Howl for the Holidays

by Keira Blackwood

  “Amy.” Harkins’s voice was soft, little more than a whisper.

  “I see them,” I replied.

  Camouflaged amongst grey rocks and snow-covered slopes, between frost-coated bushes and branches of saplings, were our kindred. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a pack of wolves so close. There was a stillness to the air, a quiet as we looked at them and they looked at us. Grey fur and white—they watched and waited, until the largest male stepped forward. There was no questioning that the tall, grey wolf was the pack’s alpha. His eyes were yellow, and he held his head high as he approached.

  Had I been human, I’d have been terrified. But instead, I felt a sense of calm, a peacefulness from the pack. The alpha howled, and the pack followed his lead. Voices picked up over the expanse as wolves lifted their heads toward the sky. I took it as an invitation. “Want to run?” I asked Harkins, keeping my eyes on the alpha.

  “It’s been so long,” Harkins replied.

  “I know,” I said. The prospect was thrilling, being one with my inner beast. Being surrounded by those who shared my experience, in a pure and natural way. Then I stripped my clothes and began to shift. I looked to Harkins, excitement glistening in his dark, brown eyes. He needed this too.

  I experienced the change: the tail sprouting, the fur growing, the cracking and reshaping of my bones. But I watched my companion, the smile that crept onto his face as he pulled off his boots, his shirt, his pants. I took in the hard lines of his chiseled muscles, the strength and masculinity of his naked body.

  Harkins dropped to all fours and his thick arms shrunk to the thin but agile legs of his wolf form. His beard receded and was replaced by grey fur. His scars remained, which I liked. They were a part of him, man or wolf. He padded close to me, and nuzzled his face into my neck. My breath caught as his scent filled my nostrils—saltwater, sand, and oak. James Harkins. “Let’s go,” he said, and took off toward the pack.

  I bounded after, paws sinking down into the cold, wet snow. The alpha ran to Harkins, taking his side as we raced around the valley. Wolves flanked me on the left and right; they were ahead of me, behind me. It was exhilarating. Hearts raced, and snow flew up from pounding paws. It was a sea of fur, of grey and white, just like the landscape. I watched the movement of the wolves, their muscles moving powerful, agile legs. And I watched Harkins, the way he kept pace with the alpha, and the thrill in his eyes.

  Over a log, and around a boulder the pack raced, falling in line when the path grew narrow. Adrenaline pumped through me as the cold air bit my face. The fluffy, white powder gave way beneath my paws. There was an air of excitement, yet also peace in the running wolves. They were one, and allowed us to be a part of that, if only for a little while.

  Harkins fell back, and ran by my side. I felt his enjoyment, saw the thrill and excitement on his face. Watching him let go, live fully in the present, heightened the joy of the experience for me. I was fueled by his energy. The pack dove under low branches, around sharp turns, and over hills. We moved in a single direction behind the alpha, flowing like trout carried in the river’s current. It was different than running with my pack, a wordless escape from the real world fueled only by instinct.

  Snowflakes landed on Harkins’s long muzzle, then I noticed the moisture in my fur, my ears, my nose. Freshly falling snow.

  What began as a sparse sprinkle quickly became a blinding fog of pillowy white specks falling all around us. The pack slowed, and turned toward a cave.

  “We need to go back,” Harkins said.

  “I guess so,” I agreed, though I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to have to put my clothes back on and feel the cold, to give up the serenity we had found amongst our kin. The pack went on as Harkins and I turned back the way we had travelled, through sharp turns and between boulders. Back to our clothes.

  As one of the pack, the time spent running felt brief. Walking back, watching the white flakes float down from the sky, the distance seemed much greater. What had felt like minutes was likely an hour or more in reality. And the path back seemed endless. The snowfall grew more dense, mixing with icy pellets. The wind picked up. My skin prickled with goose bumps as the cold air blew my fur forward. Dampness sunk in, to my bones. Before long, soft snowflakes had been replaced by harsh wind and painful pellets of sleet. Still, the experience had been worth it.

  “We were out too long,” Harkins said, when we returned to the edge of the forest, to the place where we had left our clothes, which were now covered in snow and ice.

  “It was nice though, right?” I asked.

  “It was,” he agreed, narrowing his eyes at me as my whole body shivered. “But I have to get you somewhere safe. Warm. Dry.” If it was someone else, I might have minded the sentiment, that he had to do it instead of we. But Harkins wanted to take care of me, and I liked that. “And you should stay a wolf. I’ll carry our clothes.”

  “So you’re planning on shifting to carry all of our things?” I asked.

  “You’ll be warmer with fur. It’s the smart choice.” Harkins replied.

  “Why don’t you do the same then?” I asked. “It’s silly for you to carry my clothes. If it’s better to stay as wolves, we should both stay as wolves. Carry our clothes between our teeth.” I smiled at the thought of trying to drag everything through the storm. It wasn’t practical. But I wasn’t ready to leave my phone and keys out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “I’ll be fine,” Harkins said.

  I looked him in the eye. He was stubborn. Maybe I was too. Then I made up my mind, and shifted back to a naked human popsicle. “I’m shifting back,” I said. “I’ll wear my clothes.”

  Harkins averted his eyes, returned to human form, and dressed. Sleet pelted my bare skin, as I raced to pull on my soaked and ice-crusted clothes. Everything was too tight, and uncomfortable. I preferred the fur.

  “We can find shelter,” I said, between attempts to still my chattering teeth. “There’s an old abandoned cabin not too far that way.”

  “It’ll do,” Harkins said, then wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. If I hadn’t been shivering so hard, and if there wasn’t five layers of fabric between us, I would have been excited about the contact. But even under the circumstances, he was warm and comforting as we walked out into the winter storm.

  Chapter Nine

  Harkins

  Dank with the stink of mildew and rodents, the cabin had been left to decay. Much of the small building had collapsed and been taken over by nature. Lucky for us, there was still a living room. With a roof and a fire place. I was grateful that Amy knew the area so well. I couldn’t have found the cabin without her. In the ice and snow, it looked like a pile of rocks or some brush. Nothing of worth.

  It was fine for me. I’d stayed in worse. But Amy deserved a better place to hide from the storm. If I’d stayed on task, we might even have made it to her family farm by now. When the storm let up, there’d be no more stops.

  There was nothing to see out the boarded-up window, even if it had still contained glass. The world was white and grey. Nothing more. The best place to sit was by the fire, where Amy was, close to the flaming hearth on the cabin floor. I’d found plenty of scrap wood from the sections of the house that had been exposed to the elements. Problem was, it was all damp. It had taken a piece of floorboard to start the flame. But the heat was growing as the rest of the wood dried.

  “Been here before?” I asked Amy, as I sat down beside her on the floor.

  Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her blonde hair still wet on her shoulders. Her brown eyes were glossy as she stared into the flames, both beautiful and distant.

  “Yes,” she said, and turned to me. “My sisters and I explored everything growing up. Even if it meant we spent the night out every once in a while.”

  “Lenient parents,” I said.

  “Not so much,” Amy smiled. “I didn’t say we were allowed to spend the night in an abandoned cabin miles from home.”

&nbs
p; “I see.”

  “There was this one summer when my sister Nora was obsessed with fairies. She was convinced that tiny glitter-coated women with wings roamed the mountains at twilight,” Amy said. “And she was determined to catch one.”

  “What did you think about that?” I asked.

  “Oh, I was all for running around outside at sunset. I thought we’d catch some fireflies, and enjoy an extra hour or two outdoors before my Mom dragged us in for bed,” Amy said. “Each day we searched further and further from the farm house. Until one evening Nora was convinced she’d found one. The queen.”

  “And you followed?” I asked.

  “It was good fun at first,” Amy said. “Until the sky grew too dark. We were too young to shift, too young for good sense. I was twelve at most, and she’s three years younger than me.”

  “But full of adventure,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Amy replied. “We found this place after we were good and lost and spent the night. Nora was sure this would have to be our new home. I knew better. My Dad found us before day break, and after that we knew exactly where to run to.” Talking about her family made Amy smile. She was fond of them, even if Christmas was stressful for her.

  “Are you two close?” Harkins asked.

  “I stay in better contact with Nora than with my other sisters. But I love them all. We’re all close in age so we played together a lot growing up. My mom had six girls in three years. I have no idea how she survived us.”

  “I’m sure she loves all of you,” I said. “And having you all home at once.”

  “She glows at family gatherings. It’s the grandkids more than us now, though. I see the way her eyes sparkle when she looks at them. You’ll see soon enough,” Amy said. Then she paused before speaking again, and stared into the fire. “Is there anyone back east that you wish you could spend Christmas with? Instead of being stuck out in this uh… lovely cabin?” Amy asked. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth, as if she was unsure about the question. Her eyes searched my face. I guess I hadn’t told her about my family. It wasn’t like I meant to keep it from her, but I didn’t like to think about my past. Not if I didn’t have to. I hadn’t told anyone, but I told Amy everything about the life I led now.

  “I never knew my parents,” I said. “Lived in a group facility, then on the streets after the first shift. Couldn’t bring that home to anyone.”

  “That must have been lonely,” Amy said, and placed her hand on mine. The contact brought my desire for her to the surface, the constant need that I tried my damnedest to ignore. She was curvy, gorgeous, and the only woman I’d ever wanted to claim as mine.

  “I didn’t think so at the time,” I said. “It just was. Met up with some other shifters, but never felt like I fit there.”

  “Is that why you traveled out west?” Amy asked, again biting her lip. Oh how I wanted to pull that full lip from between her teeth and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Her nervousness made her more adorable, more tempting.

  “Kind of. I met a girl,” I said. Her shoulders slumped, only slightly. “Not my mate. She was a friend, and a fling. She worked as a waitress at this crappy little diner. I only slept with her once, but she got pregnant.”

  Amy squeezed my hand and looked deep into my eyes.

  “When I held that little boy for the first time, my life was more full than I thought possible. I was determined to be in his life and stay friends with his mother. Two months later, on Christmas, there was a territory dispute. My son died in the crossfire when I was out fighting. His mother with him. She was human and stood no chance when the wolves attacked,” I said. “And I wasn’t there.” My chest was tight, my arms tense. It was painful to talk about, but this was Amy.

  “Oh, James,” Amy said, “I’m so sorry.” Her eyes sparkled, and she leaned toward me. She put her hand over mine, the one I hadn’t realized I’d raised to my scar. “And this happened then?” she asked.

  I lowered my hand, and she reached for my face. Her fingers were soft, her touch gentle. “I avenged them. And it wasn’t easy. Left scars. I know they’re ugly, but they’re a reminder.”

  “I don’t think they’re ugly,” Amy said. “I think they show the kind of man that you are. A wonderful man who cares even when it hurts.” She didn’t see me the way I saw myself, she couldn’t and still look at me like that. I didn’t deserve her. Amy was perfection.

  “So the answer is no,” I said.

  “No?” Amy looked at me with confusion. She smelled as alluring as she always did, like blueberries and cherry blossoms, even in this shithole cabin. She was only inches away; and I breathed her in.

  “No, there’s no one in the world I’d rather spend Christmas with than you, Amy-”

  Her lips pressed against mine, and damn she was as sweet as I’d imagined. She was more, better. It was a dream come true. I kissed her like I needed her to live. Because I did. Amy was everything. Her lips were soft and supple, her tongue gentle in its caress. I devoured her, the monster in me let loose on the angel that deserved so much more.

  Selfishly, I pulled her close, onto my lap. My cock pressed hard against my jeans, hard against her. And she wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms over my shoulders. I kissed down her warm, thin neck, and pulled off her coat.

  “Why?” Amy asked, moaning. “Why’d you turn me down before? I’ve always wanted this, Harkins. Always.”

  “I’ve always wanted you too, Amy,” I said, running my fingers up her back. “I’m just afraid of losing you.”

  “You’ll never lose me,” she said, and pulled my shirt up over my chest. She touched my bare skin. Her fingers were so soft, so small, so precious. Just like everything about her. “And holding back doesn’t keep me safe. It’s you being close that makes my life better. It’s you that came for me when I was lost. It’s always been you. I want to be there for you too.”

  “I love you,” I said. It was three words I’d never meant more. Three words I’d never told another woman. There was only Amy.

  “I love you too,” she said.

  I took her mouth on mine, and flipped her beneath me. She smiled that genuine smile that told me this was exactly what she wanted. I touched her golden hair, and ran my hand down her neck, over her soft breasts, down to the button of her jeans. Her desire mingled with the scent of blueberries and cherry blossoms, and I knew there was nothing more tempting in all of the world. Amy.

  Boom. The cabin shook. Dust fell from the wood covering the room’s only window. Porch boards squeaked, and I smelled it. The danger I’d failed to detect. The danger I’d let close to Amy. Fucking grizzly.

  Chapter Ten

  Amy

  One second he was on top of me, giving me exactly what I wanted. The next, Harkins was on his feet, back turned and muscles stiff. My head was clouded with desire, with excitement, with delight. Until I heard the banging on the window.

  The decaying wood bowed as a thunderous force assaulted the boards nailed over the broken glass. The scent of the beast was feral and distinct. Every hair on my body stood on end. I threw on my coat and rose to my feet, unsure whether Harkins intended to fight or if he’d be willing to flee. I could hear the beast breathing through the wooden walls, sniffing, snorting, hunting us. Every fiber of my being screamed that we should run. Run like hell.

  The boards splintered when another booming crash shook the cabin. With sharp blades clawing through wood, the door screeched as it was being torn apart. Just like the tree. Harkins had been right about the markings on the trunk in the forest. The grizzly was wide awake. My heart raced. My inner wolf was desperate to haul ass out of there. “We should go,” I whispered to Harkins, and laid my hand on his hard, tense shoulder. He turned to me and nodded.

  I tossed our bucket of melted snow onto the fire, while Harkins wedged a piece of wood under the door handle. It didn’t have to hold long, just long enough for us to get out of reach. Harkins stepped back from the entry at the exact moment the door splintered.

/>   “Harkins!” I cried.

  A massive, brown paw burst through the wooden door, leaving a jagged, splintered hole. The furry limb attached to the sharp claws was as thick as my neck. Sharp slivers of wood scattered all over the floor; and I dove for Harkins’s hand.

  “Gotta move,” he said, keeping his head turned toward the cabin’s front door but allowing me to lead him away. He felt stiff, resistant. It was as if Harkins wanted to stay and fight. But I wasn’t having that.

  It wasn’t until we went through the side door, that led to what had once been a part of the house, that Harkins turned his attention forward. We ran hand in hand through the remnants of the foundation, across the snow-covered ground. What was left of sunlight hid behind storm clouds, but would soon fade. Within the hour, night would fall. Snowflakes floated down from the sky instead of sleet. It was a pleasant change, and hopefully just as blinding for the bear as it was for us. Ahead was the mountain that led home. I couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of me, but I knew that was the way.

  The icy coating on the ground crunched with each step, and I cringed knowing that the grizzly could hear us even if he couldn’t see us. I didn’t turn back to check for him, just ran as fast as I could on my two human feet. The pounding stopped; and I listened to the crunch of our boots. It was just us heading up the slope, but I could hear the bear sniffing inside of the cabin behind us. We’d escaped just in time.

  “Which way?” Harkins asked.

  “It’s hard to tell,” I said. Everything was so white, hidden in a blur of moving snow. My eyes stung from the harsh cold and biting wind. Snow pelted my face, and I held tight to Harkins and kept moving. “Up. Anywhere but here.”