Sugar, Spice, and Shifters: A Touch of Holiday Magic

by Élianne Adams

  “It’s funny,” she said.

  “What?” he replied.

  “Well, I’ve literally just flown through the air with you. I saw you change from a man to a dragon and back to a man, and somehow I forgot that quickly.”

  “How do you mean?” he asked, the expression in his eyes genuinely curious.

  “I don’t know. I’m uncertain about that flying thing. Actually, I hate that flying thing, but they seem so regular and so do you,” she said, shrugging.

  “It is and I am. And I’ll have to take you out again when the weather’s better. I think I can convince you about the flying.”

  It would have been impolite to disagree with her host, so instead Sandra just smiled, shrugged noncommittally. But that shrug soon became a shiver.

  “Still cold?”

  “It’ll pass,” she said.

  He looked at her, narrowing his eyes and letting his gaze roam every inch of her.

  “That coat is soaking, and your pants are wet. That won’t do,” he said firmly.

  “Well, it’ll have to. And I won’t be here for that long.”

  “It won’t. And you’re here for at least the night. I’ll find you something,” he said.

  “It’s okay…”

  But if he heard her, he gave no acknowledgment of it. Instead, moving with breathtaking speed, he retreated around a corner and was back in the blink of an eye.

  “Here, try these. I think they are the warmest I have,” he said, pushing the clothes he held toward her.

  On instinct she reached out and took them from his hands, shifting from foot to foot, the cold, wet jeans she had tried to ignore becoming heavier.

  “There’s a bathroom there. Use it to change,” he said.

  At the sternness in his voice, another shiver went through her.

  Before today, Sandra wouldn’t have said that she responded to a man who was bossy, and in fact she would have denied it completely, but something about his voice, the way he looked at her as if any argument would not be tolerated, turned the warmth in her belly higher and sent her moving around the corner.

  She slipped into the bathroom and slid the pocket door closed before she looked around.

  Even the guest bathroom was impressive, the marble and the glass more modern than the rest of the cabin, but still seeming to fit.

  “Yep,” she said when she lowered herself to the side of the massive bathtub and felt the wet denim pressing against her knees. She wasn’t entirely excited about the prospect of taking off her clothes, but being out of these wet jeans would be a welcome relief.

  After carefully settling on the edge of the bathtub, she toed out of her low-ankled, flat-heeled boots, and then kicked off her socks, wiggling her toes when they were free to increase the blood flow. The boots hadn’t been designed for extreme weather, and a little bit of moisture had seeped into them.

  Barefoot now, she stood and pulled out of her wool coat, which was damp from snowflakes, and then did the same with her sweater and undershirt. Then she opened her jeans and pulled them down around her hips, giving them a little extra push when they stuck to her thighs. Her bra and panties were slightly damp, but they were definitely staying.

  She grabbed the shirt Ormr had handed her, the heaviest he probably owned, which made her chuckle. It was long-sleeved, midweight cotton, not something she would associate with warmth, but she’d make do.

  She pulled it over her head, groaning quietly when the shirt tugged against her breasts and clung to her stomach before it flowed down around her hips. No way around it, she supposed, so, gritting her teeth, she stepped into the cotton pants, wondering when Ormr would ever have an opportunity to wear them. For some reason he struck her as the suit guy, and these casual clothes didn’t quite go with the persona she pictured of him.

  She caught a fleeting glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sink and moved for a closer look. She looked a little worse for the wear, but seemed to be holding up. Even the tight ponytail she’d pulled her hair into looked okay, all things considered.

  Still, for an instant, she wished she had taken some time to put on a little blush and maybe some mascara, but she pushed the thought away. She hadn’t had any plans of entertaining and seducing, and this impromptu time with Ormr wasn’t either.

  So, after smoothing her hand over her hair just to make sure it was perfect, she hung her coat on the hook on the back of the bathroom door and then returned to the living room, intrigued by what else this day might bring.

  EIGHT

  No one else ever came here, not his staff, not his sons.

  No one.

  Ormr had bought the place as a retreat of sorts and had come here often over the years, especially in the beginning, when dealing with his wife’s loss had become too much. He’d always put on a strong face for her and the boys, but sometimes, especially during those last painful months, with the illness, so rare among dragons but entirely fatal, slowly sapping her away, he needed a break, a place to be where he could drop the mask, let the grief and anger and powerlessness come out.

  It had gotten better, much, much better, but he still held on to this place, used it when he needed to think. And he had always resisted the idea of someone else being here, hadn’t wanted the intrusion.

  But he was finding Sandra anything but an intrusion.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

  Ormr looked up, again struck by the reaction she stirred. She was attractive, pretty and sweet but strong, but that wasn’t enough to account for how she took his breath away.

  No one had caught his eye in the decades since his wife had died, but a few hours in, and Ormr was utterly fascinated by her. Wanted nothing more than to pull down the ponytail that she had tucked her hair in and then peel the clothes from her body…

  It had been the same when she’d stepped from the bathroom, the reaction instantaneous, his eyes pulled to her chest, and then lower. But he’d tried to brush it off, assumed it was nothing, or maybe owing to the strangeness of having someone inside the cabin.

  But as the hours had passed, the feeling had only intensified, until it had become impossible to ignore.

  “I was thinking…we should check the weather,” he said, disappointed in himself for the lie but completely incapable of expressing what he was really thinking.

  She brightened, nodded at his expression, and stood. “That’s an excellent idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before. Does the TV work?”

  “Yes, it does,” he said.

  “Okay. Let’s go check it out,” she said, heading into the living room.

  He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. She’d been wary before, uncomfortable, but that had faded almost instantly. He liked it, liked it too much, and it made him wonder if maybe she felt even an inkling of what he did.

  He shouldn’t wonder, shouldn’t care, knew that whatever he was feeling was only temporary, a little reprieve during the eternity of loneliness that he confronted. But the awareness of that fact, the knowledge that there was nothing here, nothing that could last, anyway, didn’t stop him from wanting it.

  He went into the living room, saw where Sandra stood with her back to him. Desire, so strong and deep that it knocked the air out of his lungs, hit him. And with his gaze, he traced the contours of her back, saw the narrowness of her waist that contrasted nicely with the flare of her hips, imagined pushing himself inside her, making her cry out from his efforts.

  “Got it!” she exclaimed as she pushed the button.

  A moment later, the screen lit up, and Sandra flipped through the channels until she reached the news.

  “Historic snowfall!” the headline on the screen exclaimed.

  “Wow, wasn’t expecting that,” she said, glancing over at him.

  He nodded and then came to stand beside her, watching her as she watched the screen.

  “It looks like all you kids and kids at heart will be getting a white Christmas!” the news anchor exclaimed. “Our wea
ther team expects at least another foot of snow, and the temperatures are gonna go low tonight. Get comfortable, folks. Wherever you are now is likely where you’ll be spending this holiday.”

  She clicked the television off. “Well, Ormr, looks like we’ll be spending Christmas together.”

  NINE

  Sandra had only been jesting when she’d said those words, but now she regretted them.

  Ormr had been polite, welcoming, even, but she’d sensed the distance in him, had seen it as he pulled away from her, and once they’d seen the news that this would be more than a temporary arrangement, he’d gone almost silent.

  She found it disappointing, almost crushing, really, which was a totally outsized reaction. She had overcome her initial skepticism and had actually gotten comfortable with him, but he was still a stranger. She had no insight into what he thought, what he felt, but it still hurt that he seemed so unhappy about the prospect of spending more time with her.

  It made sense, though, she supposed. It wasn’t his fault that she was desperately excited not to have to spend the holiday alone, and not his responsibility to see that she was comfortable, and happy. He had done enough, more than enough, had saved her from a fate that she chose not to contemplate, and she wouldn’t ask anything else of him.

  After a quick dinner of steak and salad, they had settled in the living room again, Sandra as close to the fire that Ormr had created as she could possibly get, him on the opposite side of the room. He’d given a faint excuse about being too warm, but he hadn’t looked at her since, seemingly engrossed in whatever book he was reading, while she couldn’t muster the concentration to finish even a sentence.

  He was clearly uncomfortable, and she wouldn’t burden him, make him be in her presence if he didn’t want to be.

  “Ormr?” she asked, not raising her voice above a whisper.

  He looked at her immediately, eyes shrouded in darkness, mysterious, and she instantly missed the closeness that she had felt earlier, even if it was only a figment of her imagination.

  “Yes, Sandra?” he asked, ever polite, but voice so icy cold, where earlier he had been warm.

  “I think I should rest.”

  He stood. “Of course, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  “Thank you,” she said, standing.

  She’d gotten comfortable next to the fire, and her feet against the cold wood almost made her groan.

  If Ormr saw, he said nothing and instead led her down the short hallway. “You can stay here. I’ll be over there,” he said, nodding toward the door across the hall.

  “Thank you.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, noticing for the first time the faint sheen on his skin. Without stopping to think, she lifted her hand, stroked her fingers along his strong jaw.

  There was a tremor, so slight she might’ve missed it, but she hadn’t. “You’re sweating.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said.

  She dropped her hand at the bite in his tone, but then considered. “Oh my gosh. You’re hot, aren’t you? You have the heat blasting for me.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He curled his lips into a thin line that left no more room for discussion, but Sandra would not be so easily deterred.

  “No, Ormr. I can bundle up. I won’t have you suffer because of me.”

  “I’m not suffering,” he said. “Good night, Sandra.”

  And then he turned, posture completely erect, and walked away without sparing her a second glance.

  — — —

  Ormr rushed down the hall, fleeing in a cowardice that was unbecoming, though the alternative was worse.

  Because he could still feel her fingers against his face, could barely suppress the desire to go back to her. And that couldn’t happen.

  He turned into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, breathing hard now, his heart pounding, his cock painfully hard. He tried to breathe slower, pushed the air out and then sucked in, making a conscious effort to unclench his fists, making a conscious effort to push the image of her out of his head.

  “Ormr?”

  He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice, blinking for a moment to make sure he hadn’t imagined it.

  Then he listened closer, swore he could hear the beat of her own heart. He pulled the door open, stared in the dim hallway where Sandra stood.

  “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” he asked, voice rough, hopefully rough enough to send her away, take away the test of his resolve that he wasn’t sure he could pass.

  She stepped closer, and Ormr clenched his fists, not trusting himself to resist. “Something’s wrong. Tell me what it is.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Go to bed, Sandra,” he said, turning slightly.

  She stepped even closer. “No. There is. You’ve been quiet all evening. I’m sorry for intruding. I know you want me to go, but—”

  “Go?” he said, turning to face her again.

  “Yes,” she said, blinking at him. “You obviously want me out of here.”

  Ormr stared at her, not sure what to say. Then he decided words weren’t necessary.

  Moving with the urgency that thrummed through him, he took two steps and swooped her into his arms, her weight against him a comfort that made his heart bang harder, and then stared down at her.

  Eyes wide, she stared up at him and wrapped her fingers around his shirt. And as he moved closer, she released a sharp exhale and then tilted her head toward him, offering her lips to him.

  He accepted, pressed his lips against hers, the first contact sending a bolt through him. She exhaled and then kissed him harder, curled her fingers a little tighter. An inferno had been set off inside him, but, using the centuries of discipline he had developed, he pulled back, stared down at her.

  Her eyes were dark with passion, and when she nodded, the movement subtle but unmissable, he almost cried out his relief. The steps to his bed seemed to take forever, but in reality it was only a few seconds. When he reached the bed, he laid her down gently, letting his fingers trail down her arm as he stood up and stared down at her.

  The sight of her in his clothes, in his bed, was breathtaking, sent his blood to an even higher boil, but it would soon be better.

  He reached for the waist of the pants and pulled them down, eyes lingering on the scrap of cotton that covered her sex. He’d explore it, and soon, but now he looked at the rest of her, her full thighs soft and inviting in the low light of the room.

  After tossing the pants aside, he leaned forward and lifted the shirt, eyes riveted to her as the soft swell of her stomach was revealed, and then the pillowy mounds of her breasts, the bra that covered them only making them more enticing. He tossed the shirt aside next and then stared at her.

  “Your turn,” she whispered as she reached for his own shirt, the brush of her fingers against his skin making him shiver. “So warm.” As she spoke, she let her hands roam his chest, and Ormr felt pride as he watched her expression, saw that she was pleased by him.

  But probably not as pleased as he was by her. He worked at the bra until her breasts fell free. At the sight of her bare skin, he was torn by two different impulses, one to touch her, the other to look his fill. He opted for both, grasping one of her breasts with his hand as he stared at her, taking in her smooth brown skin, the way her nipple puckered and hardened under his gaze, as the other did the same against his hand.

  She felt exquisite, and Ormr knew she would taste even better. Anxious to find out, he kneeled beside the bed and leaned forward, closing his lips around the puckered bud and then sucking hard, taking as much of her soft flesh into his mouth as he could.

  When he moaned, she shivered and gripped his shoulder, letting out a moan of her own. He did it again and got the same response, one that intensified when he circled his tongue around her crinkled skin and then swiped the hardened nub.

  “Ormr…” she said on a broken moan.

  He pulled back and released the tip of her breast with a low pop, smiling when he
saw that she had parted her lips and that she stared down at him with passion-glazed eyes.

  “Sandra…” he said.

  “I want you,” she said.

  His heart skidded at the husky insistence in her voice, something he couldn’t resist. He stood and reached for his own waistband, but dropped his hands when she sat up and reached for it at the same time.

  She opened his pants and pushed them down, smiling mischievously as she did. When he was bare, she stared at him, her eyes hungry with passion. And when she reached for him and closed her fists around his cock, his eyes went heavy-lidded, and his impossibly hard cock hardened further.

  He let himself sink into the sensation of her touch, her hand warm around his shaft as she worked him in a slow, steady motion that soon had him panting.

  He broke away suddenly, far too close to the edge to withstand her caresses. He paused for a moment, and then stroked his hands up her silky thighs and then centered between them, fingers almost singed by her wet heat. He stroked his fingers along the damp fabric, his heart banging against his breastbone when Sandra huffed out a breath and moved closer.

  When he pushed the fabric aside, she arched her back, and when he smoothed his finger down her wet slit, she opened her legs wider. He delved deeper, pushed one finger into her wetness and then withdrew it quickly, her little pout of protest making him smile.

  He repeated the motion, adding another finger, then another, until her legs were wide open, her walls spreading to accommodate him.

  “Now, Ormr,” she called on a harsh breath.

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice a low, almost guttural growl.

  She sighed when he withdrew his fingers, but the sound became one of pleasure when he spread atop her, his cock unerringly aimed at her center. The feeling was almost indescribable. He entwined his fingers with hers, locked his gaze on hers, and, on a deep exhale, he slowly thrust, burying himself inside her inch by inch.

  As he did, he watched her face, the little hints of pleasure playing there, her harsh breaths mixed with deep sighs. She tightened around him, the tight grip of her walls, the softness of her body beneath him sending him hurtling toward the edge.