The Snow Leopard's Christmas Surprise

by Emilia Hartley

  “Does that mean that you consent to this challenge?”

  She seemed to think about it from where she sat. Cameron wondered if she had magic wrapped around her fingers, prepared to strike if he moved too fast. He wondered who had hurt her to make her so wary, to make her run from city to city. It made his beast growl in anger.

  The witch sighed. “I guess it does.”

  Cameron tossed her a wink. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I’m used to making something out of nothing.”

  Cameron retreated to the small kitchen area, trying to keep his face from betraying the whirlpool of emotions inside of him. The witch had been hurt by his kind, he suspected. It explained why she’d run from him so fast in the bookstore. It cut him deep to see her flinch away from him, to smell the fear that slowly drifted off her. His just being in her apartment made the scent of fear emanate off her at all times. It was more than his beast could bear.

  With his back carefully placed toward her, Cameron started to inspect the contents of her refrigerator. She was right when she said that she wasn’t expecting to feed anyone other than herself. The contraption was nearly devoid of food that could be put together in any fashion to make a meal. He found a couple blocks of cheese and some cured meats. He wondered if she snacked like a bird to keep the tiny frame she had.

  He wouldn’t mind more plushness if she wanted to eat more. He hated that women in this day and age deprived themselves of sustenance in the name of beauty. It was hazardous to their health more than it was their chances of being seen as beautiful.

  Cameron huffed at her lack of groceries before pulling out a triangle of parmesan cheese, a tub of marinated mozzarella balls, and the cured meats. Behind the mozzarella, there was a small jar of what he concluded was pesto that followed the meats and cheeses onto the counter. There was a long and thin baguette. Slicing the baguette into thin rounds and carefully arranging it with the meats and cheeses made for a snackable board.

  But, it was still missing something, he thought. There was still room on the board he’d arranged. It begged for something sweet.

  “There are strawberries on the counter,” the witch called, as if reading his mind.

  Cameron cast a suspicious glance in her direction. The tip of her thumb was placed seductively between her plump lips, her teeth nibbling nervously on the nail. It made Cameron’s heart thump with expectation. Blood rushed someplace that made him grateful there was a counter standing between the two of them. He spun away from her to search for the strawberries in question while his erection faded.

  There was, indeed, a basket of ripe strawberries beside the bread box. Beside it was a small tub of chocolate with melting instructions on the side. He smiled. The strawberries and a few handfuls of grapes that he found were added to the wooden board while he figured out how to melt the dipping chocolate.

  He would see that she would get a chocolate covered strawberry between those heavenly lips by the end of the night and it would be his hand feeding it to her. The thought made his jeans uncomfortable again and he swore softly. How was he going to make it through the night without scaring the witch away?

  She was supposed to be a force to be reckoned with, the power that was going to save his family, but she cowered and ran at the sight of a dragon. His beast wanted to protect the small woman, but she was not what Drystan had asked for.

  As he turned, wooden board in hand, he knew that he was going to take her back to the Territory with him. That was where he could keep her safe. Part of him wondered if Drystan had known this would happen. He wondered if the man had a kind of sixth sense or if this was a circumstance of pure luck.

  It didn’t matter what it was as Cameron looked down at the woman that was his mate. She had to be. What his brother described when he was near Rhiannon, it felt so much like what rushed over him when he looked upon the witch. He didn’t know what deed he had done to deserve her, but she was his and he would do anything to keep her safe from whatever it was that caused the fear inside of her.

  He set the wooden board down on the low-lying table, carefully sitting himself on the floor so that it sat between them. He wanted to plant himself firmly on the couch beside her so that his hands could travel up the bare skin of her feet, but he knew better. He would be the patient predator in the brush and lure her in once her guard was down.

  She leaned forward, fingers claiming a small ball of marinated mozzarella before popping it between her lush lips. Cameron bit his tongue to keep from leaping over the table and claiming her lips. She drove him wild in ways that he never expected to happen.

  “Tell me,” she said, softly. “What brings a dragon to this small town? Last I knew, you were all contained within your territories.”

  Cameron nodded, his eyes on the food before him. He brought them up with a slight curve on his lips. “We get one night a month to seek out the comfort of a woman. I didn’t find what it was that I wanted in the city, so I decided to use my time to branch out.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “So, you came to rut,” she accused him.

  Chapter Five

  The man that carefully crafted a smorgasbord of food looked up at her as though he might eat her instead. The thought crossed her mind that it might not be that awful to let him, but she carefully reminded herself that messing with the affairs of dragons was not smart.

  The one sitting on her floor claimed to be there with the intent on seducing her. What else would he be doing in her small apartment on a rutting night? Dragon men were brimming with testosterone that made them fight and growl at everything if they didn’t put their cock in something every once in a while. Trapping them on the Territories hadn’t helped any of them find their mates, making them fuck much more selfishly. Knowing they weren’t going to find love between the legs of a one night stand, they took what they wanted and left.

  Gwen didn’t know if that would be such a bad thing as she let her eyes trail over the lines the dragon man managed to cut. He was broad shouldered in a way that made him seem almost lean while still having the bulk of a dragon. His posture was great for a barbarian, she noted. Especially as he looked up at her from beneath his coppery hair and stole the breath from her lungs.

  She could lay with this one for a night and then he would be gone by morning, leaving her alone to finally flee the fate that waited for her. She reached forward and plucked a red strawberry from the board, knowing full well that it would leave her lips stained a dark pink.

  She could play this game, too, she thought as his eyes followed the strawberry. There was a hunger in them that made her heart stutter. Fear spiked through her, but she kept it hidden.

  Maybe she couldn’t play this game, she realized. Hopefully, once he realized he might not get what he came for he would go looking for it in other places.

  Hopefully.

  “Is this your plan?” she asked. “You sit on my floor and watch me eat? This is not very entertaining.”

  He seemed to mull over her words, his eyes travelling over her apartment. Finally, his eyes seemed to catch something because he pushed himself up from the floor. She watched him pluck an acoustic guitar from the corner of the room. It was something that had come with the already furnished place. Yet, he sat himself at the end of the couch with the instrument in his lap, not once looking up at her as his fingers adjusted the strings.

  When his fingers finally played over the strings, the chord that spilled out seemed to move through her. It made her feel something, in the back of her throat, that she couldn’t quite define. The music that he played filled her. It made her want to lay back and close her eyes. They were drifting shut when she remembered that she was alone with a dragon.

  She had to keep her guard up. The magic that had faded at the beginning of his song returned to the tips of her fingers, ready to strike if need be. She couldn’t afford to let herself be tricked again. She knew that she was not the mate of any dragon. It wasn’t possible for a witch.

  Her legs stretched out, an
d against her better judgement, her toes touched his denim clad leg. She felt his body tense, a recognition of her touch, just for a moment. He barely missed a beat. His fingers continued to thrum the beat from the acoustic guitar. Gwen wondered what it was about this music that made her more daring. Was it the way that it hummed through her core and warmed things that had been cold for decades? Or, was it this mysterious man whose name she hadn’t even bothered to learn yet?

  It felt strangely more intimate to know that he was a dragon than it would be to know his name. She pondered if he could tell what she was, smell the herb magic that ran through her veins or the ozone that clung to her hair from more immediate magic? She guessed that it would be hard to ignore with a dragon’s nose. He had to know that she was a witch, but whether or not he knew that she was the Witch of Caernarfon was another story altogether.

  His fingers stopped strumming. The music faded from the room and she looked up to meet his eyes. Her foot absently rubbed against the denim of his leg. She caught herself and forced her foot to still. His hand left the neck of the guitar and fell upon her bare leg. His skin was warm and softer than she imagined. It made her breath catch in her throat.

  He leaned toward her and she felt her heart quicken, but there was no cold spike of fear behind it. She only felt the warmth of blood rushing to her cheeks. But, just as she thought he would close in, he leaned to the side and his fingers quickly snatched several rolls of cured meat before he leaned back into the couch. His eyes watched her carefully as he bit into the cured meat.

  “Can I ask you what your name is? Or, is that a guarded secret like the rest of you?”

  She looked out the window, her fingers laying over her lips to chase away the desire to let words better kept silent pour out. Weaving secrets around herself was a habit from days of old and her life on the run, one that probably kept her alive. Yet, she almost felt compelled to spill all of them at this man’s feet.

  “Call me Gwen,” she told him, not looking away from the scene outside her window. Gwen was short for the full name that had been given to her upon birth, but it was always smarter to keep your true name a secret. Especially when one was a witch and knew the things that could happen when another knew your true name. “Should I continue to call you dragon man? Or, would you like another moniker?”

  He laughed and it felt as though warm sunlight had filled her room. Her head snapped toward him, pulled like flowers to the sun. She swallowed hard, afraid of what she was suddenly feeling for this dragon. It wasn’t right. It was a lie.

  “Cameron,” he said. “My brother likes to try to call me Cam from time to time, but I never let him get away with it.”

  He took another bite of the rolled meat. She watched his lips move until she realized she was letting herself become mesmerized. It was the lack of sex, she told herself. It was finally getting to her now that she was alone in the presence of another male. She would jump any guy’s bones after being celibate this long.

  “That was beautiful music, Cam,” she said, letting her lips twist into a wry smile. Magic wrapped around her fingers, ready to defend herself if his temper lashed out at her. She wasn’t smart for poking a dragon, but she needed to know if he was like the others. If he was like the last one.

  But, he didn’t react the way she thought. Instead, he burst with that sweet laughter once more. It made her breath catch in her throat and the magic wrapped around her fingers disappear. Her head fell to the side as she regarded him.

  “Tell me something else about yourself,” she asked, her voice making it sound more like a command.

  He didn’t bristle. Instead, his head fell against the back of the couch while he watched her, gears moving behind his eyes while he mentally dug through memories.

  “Before the Occurrence, I worked as a private detective.” He looked down, picking at the pilled fabric on the cushion. “I loved the job and the freedom it gave me from my family. It broke my heart when I was commanded to stay on the territory. I felt like someone had cut my wings. All of a sudden, I was surrounded by nothing but cranky, bossy men and I was supposed to keep my shit together to keep them from killing each other. It was more responsibility than I wanted at that age.”

  Gwen’s breath was lodged in her throat. She hadn’t expected such a raw truth to fall from his lips so easily. His eyes turned up from the cushion and captured hers.

  “Your turn,” he said.

  She swallowed. What could she tell him? That she was hated by her own people? That she was on the run from his kind?

  She sucked in a deep breath. “The card you brought back to me were made by Alphonse Mucha in his heyday. He gave them to me as a gift and they have never let me down. The other night, I had a reading that terrified me. Then, when you asked me to read your cards, I drew the same cards all over again. I think I screwed up your reading and drew for myself, instead of you.”

  “What did the cards tell you?”

  Her hand fisted in her skirt. “They told me that my ex-lover was going to kill me.” The words slipped out before she had a chance to wonder if she should tell them.

  She heard the low growl that escaped the man and her eyes flew wide. Her heart thundered in her ears. Gwen shot to her feet.

  A calm, tender hand touched her arm. His cool, green eyes looked up at her, calm and apologetic. “I’m sorry for that,” he said, softly. “That was a slip of anger on your behalf. It was not meant to scare you.”

  Had she just done that? Had she panicked? Shame ridden, she let herself fall back onto the couch.

  Chapter Six

  Cameron couldn’t believe his own behavior. When she admitted her fear, that her ex-lover would be the one to kill her, he over reacted. It wasn’t like him. He was always so calm. He was flooded with so many new emotions around her that he could barely keep himself straight. The music had helped reign in those wayward emotions until she reached out and touched him. It was only her feet, but the contact had made his beast wild.

  Then, the idea of her death at the hands of another had pushed the beast to the forefront and the growl of anger had escaped him. He should have expected her reaction, especially if she was afraid of her ex. Rumors stated that her ex was a dragon, which one he didn’t know. But, to let a dragon into her home must have been a great deal of stress on her. Garnering her trust was going to be a much harder task.

  It seemed to place a vice like grip around his heart. Here was the woman who could be his mate and she was terrified of him. How could he earn her trust or even feel her love when she was prepared for fight or flight at every turn?

  “Don’t be,” she said, her voice quiet. “I’m starting to understand that you’re not here to hurt me. It doesn’t mean that my instincts won’t overwhelm me from time to time.”

  Instead of pushing the subject, Cameron shared another memory. “My older brother met his mate recently. She was a dragon that GOE kidnapped and implanted with silver to convince her that she was human. The beast of a woman ripped the silver out of her own body. The two of them deserve each other. My cousin met his scrappy mate not long before that. Watching both of them know what it means to love should make me happy, but I’m not.

  “I’m incredibly jealous of what they’ve managed to find. It isn’t the best time for them to come across their mates, but now they aren’t alone in this fight. For a long time I was worried that I would never find a mate, that being bound to the Territory meant that I wouldn’t never cross her path.”

  She slowly leaned back in her seat, trying to become comfortable in his presence again as she took in his words. “How do you feel about it now?”

  Her soft, gray eyes regarded him. He wished that they could turn him inside out and he wouldn’t have to lie to her any more. He could not come out and claim this frightened creature as his mate, not as he wished he could do. If she could only see it on her own then maybe their love would stand a chance. He was so afraid that her fear of dragons would keep them from knowing happiness. He was her chanc
e at happiness, too.

  He sucked in a deep breath, eyes distant. “Now, I’m afraid that my family will be wiped out before I can save them. Priorities, you know?”

  “Then what are you doing here?” She asked.

  In his mind, he swore. He couldn’t lead her down the right trail. He had to guide her if she was going to fight for them. But, as he regarded her, he wondered if she would be able to fight for them at all. Just his low growl had sparked a panic response inside her.

  “I’m trying to forget what is happening back home,” he said. It was kind of true. For a little while, he could lie to himself. He could say that this was not a mission put upon him by his leader. It was only him, basking in the company of his mate. The thought warmed him.

  Gwen nodded. He wouldn’t dare ask her full name. He knew that witches could do things with full names. The name gave one complete power over another and could bend them to their will, especially those with magic woven through them. Witches had been known through the centuries to be bound to kings through their full names, sold by their parents for status and wealth.

  “And you thought that I could help you forget?”

  He let his eyes rove over her body. He could certainly forget the world in the curves that she presented. He wanted to lay his head between the soft, round mounds of her breasts. He wanted to peel the gossamer and flowing fabric from her body to reveal the pale, Welsh skin that lay beneath it. She reminded him of a soft, white ice-cream with the striking taste of mint hidden behind it.

  When his eyes met her face once more, he could see the red across her cheeks and the satisfied smile that she tried to hide by pressing her lips together. It warmed him to see her happy. He leaned forward and claimed a ripe strawberry from the board, slowly dunking it into the melted chocolate. It had cooled slightly and clung to the berry with abandon.

  He didn’t pull back. Instead, he raised the berry in silent offer. Her eyes lingered on his, her lips slightly parted. It took all the effort Cameron had in him not to pull the berry away and claim her lips for himself. His breath became shallow with need.