corey. Concern overwhelmed the irritation that simply.