by M. L. Briers
WINTER ROMANCE
A SHIFTER UNDER THE CHRISTMAS TREE
BY
M L BRIERS
Copyright © 2019, M L Briers
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced whatsoever without written permission of the author, except for brief exerts in reviews. Any unauthorised reproduction or distribution of the material herein is illegal and may result in criminal proceedings. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to the internet or distributed via electronic or print without prior consent.
Note from the Author;
All names, places, and incidents contained herein are purely fictional and have no basis in actual events or linked to actual Humans, Witches, Vampires, Werewolves, Lycans, Werebears or persons living, dead or undead.
Copyright © 2019, Cover Design by; [email protected].
Table of Contents
WINTER ROMANCE
A SHIFTER UNDER THE CHRISTMAS TREE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
~
Mark Barrett nodded his head as he listened to the tale that was being told by Old man Cooper. It was always bad news when something was attacking a man’s livelihood, but this was much worse, this was a man losing his livestock to a predator out on some late-night raid, and that couldn’t be allowed to continue, especially not if the predator in question was someone he knew.
Being a shifter in cattle country probably wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but if nothing else, it taught discipline. How not to let your bear get away from you – control was everything, and without control, a shifter was no better than a wildling or a rogue.
Mark just hoped it had nothing to do with his clan. If his boys couldn’t control their urges, then he needed to do something about that and fast.
It was hard enough to fight the urge to let your bear tear loose and do what came naturally, and that wasn’t just about pooping in the woods, the raw aggression that came with being a bear shifter had to be controlled from the very first day your beast asserted itself, and he thought his boys had that under control, but maybe not.
“If this keeps on then I’ll be getting a hunting party together,” Coop said, and those words instilled an icy grip of fear around Mark’s heart. “I take it you’ll want that call?”
“You bet,” Mark replied, and he wasn’t lying. Forewarned was forearmed and he needed to know his family was safe if the human population of the town were out there with guns hunting anything that moved. “I’ll be there.” That was true as well; there wasn’t anywhere else he’d need to be on that night but out there protecting his own kind.
“Good to hear,” Coop said, and when he frowned; every weathered line on his face cut deeply telling the story of his years out in the elements doing a hard days graft for his money. “You’ll put this on my tab?” he asked, thumbing over his shoulder at the odds and ends he’d bought in the store.
Mark made sure those in his community got what they needed when they needed it, and they could settle up when their livestock went to market. In the good years, those bills were settled promptly, in the not so good years, things took a little longer but always worked out – sometimes in barter for other things. “Sure will,” Mark agreed and watched the elder nod his appreciation before he grabbed what he needed and left the store.
Cooper had built a treehouse for Shauna, Mark’s daughter, who’d thought that a bear cave was too boyish for her liking when she was younger. The man had worked like a bear to get it done before the season started on his land. That was a trade-off for a reasonable sized bill that he owed that both men knew Cooper wouldn’t be able to meet that year if his family were to survive and not go under.
It was the unspoken give and take of business, and Mark was more than happy with that. Especially when it got his mate, and his daughter off his back and things got finished twice as fast as he could have done them, what with all his family businesses, and he didn’t have the boys around to help him then, unlike now that they were old enough.
“Dad, I screwed up.”
Mark growled inwardly. Those weren’t the words from his firstborn that he needed to hear today. Sometimes he missed those days when his sons weren’t involved, but damn it; they needed to learn – he just wished they took it more seriously.
He’d wanted everything running smoothly today; it was twenty-six years since he’d met and wooed his mate, and he wanted to get home to Tanya and woo her a little more to show her how much she was loved for giving him the gift of a family – not that his sons always felt like a gift – and that feeling was upon him now.
Mark grunted as he gave Max his full attention and eyed the man like he would any other employee. His large hands spanned the countertop so they didn’t clench into fists of annoyance, and he felt the need to growl but held it back.
“I’m sure your mother would still be so proud,” he said with a tone dripping with sarcasm.
Max folded his large muscled arms over his broad chest and shifted his weight on his feet until he looked less like a sheepish son and more like a man ready to stick up for himself. “Not sure how it happened,” he said. “But I double ordered on the chicken wire.”
That wasn’t the end of the world; at least it hadn’t been a top ticket item like a damn bailer, and he’d made his fair share of howlers, but still, he never liked to miss out on an opportunity. “We expecting a twister?”
“Nope,” Max said, knowing what was coming – sarcasm – lots of it.
“A herd of dinosaurs racing through the countryside taking down all the fences?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I haven’t checked Twitter today,” Max tossed back. He knew by his father’s attitude that his mistake had already been evaluated and written off – if it hadn’t, then there would already have been cursing, growling, and more grunting.
Then there was the throwing – he’d ducked a lot of small-ticket items over the years to know the signs.
“Smartass,” Mark growled, and he noted the way his son’s eyes narrowed just a little as he evaluated his mood.
He liked to keep his boys on their toes, and he wasn’t averse to pulling a switcheroo every now and again. “You know I got that thing with your mom tonight, right?”
“Twenty-six years,” Max said with a cocky grin. “Maybe this is the year she finally gets her own back for the lack of flowers, jewellery, and…”
“Better start running, boy,” Mark said, his hand already fisting the stapler by the time he’d given out his warning.
Max had already spotted the danger and was well on his way down aisle four before Mark tossed the stapler in the air, caught it, and lobbed it after his fleeing, chuckling son.
Mark still had the best arm in the family, and his aim was true, but that stapler bounced off the top of the metal shelving and heade
d straight for the front door just as the door opened and a stranger walked in.
“Oh crap,” Mark growled, grimacing with the knowledge that there was no way in hell he was going to make it in time to stop that stapler from doing its worst, even if he could use his supernatural abilities.
Worse still, the stranger about to get clocked was a female.
Lucky for him, her eyes flicked up from beneath the hair that was long enough to tickle her lashes, and her hand shot out in front of her as if she was about to guard her face, and at least that would have been something. But then – that damn stapler was batted away by an unseen force that Mark knew could only have been magic.
Now he really wanted to growl. A witch in his town – in his store – damn if that didn’t ruin his day.
Kaylee cursed the natural instinct within her to protect herself from harm and to use magic to do it. Not cool. But when you had the mother of all staplers headed for your noggin – what was a witch to do?
She snapped a look at the guy behind the counter – six foot four of impressive middle-aged muscle with a suspicious look on his face and the kindest eyes she had ever seen on a man – and knew that she’d been big-time busted.
But then, she had a feeling that man was no ordinary man, and if she had any sense left in her head, then she would have nodded and backed out the way she’d come – hell, the door was still open, and he hadn’t said anything yet – or growled.
Kaylee pulled her witchy shields tighter around her body and eyed him right back. She couldn’t do anything about the bells and whistles that were going off inside her body to warn her that the supernatural was at hand, but she could use her magic wisely and maybe stop him picking up on her true scent.
There was still the choice to back away and try to avoid him while she was in town or to meet him head-on and see if she needed to move on faster than expected. That seemed like a bad idea and Jackson wouldn’t like it.
In the snap of a thought, she’d made up her mind. “Is that how you greet all your customers or just a special for strangers?” she asked, curious as to what he’d do next.
“If I’d known who was walking into my store I might have lobbed a leaf blower,” he lied, but not by much. Witches were trouble, and she looked like a whole heap of it. “Or maybe a cement mixer.”
“And I was told you were the friendly, helpful kind,” Kaylee said, trying to judge just how much trouble she could possibly be in after walking into the bear’s cave.
She wasn’t looking for it, but if trouble came calling, then she was more than prepared to answer that call.
“People misunderstand me all the time,” Mark said, taking a moment to eye her from head to toe.
On the plus side, she wasn’t wearing a pointy hat, robes, and pointy-toed shoes. She was dressed in walking boots, jeans and a sweater and looked quite normal for a witch – aside from the flaming red hair that had come from a bottle, and the backpack she had slung over one shoulder that told him she’d been city folk at one point.
“You got a good view from back there?” she asked, shifting her weight and thrusting out a hip and she raised her eyebrows and offered him a hard steely stare in return.
“Enough of one to know trouble when I see it,” Mark said and saw a little twitch under her right eye start to throb in time to the beat of her heart. It looked to him like he’d hit a nerve.
“Well, we both know trouble when we see it,” Kaylee offered back, and her attention was snagged by the tall, dark, and broad-shouldered muscle man that was stalking up the aisle towards her. He was paying her the same kind of attention that the first guy had.
Two to one – that was a sure sign it was time to leave.
“Maybe you should just go back the way you came,” Mark told her, and she dragged her attention from Max back to the man who could only have been his father – an older version of the same guy.
Kaylee had to agree with his sentiment; she wasn’t overly fond of the way that his younger self was eyeing her – like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill her or have his wicked way with her. The last thing she needed was to dance with the devil, even if it was for only a night.
“Dad,” Max said; his voice sounded deeper and a lot more concerned for his father’s attitude this time. “I screwed up.”
Mark felt the sudden and urgent need to headbutt the countertop and he groaned inwardly. Now wasn’t the time to hear how many bailers his son had over-ordered – he had bigger fish to fry – like a five-foot red-haired witch in his store.
“Not now,” Mark said.
“No, now,” Max said, stopping at the top of the aisle, and looking the witch right in the eye.
“What?” Mark demanded, trying his best to keep his temper in check and a growl from his voice. He didn’t want to set the witch off. He had a mate to woo tonight and no time to run a witch out of town.
“I sniffed,” Max said, and both the witch and the alpha snapped their attention in his direction.
“You…?” Mark wasn’t sure he’d heard it right even though he knew he had there was still an element of wishful thinking on his part.
“Sniffed,” Max said, not taking his eyes off the witch in case she made a beeline for the door.
In truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he got the feeling his beast would not have been pleased.
Kaylee raised a hand – like that was going to keep him at bay if he wanted to come her way. Then she swallowed hard and frowned at the six-foot odd muscle man that was now looking at her like she was lunch.
She so didn’t want to be lunch, but it kind of felt like her lunch might be ready to make a reappearance. “That’s not my prob…”
“Yeah, it is,” Max said.
“Now, hold on,” Mark growled.
“I agree with him,” Kaylee said, pointing her finger at Mark.
“Point that finger somewhere else,” Mark growled, and she drew it back into a fist. “Don’t agree with me…”
“You want I should agree with him?” she snapped and nodded at Max.
“Nope, no, not really,” Mark said, before pressing his lips together until they were white. Then he turned his attention to Max. “Didn’t I tell you never to sniff the air when…?”
“Yeah, never sniff,” Kaylee snapped. “The first rule of bearing.”
“Bearing?” Mark asked, turning his attention back to her.
“Bees bee and bears …” She was lost.
“Need their bearings,” Max said, trying to help her out by coming up with the only thing he could think of.
His beast wasn’t playing ball, for some reason the animal within was clawing to get out, and he felt his control slipping. His big brain had retreated, and his little brain, the one that recognised her scent for what it was had all but taken over, and he didn’t feel entirely like himself.
“Need their bearings?” Kaylee asked, frowning. “Is he the village idiot by any chance?”
“You’d think,” Mark grumbled.
“I’m standing right here,” Max growled, but he had messed up.
Kaylee snorted a chuckle that was part amusement, and part horrified disbelief at the trouble she’d walked into.
A town she didn’t know, two bear shifters and one a possible mate – now what was she going to do?
CHAPTER TWO
~
“So, then he said, dad, I screwed up,” Mark mimicked his eldest son, as he stood at the kitchen counter and retold the story to his mate. “Boy, did he ever.”
Tanya flipped the pasta in the strainer and frowned as she sighed. “I think I can guess how this story ends.”
“No, no, you can’t,” Mark said, lifting a large hand and rubbing it over his face – he felt drained, frustrated, and a little bit agitated.
“Go ahead and shock me,” Tanya said.
If he could do that, then she’d eat her hat instead of the dinner she was preparing. She knew her mate too well for him ever to come up with something that she didn�
�t see coming a mile away. It was all in his moods, and those she also knew well.
“You might need to sit down,” he warned.
Tanya was the strongest woman he’d ever met, and she could weather any storm that came their way and had, and he was mighty proud to have her as his mate and to be hers. But this…
“You’re going to finish the dinner?” she teased, raising her eyebrows and giving him a knowing smile.
“You want burnt and crispy?” he asked and loved the sound of her melodic chuckle.
“Not much, no,” she admitted. “And I’d say takeout sounds good too, but I’ve already done most of the cooking, so I’d be miffed.”
“I hear that,” he said.
“So, finish your story,” she urged, dumping the pasta into a waiting bowl before moving onto her next task.
“So, it turns out,” Mark said and grimaced again.
“That the witch is his mate?” she asked, grinning like she’d won a victory at his expense.
Mark took a moment to tip his head to one side and frown. “Am I that transparent?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?” she teased grinning.
“Well, how’d you figure that one out?” he grumbled, folding his large arms across his broad chest and cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Twenty-six years,” she offered back, and when he raised the other eyebrow she chuckled again. “And the fact that we’re having a witch over for dinner.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, reaching up to scratch his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t have led with that nugget…”
“Maybe not, but nice try,” she said, turning to the opposite countertop to make a start on grating the cheese. “Stir the sauce,” she said, and just nodded towards the large pan bubbling away on the stove.
Mark did as he was told. “A witch mate,” he said with disbelief, turning to look at her as she tossed a look back over her shoulder.
“Well, he’s your son,” she said shrugging.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mark grumbled.