Dasher Claws: The Twelve Mates Of Christmas, Book 1

by Sylvan, Sable

  Dasher Claws

  The Twelve Mates Of Christmas, Book 1

  Sable Sylvan

  www.sablesylvan.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Heather Davies/Sable Sylvan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Dasher Claws

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  The Twelve Mates of Christmas — A Sable Sylvan Christmas Spectacular

  Sneak Peek: Dancer Claws

  About the Author

  Dasher Claws

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  He just made The Naughty List...

  Marathon runner Sean Jackson's been running all his life -- away from his responsibilities, away from the title of Clan Alpha, and away from Fate. Fate's caught up to this werebear, and so has Santa Claus, because Sean's furry butt ended up...on The Naughty List. Will Sean claim his curvy mate by Christmas, or lose his shift forever?

  Lesson number 1: He's going to have to start playing by Santa's rules, if he wants his shift back

  The rules are simple:

  Sean has to get off of Santa's Naughty List.

  He'll get his mate mark back.

  Then, he just has to claim his fated mate by Christmas.

  That's the only way he'll get his shift back.

  Oh, and he has to help pull Santana 'Santa' Claus' sleigh -- using the spirit of Dasher, Santana's fastest flying reindeer.

  Sound simple? Well, Fate and Christmas magic go together like hot cocoa and candy canes...

  Lesson number 2: BBWs play by their own rules

  The last thing curvy baker Joy McLedon wants is to have her heart broken for a third time.

  She's learned her lesson about werebears.

  Her first bear boyfriend was a playboy -- too hot.

  The second werebear, well, he iced her out -- too cold.

  There's no way that she'll give a third werebear a chance -- especially a bad boy like Sean Jackson. So why do things with Sean feel...just right?

  If Sean couldn't run from his Fate...does this big, beautiful woman have any chance of escaping her own Goldilocks story? And will this fairytale romance end with a happily-ever-after, just in time for Christmas?

  This story, featuring a bad boy werebear and a BBW baker, is loosely based on Goldilocks And The Three Bears.

  Prologue

  Thanksgiving, 2007

  Ryan Rex. Stripper. Hometown: Nuthusk, Washington. Current residence: a room near Bear Buns, the club where he danced many nights of the week, even during the holiday season. Showing his mate mark off at the strip club hadn’t resulted in Ryan finding a fated mate.

  Ethan McLean. Billionaire. He’d gone from Nuthusk to New York. Spotting him outside of his office and, well, outside at all, was a rarity. He was missing the rarest treasure of all — a fated mate.

  Cain Pellichero. Romance novel model. Address: changing on a weekly basis — all mail was best sent to him through his agent. Cain had traveled the world but had naught to show for it, other than his image plastered on half the novels on the best sellers lists. He hadn’t yet found his own happily ever after.

  Connor Brian. Pilot. Home — the skies, in a cockpit, but the one thing he was missing was a copilot to help him handle the turbulence of life.

  Rowan Hooligan. Matchmaker. He could be found wherever there were singles that needed matchmaking in the city of Seattle…but the matchmaker had never made a match all his own.

  Kevin Murphy. Forest ranger. His home was a rural cabin. It was a surprise he’d come that day, for the first Clan Marron event he’d gone to in nearly a year. He rarely ever went to Thanksgiving dinner. As a forest ranger, he watched the leaves change through the seasons, but one thing never changed. He’d seen every beast in the woods find a mate, except the creature in the mirror.

  Eamonn Costello. Football player. When he wasn’t on the field, he could be found in his mansion or in the tabloids — but never in the engagement announcements section.

  They were seven of the baddest boys in Clan Marron, standing outside, on the lawn, out of the lodge of Clan Marron, arms crossed over their chests, or stretched behind their backs, or at their sides — but not around the waists of mates or even girlfriends. The werebears’ biological clocks were ticking. Every second they spent single was a second they spent in danger of falling into mate madness — into the state of being taken over by their bear shifts, forever.

  Emily Hu. Not a stripper, a billionaire, a romance novel model, a pilot, a forest ranger, or a football player. She was a shifter — but she had mates of her own. She was a matchmaker, in a way, in a role that Jasper Jackson, her Clan Alpha, had asked her to perform. She’d hardly believed he was serious about it…until, well, he provided proof, in the form of a demon. She knew better than to argue with anyone who could summon a demon. She also knew better than to ask more questions.

  Emily looked over their ranks, scanning for the eighth, the one that should’ve been their leader. As usual, the eighth bad boy was missing — shirking his role not just as future Clan Alpha, but as leader of the ragtag gang of bad boys.

  Emily heard a large car roll into the lot. She turned and recognized the driver as her target. Her inner bear roared. That wasn’t just her target. That was her Thanksgiving prey.

  The hunt was on.

  * * *

  Sean Jackson pulled the SUV into Clan Marron’s lodge’s parking lot. The lot was full of the one thing he wanted to avoid: families, most of all his own. They were just another reminder of what he didn’t have, what he thought he’d never have. As a single young shifter, there was only one question that they’d have for him, and as soon as he stepped foot out of his car, Emily Hu asked him that question.

  “Sean, honey, tell me you brought your fated mate to this year’s feast,” said Emily, a tall, lithe panda bear shifter who’d found her mates in Clan Marron. She’d join their Clan, just as they’d joined hers.

  “No, there’s nobody with me this year,” said Sean.

  Sean noticed as the middle-aged woman furrowed her brow. He’d managed to park right next to the Clan’s chief gossip monger, and he was sure that before he even took a seat at the feast table, every last little old grandma would be sending pictures of him to their granddaughters, pics snapped surreptitiously while he was busy helping man the grill shirtless. There was only one way to potentially stop that, and it was to do what made any woman happy, shifter or otherwise. He had to make himself useful.

  “You need any help?” asked Sean, walking over to the back of Emily’s car.

  “Well, if you aren’t here with a woman, you can help this woman out,” said Emily. “Here. I’ve got three trays of candied yams you can carry in. Don’t have too many scoops of this stuff. The sugar’s not good for you.”

  “You know I’ve got to keep the tank full,” said Sean, patting his abs. “I’ll fit it into my macros.”

  Sean caught Emily staring. He knew that his physique was his best asse
t. That’s why people paid top dollar for it.

  “You trying to add a fourth bear to your harem?” asked Sean.

  “Certainly not,” said Emily, quickly pulling out her phone to look away from Sean. “Don’t let my bears hear that you said that either.”

  “I thought shifters in ménages didn’t get jealous,” said Sean.

  “They don’t get jealous of the others in the ménage,” said Emily, putting her phone away and passing Sean the three big trays of yams, still warm from the oven. “Outsiders, well, they’re a different story.”

  Emily closed the SUV’s trunk after grabbing two paper bags filled with disposable plates and utensils. She caught up with Sean, who had been walking away from her and towards the lodge’s front door.

  “Hey,” said Emily, catching up to Sean. “Speaking of outsiders…there’s someone here from up North that I think you’re going to want to meet.”

  “I’m sure I’ll meet them over dinner,” said Sean. “Gotta keep these hands busy and help all y’all put the feast on the table.”

  “That can wait,” said Emily, reaching to grab the door for Sean and blocking him from moving into the main area. “Put those down there. Come on.”

  Emily pushed Sean’s arms gently and nudged him to put the trays down on an empty surface. As soon as Sean put it down, another member of Clan Marron grabbed the tray to put it with the rest of the food. A third member took the paper bags from Emily and went to set the materials out. It was just another reminder that in Clan Marron, everyone seemed to have their place…everyone that is, except for Sean.

  It was another reminder of his failure as future Clan Alpha. How could he be fated to be the next Clan Alpha if he couldn’t even do the most basic thing a shifter had to do – find a mate? How could he lead the group of families if he didn’t even have a family of his own?

  Emily looped an arm into Sean’s arm and led him down the hall.

  “Whoa, Emily, we’re really doing this, at Clan Marron Thanksgiving?” asked Sean, pulling away.

  “What? Eww! No frikkin’ way,” said Emily. “Trust me. If something were going to happen, it would’ve happened already. Gross. No. You’re like a little brother to me, which is why I’ve got to take you somewhere.”

  Emily pulled Sean’s arm and led him down the hallway. Even though she looked skinny, the woman was strong. Sean gave up resisting and followed Emily down the hall.

  “What’s this all about?” asked Sean.

  “You’ll see,” said Emily. “And…Sean? Whatever happens in there…please don’t hate me.”

  Emily opened the doorway to the meeting room and pushed Sean inside.

  Sean turned to leave, Emily’s ominous words triggering his fight or flight reflex, his bear opting to flee, to run, its specialty. After all, Sean was a runner.

  “Not so fast,” said a booming voice.

  Sean stopped in his tracks and turned.

  “Hey Dad,” said Sean, turning to face his father. “You plan on telling me what all this is about?”

  Sean looked around the room. The entire Council of Clan Elders was gathered, sitting in their Council chairs. Their number included Jasper Jackson, the reigning Alpha of Clan Marron, which earned him a seat on the Council, which consisted of all past living Alphas. There was a single chair set up in the center of the room. It was a power play, and Sean knew it.

  “Take a seat,” said Jasper.

  “I’m fine,” said Sean. “Why did you have Emily bring me here?”

  “Take a seat, son,” said Jasper more gently. “You’re not in trouble.”

  One of the other Clan Elders coughed, and Jasper frowned at them.

  “You’re not in trouble,” reiterated Jasper. “But…we worry you might be if you don’t listen to what we have to say.”

  Sean finally took the seat.

  “Sean, did you bring your fated mate to the banquet planned for tonight?” asked Jasper.

  “No,” said Sean.

  “And why is that?” asked Jasper.

  “Because…I didn’t find my fated mate this year,” admitted Sean.

  “Did you try?” asked Jasper. “Plenty of eligible young women asked after you, and we gave them your number. Did you meet any of them?”

  “No,” said Sean.

  “And why not?” asked Jasper, rubbing his temple. “You can make this easy…or you can make this hard. Stop with the one-word answers, son.”

  “Because I was busy,” said Sean.

  “Bullshit,” said Jasper. “Lying to your own father?”

  “I was busy,” said Sean. “I had practice, meetings with sponsors, and of course, races. I didn’t have time to date around.”

  “Nobody is asking you to date around,” said Jasper. “You just have to find your one true love, your fated mate.”

  “And why do I have to do that?” asked Sean, getting up angrily from the chair and standing up to his father. “Why do I have to follow tradition?”

  “It’s not about following tradition,” said one of the women on the Council. “It’s about following your heart, Sean.”

  “And…if you want to be the Clan Alpha one day, you’re going to have to find your fated mate,” said Jasper. “Your shift’s powers will become stronger once you’ve claimed your fated mate.”

  “So what, this is just an intervention about my dating life?” asked Sean. “Save it. I get it. You want me to get serious about the mate search. Fine. I will. Can I go yet?”

  “What did you say last year?” asked Jasper. “And the year before? And the year before that? You’re twenty-eight, Sean. You know what that means?”

  “I know what it means,” said Sean.

  “Do you?” asked one of the shifter Clan Elders. “Because it sure as shizz doesn’t sound like you do. Mate madness, boy. That ain’t nothing you want to deal with and ain’t nothing we wanna deal with neither. You think that this just affects you? Mate madness affects the whole Clan. You become our problem to deal with.”

  “Sounds like you already think I’m your problem,” said Sean.

  “We’re implementing a deadline,” said Jasper.

  “Another year?” asked Sean.

  “Christmas,” said Jasper.

  “Even better,” said Sean. “That’s a year and a month.”

  “No,” said Jasper. “That’s just around one month. We mean this Christmas.”

  “And how exactly do you expect me to find a mate within a month?” asked Jasper, crossing his arms.

  “That’s where our honored guest comes in,” said Jasper. “Work with him, and we’re sure you’ll find a mate by Christmas – as long as you listen to what he says. Heck, you might just learn that the meaning of Christmas on the way.”

  “Pssh, and what exactly would that be?” sassed Sean, crossing his arms.

  “Spreading joy, of course,” said Jasper with a frown. “Now, without further ado…”

  He clapped his hands, and seemingly out of the shadows appeared a man with satyr-like features so strong that Sean found himself checking to see if he had a pair of horns and furry calves. The man had dark black hair, bright emerald green eyes, and a designer pin-stripe suit. Around his neck was a chain. It wasn’t a thin gold chain. The chain looked like the sort of chain a ghost would rattle in a Dickensian tale, with thick pewter links that looked like they’d seen the beginning of the universe and would last long enough to see its end.

  “And who is this?” asked Sean.

  “Krampus’ the name, and I supposed fixing bad boys with bad attitudes is what you’d call my ‘game,’” said the mysterious stranger. “From what I just saw, I think I’ll have my work cut out for me. Willful. Insubordinate. In denial. It’s the beginning stages of mate madness.”

  “Go to Hell,” said Sean, cursing at the visitor.

  Jasper shook his head in shame.

  “Been there, pillaged it, got the t-shirt, and sent the postcard, sugar tits,” said Krampus. “Now, take a seat, and I’ll explain exactl
y what it is I’m here to do.”

  “No way,” said Sean. “I’m out.”

  Sean started to walk towards the door, but as he walked, he tripped. He couldn’t move his foot. He looked down and saw that it was wrapped in the same pewter chain that Krampus had around his neck.

  “But…how?” asked Sean.

  “You’ve heard of bats outta Hell,” said Krampus. “Well, I’m a goat out of Hell, and out of patience.”

  Krampus’ chains wrapped around Sean’s body and carried Sean to the chair. The chains strung themselves through the legs of the chair to bind Sean to the chair.

  “Sean Jackson, you’re being given your last chance to find your fated mate,” said Krampus, walking up to Sean and removing his suit jacket. “I’m here to turn bad boys like you into good men. Until you’ve done that, you won’t be getting this back.”

  Sean watched helplessly as the man in front of him changed. Two spots on his head started to change, flashing red and green before horns spiraled out from his skull. The horns spun and curled into a set of gnarled goat’s horns, black as ebony and as ribbed as a skeleton.

  Sean gulped. Apparently, this Krampus guy wasn’t full of shit. He was full of magic, and was absolutely, positively, totally a demon.

  Krampus rolled up his shirt sleeve, revealing what looked like tattoo sleeves on both his arms, from upper arm to the wrist. Krampus put a hand on Sean’s chest. Sean’s shirt fell apart into shreds without Krampus ripping it with his hands. Krampus placed his palm on Sean’s mate mark. Sean pulled back. To touch a shifter’s mate mark, the mark that was meant to lead them to their fated mate, without permission was a serious faux pas. Sean struggle against the chains as his mark started to burn.