by Measha Stone
“I won’t see you—you’re—I mean—” He heard the pain in her voice. They’d connected. A fluke, yes, rare for an elf in his position, but that didn’t change things. She had to go back to her life. And he had to let her.
“You’ll meet someone who will want you exactly as you are. But you have to trust your instincts—you have to trust him. All right?” he asked, resting his chin on her head. He couldn’t look in her eyes. Seeing the pain there would only tear at him more.
“And you?”
“My place is here. I can’t leave, unless—” he didn’t finish the sentence. It was too much to hope for, too much to expect. It had been eons since Santa granted an elf that wish.
“There aren’t men like you back home,” she said again. “You showed me how good it feels to be cared for, to trust someone again, and now you’re going to send me on my way? How can I ever trust, ever love when it’s ripped away from me the moment I find it? I know you love me. I can feel it. I feel you.”
“I do love you, Celeste.” He hugged her tighter. She knew it before he had said it, which meant she sensed him as easily as he could feel her.
“Then, don’t—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he snapped his fingers.
Nine
Celeste woke to the sound of her phone ringing. She swung her legs over the side of the couch and sat up, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her head ached, but otherwise she felt fine.
Reaching for her phone, she froze.
She wore red flannel pajamas. She didn’t own red flannel pajamas.
Adam.
She jumped from the couch and looked around the room. It was her apartment. And it was empty.
The phone kept ringing.
Shouldn’t it go to voicemail?
She let out a long breath and answered.
“Celeste! Merry Christmas!” her mother yelled though the phone.
“Mom? Oh, my god, Mom! Merry Christmas.” She sank onto the couch. “Mom, I’m so sorry. So so so sorry!”
“I know, honey. I’m sorry, too. We both are. Come to dinner today, come for breakfast, just get over here. We’ve missed you so much.”
“Yes! Of course! I’ll be right over!” Celeste hung up and ran to the bedroom to get dressed. Her parents had forgiven her—just like Adam said they would.
Sinking onto the bed once she’d dressed, she held her hand to her chest. She’d felt him so close to her. The warm sensation of his love had flown through her, and she’d been just as enamored. So quickly, with such force, but it had been real. All of it had been real. And he’d let her go. He’d sent her home. Just like he’d promised he would.
With a ragged breath, she finished shoving her feet into her boots and getting ready to see her parents. They’d forgiven her. They wanted to see her. Adam had done it, had done exactly as he’d said he would.
She checked her bank account and found the money was there, too, and on her kitchen table the rental agreement for the studio. Everything he’d said would happen—had.
Yet she found herself walking with a heavy heart. She’d never see him again.
All those feelings, the happiness, the arousal, the trust—they were just tools. And now she was alone again.
He’d said she’d find someone. She didn’t want to find someone; she already had. She’d found him.
With much less excitement, she finished getting ready and grabbed her things to head over to her parents’ house. She didn’t have a gift for them, so she stopped at the only store in town open on Christmas morning.
Walking the aisles of the convenience store, she realized the only thing she could give them was a gift card, so she snagged one and headed to the register.
“Excuse me.” A tap on her shoulder stopped her. When she turned around, a man with deep amber eyes and an unshaved chin glared down at her. “I think you can do better than that.” He plucked the department store gift card from her hand and put it back on the rack.
“I—how did you—you said—”
“The big guy.” Adam smiled.
“Santa?” she asked in a whisper.
“Something happened while you were with me. Something that only happens when two people made for each other meet. We connected. I can feel everything you feel, sense your thoughts, and you can sense mine, too.” He pressed a hand to her chest.
“I thought I was just extremely confused.” She laughed. The sensations of joy and happiness had overflowed her since he’d kissed her in the stall.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now, we bring your parents a better gift than a gift card from the gas station and then we make plans. I still have to report for work in a week, and you’ll need to make some decisions.”
“Work? Does that mean you’ll be kidnapping some other woman—”
He pressed his finger against her lips and laughed, looking around inside the store. He probably didn’t want everyone overhearing his job description.
“No. While taking you was completely authorized, most of what I did after that was slightly outside the scope of my job description. I won’t be on active duty with the naughty list department for a while. I’ll be—” He sighed. “Helping to double check the list.”
“You’re checking it twice?” She laughed.
He leaned down, pressing his nose against hers. “Don’t laugh too hard, love. Now that you’re all mine, I can discipline you whenever you need it.”
She stopped laughing and cleared her throat. “Do I get to go with you? I mean, were we at your house?”
“Yes. That was my house, Well, you only saw the stable, but it’s attached.”
“You have an attached stable. Are you sure I wasn’t dreaming all this?”
“Positive.” He smiled. “Now, let’s go meet your parents. We have one week until we have to report back at the pole.”
“And what will I be doing?”
“Well.” He laced his fingers through hers and tugged her toward the exit. “When you aren’t playing in your stable, you can help in the art department.”
She grinned, imaging him coming home from work and taking her to the stable for more playtime.
“Wait, what?”
“You’ll see, and you’ll find something you love. Trust me, Celeste.”
She gripped his hand harder and walked down the street with him, leaning into his hulking body.
“I do. Truly do.”
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Also by Measha Stone
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Beast
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OWNED AND PROTECTED
Protecting His Pet
Protecting His Runaway
His Captive Pet
His Captive Kitten
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Black Light Valentine Roulette
Black Light Cuffed
Black Light Roulette Redux
Black Light Suspicion
Windy City
Hidden Heart
Secured Heart
Indebted Heart
Liberated Heart
BEAST
Chapter One
“Not again.”
Ellie Stevens stepped off the bus and into the thick humid air of the city to find a group of people milling around the entrance to The Café, her father’s coffee shop. She pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and made her way through the crowd.
“It’s locked again, Ellie,” Jason, their full-time cashier, informed her as she reached for the handle of the door. The lights were still on, and the We’re Open sign hadn’t been turned off.
Which meant her father was inside.
And, if the door was locked, he wasn’t alone.
“It’ll be just a minute.” Ellie pulled her saddlebag forward, unzipped the leather pouch, and dug out her spare key.
“I’m not sure you should go in there. Those guys work for Ash Titon,” Jason said.
“Who?” Ellie asked, finding the key among the array of colored pencils littering her purse.
“Just—maybe wait is all I’m saying.”
“Jason, the customers aren’t going to wait around.” She slid her key into the lock and turned the bolt, feeling the door give way. “I’ll just go hurry them up. Dad probably just couldn’t fit everyone in his office.”
More than likely, he was begging for more time. A scene she’d been accustomed to growing up, but one that annoyed her as an adult.
“I’ll be out in a minute and let everyone in.” She opened the door enough to squeeze through and locked it behind her. If her father shooed the customers out, it meant he was either in dire negotiations for more time to repay a debt, or the goons cornering him wanted privacy.
She doubted either side would be happy with her presence.
“I swear, I’ll get the cash. I promise.” Her father’s broken plea tore at her.
Coffee cups and dessert plates littered the floor where tables had been knocked over. The pastry case was unharmed, but all the countertop displays lay scattered on the floor.
She heard a grunt and knew the sound for what it was. Her father taking a fist to his belly. No matter how many times she’d heard him being roughed up by his creditors, it still turned her stomach.
Ignoring the mess, she ran through the small café to the back room, where she found her father pinned against the wall by two overgrown goons. A third man stood before him, rubbing his knuckles. As though he hadn’t already grown callouses from the previous beatings he dished out.
“You’ve said that twice before, and yet, no money. Ash is tired of waiting. You’re months behind, and your interest has compiled to the point you won’t be able to repay in the timeline agreed.”
Her neck tingled, signaling her heart to beat faster. Months behind? How much interest? What the hell had her father gotten himself into this time? And who the hell was Ash?
Her father usually dealt with a man name Javier, not Ash. Had he started going to two different men to help cover his gambling debts? Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul?
“Wait. Stop.” Ellie stepped into the scene, grabbing hold of the arm ready to deliver another blow to her father.
“Ellie? No.” Her father groaned at seeing her, but she ignored him. He didn’t want her involved. She got that. He wouldn’t want her hurt. No matter how many times he’d put them at risk, the café at risk, their home at risk with his gambling, he never wanted her involved. But he also never saw how his actions dragged her into the fray every time.
Every time she had to sell another piece of her mother’s jewelry to pay off a two-bit loan shark, or had to take a second job on the weekends in order to pay the rent on their apartment, she was involved. How could she not get involved? He was her father. It had been just the two of them for so long, she could hardly remember anyone else there to take care of her. And no matter his faults, his weaknesses, he loved her.
The goon shook her off his arm and turned to her, licking his lips like some sort of hungry, rabid dog. He was nicely dressed, and clean-shaven. Compared to the usual hired fists who came knocking on their door, he could be considered attractive.
“Ellie? Is this your daughter?” He jerked a thumb at her, while questioning her father.
“Ellie, just leave.” Her father struggled, but he was no match for the two apes holding him. At nearly sixty, and after surviving a heart attack, even with a forceful struggle, he presented no real challenge.
“How much does he owe?” She tugged at her saddlebag, but took a step away from him. He towered her.
The man laughed, more of a snicker, and it came out forced. “You don’t have it in your little bag, sweetie.”
“How much?” she demanded.
“One hundred and fifty thousand.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “Before interest.”
Before interest? What could her father have needed with that kind of money? She didn’t glance at him, knowing she’d see a pitying expression if she did.
“Do you have it in your little bag?” he asked, pointing to where she gripped the zipper.
“N-no. But we’ll get it,” she promised him. The café would be lost. Her mother’s dream gone. “We just need a little time.”
“He’s out of time.” He nodded to the men holding him, and they dragged her father toward the rear door leading to the alley.
“No!” She lunged at them, but the big goon with the too-black hair and condescending smile shoved her with one hand.
“No need for you to come. You don’t need to see this.”
She fought against him as they hauled her father out. She heard him scream, heard the screen door slam before car doors did the same, but she couldn’t get free. The man stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, not letting her pass. He said something, but she wasn’t listening.
“No! Leave him alone.”
“I would suggest you forget him.” Wheels squealed in the alleyway, and a car drove off, leaving only a cloud of dust and dirt to be seen through the open door.
She stopped fighting, gasping for breath, feeling hot tears welling in her eyes.
“Forget him. Run your little coffeehouse, and learn from his mistakes.”
“Where did you take him?” she demanded, stepping away from him.
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. After a moment of thick silence, he shot her a wink and started to whistle.
Once again helpless to stop him, she stood on shaky legs, struggling to breathe as he sauntered out of the café. Another car pulled up just as he pushed the screen door open.
Taking a deep breath, she yelled to his retreating form, “Where did he go?” But no answer came. He held the screen door as he closed it, keeping it from slamming. “Where are they taking him?” she tried again.
“Forget about him, Ellie. Just forget.” His eyes met hers briefly before he climbed into the black car and drove off.
She stood in the silence of their coffeehouse.
Where did they take him?
What would they do to him?
She didn’t know the answers, but she knew one thing.
She wouldn’t just forget him.
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