Winter Moon: A Christmas Novella (Seven Book 8)

by Dannika Dark

  “Should have worn a coat like mine,” he said, tucking his hands in the pockets.

  “Back up before I accidentally shred that jacket apart with my blade. ’Preciate ya.”

  Denver circled to the other side of the tree and shook the limbs. A large chunk of snow fell on Wheeler’s neck and slid down the back of his jacket.

  “So what did you get Naya?” Denver asked.

  Wheeler’s blade struck the wood and wedged in so tight he had to wiggle the axe free. “Lingerie.”

  Denver coughed and laughed at the same time. “That’s not a gift for her; that’s a gift for you.”

  “My gift comes later.”

  When Denver shook the tree again, Wheeler sat back and stared daggers at him.

  Denver rubbed his red nose. “I got Maizy a new laptop.”

  “What was wrong with the old one?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So now she has to transfer all her shit over to a new one?”

  Denver regarded him for a moment, and Wheeler could sense panic. “Are you goading me? She needs a spare in case something happens to that one. She does all her work on the computer, dickwad.”

  Wheeler shook his head and continued chopping the tree, now wondering if he’d screwed up his own gift exchange. Naya always managed to outdo him. He’d thought tattooing a panther on his chest for their mating ceremony would get him off the hook for life. What the hell more could a woman want? Now he had to contend with holidays and anniversaries.

  Wheeler just wasn’t that creative.

  Denver heaved a sigh. “Why didn’t you bring the bow saw instead? An axe is a little old-fashioned.”

  “So is cutting down a damn tree in the woods when they sell them on street corners. Your point?”

  One final swing and Wheeler pushed the tree over.

  Denver howled with excitement. “How much do you think it weighs?”

  Wheeler stood up, out of breath. “I guess you’ll find out when you drag it back to the truck.”

  “I’m not doing this by myself.”

  Wheeler wiped the snow out of his hair. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Afraid of doing man’s work?”

  Denver’s hood covered his entire head, and the only thing visible was his face. “I drove. I picked it out. I paid for it out of my own pocket. Since you volunteered to come, you need to volunteer to help.”

  “I cut down the damn tree.”

  “Does that make you a big boy?”

  Wheeler threw his axe in the snow. “And boom goes the dynamite.” He shifted, and Denver stumbled backward before taking off, chunks of snow flying from beneath his shoes. Wheeler’s wolf was tangled up in his damn jeans, so Denver got a good head start. Once free, Wheeler bounded through the snow, giving chase.

  “Cut it out, Wheeler!” Denver yelled, weaving around the trees.

  Wheeler was still aware and decided not to let his wolf take complete control, but he might as well give Denver a good workout. He nipped the back of Denver’s jacket, and it made a ripping sound.

  “Hey! That’s my new jacket, you mutt!”

  Mutt?

  This time Wheeler’s wolf bit Denver’s ass. He fell flat on his face, arms and legs spread wide.

  Satisfied, Wheeler shifted back. Maybe it wasn’t the most well-thought-out plan. His clothes were a good hike away, and it was damn nippy.

  Denver rolled over, his face covered with a light dusting of the powdery stuff. “I hate you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’ve been saying that since you were three.” A heavy wall of snowflakes pelted them. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

  Denver waved his arms and legs in a rhythmic motion. When he finished, he stood up and stared down at his snow angel. “Maybe we should move to Colorado. I like snow.”

  “You also like Doritos. Does that mean we should move to the chip factory?”

  Denver scooped a handful of snow off his head and, with a relaxed smile, smashed it against Wheeler’s bare chest.

  Wheeler didn’t have time for this shit. They’d already wasted enough hours in the day, and the second storm was moving in soon. That meant at least another five inches from what the weathermen were saying, but they liked to disagree a lot in order to get people to watch their channel. He stalked toward the fallen tree, the soles of his feet freezing.

  Not nearly as much as his balls.

  Denver sneezed and ran past him.

  The one thing Wheeler appreciated about the men in his pack being mostly related was that they never took shit personally. A lot of wolf packs were comprised of unrelated people, and while the bond and brotherhood was there, it seemed like there was more opportunity for friction within the house. It was good to horse around with his brothers and not have it escalate. Denver could have shifted into his crazy-ass wolf, but that might have spawned a real fight with blood and hurt feelings.

  The only person who’d ever crossed the line was Ben, and it had taken a long time for his brother to get his shit together. Sometimes being without family puts things in perspective for a man. It was damn good to have him back, and since all their secrets were out, the tension that used to exist between them was gone. Wheeler loved his twin; he’d die for him. Always felt that way and always would.

  When he neared the fallen tree, he caught sight of Denver hurling his pants as far as he could. They landed on top of a tall tree a few rows over.

  Wheeler ignored him and put on his socks and underwear.

  “Give me the keys and I’ll warm up the truck,” Denver said.

  After Wheeler put on his shoes, he hoisted the tree by the trunk.

  “Where the hell are the keys?”

  Wheeler lifted his leather jacket with one finger and gave him a sardonic smile. “In the pocket of my jeans. Go fetch.”

  Chapter 5

  Kat and Prince

  Kat hollered with delight when her skis skated to the left and she almost fell. That might have given her seven-hundred-year-old boyfriend a coronary. She gripped the rope that was tethered to the large silver truck in front of her. Not Prince’s truck, but one of his packmates had lent it to them.

  Prince glared at her through the back window, and she waved blithely at him.

  When not doing investigative work, Kat was a homebody. Her job was exhausting, and lying on the sofa to get her sitcom fix was the one thing she looked forward to. Well, aside from Prince giving her a bath. But all bets were off when it came to crazy outdoor recreation elicited by a good old-fashioned snowstorm. This was nothing compared to what she’d seen up north, but enough of it was packed on the roads to make it worth venturing out.

  Naturally, seeing her fishtail from the back of the pickup truck was eating Prince alive, but he never forbade her from doing what she wanted. Prince wasn’t her father, nor was he her Packmaster. Besides, women like her couldn’t be tamed of their adventurous ways. She understood his desire to protect her from danger; it was the one quality she loved most about him.

  Kat had spent the past two nights at his mansion enjoying the scenic view of snowfall in the country. But staying inside became torture, especially after finding a pair of skis hidden in a storage room. The initial plan had been to find a hill where she could test them out, but Prince didn’t know of a suitable slope that was clear of trees. Aside from that, climbing back up the hill sucked the fun out of that idea. When she noticed rope in the back of the truck, she hatched her plan.

  Kat sneezed. She couldn’t feel her nose anymore and probably looked like Rudolph being dragged down the road by a half-ton truck. It hadn’t occurred to her to bring a ski mask, but the goggles protected her eyes, and the red-and-white hat kept her hair dry.

  Only two cars had passed, one of the drivers giving her a “you’re an idiot” stare and the other recording it on his phone. Sanding trucks didn’t come out this far, and without traffic, country roads were ideal for this kind of tomfoolery.

  The truck slowed to a stop, white smoke billowing from the exhaust.<
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  Kat dropped the rope and bent over to catch her breath. She mentally kicked herself for not having brought drinks and food; nothing sounded better to quench her thirst than root beer.

  And nothing went better with root beer than hamburgers and onion rings.

  Her stomach growled.

  Prince got out of the truck, his black boots crunching on the snow as he swaggered toward her, looking all dapper in his long wool coat and black hat. “Have you had enough of this foolishness?”

  She snickered. “That depends. Is the lake frozen over?”

  “Very amusing.” He removed her goggles, and his brows gathered in a frown. “You need to get warm.”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Removing your boots and sitting in front of the heater.”

  “My tummy’s all aflutter.” Kat fell against his broad chest. “If you want to keep me warm, then snuggle with me, Charming.” She wrapped her arms inside his coat and nuzzled her cold face in the crook of his neck. “You smell yummy.”

  “This is the most inane thing I’ve ever done. If my packmates saw what you were doing—”

  “They would have cheered along,” she finished. “Russell would have sat in the back and swung the rope around, taking bets on how long I could hold on.”

  Prince lowered his head. “And that’s why he stayed behind.”

  She kissed his smooth chin. “I would have taken that bet.”

  “Why must you behave so foolishly? You could have injured yourself.”

  She sneezed and backed away to rub her nose. “I track dangerous men for a living. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and I jumped off a bridge. Do you think a little ski ride is really that dangerous in the grand scheme of things?”

  His eyes, one sapphire and one brown, sparkled like gemstones. “Sometimes I think you do these things to get a rise out of me and not because you want to do them.”

  Kat smiled sheepishly because it was partly true. She was more carefree than Prince, and she liked ruffling his ancient feathers. Nothing was sexier than when the testosterone floodgates burst open and he was willing to do anything to protect his woman. Her alpha wolf responded to that kind of chivalrous behavior, and maybe that was why she hadn’t changed her risky lifestyle.

  “Do you want to go next?” she asked.

  His jaw clenched, and she burst out laughing. Kat gathered up the rope and began singing “Let It Snow,” putting emphasis on the part about the fire being so delightful.

  Once they got back to his place, her plan was to light a fire in his bedroom and make s’mores. Whether he liked them or not was irrelevant. The idea of Prince stretched out shirtless in front of a fire, licking chocolate, was enough to make her toes curl in her snow boots. She tossed the rope into the back of the truck along with the goggles.

  “Watch out,” he said. “Someone’s coming.”

  She peered around the side of the truck and squinted. Another vehicle headed toward them, and just as it crossed over a small bridge, the tires lost traction, and it skidded off the road.

  Prince jogged ahead while she detached the skis from her boots and then followed after him.

  “Is that one of the Cole brothers?” she yelled out, recognizing the blue truck. She didn’t know the Weston pack very well, but she’d worked closely with Reno and had met them once at a peace party after the war. Prince spoke highly of their Packmaster, but that wasn’t the sole reason for him running to their aid. Prince was the kind of man who would render assistance to anyone in distress—even Girl Scouts trying to sell enough cookies to meet quota.

  The truck stopped at a precarious angle down in the ditch. Two men got out, one of them wearing the most ridiculous white coat, and the other—Well, the other one was Wheeler. He didn’t have on a shirt, just a whole lot of tattoos, which made him easy to identify.

  “Do you need some help?” Prince offered.

  Wheeler folded his arms and glanced back at his packmate, who fell facedown into the snow. “I need another minute to decide.”

  Kat waved. “Hey.”

  Wheeler nodded a hello.

  The man in the puffy white coat stood up and scowled at Wheeler. “Next time I say hold the wheel, do me a favor: hold the wheel.”

  Kat recognized Denver by his blue eyes and wavy blond hair. He looked sweaty, and by the looks of his broken zipper, he must have been trying to remove his coat while driving.

  Denver kicked the tire. “Our ass is grass if we don’t get this tree home.”

  Wheeler calmly looked skyward, a storm brewing in his eyes. Kat wondered why he was only half-dressed, but she had a feeling it explained his hair-trigger mood.

  “Let’s give them a ride home,” Kat suggested. “The tree will fit in the bed of the truck.”

  “Let’s see if it’ll fit up your ass,” Wheeler grumbled at Denver.

  His brother strode past him. “Shut it.” He stood beside Prince and sized up his truck. “Do you have a chain in the back to pull us out? We can’t leave our wheels in the ditch.”

  “No, but I have a rope.”

  Kat chuckled. “That’ll snap like a woman getting a gym membership from her boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. What you need is a chain.”

  Prince gave her a sideways glance, but she saw humor twinkling in those eyes. He didn’t always get her jokes, but when he did, it was pure magic. Rarely did she rouse laughter out of him. Most ancients were impassive, so that’s why Kat appreciated those little moments.

  Denver stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “It might work if someone pushes the truck from the front.”

  Wheeler kicked snow at him. “And that someone is you, sweetheart.”

  “Contrary to what my woman says, I’m not Hercules. And if that rope snaps, I’m roadkill.”

  “So what are you trying to say, brother? That my life is worth less?”

  Denver shrugged. “I do dishes and drive the tractor mower in the summer. That makes me a keeper.”

  Kat offered up a suggestion before they started a brawl. “Say, why don’t both of you push while I steer it in reverse? Two is always better than one.” She took off her gloves and stuffed them into her coat pockets while waiting for an answer. These two were like an Abbott and Costello act.

  After Prince headed back to his truck, Wheeler retrieved a leather jacket from inside their vehicle and put it on. Kat stepped aside while Prince backed up until Denver knocked on the tailgate to signal him to stop. From there, they tied the other end of the rope to the hitch.

  Once secure, they shared a moment of silence as they looked between the two vehicles.

  “How heavy is that tree?” Kat asked. “Maybe you should take it out and lighten the load.”

  Denver held his arms out wide when Wheeler motioned to get it. “Skedaddle. Let the pro take care of this.”

  Wheeler folded his arms. “Mayhap the pro is going to need a little help.”

  “Fine. But if you break one limb off this tree, we’re turning around and picking out a new one.”

  “Works for me. But only one of us is coming back.”

  Kat realized the two of them must have gone through hell to get that tree.

  Packmates often rile each other up. The ones who don’t get along learn to walk away before a fight breaks out. Arguing is the wolf’s natural way of asserting dominance, even when ranks are established. She guessed the dynamic of true brotherhood was a little different. People who share the same blood are often more tolerant of each other. That was something Kat knew all about. She and her sister bickered, but it wasn’t enough to erode the loyalty she felt.

  Denver and Wheeler set the tree down on some fresh snow that wasn’t muddied from tires, then circled to the front of the vehicle and waited. Kat slid down the slope and almost fell before regaining her footing. The driver’s side door was hanging open, so she climbed in.

  The heavy smell of beef jerky made her mouth water. She spied the bag in the passenger seat and wedged a piece into her mouth when th
e men weren’t looking. The moment they swung their eyes up, she stopped chewing and smiled.

  Kat fired up the engine, and when the back end of the truck jerked, Wheeler shouted, “Now!”

  She reversed gears and hit the gas. The two brothers shoved the front end, a grimace on their red faces. The truck lurched, but Kat couldn’t get any traction beneath the tires as the engine hummed loudly.

  Denver yelled at Prince, waving his arm. “Hold up!”

  Kat put the brakes on and watched him hike up the incline until he moved out of sight.

  Wheeler rested his forearms on the hood, and when he put his head down, Kat shoved another piece of jerky into her mouth. All that skiing had worked up her appetite, and if they didn’t get this show on the road, her ravenous wolf was going to come out and go hunting. Too bad all the good Mexican restaurants were closed. Tacos sounded perfect right about now.

  And queso.

  Wheeler looked up when Denver returned. “What the hell were you busy doing?”

  “Putting something down for traction.”

  Kat waited for Prince to get back in his truck, and when his brake lights flashed, she dropped her foot on the gas.

  The engine whined, and the moment the truck lurched, she put more weight on the pedal. Denver and Wheeler’s faces were bright red as they shoved the front end of the truck. It occurred to her that if the rope snapped, the truck could slide right over them.

  “Push harder!” she yelled.

  They scowled at her the way a woman in labor might if given the same orders.

  Kat howled with victory when the tire went over a bump and they were back on the road.

  “Stop!” Denver bellowed, his eyes wide.

  She hit the brake, her heart pounding. An irrational thought flew through her head that the bump she’d hit was Prince.

  Denver ran around to the back and dragged the Christmas tree out of the way.

  Wheeler approached the driver’s side and leaned on the door, his face sweaty. “Good job, sweetheart.” Then his eyes skated over to the empty bag of jerky in the passenger seat. “I’ll let that slide… this time.”