by Zoe Chant
“My bus ticket. I was going to leave Pine Valley tomorrow. I thought there were only two ways this thing between us could end, and they both meant I had to leave.”
“But you belong here.”
“I do now.” She wrapped his hands around the ticket. “So this is for you. A Christmas present from me, to tell you that I’m not going anywhere. You get all of me. And in return… I want all of you.”
The surge of pure love and protectiveness that washed through their connection made her gasp. Caine’s eyes burned.
He pulled her down and kissed her. Meaghan’s body slid against his, hot and trembling.
“I love you,” she murmured against his skin. His fingers tightened around her waist and the hot desire threading through Meaghan’s veins tightened into anticipation. “I want you so much. More than anything. More than should actually be possible.”
Caine rolled on top of her. “More than I deserve.” The head of his cock pressed against Meaghan’s entrance. She licked her lips.
“We just fought a pack of hellhounds and saved Christmas,” she reminded him. “If you think you don’t deserve—uh-h-h…”
Caine slid into her, so slowly her eyes flickered shut. The sensation was too much. He was thick, and hard, and perfect.
He held her close as he buried himself deep, their bodies fitting together like they were meant to be.
“We belong together,” she breathed.
Caine swore softly, his back muscles tensing. He moved above her, slowly, controlled. Meaghan savored every moment. She’d never made love like this before. Caine was gentle, and loving, and…
The golden light inside her flared. Caine gasped and thrust harder. Pleasure tightened inside her and she wrapped her legs more tightly around his waist. His muscles were hard under her hands, his cock hitting every sensitive nerve inside her, sensation building until it was almost painful.
Meaghan’s back arched as ecstasy rocked her body. She cried out. Caine kissed her, hard, and she buried her hands in his hair as tides of exquisite pleasure rolled over her, again and again.
Caine grabbed her hip and drove into her one last time. His whole body went tense, then he gave a throaty groan and Meaghan’s body responded, pleasure surging against as he came inside her.
They lay there, wrapped together. Meaghan’s body was heavy with satisfaction. She closed her eyes.
“Did you feel that?” Caine panted.
Eyes still closed, Meaghan raised her eyebrows.
“Not… damn it,” Caine said. He placed his hand on her chest, spreading his fingers wide. “There. The light inside. It’s brighter now.”
Meaghan held her breath. The tiny sun felt like it was less than an inch beneath his palm. She concentrated, searching for the threads that she’d sensed before, connecting her to Caine.
“The connection,” she murmured. “The one that lets us talk to each other…” *…like this.*
*Our mate-bond.*
Caine pushed himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her. Sparks kindled in his night-sky eyes.
“My hellhound has been protecting it ever since we met. It was tiny then. Barely as big as a match flame.”
“I thought I was imagining it.” Meaghan rested her hand on his chest. “Thank God for your hellhound. What if it had gone out?”
“It didn’t. My hellhound was keeping it safe. For this. This… second chance. A new beginning.”
Warmth blossomed from the tiny sun in Meaghan’s heart, filling her body.
“The beginning of something amazing,” she said.
Epilogue
Caine
CHRISTMAS MORNING
Meaghan was asleep. And she was gorgeous asleep—incredible, beautiful, so stunning he could have watched her all day—but there was no way he was letting this opportunity go to waste.
We have to feed our mate, his hellhound insisted.
That’s what I’m doing! he retorted. What do you think this looks like?
It looks like that mud water you drank when you were sad, his hellhound replied. And small hard balls.
“They’re eggs,” Caine said out loud, exasperated. “Watch.”
He cracked one into a bowl. His hellhound watched carefully.
It wasn’t impressed.
“You cook them with butter, and salt and pepper. She’ll like them. I promise.”
I hope you’re right.
“And there’s cream for the coffee.”
Mud water.
“Look, do you want me to finish this before she wakes up, or do you want to keep complaining?”
Something fluttered outside the kitchen window and Caine raised his head. His hellhound went still, all its senses alert.
Someone’s out there.
I can’t smell them from in here, his hellhound complained.
He reached over the counter and opened the kitchen window. A shadow passed over him, and then something small and papery landed on his nose.
“Hey!” Caine caught the card before it fell in the eggs. “What—”
He peered at the card. “This is the Christmas card I sent from the Sweetheart Track at the Puppy Express.”
Caine leaned out the window and caught a glimpse of feathery white wings swooping away.
*Olly?* he called out. *I thought these were meant to go out on Christmas Eve?*
Olly’s voice buzzed into his head, along with a strong sensation that she wanted to peck him. *Do you know how long it takes to fly out here? Live closer to town next year if you want your deliveries on time!*
Caine chuckled and put the scrambled eggs on the heat. Eggs and coffee… his hellhound might have a point. It wasn’t much of a Christmas morning breakfast.
He’d have to make it up to her. Preferably in a way that would make their mate-bond glow even more.
Fortunately—or unfortunately—Meaghan’s eyes lit up when she saw him carrying in the breakfast platter.
“Oh my God,” she moaned. “Eggs? Coffee? You’re a miracle-worker. Bread? This is amazing.” She took a bite and chewed with her eyes shut, which was so distracting Caine forgot all about his own food. “We never even had dinner last night, what with… everything. No wonder I’m starving. And coffee!”
She likes the sad mud water? Caine’s hellhound was confused.
Lots of humans do. Caine ate his own breakfast slowly, mostly enjoying watch Meaghan eat.
“What do you want for Christmas dinner?” he asked when they were finished.
Meaghan’s eyes lit up. “No one has ever asked me that before.” She hugged her knees to her chest. “What are the options?”
“Er… eggs and coffee?”
“What happened to all the leftovers Mrs. Holborn gave you? Don’t tell me you ate them all!”
“I had a broken heart to feed.” Caine laid one hand on his chest, sighing dramatically.
She laughed and threw a pillow at him. “Tease!”
“Tease?” He knocked the pillow away and crawled over the bed towards her. “That’s not teasing. This is teasing…”
He grabbed her ankle and kissed it, then trailed his lips up her leg, feeling her tremble as he got further and further up.
Human, his hellhound whispered, there’s something you should know.
Not now, Hellhound, Caine muttered back.
I have a Christmas present for you both, too.
Caine paused as his hellhound waved its tail sheepishly. Suspicion made him narrow his eyes.
“God, you are a tease,” Meaghan breathed, blinking heavy-lidded eyes at him. “Wait. Is something wrong?”
“My hellhound’s telling me it got us a Christmas present.”
Meaghan touched her chest. “And you’re worried? I thought you trusted it now.”
“I would, if it wasn’t acting like a puppy that doesn’t want you to look at what it did to your shoes,” Caine explained.
The doorbell rang.
Here’s your present! Caine cocked an eyebrow at Meaghan. “He
says that’s the present now.”
“Now I’m worried, too.” Meaghan rolled off the bed and pulled on her clothes. Caine followed suit.
*Can you sense anything about what’s out there?* she asked as he padded down the stairs in front of her.
*No. Nothing.*
“Oh. Oh. I wonder…”
Caine pulled the door open. Three young men were standing behind it, looking as sheepish as his hellhound felt. They were a ragtag bunch, exhausted-looking and somehow familiar.
Caine frowned. “Who are you?”
Two of the young men elbowed the other one forward. He ducked his head. “We’re, um. We’re your pack,” he explained to his feet. “You defeated Mr. Parker, so that makes you the new alpha.”
Merry Christmas! Caine’s hellhound barked. Behind him, Meaghan stifled a bubble of laughter.
Caine gulped. Life in Pine Valley is going to be more complicated than I thought…
Christmas Pegasus
A Mate for Christmas, Book 3
1
Jackson
Twelve months ago
He held her close, but delicately, as though she might break. She’d laugh if he told her that was what he was thinking, because he was the one who felt broken. Broken to pieces and put together again. Every rough gasp and longing cry as his and Olly’s bodies moved together felt as though it was healing a wound deep inside him.
He was Olive Lockey’s mate.
Jackson wasn’t a shifter. He knew how the mate bond was meant to work—knew as well as any human could—but he didn’t have a shifter’s instincts for recognizing their fated mate. All he knew was that he’d loved Olly from the first time he saw her. And Olly—
Olly took her time to be certain of anything. He wasn’t sure if that was all her owl’s doing, or her human side, or them both combined. She’d waited—watched—until she was sure of what she felt for him. That the spark of attraction between them was the first flicker of a mate bond that would be cemented when they slept together for the first time.
And now she lay soft and warm beneath him, her eyes closed, the lashes fluttering as she shuddered with aftershocks of pleasure. Her pale hair was splayed out across the pillow, her lips red and just slightly parted. Jackson’s cock twitched as he looked at her, and her breath hitched again.
“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he muttered. It felt juvenile, wishing for something like this—hadn’t his whole life taught him there was no point wishing for anything?—but right here, right now, he felt safe letting out a little piece of his heart. “Just us, together. Forget the rest of the world.”
He lowered his head to kiss her, and her eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, she looked confused. Then her expression went completely still. She might as well have been wearing a mask.
Jackson’s heart stopped. He knew that look.
“Olly,” he began, and at the sound of his voice something slammed shut behind her eyes. “What’s wrong?” Each word made the wall behind her eyes more impenetrable.
He tripped over his own tongue. The old wound inside him tore open again, inch by inch.
If he was a shifter, he wouldn’t have to rely on his clumsy tongue. If he was a shifter he could have spoken mind to mind with her.
If he was a shifter he would know already what he thought she’d been certain of, and was now… reconsidering.
That was what Olly’s still mask meant. Some new information had come to light and until she knew what to make of it, she wouldn’t let anyone see what she was thinking.
And there could only be one new piece of information that would turn her thoughts so far inwards.
“Oh,” she whispered. “No, I… I was so sure…”
He was already half out of bed. Cold air swirled over his bare skin. A rose-petal crushed under his foot—oh, God, Olly had been so sure he was her mate that she’d planned every ridiculous romantic cliché for their first night together.
She sat up. The walls behind her eyes came down, but the emotion that replaced them made ice grip his heart. “Jackson, I’m sorry, I—”
“I’m not your mate.” The words grated in his throat.
Olly pulled the blanket up over herself and whatever it was Jackson had thought was healed inside him tore open again.
“I was so sure,” she said again. He wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him, or herself, or her owl. “I thought this was how it was meant to work. That once we slept together, the mate bond would…”
She took a deep breath. “I don’t feel anything. Do you—”
The hope in her voice was too much. Jackson shook his head.
He didn’t feel any different. Even humans could feel the bond that connected them to their shifter mate, once it had formed—but there was nothing inside him except despair.
Olly’s face went pale. “I never should have done this,” she whispered.
Jackson didn’t wait to hear any more. He had all the pieces of information that she did; all the evidence to come to the only conclusion possible.
She’d made a mistake.
He was a mistake.
Present day
4 days before Christmas
Jackson Gilles pulled over to the side of the road and wondered what the hell he was doing.
Ahead, the mountains rose up to touch the darkening sky. He’d been winding through the foothills for the last hour or so, gaining altitude and watching the landscape around him change from rolling snow-swept hills to jagged black cliffs and pines. Even the thick snow couldn’t soften the landscape’s sharp edges.
The only trace of warmth in all the world was a gentle glow peeking through the trees in the distance. The golden glimmer of streetlights held the promise of civilization and a hot meal to take the edge of the winter off… and a warning.
Pine Valley. The tiny mountain town where Jackson had spent the best months and the worst moment of his life.
He groaned and rested his head on the wheel.
This time last Christmas, he’d thought he was in love. And that she loved him, too. Olive Lockey, small and fierce and wonderful, had been everything he never dreamed possible.
And of course it hadn’t been possible. He’d given her his heart, and she’d smashed it into pieces.
Pain shot through his forehead. He groaned and rubbed his brow, then swore as his fingers grazed over the fresh knot of scar tissue over his left eye and sent more daggers into his skull.
Olly had thrown him off because he wasn’t her mate. She was a shifter and like all shifters, somewhere out there in the wide world was a person who was perfect for her in every way. The other half of her soul. Her goddamned fated mate.
Not him.
He’d been gone a year. God, if she’d found her mate in that time—
His chest felt tight. He forced himself to breathe through what felt like sudden, desperate panic—which made no sense. The time to panic would have been last year, when Olly had realized that sleeping with him was the worst mistake she ever made and had left him with a deposit on a home he'd never live in, in a town where every street corner and tree branch reminded him of her.
He hadn’t panicked. He’d been sensible. Done everything right. He’d packed up, and left, and taken a transfer to the deputy’s office in another town. He hadn’t hated Olly for not tying her fate to his when her soul knew she didn’t belong to him. He understood.
Understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.
And now he was going back to Pine Valley. He needed to be sensible, again. Jasper Heartwell, the dragon shifter he’d bought the house off, had told him to stop kicking dirt. He had two options: come back to sign on the dotted line, mortgaging himself to the hilt for a house in a town where everything reminded him of his broken heart, or come back and sign it back to the dragon shifter clan.
The one non-negotiable thing was he had to be in Pine Valley to do it. Something to do with the place being part of the Heartwells’ hoard.
&nbs
p; If he saw Olly while he was there—
He frowned and leaned on the gas.
If he saw Olly…
He couldn’t see Olly. It was as simple as that. He would see Jasper, sign whatever blasted forms the dragon shifter needed, fill up his truck at the gas station, and be out of town again before the sun rose.
His truck’s engine growled as he wound his way up the mountain towards the warmly lit town. He knew it already: coming here was a mistake.
Just like everything else about me.
The town of Pine Valley was small, and quiet, but even last Christmas he’d never seen it this deserted. Unease prickled along the back of his neck.
“Where the hell is everybody?” Jackson muttered to himself. The streets were empty. Not just of people, but of everything he associated with Pine Valley at Christmas.
There were no strings of glittering lights. No fully bedecked Christmas trees at every street corner. No warble of carols filtering from the town square.
The hairs on the back of Jackson’s neck stood on end as he drove into the town square.
Every other Christmas he’d been here, the square had been the heart of Christmas festivities in the town. The quaint old shops that faced onto it always went all-out with decorations on their roofs and in their windows, and the square itself was transformed into a magical North Pole grotto with Christmas trees, special food trucks, and whatever cold-weather-friendly activities that popped into Jasper Heartwell’s head. Even the year before, when most of the town’s tourists had been driven off by a rogue pack of hellhounds, the square had blazed with Christmas cheer.
This year, there wasn’t a single spray of holly anywhere in sight. The shop fronts were still decorated, but without the fairground atmosphere of the square, they looked small and dark.
Something’s wrong.
Jackson hauled on the wheel. He was halfway to Olly’s house before he realized what he was doing.