Free His Choice by Carrie Ann Ryan

as she was when awake. Her braid never stayed in place.
    His perfect little princess wanted to roughhouse with the boys, and Jasper was fine with it. Sure, she might carry a little more dirt than Willow would like, but at least, this way, Brie would learn to fight off the boys when they came knocking at his perfect little princess’s door.
    Oh, and when they did, Jasper would be ready.
    With his claws.
    “Uh, don’t open it?”
    Jasper rolled his eyes then sat up so he could tickle the little monster beside the bed when she moved closer. She giggled, the high-pitched sound grating on his nerves since he’d just woken up, but at least he knew his daughter was happy. He let her go, and she skipped to the door then looked back.
    “Is Mommy making breakfast?” his little girl asked, her eyes dancing.
    Willow let out a laugh beside him. He sensed her disappointment that they hadn’t finished what they’d started, but mixed with that was her amusement of their daughter, so he reached out and squeezed her hand.
    “Yes, Brie dear. Or your daddy can make you cereal if you want.”
    He looked over at his wife and said, tongue in cheek, “Cereal? That’s the best I can do? Is that a comment on my cooking, oh-mate-of-mine?”
    Willow blinked up at him with those big hazel eyes he loved, the innocence act so not working.
    “I have no idea what you mean, love.”
    Jasper growled, though he couldn’t help the corners of his mouth lifting up. “I didn’t poison myself with my own cooking before I met you. I won’t poison our daughter.”
    Willow raised a brow, sitting up to fold her arms under her breasts. “If you could find a way to poison anyone pouring a bowl of cereal, you’d be an extra special Beta, wouldn’t you?”
    Brie giggled then shifted from side to side. Jasper narrowed his eyes. “Did you use your potty this morning?”
    “Maybe,” was her reply. She scrunched her face, and he held back a curse.
    With the rush of a man who was still learning the steps to this whole father-thing, he picked her up, ran her to her training potty, and let her get to work. She wiggled and smiled as she went about her business, and Jasper just leaned against the sink, wondering how the hell he’d ended up here—a place he loved but was drastically different.
    He’d been a bachelor for almost a hundred years, the Beta to the Redwood pack, a Jamenson of royal werewolf blood. Now he was a husband, a mate, a father…and the Beta of a Pack who was being attacked on an almost daily basis from the Centrals—a Pack now run by a demon from hell rather than a wolf with a bent on ruling the world.
    Yes. Things sure seemed to change in the blink of an eye.
    And not all for the best.
    He wouldn’t change who he was and who he’d become for anything in the world. He loved it all. He’d been there when his baby girl was born, even though Willow had kicked him out of the room a few times. He hadn’t been able to help it. He and his wolf had wanted to scream at his brother North for taking too long and letting his mate endure so much pain. He’d been there when his baby girl took her first steps, though he’d missed her first words because he’d been out on a call to fulfill his Beta responsibilities.
    He’d been able to watch his wife and mate grow and find a rhythm with her wolf, even though the way she’d turned into one of his kind had been brutal and unyielding. He’d been able to watch his brothers fall in love, bond with their mates, and create the next generation of Jamensons.
    Through all of that, he’d accepted his responsibility as the Beta, the one wolf who was bonded to the rest of the Pack in such a way that he knew what they needed, sometimes before they did. It was his job to ensure the needs of the Pack were taken care of so the others around him could function and move forward.
    He loved his role in the Pack—even if he was so tired some nights the effort it took to breathe was almost too much.
    With the Pack