A Mate for Christmas: Collection 1

by Zoe Chant

  “They broke the rules,” Flea moaned. Fire burned in his eyes, angry and righteous, and he covered his face with his hands. “It keeps happening. Whenever my hellhound sees someone doing something wrong, it takes over. I couldn’t do anything. I panicked and hid.”

  “Oh!” Olly said, because suddenly his panic made sense. Jackson was looking puzzled now. Turning to him, she explained, “Hellhounds sometimes go after wrongdoers. Meaghan told me that.”

  “I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Flea whimpered, hands still over his face.

  Olly patted his shoulder. It was hard to be afraid of him in this state, and she could feel her own panic receding. “You won’t,” she reassured him. What would Meaghan say in this situation, or Caine? “You have it under control. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Okay, that part makes sense,” Jackson said. “So what rule did they break, exactly?”

  “The one about not leaving the picnic area,” Flea murmured.

  Olly and Jackson looked at each other, and Jackson broke into a grin. “Are you seriously telling me,” he said, “that all of this panic is because they went for a walk?”

  “The trails can be confusing in the winter, and not all of them are well groomed,” Olly pointed out. “They could get lost. We’d better go find them.”

  “Not actually a problem,” Jackson remarked, and he pointed across the lake.

  The couple had just emerged from the trees. They were hand in hand, and their giggling carried across the lake.

  “There’s a ski trail that loops around the lake,” Olly said. “They’re on that.” Even her owl had relaxed. There was no danger. No one was in trouble.

  “Hey!” Jackson called, waving to the couple and then cupping his hands around his mouth. “Get back here! Visitors aren’t allowed on the trails without going through the safety seminar! Right?” he murmured in an aside to Olly. “I assume that hasn’t changed since I’ve been gone.”

  The couple simply waved back, as if they thought Jackson was merely being friendly.

  Olly nodded. “Yeah, they aren’t supposed to go out there without a safety seminar and a map. It’s not that dangerous, though. I mean, it’s a groomed ski trail, not the middle of—What are they doing?”

  The couple had started out onto the ice. Even from here, Olly could see and hear it creaking and settling. Behind her, Flea moaned a deep moan that was almost a growl.

  “Keep it together!” Jackson snapped over his shoulder at the hellhound. “If you shift, that’s not gonna help! Hey! You! The ice isn’t safe—get back to the trail!”

  He waved his arms vigorously, but all that happened was another cheerful wave from the tourist couple. They clearly saw nothing wrong.

  “And this is why we have a safety seminar,” Olly muttered. Inside her, her owl was going wild, wanting her to shift and fly out of reach of danger. There is no danger to us, she told it sternly. The danger is on the ice.

  “Get off the ice!” Jackson bellowed across the lake. “It’s not safe!”

  “In a minute!” the man called back. “Got something to do first!”

  With that, he went to one knee in front of the woman.

  Under other circumstances, it would be very romantic. The frozen trees and snow-covered banks of the lake made a lovely backdrop. But the cricking and cracking of the ice was becoming louder.

  “Get off!” Jackson yelled one more time, and shook his head. “Idiots. They’re gonna get themselves killed. Flea, stay there.” The hellhound was inching forward, looking one panic attack away from shifting. Olly quietly put herself on Jackson’s other side.

  “Can’t we get them off the ice?” she asked.

  “More people going out onto the ice is just gonna make it worse. What I’m gonna do,” Jackson said, “is circle around to where I can get to them from the trail. Flea, you’ve got blankets in the sled, right? Start getting them out. If they fall in, we’re going to have some hypothermic tourists on our hands.”

  Flea turned back to the sled, and that was when things went wrong.

  The dogs assumed that their driver coming back meant it was time to go again—and there was nothing sled dogs loved more than running. All of them jumped to their feet and flung themselves into their harness. The sled brake—a metal claw underneath the sled that dug into the snow to stop the sled from moving—pulled loose under their combined efforts, and suddenly the sled lurched into motion.

  Straight forward. Which right now was pointed at the lake.

  At Olly and Jackson.

  Olly was frozen in place. She couldn’t move, paralyzed with her owl’s panic and indecision. We need all the information—figure the angles—decide which way to go—

  Then Jackson pushed her out of the way. She tumbled into the snow, and looked up just in time to see the excited dogs slam into Jackson. Under most circumstances, the worst that would’ve happened was that he would have been pushed into the snow by a bunch of overly friendly dogs who had obviously forgotten in their tiny dog brains that they were hauling a sled behind them, but in this case the whole mess of them—Jackson, dogs, and sled—went hurtling out onto the ice.

  And through the ice.

  Farther out on the lake, there were screams, but Olly only had eyes for Jackson as the ice broke under him and he plunged into the winter-cold water with a half-dozen thrashing dogs on top of him.

  “Jackson!” she screamed.

  Her owl’s indecision was gone. All either of them could think about now was helping Jackson.

  “Call the dogs back!” she shouted to Flea, not daring to look back at him in case she caught his eye and got caught in hellfire terror again. “You can talk to them, right? Get them out of the water!”

  Flea’s guilt and confusion burst against her mind. She shook it off and ran into the freezing lake, sloshing through the half-ice, half-water until she could grab hold of the lead dog’s harness. Poor lovely Missus, one of the older and most sensible Puppy Express dogs, was whining as she fought her own instincts to get out of the water, the hellhound’s desire to help the tourists warring against her own growing panic as the sled harness tangled around her and her team.

  “Jackson!” she screamed. Where was he? He’d hit the water—where? Owl, help me!

  I think—I think— Her owl’s thought stuttered in her mind. He should be—there!

  With a yell, Jackson surfaced. He was a few yards away, waist-deep in freezing water and soaked through. Behind him, the tourists were screaming and thrashing as they struggled with their soaked clothes and floating chunks of ice in the bitterly cold water; once the ice had started to break under Jackson and the dogs, it had all gone down in a chain reaction.

  But Olly’s gaze caught on Jackson, like a finger on a jagged splinter. She had already started toward him in the water before she was dragged back by Missus, who wanted no part of going deeper into the freezing water.

  “Get the dogs out!” Jackson told her. “I’ve got ice-rescue training. I’ll get them.”

  She’d be no use to him if the panicking dogs dragged her under; she knew that. The faster she got them out, the faster she could help Jackson. “Go!” she urged the dogs, and half-waded, half-swam back toward shore, dragging Missus. “Hike. Hike!”

  “Hike” was the sled-dog command for “Run,” the sled dogs’ favorite command in the whole world. Their legs pumped like pistons, and they heaved themselves out of the water into the snow, where Olly thrust Missus at Flea.

  “Got her?” She looked back without waiting for an answer. Jackson was farther out in the lake now, thrashing his way toward the flailing, yelling tourists.

  He had ice rescue training, but so did she; it was standard for Puppy Express employees. She wasn’t going to leave him out there alone. “Flea,” she said, her teeth already starting to chatter as she stood in her soaked clothes. “Get the dogs tied up, securely this time, and then follow me. We need to make a human chain to get them to shore.”

  She didn’t realize until she
had already waded into the water that she hadn’t been afraid of him at all. Not even slightly worried. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t obey her order. Out in the lake, Jackson was helping the tourist couple to shallower water, one at a time.

  “Take them as I hand them to you and help them to shore,” Jackson called, floundering toward her with his arm around the panicking woman.

  Olly took the woman from him, and turned around—with only the slightest hesitation—to hand her off to Flea, who helped her ashore. “Some romantic getaway!” Olly heard her say as they floundered out of the lake.

  Jackson was on his way back with the male half of the couple. Between the two of them, Jackson and Olly helped him onto the shore. He was shivering, his teeth chattering, and seemed to be struggling against them, trying to go back.

  “What are you doing, man?” Jackson demanded, giving him a shake. “You’ll drown out there!”

  “Ring—gotta get the ring—“

  “Forget the ring, Rick!” the woman exclaimed. At the sled, now secured again, Flea was bundling her into blankets. “You almost got us killed with your ‘romantic’ proposal!”

  “I know—I wanted… be perfect,” he forced out. “For you.”

  The woman softened and put her arms around him. Olly didn’t dare look at Jackson, didn’t want to risk meeting his eyes again and having another of those moments of shared understanding.

  “Here,” Flea said, handing blankets to each of them. He seemed a little more confident now that things were relatively back to normal. “You two are soaked, too.”

  “There’s not room for all of us on the sled,” Jackson said. “Get them back to town. We’ll be behind you on the snowmobile.”

  Flea nodded and untied the dogs. They surged into motion; getting wet didn’t bother them in the slightest, with their thick water-shedding fur to protect them. The sled raced off among the trees. Olly watched them disappear.

  Olly opened her mouth. The words We should follow them were on the tip of her tongue.

  And then Jackson took her hand. Hesitantly. Carefully. As though he was as nervous as she suddenly was.

  He was a blur at the edge of her vision, wreathed in plumes of vapor where his breath hit the frozen air, but her skin burned where his hand was touching hers.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  She didn’t say, You’re the human, I should be asking if you’re alright, even though she definitely should have. She didn’t reassure him or wave away his concerns. Because she wasn’t alright. Not even close.

  And she absolutely didn’t say the next words that appeared in her mind, blossoming like the first buds of spring pushing their way through the frost.

  God, I love you.

  Her owl peered at her, then out through her eyes at him, then back at her. What? What did you just say?

  Olly bit her lip.

  What do you mean, you love him?

  You never noticed? She could have sobbed. Instead she felt as though every bone in her body had turned to stone. She ached with stillness. What about last Christmas?

  Last Christmas? Her owl wasn’t moving, either. Olly’s brain lurched. Her owl was stalking-still, and it was stalking her.

  Last Christmas we decided he wasn’t our mate, it said firmly. He was… interesting… but there was nothing there. And the only thing you’ve said since then is that you’re not in love with him, her owl accused her, and it was true, she’d been so careful—But this means…

  You said he wasn’t our mate, Olly reminded it helplessly. What else was I meant to do?

  He’s not. A pause. I can’t have gotten that wrong. I would have known! Everyone says—everyone knows—that you don’t know until… But… I was getting everything wrong… and you just said, you said, getting things wrong, that’s nothing new…

  Out in the world outside of Olly’s head, where the air was biting into every inch of her exposed skin and sending sharp claws everywhere the water had soaked in, Jackson moved closer to her. His breath swirled like fog around her.

  She closed her eyes.

  You’re hurting, her owl said, its voice half-wondering, half-aghast. This is what’s been wrong all year? You’ve been hurting and you didn’t tell me?

  It doesn’t matter!

  It does matter. All this because…

  It broke off suddenly. Olly trembled. She could guess why it had fallen silent; Jackson was right in front of her.

  She could hear him. Smell him. She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to never open her eyes again. She’d gotten everything wrong, first last Christmas and every day since, and now her owl knew just how broken to pieces she was and if she opened her eyes now, if she looked at Jackson now, really looked at him, then he’d know, too.

  “Olly, you don’t look good. I know it’s—” He broke off and swore. “I know it’s none of my business. I know I can’t fix things between us but at least let me—”

  Fix things. Olly’s owl ruffled its feathers uneasily. Fix this? It’s not broken. I wasn’t wrong. I’m always right. I… I wanted to be right, to make sure you would be happy…

  I was happy, Olly thought miserably. Because I was in love with him. Until I found out I wasn’t meant to be in love with him, and now…

  You still are! You’re in love with him and you’ve been in love with him all this time and you told me it wasn’t important! Olly felt like she was being pecked to pieces from the inside out.

  It’s not like that—

  Yes it is! Her owl ruffled itself up to its maximum size. He is important. And all my carefulness all year hasn’t helped at all, has it? It hasn’t fixed anything. You were scared by the hellhounds, and I thought being extra, especially careful would show you there’s nothing to be scared of…

  It wasn’t the hellhounds that left me like this. She hadn’t hidden this from her owl, at least; she’d only just figured it out herself. It was realizing that Jackson wasn’t my mate. I was so sure, and then, when he wasn’t… How could I be sure of anything, after that?

  “Let me help,” Jackson whispered. “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”

  I need you, she didn’t dare to say, and her owl screeched in alarm.

  You what? But you… But we… Oh. I got it all wrong. Her owl sounded wondering. Now I know what to do, though! I’ll fix everything!

  Images flashed in her mind. The moment the man fell through the ice. The speed and angle of his arm as the ring box flew out of it.

  You’re in love! That’s what made you happy! If I’m going to make you be happy again—

  Olly twisted away from Jackson and dove into the lake. Her owl was in control now, driving them both. Cold swallowed her whole.

  “Olly!” she heard Jackson yell behind her.

  “I know what I’m doing!” she shouted back, or tried to, but her lungs were seizing up with cold, and it came out as a breathy gasp. You know what we’re doing, right? she thought at her owl. What ARE we doing? Is someone still in the water?

  Down. Her owl was brutally insistent. We need to get the ring. It’s there. I know it. They fell through here—his arm jerked—the angle…

  Her owl pushed them down. She kicked through the water. It was easier in some ways, swimming under the surface, but it was so incredibly cold.

  We’re going to be all right, her owl thought at her. We can hold our breath much longer than this. Let’s see, left forty degrees, now turn—

  Her owl might be right about holding their breath, but it was so cold. Ice water was pouring through every gap in Olly’s clothing and she wasn’t sure which direction was up and her owl was doing math.

  There!

  Olly kicked out, kicked down. She thrust out one hand, groping with fingers that rapidly went numb. Something square-ish settled into her palm, and she closed her fingers around it.

  Yes! Because humans, and love, so you need—Her owl was pleading now. Actually pleading. Olly felt as though her brain was splitting in two.

 
; Can we get out of here now? She struggled to kick herself up toward the surface. Her arms and legs were leaden with cold.

  It’s like flying, her owl’s voice echoed in her mind, and for the first time she sensed a quaver of uncertainty in it. Arms and legs instead of wings and water instead of wind but—oh.

  What? Olly thought at it desperately.

  We’re moving slower than I expected.

  Olly’s lips parted in shock. Cold darted between them, sharp as a knife against her teeth.

  I might have been… wrong.

  Her head hit something solid. Stars flared in front of her eyes and winked out one by one. Water filled her mouth.

  We’re under the ice. Oh fuck oh fuck. How did we—

  Her owl was very still inside her. Oh. Whoops?

  13

  Jackson

  He saw where she went under.

  There wasn’t time to be scared. Years of training kicked in. Scouts. Mountain rescue volunteering. Working as a deputy, in the mountains where the biggest killer was the cold.

  Jackson blocked out everything except next step, remember process, there’s a proper way to do these things, remember your training.

  She hadn’t come up yet.

  Jackson knew this pond. He’d been here in mid-summer, when the chilly water was a draw, not a death-trap.

  He knew the water here should only be chest-deep on Olly. If she hadn’t come up—

  He moved automatically. Into the water. Breathe through the rush of cold. Relax; don’t let your body flinch. Focus. His foot hit a submerged branch. Keep moving. Panicking now wouldn’t help anyone. Wouldn’t help her. Wouldn’t help him help her.

  It must have only been a few seconds, but it felt like eternity. He knew why: adrenaline. Shock.

  Knowing didn’t help when he reached the edge of the ice and Olly wasn’t there.

  Roaring filled his ears. The evening was closing in, but there was enough light that he should have been able to see Olly’s blonde hair or the flash of her pale face beneath the surface. But there was nothing.