Alphas for the Holidays

by Mandy M. Roth

  “I want my mate,” he said firmly, removing Mac’s coat and letting it fall on the floor.

  Something in the timbre of his voice made her insides quiver.

  “But doesn’t all this, fill you with questions?” she asked, gesturing to the apartment and the world around them.

  “No,” he told her. “The world changes. Even when I was a boy. I’ll learn about it tomorrow, or a moon from now. It’s all the same to me. We have all the time in the world for questions. My only urgency is you.”

  The room faded away at the edges, and for Bonnie there was only Tokala.

  He stood strong before her, studying her with his beautiful dark eyes. Waiting for her to come to him.

  His chiseled physique should have been intimidating, but Bonnie had felt protected in those impossibly strong arms. Just as she’d felt known and cherished in his sparkling eyes, though he hadn’t even asked her name.

  Bonnie had been alone for so long, telling herself she wanted a mate, but secretly enjoying her solitude, just a little.

  As she stepped forward, she said a silent good-bye to the solitary life she had built for herself. She would never be alone again.

  And if she thought she was the new kid in town, it was the tip of the iceberg compared to what Tokala would experience.

  They were going to have so much fun together.

  He smiled down at her and she reached up to cup his face in her hands.

  He slid his arms around her waist and lifted her until her eyes were level with his.

  “You saved me, little wolf,” he told her.

  She smiled.

  “You will not have to do it again,” he told her darkly.

  “I like adventures,” Bonnie heard herself protest.

  “I can see that,” he replied, one brow raised.

  Everything about this just felt so right.

  Which was a good thing, because he was letting her slide back down his body now, so slowly.

  She felt the hard planes of his chest under her hands and the steady beat of his heart. The throbbing heat sliding against her thighs, and then her belly, was both familiar and new. Her whole body ached for him.

  When her feet touched the ground, he grabbed a blanket from the sofa, and laid her gently on the rug before the cold fireplace, with the blanket under her head.

  “Tentay,” he said carelessly over his shoulder.

  A fire began to crackle in the grate, filling the room with a warm glow and the delicious scent of burning wood.

  “Oh,” Bonnie breathed.

  But then he was slipping her dress over her head, the feel of the cool air on her skin, and the anticipation making her forget all about the fire.

  She closed her eyes.

  Tokala’s hands were hot against her skin. He struggled with the cups of her bra, before plucking the whole thing off in two pieces.

  She looked down at him as he bent his head to taste her breasts.

  Her head fell back against the blanket again at the first touch of his tongue. The sensation was so strong it was almost painful. He lapped and tugged at one nipple and then the other, his big hand pressing against her belly, as if to quell the yawning ache there.

  Her hips began to rise to him, and he trailed hot kisses down her belly.

  Bonnie bit down on her lip to keep from whimpering, as he ripped her panties off.

  Then she felt his face between her legs, nuzzling, scenting her.

  “Beautiful little wolf,” he praised her, his voice low with desire.

  Bonnie could only moan in answer.

  When his tongue touched her opening, she lost track of her own sounds.

  He ravished her slowly, his tongue stoking and coaxing, when Bonnie was already burning.

  She raised her hips to him, helplessly.

  Tokala groaned, the vibration adding to Bonnie’s suffering.

  He lifted his tongue to explore and gently manipulate her clitoris.

  Bonnie cried out again as he fixed his lips against it, licking and sucking madly.

  Her whole body was on fire, clenching on emptiness. She felt that she might actually combust if he didn’t fill her.

  “Please,” she whispered, “please, please, please,” as if it were the only word she could remember.

  She nearly cried with relief when she felt him crawling up to her.

  There was no mischief in his eyes now, only hot desire.

  “Be ready, love,” he told her.

  But she was ready. She bucked her hips against him frantically.

  At last she felt him, rigid and throbbing against her swollen opening.

  He pressed himself into her so slowly. Bonnie’s body stretched and smarted.

  When he was fully seated, she felt her body latch down on him fiercely.

  His eyes closed in helpless ecstasy.

  He opened them again and gazed at her.

  She saw a swirling sky of loved ones. Heard the song of the watchman in her own voice. Looked down into the sparkling brown eyes of a sweet papoose with a tuft of russet hair.

  Did that mean?

  He watched her, waiting.

  She smiled happily, pulling him closer, wrapping her hands in the silk of his beautiful hair.

  When he began to move inside her at last, Bonnie saw stars with her pleasure.

  “Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice rough.

  Their pleasure was an ocean, a galaxy.

  He slid a hand between them and brought her to the stars.

  Bonnie felt herself lift nearly out of her body. Pennsylvania, Tarker’s Hollow, Copper Creek, the past, the present, the future faded into one small thing below, before she crashed down into her own home, onto the rug before her own little fire, trembling and moaning brokenly in the arms of the man who loved her.

  As Tokala shouted his own climax, Bonnie saw what he saw.

  The world - so beautiful, always changing, always the same. Singing the song of man and woman, woman and child.

  She would not be alone for Christmas this year after all.

  The End

  About Tasha Black

  Tasha Black is a USA Today bestselling author of Paranormal and SciFi romance. She lives in a big old Victorian in a tiny college town. She loves reading anything she can get her hands on, making up stories, and sipping pumpkin spice lattes. Claim your free Tasha Black Starter Library at her website.

  www.TashaBlack.com

  Black Christmas by JC Andrijeski

  About Black Christmas

  A Quentin Black Christmas Story

  Miri Fox just returned to San Franciso after a harrowing ordeal in Thailand––an ordeal no one really understands except her boss, psychic detective, Quentin Black. But Black leaves Miri and San Francisco not long after they return to the States. Worse, he disappears with no explanation, no warning and without telling her when he’ll return.

  Miri won’t answer his calls now and Black is desperate. Can he win back Miri’s trust, after betraying her when she needed him the most?

  A Quentin Black Christmas story, featuring Quentin Black and his partner in crime, forensic psychologist, Miri Fox.

  NOTE: Takes place just after the end of BLACK AS NIGHT (Quentin Black Mystery #2)

  ‘Black Christmas’

  I STARED OUT over the water, not noticing that I bit my lip. I forgot Angel sat next to me too. My mind lived somewhere else entirely as I watched pelicans dive for fish off the pier.

  Angel reminded me of both things when she spoke.

  “He called me, you know,” she said.

  Her voice was cautious, borderline probing. I turned at the added meaning there, even before I’d fully made sense of her words.

  “Who?” I said.

  I knew who she meant. Maybe I just couldn’t believe it.

  Maybe I didn’t want to.

  To Angel’s credit, she didn’t bother to answer. She just lifted one manicured eyebrow, her full lips pursed. Her light brown eyes scanned my face, studying my expressio
n.

  I wasn’t used to her looking as beautiful and relaxed as she did now. It disarmed me somehow, making her look softer, more open maybe. Angel was a homicide detective. Most of the time I saw her, she was sans make-up, her long, braided black hair back in a ponytail, a dark-blue San Francisco Police Department jacket with white lettering encasing her upper body. On her feet she usually wore beat up boots.

  Tonight she wore a filmy, indigo-colored blouse that showed off all her curves, a black pencil skirt, gold bracelets and earrings, heeled boots. She looked like she was going on a date later. Looking at her more closely and her perfectly made-up face and dark plum lipstick, I found myself thinking she was. Going on a date, that is.

  “Are you seeing Anthony again?” I said.

  Angel rolled her eyes. “Nice dodge, doc.”

  “Why the hell would Black call you?”

  Angel shrugged, toying with her coffee cup with one hand. “He says you won’t talk to him.” She looked up, that sharper cop look in her eyes. “He says he’s worried about you.”

  I went back to biting my lip.

  “What happened over there, Miriam?” she said. “Where’s Black?”

  Shifting my own cup around on its saucer I went back to staring out the window of the restaurant. I watched the pelicans wheeling over the fading light of the San Francisco Bay.

  “I don’t know,” I lied.

  WE’D ONLY BEEN back in San Francisco a few days when he left.

  He didn’t tell me until that day. Really... he didn’t tell me until a few hours before his flight was scheduled to take off. An international flight. Which meant he had to leave his apartment on California Street in minutes. The apartment we’d been sharing since we got back from Bangkok, only a few days earlier.

  He had a bag packed. He was checking his watch a lot.

  He was avoiding looking at me.

  I think I’d mostly been confused.

  He’d barely left my side since we got back from Bangkok. He’d barely wanted me to go out of the building without him, and he’d cut my work schedule down to the bare bones while he did background checks on all of his staff. He said he did those periodically anyway, given his line of work and the fact that his PI and security firm still took some contracts with the government... but I suspected the timing had something to do with Bangkok too.

  Then, out of nowhere, he says he’s leaving.

  That he wants me to stay behind.

  Here, in San Francisco. Without him.

  “Miri,” he said, even as his assistant buzzed him, telling him the car was ready for him downstairs. “Miri, I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can. I swear to the gods I will.”

  I’d just nodded, numb.

  In that moment, I wasn’t sure how I felt.

  People went on trips. They went on trips all the time. Business trips. Trips to visit family, friends. Vacation.

  What was the big deal?

  I didn’t really understand, I guess.

  I think my brain had turned off.

  It wasn’t until I saw the door close behind him that the fist closed inside my chest. I found myself standing in his living room, unable to breathe.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  NICK WAS LESS delicate than Angel had been.

  Naoko “Nick” Tanaka, another homicide detective, but one I’d met during my tour in the Middle East and had now known for over ten years––was always less delicate than Angel.

  “What the fuck happened to you, Miri?” he said.

  We were at the martial arts club.

  His dark eyes looked me over, that critical cop gaze of his scanning details, marking them. Probably tagging them with small labels, giving them meaning, building pictures brick by brick as he assessed the scene of the crime.

  I still had a limp from what happened to my foot and leg.

  It was my wrists that caught Nick’s attention though.

  He stopped right before we were about to go into a sparring clinch. I saw his dark eyes widen. I saw his handsome face go pale, his mouth harden into a significantly less cop-like frown. He grabbed my arm, staring down at the remnants of deep rope burns on both of my wrists. His cop eyes raked over the rest of me a second time, resting briefly on my foot, which I still favored, even though I’d decided to come back to the club anyway.

  My coach was okay with it; he just joked that I shouldn’t kick anyone with that foot for awhile. I’d tried to smile at his joke, but I’m not sure I pulled that off either.

  “Jesus.” Nick’s eyes went from angry to shocked. He pushed up the sleeve of my gee, saw the marks from needles, the bruises. “Jesus fucking Christ... Miri.”

  He looked up at me, his eyes wide.

  “What happened to you?” He swallowed. “What the fuck happened?”

  I pulled my arm away from him, tugging the sleeve down over my arm.

  “Someone was holding you,” he said, his voice still shocked. “Who, Miri? Who took you?”

  My lips pursed.

  Truthfully though, I didn’t know how to answer him. I thought about everything in Bangkok, about what happened. Where did you start in a story like that?

  How did you begin to answer a question like that?

  “Were you held hostage, Miri?” Nick said, his voice lower, but firmer.

  I met his gaze, still struggling to think.

  Still, Nick and I didn’t lie to each other.

  Well, not usually.

  “Yes,” I said, shrugging.

  “I’m going to kill that fucker,” Nick exploded. “I’m really going to kill him this time, Miri.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t Black’s fault.”

  “The hell it wasn’t! That’s the second time he’s nearly gotten you killed... in less than six months, for crying out loud...” Nick looked me over, that more stricken look back in his eyes. “Miri... my God. What happened?” Seeming to see something in my face at the question that time, he winced, backtracking. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  I stared at him blankly. “Seeing anyone?” For some reason, I couldn’t comprehend what he meant. For a second I thought he was asking me if I was dating.

  “Trauma counseling,” he said. “Jesus, Miri. You’re a fucking psychologist. You of all people should know you need to see someone after something like this––”

  But I was already shaking my head, as soon as I understood. I spoke before I knew what I intended to say.

  “No, no... no,” I said, still shaking my head. I wrapped my arms around myself, still shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so, Nick. I will. But not yet.”

  “Not yet?” He stepped closer to me and I backed off, almost before I realized I’d done it. I saw that impact him in some way too and bit my lip. He lowered his voice, talking to me more gently than maybe he ever had.

  Somehow that only made it worse.

  “Miri,” he said, holding up a hand. “Miri... this is big. This is really big. This isn’t a small thing. You need to talk to someone.”

  I swallowed, avoiding his eyes. I knew Nick knew what he was talking about. While we’d been in Afghanistan, he’d been taken once. I knew some of what happened to him there, what they’d done to him. I hadn’t been his shrink, of course––we both knew that probably wasn’t a great idea, just because we’d been friends for so long. Even so, we’d talked. A lot.

  Over a lot of alcohol mostly.

  “Please, Miri,” he said, his eyes serious. “Please. As your friend who loves you...” He stopped on the word, as if it shocked him. “Please, okay? I’ll make the appointment for you. I’ll drive you there... wait for you. If you don’t have anyone, we’ve got a good guy. He does critical incidents... not just for cops. He’s talked to a few kidnap victims too... including vets.”

  I nodded. I’m not sure I was really hearing him, though.

  “Okay,” I said. “All right.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  I barely hesitated that time, nodding. “Okay. Sure.”
r />   I think I just wanted that look out of Nick’s eyes.

  I watched him stalk off the mat, unwrapping the bindings on his knuckles as he went. I saw a puzzled look from our coach as he looked between the two of us, but I also felt him intuiting to stay out of it. Even as I thought it, he went back to giving pointers to the other paired fighters sparring on other parts of the mat, pretending he hadn’t noticed that Nick and I weren’t doing the exercise with everyone else.

  I could feel where Nick was going, too.

  Being a psychic sometimes gave me information I neither looked for, nor really wanted.

  He was going to get his phone. He was going to make an appointment for me right now, even if it meant calling his “guy” at his private residence and threatening him with bodily harm to make a hole in his schedule for the very next morning.

  Nick was a “get it done” kind of guy. It was how he coped.

  I knew that about him.

  I was okay with it usually, but now I wished he was a little less proactive. A little less Type-A, maybe. A little less afraid for me.

  All of what happened in Bangkok felt too recent, too new... too raw. It also, paradoxically, seemed so long ago now. I wanted it just to go away. I didn’t want to talk about it with Nick’s guy, no matter how good he was. I didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.

  But that’s not really true either, is it Miriam... ? a voice whispered.

  It was my voice, not Black’s.

  The words still clutched at my heart.

  I bit my lip, watching Nick on his phone. I watched him frown, pacing back and forth in the carpeted observation area filled with folding chairs that overlooked the sparring mats.

  Of course Nick was right.

  My “shrink” brain knew he was right. Although the days had blurred together in the time since, confusing me, I’d only been back from Bangkok a week at that point. Ten days at most.

  It hadn’t been long at all.

  The truth was, I wanted Black.

  Some part of me hated that I wanted him, but I couldn't help it. I’d never been dependent on anyone like that before. I’d never been that kind of person.