Howl for the Holidays

by Keira Blackwood

  The ground was sloped, suggesting that we were moving toward home. To the safety of the farm. But it wasn’t close enough.

  “He’s coming,” Harkins said.

  Crunching, bounding paws. I turned back, and saw six hundred pounds of fur and fury barreling up the slope toward us. Harkins stopped in his tracks and began to strip. “We can’t stop,” I said.

  “Don’t stop,” he replied. “Run. Let me keep you safe, Amy. I have to protect you.”

  Crap. He wasn’t going to listen. Harkins dropped to all fours, and the sounds of cracking bones overshadowed those of the bounding bear. Before I could unzip my pants, he took off back down the slope toward the grizzly. If he wasn’t going to listen, neither was I.

  It would be both of us or neither that would make it to my family farm. I wasn’t going to find the man I was meant to mate and then let him go. It was Harkins, and always had been.

  My pulse pounded in my ears. The grizzly stood on his hind legs as Harkins raced by. He wanted to lead the grizzly away. Of course he did. My eyes burned, but I refused to blink as I watched Harkins dart around the towering beast. Snow fell hard between us, causing me to lose sight of Harkins with each lap he made around the bear.

  I dropped my bra onto the ground and let go of humanity. My bones cracked, and hair sprouted. My face grew long, my ears tall. But I never blinked. As soon as I regained control, I took off for Harkins and the bear, with the strength, agility, and heightened senses of the wolf. For better or for worse, it was me and Harkins against the grizzly bear.

  Chapter Eleven

  Harkins

  Too precious to lose. I’d give anything for Amy. She should have run away, but she was as selfless as she was beautiful. And for reasons beyond what I could see, she wanted me.

  Her white fur blended in with the snow. I may not have even seen her coming if I hadn’t caught her scent. Blueberries and cherry blossoms, racing down the mountain side.

  “Follow me, ya bastard,” I howled at the grizzly. Then I sunk my teeth into his hind leg. His head snapped toward me, and his paw came down hard. My vision blurred, and my head ached. I blinked at the brown, sideways trunks before I understood that I was down. Amy. I had to help Amy. I struggled to regain my footing, and realized that the bear hadn’t made a second blow. Once he’d knocked me to the ground it should have been over. Panic rose.

  A blur of white raced past, the grizzly bounding after. Crimson stained her alabaster fur. She’d been hurt. Frustration and purpose—instinct took over. My head throbbed as my paws pounded the snow. Amy was quiet, in control, weaving with every deliberate step around rocks and bushes, just outside the grizzly’s reach. The grizzly roared in frustration, barreling after her without regard for the terrain, without Amy’s grace. I ran for her, again tearing into the bear’s hind leg, hoping to slow his assault. My teeth pierced the beast’s flesh, and I let go. This time I leapt back when he countered.

  “This way,” Amy said, and I followed, leaving the bear only a few feet away. I could hear his labored breath behind us as we ran up the snow-covered slope. And I could smell the copper-like scent of Amy’s wound.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I’ve been better,” Amy replied, with as much of a grin as wolf form allowed. Always smiling. “This way,” she said, just before ducking under a fallen tree. “And watch your step.”

  Amy’s pulse slowed as we traveled around the mountain side, down a narrow path between monstrous boulders. The snowfall lightened, much of it blocked by the rocks. Amy held her head high, and her pace slowed, just like her heartbeat and the snow. Her confidence showed.

  “You know where we are,” I said. It was a statement more than a question.

  “I do,” Amy replied. “He can’t follow us this way.”

  The pathway was narrow, but I wasn’t completely convinced. But with every step forward, over rocky terrain, the stink of bear seemed to further fade away, and I found myself growing a little less tense.

  The boulders to our left grew smaller until there was nothing but open air. Snowflakes continued down past Amy’s paws, over the ledge and into the darkness below. Amy hugged the side of the cliff, following the well-formed path around the side of the mountain.

  I leaned close to the rock face, away from the unknown drop. Growling followed us around the curve, echoing in the dark canyon. But the bear did not. The path was too narrow for anything larger than a wolf.

  “Looks like you did it,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  “It’s not the ideal place to hide,” Amy said, “but we should be able to use this trail to make it up and around, away from the bear.”

  “It’s good,” I said, following her white tail to guide my steps. We hugged the cold, hard rock wall and stepped slowly, carefully. “You should have run here to start.”

  “I won’t leave my mate,” she said. Mate. It was more than I’d dare dream of. It was all I’d ever wanted. Amy. Mine. It was different than dating to test compatibility. Hell, the attraction had always been there. But if she was ready to call me her mate, then she was sure she wanted my mark on her neck, sure she was ready to accept my claim. As sure as I was about her. I didn’t know if I could be everything that she needed. But I’d spend my life trying if she’d have me.

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time,” I said. We walked slowly, quietly. A blustery gale carried a cloud of snowflakes in its wake. The rustle of pine needles echoed from off in the distance. And there was no sign of the bear. “You’re that sure of me?” I finally asked.

  “I always hoped,” she said. “But I thought that maybe you had someone else in mind. That you didn’t want me.”

  “I’ve always wanted you,” I said. “There’s no one else. But I thought you’d be happier with someone younger. A better, undamaged man.”

  “There’s no one else for me either,” Amy said. My heart was full, and I wanted her more than ever. I wanted my mark on her neck, the bite that would scar and forever seal our bond. A new memory for Christmas. For always.

  Pebbles slipped down the side of the cliff ahead of me, from where Amy passed. The bouncing echoed for far too long. The sooner we reached the end of this passage the better.

  Like we were being engulfed by the darkness of the valley below, the grey sky was taken over by black. Even with heightened night vision, it was difficult to see around the side of the mountain. There was no moon to guide our way, only darkness and soft, cold flakes of falling snow.

  I focused on my footing, and Amy’s. A gust of wind blew hard, doing its damnedest to pull us down into the pit. When it passed, the air was quiet once again, like the eye of a storm. Waiting for the next gust, the next threat, I listened to the rustle of pine needles, the crunching of icy snow. The tumbling of rocks as claws scraped down the frozen mountain ledge. Panic.

  Amy’s back paw slid down, and her body with it. She gasped, and clawed to stay on the path.

  “Amy!” I darted for her furry, white tail with my mouth, desperate to grab hold and not let go. She righted herself, before I could help her.

  “I’m okay,” she said, as the sounds of tumbling rocks echoed. It could have been her falling, crashing to the valley’s floor. My mouth was dry, my nerves shot. There wasn’t space to shift. I couldn’t have held her. Couldn’t have pulled her up in time to save her.

  We walked in silence. And I ran it over again in my head. If she slipped again, what could I do differently? The best I came up with was try like hell, and probably end up falling with her.

  After an eternity of tension and a walkway too narrow to travel in human form, the footing widened. Not much further on, it grew into a trail much more fit to walk. Each step was less perilous than the last, and I was able to breathe easier. Instead of one paw in front of the other, I walked calmly behind Amy, content that she wouldn’t slip.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” Amy said.

  “It’s over,” I replied, not so sure that I agreed. “Did you travel these paths w
hen you went adventuring with your sisters when you were young?”

  “Not until much later. But you have to use the thin paths to reach the blueberries,” she said.

  “So not a fairy search?” I asked.

  “Well, by the time Nora could shift, she had given up on finding fairies,” Amy said, with her big, brown eyes sparkling.

  “But not blueberries?” I asked.

  “No one’s ever too old to hunt for wild berries” Amy said. “There’s this place, not too far from here, where rain pools into a pocket in the mountainside. Wildflowers grow all around the water’s edge in the spring. And blueberries grow on a single bush.”

  “Are they worth the climb?” I asked.

  “Best blueberries in the world,” Amy said. “Maybe it’s the climb, or the view, but I swear that there’s nothing better than-”

  It hit me like a punch to the gut. The fur-raising smell of him. But the bear hit Amy harder, with a barreling tackle. Her breath caught; her sentence cut off. He came from nowhere, from the darkness too far ahead of me to catch in time. He pinned her down and my mind went numb. There was nothing but Amy. Her cries as the bear dug his claws into her snow-white fur. The red. The beast growled over her screams, and time stood still. There were no thoughts, no worry for what would happen to me. There was no waiting, no hesitation. Only Amy, as I raced at full speed into the grizzly that would not let her go. Into the bear. Over the edge of the cliff.

  Chapter Twelve

  Amy

  Dark. Wet. Cold.

  By the time I had registered the sound of him, the smell of him, I was on the ground. Crushing force held me still. Stabbing pain pierced my side, my shoulder, my hip. It could have been teeth or claws—I couldn’t say. There was just the coppery scent of my blood mixed with Harkins’s fear, and the stink of the grizzly.

  Before I could think, or even try to move, I saw a flash of grey. The pressure of the bear’s weight lifted. And I watched in horror as Harkins knocked the bear over the steep edge.

  “Harkins!” I cried as my mate crashed into the grizzly at full speed. Terror overwhelmed me; my thoughts raced. It couldn’t be over. He couldn’t be gone. I shifted back to human form and scrambled toward the edge as the two tumbled over the cliff. “Harkins!”

  I dove down to the ground by the edge of the path, head hanging over the side. Below was the blackness I had expected. Snowflakes fell down past me, consumed by the dark. Echoes carried across the valley—falling rocks, snarls, and the tumbling of a large mass against the slope. The event replayed in my mind—a flash of grey, Harkins slamming into the grizzly at full force. Then nothing. My cheeks were cold and wet as tears streamed down my face. My heart ached for my other half.

  When I blinked, I saw a set of grey paws dug into the mountain side. Relief washed over me. He was alive. I couldn’t believe it—he was really alive. Harkins’s teeth were clenched down onto the root of a tree. Noise escaped his gritted teeth, a grunt in place of speech. His claws slid down the steep slope, carving their shape into the snowy dirt and rock. No. Not again. As fast I could move, I grabbed ahold of his legs and pulled with everything that I had.

  Harkins’s back legs scraped for footing, and he released the root. His front paws reached the ledge, and I wrapped my arms behind his shoulders. Another big pull and he was on the ground beside me. His breathing was as labored as mine, while I laid naked on the snow-covered earth. I didn’t want to blink, didn’t want to take my eyes off of him.

  “Thanks,” Harkins said, before shifting back to human form. I watched as he grew, snow gently falling all around him. And I breathed, slow and steady, knowing that he was really okay. Sensations of the world seeped back into notice—the frigid air and colder ground, the gooseflesh that covered every inch of me, and the pain in my side that seemed like nothing when I’d thought I’d lost Harkins.

  His paws grew into strong, callused hands. His shoulders broadened and grew thick. His arms and legs took human form, covered in powerful muscles. And his muzzle shrunk into a human nose and mouth. But through it all, his scars and his dark, brown eyes remained the same. Full of fire, full of desire. Locked on me.

  “You are never, ever, going to do that to me again,” I said, with unshed tears welling in my eyes. “Promise me. I could have lost you.”

  “Promise,” he said. In a heartbeat he was on top of me, on hands and knees. I rolled onto my back and smiled up at Harkins. The ground was hard, rough, and frigid. But he was with me, and that was all that mattered. So close, and entirely exposed, I needed to feel him. I reached my hands up to his face and touched the rough, brown hair of his beard, the soft skin of his scars. He turned his head and kissed my palm. His skin was warm, his muscles firm, his hair rough, as I slid my fingers down his chest. He was perfect. Sexy. Kind. And mine, or at least he would be soon. I’d never been more sure of anything, or wanted anyone more.

  “You’re shivering,” he said, and scooped me up. He held me tight to his chest as he stood. I squealed in surprise. My body was warm in his embrace, my naked breasts pressed against his hard chest. The contact lit every nerve within me. His cock pressed up between us, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist.

  Harkins walked, holding my thighs in his hands. Sand, saltwater, and oak—I nuzzled my face in his neck and breathed him in. James Harkins. Snowflakes landed in my hair, on my back, on my shoulders. But he kept me warm.

  Pine needles tickled my head, as Harkins took us under the cover of a cluster of mature trees. It was just like the night before, Harkins taking care of me under the shelter of evergreens. This time I wasn’t drifting in and out of consciousness, though the whole experience felt like a strange dream. The mountain side blocked the wind, and the trees shielded us from the snow.

  “That’s better,” Harkins said.

  “Almost,” I replied, then brushed my lips over his.

  He kissed me back. Hard. His tongue delved deep into my mouth, exploring, caressing, claiming. Heat radiated from our connection—from my lips, from every inch where our skin met. The hair on his chest was rough, his beard coarse. He was firm, strong, and everything that I needed.

  My back pressed against the smooth but icy wall of rock, pinned in place. His beard tickled my exposed skin as he trailed kisses down my neck. By my collarbone he lingered, and I heard him inhale. I’d been waiting an eternity for this. For him. Too long. With a flex of my fingers, I dug my nails into Harkins’s shoulders. A deep, masculine sound escaped him. It rumbled through his chest, through me. James met my eyes with a dark intensity and lifted me just above his tip. The effect I had on him turned me on even more. I ached to be filled, to be one with him, to know him in every way, to feel his cock and bear his claim.

  “You deserve gentle,” he said, holding me in place with one hand beneath my thigh, and his body pinning me to the rock face. His finger slid up between my legs, and teased my clit. Everything became more—the need to have him inside, the warmth that he gave me, the tingle that reached up to my aching breasts and my lips.

  We’d have years to take things slow, to savor each other, to spend our nights entwined beneath the sheets. I brought my head next to his, so my lips brushed his ear. He slid the tip of his finger into my opening, and I moaned with the pleasure of him inside of me. “Make me yours,” I whispered into his ear, then nipped the soft tissue of his earlobe between my teeth.

  It was a shock at first, though he gave me exactly what I had wanted. His hands held onto my breasts, and his cock filled me, stretched me, owned me. I gasped as he pressed inside, each stroke molding me to his shape. Each thrust shot pleasure through me, and every inch taken away was one I yearned to experience again. I’d never seen such need in a man’s eyes. Not just lust, but more. I knew exactly what that look meant, because I knew the feeling, and I knew him. He longed to claim me just as I yearned to receive his mark.

  The wind howled, but the cliff and trees blocked us from the gust and the snow. Harkins watched my expres
sion, watched the effect he had on me. He circled my nipples with his thumbs, and continued his thrusts, each harder and faster than the last. I leaned my head back and felt the heat rise. Pressure built and my breathing grew ragged.

  And all at once the cold disappeared. The night disappeared. All that existed was James and me, and the ecstasy that washed over my being. “James,” I cried, as he pushed through the tightening of my tunnel. His muscles tensed, and I knew this was it. Sharp pain pierced my neck, his teeth leaving the mark that bound us as one, and I was filled with the heat of his release. Mates for life. Knowing that neither of us would ever again consider another filled me with happiness and contentment.

  Harkins lowered my feet to the ground, in a gentle motion compared to the intensity he’d just shown. He held onto me, and I held onto him as I looked into his dark brown eyes, and saw that they were filled with unspoken promises. And love.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harkins

  Across the dark valley, the outline of a tree-topped, rocky, mountain peak came into focus. Silhouettes of tall evergreens appeared small in the distance, highlighted in the radiant glow of the rising sun.

  I looked to Amy, the petite wolf curled up beside me. Her snow-white fur suited her angelic face, peaceful as she slept. We’d shifted back to wolf form before falling asleep to conserve heat. And I’d wanted to let her rest, but the sunrise beckoned me to wake her. It was a magical way to rise on Christmas morning.

  As the sun ascended, it cast light over the mountains, into the valley, and sparkled over the fields of snow. I looked down at my mate, and nuzzled her ear with my nose. Her ear twitched, and her eyelids squeezed further shut.

  “Merry Christmas, Amy,” I said in wolf’s tongue.

  “Merry Christmas,” she replied, peeking through one sleep-filled eye. “My mom’s going to be pissed that I wasn’t there for Christmas morning.” She lifted her head from my fur, and I smiled inside. We’d nearly been killed by the elements, attacked by a grizzly, and she was worried about disappointing her mother.