Shifters in the Snow: Bundle of Joy: Seventeen Paranormal Romances of Winter Wolves, Merry Bears, and Holiday Spirits

by J. K Harper

  “I won’t hold your absence over your head,” Katherine said finally. “I shall brag about you ceaselessly tomorrow. Why do you seem so blue?”

  “He’s mine.”

  “Who?”

  “The bear. Hudson. He’s my beloved.”

  Katherine’s icy-blue eyes grew wide. “You’re sure?”

  Hazel nodded with grim certainty.

  “Oh, kitten! Why are you blue?! A grizzly. Holy hellcat. Don’t get me wrong, you know I’m utterly proud to be a cat, but a grizzly. That’s like hitting the shifter lottery jackpot.”

  “I freaked him out.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I guess I can’t blame him. If he’s never been around a witch before, I suppose we do seem…”

  “Crazy?”

  “The word ‘batshit’ was used, yes.”

  “Oh, don’t make that scrunchy face. You know I hate that scrunchy face. It breaks my heart.”

  “I just thought it’d be easier.” Hazel snapped her fingers. “The connection was there. It was lovely. But then he saw me use magic, and it was like it hit him how different we are from one another.”

  “I had a similar reaction to your father. Granted, there weren’t ghosts or baby-eating monsters involved that night. But it’s something else to behold a witch’s magic for the first time.”

  Hazel tried—and failed—to shrug away her wounded ego. “He said he always expected to have another bear as a mate.”

  Katherine pulled a face and hissed. “Well, he’s no smooth talker. Points deducted. Though, to be fair, I suppose there was a time when I never even considered the world outside of mountain lions. It’s all the secrecy and territory protection, kitten. It takes its toll. Makes us think we live in a bubble. Or a snow globe, to be more seasonally appropriate.”

  Hazel finished her sandwich. She licked some stray cranberry sauce from her right index finger. Her father’s homemade cranberry sauce was the absolute best part of Christmas, after all.

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “He wanted me to stay.”

  “Why didn’t you? Also, why didn’t you snap a picture of him? You have a phoneful of monsters, but you didn’t stop to take a picture of your true mate? Honestly, it’s like we aren’t related.”

  “He was sans-shirt by the end of the night.”

  Katherine clicked her tongue, reproving. “All the more reason to get snappy.”

  As if their conversation had summoned him, a text from the man in question appeared on her screen.

  ‘Did you get home ok? H.’

  “Your room’s as you left it. You should get some sleep,” Katherine said, clearly noting Hazel’s preoccupation with the phone. “And maybe text him back.”

  “Don’t you need help cooking? I can stay up.”

  “No, go sleep. You’ve done enough for one night.” Katherine rose from the table and took Hazel’s empty plate. “If you’d like him to join us for Christmas dinner, you’re welcome to extend an invitation. Can you imagine a giant bear showing up on our porch? Edith and Eleanore would fall to the floor. It’d be a riot.”

  Hazel kissed her mother’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Mama. I’ll be up early to help you with the turkey.”

  Upstairs, she navigated the hallway in super-stealth mode. Once she was safe inside her childhood bedroom, she peeled off her boots and considered her reply.

  After three attempts to write something meaningful, she managed: ‘Easy-peasy. You should be asleep.’

  His reply came in seconds. ‘Can’t sleep. You’re gone.’

  ‘You’re awfully mushy for a bear of your size.’

  When two minutes passed without another response, Hazel tossed her phone aside. Venturing to her bathroom, she took a thorough shower to rid herself of the lingering smoky scent.

  Returning to her bed, fully prepared to sink into a deep sleep, she startled when her phone buzzed against her ass. Lifting herself, she grabbed the phone and saw notifications for three new messages.

  ‘He likes you a lot.’

  ‘I like you a lot.’

  ‘I’d help you set monsters on fire any damn day of the year.’

  Rolling onto her stomach, Hazel re-read the messages thrice more. Her heart skipped and her magic danced.

  ‘That’s pretty batshit of you, handsome.’

  ‘I’m good with that.’

  Aware of her smile, she texted the ghost emoji again. He replied with the bear.

  Hazel dreamed of green eyes and a flash of brown fur.

  Chapter 8

  Fireworks and Mistletoe

  All Hudson wanted for Christmas was an hour alone with his mate.

  Well, that was a lie.

  He wanted far more with Hazel Fortescue, but he would settle for small goals.

  For now.

  They’d texted throughout the day, and she’d finally accepted his invitation for a drink. She’d said they could meet halfway, but Hudson wouldn’t hear of it; he hadn’t wanted her to brave the icy twists and turns the night before, and he sure as hell didn’t intend to make her drive on Christmas.

  She’d shared her parents’ address but had made it very clear that there were other witches and shifters present. She’d gone out of her way to give him an out.

  But Hudson didn’t want an out. He wanted his witch.

  Eleven scents. Five cougars. Six non-shifters. Witches, to be precise.

  After parking his truck, he climbed out of the cab and grabbed the small gift bag and the bottles of red wine he’d been saving for a special occasion. He’d figured the Fortescue house would boast its own stockpile of amber alcohols.

  The plantation house had to have been at least two hundred years old, but it had been flawlessly cared for over the centuries. The white exterior shone under the moon, contrasting nicely against the distant woodland that separated the small valley from Roundtop Mountain.

  Before he’d even reached the porch, he became aware of the silence. Jazzy Christmas music still played, but every voice in the house had hushed. The cougars had most certainly scented his approach.

  Once he’d checked to ensure his button-down dress shirt was presentable enough, he knocked.

  A tall, elegant man with gray-flecked chestnut hair and pale blue eyes opened the door. He wore a waistcoat over a white shirt, but he’d rolled his sleeves to his elbows and exuded a casual air. Almost instantly, he dropped his gaze to Hudson’s chest in the same manner Hazel had employed the night before.

  “Good evening,” he said, his tone warm. “You must be Hudson.”

  “Hudson Holloway.” He extended a hand and the man shook it with fervor.

  “Damon Fortescue. Come in. You are most welcome. Though I’ll advise you to brace yourself. They’re a handful.”

  Pausing in the middle of a wide doorway that led into a considerable living room, Hudson understood Damon’s warning. His nose had already informed him that Damon was the only other male present. The room was redolent of feminine perfumes and the tall, decorated evergreen that adorned the wide front windows.

  Eight sets of eyes stared back at him. The women’s ages varied from the mid-twenties to the high-sixties. The cougars were all blonde and leggy with predatory glints in their cool-toned eyes. The witches were stunning with their dark hair and supernatural poise.

  And they were all gazing at him as if he’d been served for dessert.

  The unmistakable aroma of female desire suddenly choked out every other scent in the house.

  A long-haired cougar in a red dress straightened in the armchair she’d draped herself across. “No one told me we’d hired a stripper!”

  One of the witches lifted her phone. A bright flash momentarily blinded Hudson. “He’s going on my Instagram.”

  “I’m Facebooking him!” announced one of the other cougars, snapping a picture of her own.

  “Save the pictures for when he strips!”

  Damon cleared his throat. “Ladies. This is Hudson. Be nice.”


  “I’ll be nice,” purred the cougar in the red dress. “But I’m also not opposed to putting my name on the naughty list, either.”

  Hudson now knew what it felt like to be the prey rather than the predator. Nevertheless, he put on his politest smile.

  “Evenin’, ladies,” he drawled. “Merry Christmas to you all.”

  “Merry Christmas, indeed,” whistled the witch with the phone. “Shouldn’t you be wearing a Santa hat? If you’re gonna strip, we want a show.”

  “Oh, girls. Mind yourselves.” An older witch with white-streaked hair pulled her lacy shawl around her shoulders. “Or Hazel will be the one to end Christmas with a hex.”

  “He’s Hazel’s?!” The cougar in the red dress scoffed. “She doesn’t even shift!”

  Hudson narrowed his eyes at the cat.

  “These are for you,” he said, turning to Damon. “Thank you for the invite.”

  “Of course.” The other man appraised the bottles. “Very nice years. You’re definitely welcome. I’ll just fetch Hazel for you.”

  “Heavens,” said another witch as Damon disappeared through another doorway. “Edith, have you ever—”

  “Never in my life, Eleanore!” replied the woman to her left. She fanned herself with her hand. “How big is that bear you keep inside you? I bet everything about you is huge.”

  “Oh, stop.” Hazel’s voice wafted from the next room. She appeared in the doorway, wearing a black dress that hugged her every curve. The curled tips of her hair kissed the tops of her bare shoulders. Another pair of tall boots encased her long legs, though these were made of black velvet and had higher heels. “I will curse the next one of you who makes such a comment.”

  “Just look at Hazel’s light,” sang Eleanore. “Already so possessive.”

  Edith clicked her tongue. “You better get on that, little lady.”

  “Or under it,” snarked one of the cougars.

  “And hurry,” Edith added with a drawl. “Before Claire claws her way out of that armchair and gets there first.”

  “I have some boundaries, you old hag,” Claire snapped, adjusting the neckline of her red dress.

  The women continued to bicker and catcall, but Hudson had already managed to block out their voices. He couldn’t tear his eyes from his mate. He found himself amending his Christmas wish. He’d still take the hour alone with Hazel, but he’d take that hour with her wearing only those boots.

  “You can’t smell it, Haze, but he really likes your dress.” Claire snickered and swirled white wine in her glass.

  With what appeared to be practiced ease, Hazel ignored her cousin. She gestured for Hudson to follow her to the next room. “Come on, handsome. I’ve got a bottle with your name on it.”

  “Bet that’s not the only thing you’ll give him tonight,” Claire called as Hudson followed.

  When they were alone in the dining room, Hazel waved a hand. A charge sizzled the air. “I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you.”

  “What did you just do?” he asked with a laugh.

  “A privacy charm. They can’t hear us, the snoopy things.” Hazel tossed her hair. “Anyway, hello!”

  “Hello.” Hudson bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek in greeting, lingering a little too long to be friendly. “You are beautiful.”

  “You clean up nice.” She tugged the sleeve of his shirt.

  “I have something for you.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’ll get a late Christmas present from me. I haven’t forgotten about the wings.” He lifted the small gift bag. “This is from Beck. He was very disappointed to not find you tethered beneath his bunk bed this morning. He did insist I get you something, though. He was very specific.”

  Appearing intrigued, Hazel took the bag and peered inside. Her smile brightened, lighting the whole damn room.

  She pulled out the pack of marshmallows and laughed. “Oh, he’s sweet.”

  “He said they’re your favorite. And that he ate all of yours. After you made them fly.”

  “They are, he did, and that was supposed to be our secret.” She laughed and spotted the Christmas card. Beckett had taken Crayons to the inside. He’d drawn a squiggly shape that resembled a bear. Crooked pink hearts flew over the bear’s head.

  Placing a hand over her chest, Hazel looked like she could have floated away. “Okay, you know what? I’m sorry, I might have to actually steal him.”

  “Hey now!” Hudson furrowed his brow. “If you’re keen on a bear, I’m bigger, you know.”

  “Yeah, but he’s so much cuter. And he gave the sweetest hugs.”

  “If bear cubs make you this dreamy, I know how you could get one of your very own.”

  “Another Craigslist ad?” she asked, aloof.

  “Decidedly not,” he said in his deepest voice.

  From the doorway to the kitchen, a woman cleared her throat. Judging by the fact that she looked almost exactly like Hazel—save for the blonde hair and the distinctive scent of cat—Hudson assumed this was his mate’s mother.

  “Mrs. Fortescue,” he said, approaching and extending a hand.

  “Katherine, please,” she said, returning the handshake. “Holy hellcat, kitten. He’s a giant.”

  “I’m fascinated,” Damon called from the kitchen, indicating only the front half of the house had been blocked from eavesdroppers. “I didn’t know we had grizzly shifters in Tennessee.”

  “Quite a few,” Hudson replied. “We keep it quiet.”

  “Your secret’s safe with us.” Katherine winked. “But the two of you won’t get a moment’s peace with those savages out front. Go have a drink somewhere. Don’t worry about coming back. Consider this my Christmas gift to you, kitten.”

  Hazel’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Go before I change my mind,” Katherine said with a put-upon sigh.

  “Come for dinner next week, Hudson,” Damon said, joining his wife’s side. “And grab a few bottles on your way out.”

  Hazel selected a variety of brews, specifying one bottle in particular for Hollis. After, Hudson helped her ease into her coat, then carried the bounty of booze outside while Katherine hissed at the witches and cougars who crowed their offense at the loss of their eye candy.

  Outside, Hazel bounced up and down from the cold. He ushered her into his truck and put the heat on full blast, turning down the vents so the warm air hit her bare knees.

  Damn, she had cute knees.

  “Did you have a nice Christmas, then?”

  “It’s still going. And I’m having an excellent Christmas, thanks for asking.” He reversed out of the long driveway. “You really do have a helluva view, by the way.”

  “Home sweet home,” she said, a heartfelt sigh on her lips.

  “You live here full-time?”

  “My house is down the road a piece, actually. Where shall we go?”

  “Anywhere you want, beautiful.”

  “You up for a drive?”

  “Always.”

  “Gatlinburg’s only half an hour away. It’s always so over the top for Christmas, but I haven’t seen it yet this year.”

  “If you want Gatlinburg, let’s give you Gatlinburg.”

  “Yay!” she cheered. “What better way to spend Christmas night than surrounded by cheeseball light shows?!”

  “Honestly? I’m happy to just spend my Christmas night with you.”

  “You’re kinda sweet, grizz.”

  “Not enough. I don’t know how I’m supposed to compete with a five-year-old and marshmallows.”

  She laughed and leaned her head against the seat. “Did Junebug enjoy his Christmas?”

  “He did. And the only creatures stirring were bears, thank grizzly. Well, thank you. Harris still put up iron all around the house. And higher locks on the doors.”

  “I hope he doesn’t blame himself. Wandering off is one of those things kids do, unfortunately.”

  “He does. Bonnie, too. But that’s to be expected, I guess. I reck
on parenthood is a shock to the system.”

  “I imagine it’s a foundation-shaking change to your mindset.”

  He stole a glance of her profile. “Life is full of those.”

  “In a good way or a bad way?”

  “From where I’m sitting right now? The best way.”

  “I’ve gotta give you credit for walking into that lion’s den back there.”

  “I ain’t afraid of a few mountain lions, beautiful.”

  “I was thinking more of the witches.”

  “What’s it like to be a witch? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  She hummed, considering. “You mean aside from the part when things I say or do freak people the hell out? It’s a good experience, for the most part. There are a few bad parts, too. Like anything. It’s sorta like being in the Army Reserve. If something comes up, it’s my duty to deal with it.”

  “Duty?”

  “Magic is a responsibility. Witches maintain the balance between the natural and the supernatural.” She folded her hands atop her lap. “What’s it like at the top of the food chain? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I guess it has its ups and downs, too. Most of them ups. I forget to walk softly sometimes.” Hudson slowed, carefully navigating a particularly icy switchback. “I’ve been alpha for six months. I was ready for it, I guess. But it’s a responsibility, too. I have to be the one to make the tough calls now. I have to be the one to make sure we’re all living free while staying under the radar. That’s a hard balance. My old man always made it seem easy.”

  “You seem to have a handle on it.”

  “I thought I did. Then fuzzbutt disappeared. I kept thinking about how at some point, someone would have to say we need to stop looking. And I couldn’t wrap my head around having to be that person. But it would have been me.”

  “He’s your nephew. Of course you wouldn’t want to stop looking. Don’t beat yourself up for being a good uncle.”