Winter Moon: A Christmas Novella (Seven Book 8)

by Dannika Dark

  Kat hopped out of the truck and patted him on the chest. “Careful, buddy. Your veiled threats only make me want to see what you’re hiding in the glove compartment.”

  “Gloves.”

  “Oh? Because I could have sworn I picked up the faint aroma of honey-roasted peanuts.”

  He gave her a sinister smile, one eyebrow arched. “I bet Prince has his hands full with you.”

  “Not as much as I do with him,” she suggested in a silken voice.

  Wheeler barked out a laugh as she handed him the keys and strutted back to Prince’s truck. Little did Wheeler know just how true that statement was.

  When Prince emerged from the truck, she drew in a deep breath and beamed. Not only did they wind up having an exciting excursion, but lives were saved in the process.

  Well, maybe not lives, but a tree counted. Especially when lives might have been lost had the tree never made it home.

  Kat wrapped her arms around Prince’s neck, and when he stood up straight, her feet were dangling off the ground. Realizing he wasn’t going to sweep her up in his arms in front of these men, she locked her legs around his waist, which put a blush on his cheeks.

  Prince cleared his throat. “Do you need anything else?” he asked the Cole brothers.

  Kat heard them chuckling from behind her. “We’ll be sure to let Austin know you helped us out,” Denver said. “See ya later, Katarina.”

  She threw her head back and looked at them upside down. “Adios, amigos.”

  Their tires crunched on the snow as they drove away, leaving Kat and Prince behind on a secluded country road.

  Snow quietly fell around them, and she kissed the flakes off his face as he trudged toward the truck. Then she rubbed her nose against his, starved for affection.

  “You’re like dating a snowstorm,” he said.

  “Mmm, I’ve always wanted to be compared to a weather event.” Kat tasted his lips. His reluctance made her even more determined. After all, Prince was a phenomenal kisser if nothing else. “Has anyone ever compared you to an earthquake?” She nibbled his ear and whispered, “Magnitude nine-point-five.”

  “What happened to the other half point?”

  “That’s a deduction for not kissing me back.”

  When they reached the truck, he pinned her against it and delivered a kiss that melted the snow beneath their feet. Prince drew back and wrinkled his nose. “Why do you taste like dog treats?”

  Kat laughed and wrapped her arms around his midsection. “How do you know what dog treats taste like? Come on, Charming. Let’s go back to your place and snuggle.”

  Chapter 6

  Izzy and Jericho

  Izzy put on her black snow boots with the brown fur cuffs. After gathering all the blankets and sheets and placing them downstairs, she changed out of her sleep shorts and into a long grey dress with a slit up the side that went just above the knee. Aside from her red hair, her long legs were her best asset. But it was too damn cold to be parading around in an open dress, so she put on a pair of black leggings she rarely wore. Even with the rooms sealed off, it hadn’t taken long for the temperature to drop.

  She peered through a window by the front door and admired the contrast between the dark tree trunks and the frosted ground. Snow had a way of making the world appear quieter, reminding its audience how tranquil and elegant Mother Nature could be.

  A stampede sounded behind her.

  “Boys, quit running in the house.”

  They could hardly be called boys anymore. Lennon’s voice had been the first to change, and they’d matured so much in just the past year. Her two rambunctious redheads were now assuming the role of protectors—a natural instinct among alpha males. They were always quick to step in and help the family. Izzy knew her sons would one day become a force to be reckoned with, but for now they were still her babies.

  “We’re helping Uncle Reno,” Hendrix said excitedly. Reno and April had thankfully made it back a short time ago. “He’s getting out the big grill and wanted us to find Dad’s matches.”

  Izzy bubbled with laughter and turned around. “Can they fit the whole turkey in that thing?”

  Lennon chortled. “We’ll find out.”

  “Are you going to help your grandma in the kitchen?”

  The boys looked at each other, and Lennon quickly replied, “Aunt Maizy and Uncle Will volunteered.”

  She smiled and shook her head as they raced each other upstairs. Those two kids never wanted anything to do with cooking. Couldn’t blame them—it wasn’t exactly in their genes. Izzy wasn’t a domesticated woman, and her mate had no problem with that. Jericho appreciated a home-cooked meal like anyone, but he was just as satisfied with eating out for the rest of his life.

  Izzy looked out the narrow window. Donuts and hot cocoa would be heavenly on a day like this. Too bad the roads were a mess.

  That got her to thinking. It would be dark in an hour. Denver and Wheeler had been gone a long time. They told Austin they were taking a detour since one of the roads had barricades because of an accident. But that was hours ago. There weren’t a whole lot of routes that led to the Weston house, so she only hoped they were taking their time and driving safely. If all else failed, they could shift and make it back to the house in no time flat.

  “Mom, I can’t find Sparty,” Melody said quietly.

  Izzy turned around and noticed the worried look on her daughter’s freckled face. “He’s probably around here somewhere.”

  Melody tugged on a strand of her wavy hair, the purple twining around her finger. “No, I looked everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Aunt Naya searched upstairs.”

  She cupped Melody’s face in her hands. At five nine, Melody was as tall as her mother. She had her father’s jade-green eyes and brown hair—when she didn’t dye it—and her mother’s long legs and freckles. Izzy had always hated her freckles. They were the curse of the redhead, but they were absolutely stunning on Melody. She hadn’t quite grown into those pouty lips and long legs, but Jericho would soon have his hands full with suitors. Melody’s eyes still shone with innocence, and it was clear she hadn’t gone through her first change, which marked adulthood for Shifters. As long as her wolf remained asleep, Melody would remain a child in their eyes.

  And that didn’t make things any easier. Over the past year, Jericho had remarked how men were looking at her differently. Izzy had grown up receiving the same kind of attention, and it was how she learned to embrace her sexuality and be confident in her own skin. But Melody was different. She’d always been a tomboy, so now she was not only facing her first shift in the coming years but also dealing with this transitional period where she was becoming a woman. It was obvious she struggled with her looks, and it often made Izzy wonder if she’d screwed her up somehow. Izzy tried to set a good example by holding down a respectable job at the bakery and reminding Melody that she could be more than just somebody’s mate.

  “Mom, why are you staring at me like that?”

  Izzy sighed. “You’re just growing up so fast. What happened to my little girl in pigtails?”

  Melody played with the white drawstrings on her handmade hoodie shirt. It was a unique patchwork of dark and light greys. “I’m still here. You should have more kids if you miss having a little girl around. I’d like a kid sister. Maybe you’ll get the little princess you always dreamed of having.”

  Izzy pinched Mel’s nose. “You are my little princess. I need a decade to recover after raising you kids. Plus the thought of another set of twins—”

  “That isn’t hereditary, is it?”

  Izzy put her arm around Mel and walked toward the kitchen. “I think it skips every other generation.”

  “It didn’t skip Uncle Ben and Wheeler’s generation.”

  “Well, look at it this way. You’ll kill two birds with one stone. Don’t worry about Sparty. We’ve got bigger problems to contend with, and cats are clever. Did Uncle Reno give you something to do?”

  “No. Can I sea
rch outside around the house while there’s still light? He’s probably hiding under a car or something.”

  Izzy knew what it felt like to have nothing important to do in a time of crisis. It was what kept your mind distracted and made you feel like you were contributing. “Fine. But put your coat on and don’t wander far. It’s getting dark soon.”

  “Thanks, Mom!” Melody turned on her heel and hustled toward the front door.

  Kids. Sometimes Izzy wondered how it all happened. One minute she was a drifter working in bars as a waitress, and the next she was anchored to a man who worshipped her and was the mother of three rambunctious children.

  Izzy ambled into the kitchen and gave Lynn a hug from behind. Lynn’s blond hair smelled like dye, and it looked like she’d recently touched up her roots. “You should sit down and rest.”

  “That’s what I keep telling her,” Maddox complained in his slow Southern drawl. “She thinks I’m badgering her, so I’ll just sit here at the table and work my puzzle like a damn fool.”

  Izzy snorted and turned her gaze to the long table. Maddox didn’t have on his favorite brown hat, so his shoulder-length hair hung around his face as he stared down at his puzzle pieces.

  “Maybe you should ask nicely,” Izzy suggested.

  “She doesn’t listen to a thing I say, no matter how much sugar I put on it.”

  “I’ve got a million things to do,” Lynn said with a harried look on her face. “Christmas dinner is ruined.”

  Izzy spoke calmly, knowing how much planning Lynn had put into this. “Reno’s setting up the grill. It’s going to be fabulous. You know how a grill makes everything taste even better, so don’t worry. It’s all gravy. Is there anything I can help you with before I check on Jericho?”

  “No, hon. Maizy and William helped me prepare a few cold dishes, but I don’t think we can cook dressing on a grill.”

  “Problem solved,” Austin announced from the hall as he entered the room.

  Maddox gaped at the large silver pot in Austin’s hands. “What in the world’s that for?”

  Austin walked briskly across the kitchen and stopped at the back door. “I had this in the storage room at the old house. Pop used to deep-fry a lot, and he left it behind when they moved. We never fooled with it since it was too much trouble to mess with. How much oil do you think we need to fry a turkey?”

  Maddox chuckled and stroked his scruffy beard. “You’re going to burn the damn house down.” He stood up and stepped over the bench. “I’ve gotta watch this.”

  “Take that far away from the house,” Lynn ordered.

  Maddox grabbed his hat from a hook on the wall and put it on. “You got enough oil?”

  Austin opened the back door. “Will motor oil work?”

  They belted out a laugh and went outside, the door slamming behind them.

  Lynn untied her apron in the back. “I hope they were kidding.”

  Izzy knew better. The Weston pack bought food in large quantities, and that meant bulk-sized everything. Cooking oil included.

  Lynn took a seat in Austin’s chair at the end of the long table. She tapped her chin with her finger, her eyes skating upward. “If Austin can fry the turkey, that means we’ll have the grill for corn. I was going to make mashed potatoes, but maybe I’ll just cut those into wedges instead. We’ll have to do without homemade bread. I knew I should have bought some of those frozen rolls. The vegetables and dip should stay cold in the fridge, but I don’t see how that’s enough food to feed everyone. I can’t put baked beans on the grill, can I?”

  Izzy wasn’t sure. Plastic would melt. “Maybe you can put them in a pot or something and cover it with foil?”

  Lynn rubbed her temples. “I suppose, but it’ll get cold before everything’s served. We don’t have a stove or warming oven to keep things hot, and nobody wants cold peas or carrots.”

  Izzy opened the cabinet and took out a bottle of vodka. She poured some into a short glass and mixed it with orange juice. “Lynn, I think you need to relax and let the men take care of the rest. You deserve a break, and they can handle it from here.” She set the glass on the table and looked out through the row of tall windows.

  Reno was cleaning the grill while Lexi peered inside the coolers. Izzy was confident everything would work out, even if that meant having a nontraditional meal.

  Lynn choked on her drink and set down the glass. “What’s in this?”

  Izzy gave her a quick hug. “Your reward. Now go lie down by the fire and put your feet up. That’s an order.”

  “You know I don’t like alcohol.” She pushed the glass away. “I wonder if I can find a way to heat up a kettle of water.”

  Izzy took the glass and guzzled it down. “I’m not going to leave if you’re just going to get back up and start fiddling with things in the kitchen.”

  Maddox opened the back door and kicked the snow off his boots before coming inside.

  Lynn yawned. “You won’t have to worry about that, hon. I don’t think a bulldozer could move me out of this seat.”

  Maddox circled around the table and scooped her up in his arms. His hat toppled onto the floor, and Lynn shrieked something along the lines of “Put me down!”

  Maddox staggered toward the hall, carrying his woman out of the room. He could be abrasive and rub people in the house the wrong way, but no one could deny his love for Lynn. Though opposites, they were a perfect match. He looked after her, treated her with respect, and didn’t seem to give a hoot that she was an aging human.

  When Izzy lifted her gaze to the window, Reno and Lexi were gone. So was the grill. Curious, she headed toward the front of the house and stepped onto the porch. Someone had shoveled and swept away the snow from the front door to the bottom of the steps, but a fresh layer was erasing all their hard work.

  Reno and Lexi had moved the grill to the front—away from the house and trees and next to a giant snowman wearing a long red scarf. Izzy didn’t think the house could catch on fire with all this humidity, but better safe than sorry.

  Where the heck is Jericho? He’d gone out to the garage a while ago, but he should have been back by now.

  Izzy headed down the steps and trudged across the snow, the air fogging in front of her face with each breath. The house was adorned with lights. They lined the roof and windows, their glass shells empty of brilliant colors. What a shame the pack wouldn’t get to enjoy them this year.

  When a gust of wind blew, she heard the tiny crackles of snow hitting the windows and skating across the roof. It made her hustle a little faster.

  “Jericho?”

  “In here,” he called out from the garage.

  Thanks to Reno’s summer project—installing solar-powered garage door openers—they had no trouble accessing the garage during a power outage.

  Izzy was moving around Denver’s BMW when a light beamed in her eyes. She held up her hand to shield her face. “Don’t shine that in my eyes.”

  “Sorry, baby.”

  “What are you still doing in here?”

  Izzy had to pause and admire how delicious Jericho looked. Southern men didn’t think jackets and winter clothes were manly, and Jericho was no different. He had on a black shirt with long sleeves. No coat. No scarf. No gloves. Because it was Christmas, he’d put conditioner in his hair, so it was all soft and sexy. Jericho preferred the grunge look, but Izzy loved gripping that long, lovely hair in the throes of passion.

  He set the large rectangular flashlight on the workbench to the right. “I’m looking for my old acoustic guitar. I thought I put it out here, but maybe it’s in the storage room by the kitchen.”

  “Aw.” She wrapped her arms around his warm body and looked up at her tall, handsome mate. “Were you going to play music for us?”

  He shrugged. “I thought it might be cool since we can’t watch TV.”

  “You smell good,” she purred, rubbing up against him.

  And just as quick as a match striking a matchbook, heat ignited between th
em. He lifted her onto the wooden workbench and kissed her deep, his hand sliding up her thigh and rubbing between her legs.

  Izzy moaned and drew back. “We can’t. Reno and Austin are out there.”

  Jericho mashed his lips against hers and held out his right arm. A click sounded from something in his hand, and the garage door began lowering.

  The passion between them swelled, and when his fingers lightly grazed that sensitive spot on the back of her neck, she gasped. Jericho gripped the waistband of her leggings and pulled them down with her panties, but the boots hindered their release.

  He ducked down and then reappeared between her legs, his mouth devouring her sex, his hot tongue lapping and circling just the way she liked.

  Izzy gasped loudly and reached up for something to grab on to, but the only things over her head were tools neatly hanging on a pegboard. A wrench fell, then a set of pliers.

  He massaged her thighs while licking and sucking. “You like that, Isabelle?” he asked. “Do you want more?”

  She touched his soft hair and melted. “Yes.”

  Jericho stood up and unzipped his jeans. His green eyes were dark with desire, and his lips parted when she lifted her dress above her hips. “You’re even sexier than the day we met.”

  Between the cold air and the heat of their bodies, Izzy was experiencing every type of extreme. Jericho freed himself and slowly stroked the head of his shaft against her opening.

  “Baby, you’re so wet,” he whispered.

  She shuddered, intoxicated by his scent. “Take off your shirt.”

  Without hesitation, he followed her command. Izzy feasted her eyes upon his magnificent body. Jericho Sexton Cole was easily six feet four inches of pure charisma. She stroked the tattoo on his left arm as he maintained eye contact, moving closer and thrusting deep inside her.

  She cried out when he buried himself to the hilt. “Don’t stop.” She rubbed her thighs against him and rocked her hips. “Please don’t stop.”

  “Jericho!” Austin yelled from outside the garage.