Kiss of Christmas Magic: 20 Paranormal Holiday Tales of Werewolves, Shifters, Vampires, Elves, Witches, Dragons, Fey, Ghosts, and More

by Eve Langlais

His words and the raw heat of his tone sent a thrill skittering through her before settling between her hips. The pressure was building so fast, she was right on the edge–

  He moved so abruptly, the stool banged against the bar and she gasped, her eyes flying open to see him standing before her like an avenging angel.

  “I need to be inside you. I can’t fucking take it.” His voice sounded like he’d been sucking on glass and that only made her wetter for him. Knowing how much he wanted her. Knowing that she wasn’t in this alone.

  She reached out a hand and closed her fingers around his thick cock, reveling in the silk–over–steel feel of him. His low hiss of pleasure spurred her on as she worked his shaft slowly, up and down, running her thumb over the swollen head.

  “So good,” he murmured before bending to her breast, taking one nipple in his teeth and batting it with his tongue. She arched her back to press herself deeper into his mouth even as she tightened her grip and stroked him faster. His cock went impossibly stiff, a silky bead of liquid leaking from the tip.

  He straightened, eyes blazing as he stared down at her. His jaw was tense, the pulse in his neck pounding furiously. He replaced her hand with his own, gripping himself and leaning into her, teasing her opening, sliding up and down her slick folds until she rocked against him. Her hips rose to meet him as the head of his thick cock pressed into her pussy.

  God, it was even better than she remembered. The way he touched her was like nothing else. She wriggled beneath him, wild for more. Desperate to get closer.

  He flexed, pressing his hard length another few inches into her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She shook from the effort of remaining still and bit her lip to keep from begging as he filled her just a little more.

  She released the death grip she had on the sides of her stool and clutched at his massive shoulders. She loved his body. He was hard where she was soft. So big and masculine, he managed to make her feel dainty and powerful all at once. If only he would finish it. If only he would give her what she needed so badly.

  She let her head drop back and opened her mind, reaching out to his with one frantic thought.

  Please.

  Her name was a groan on his lips as he pulled back and then plunged deep with one, long thrust.

  Every nerve–ending fired at once and she sobbed as her body stretched to accommodate him. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he let out a gasp, the breath sawing in and out of his lungs.

  “Petra,” he ground out, and the world went dark around her, with one single, pinprick of light.

  Nicklaus. Always Nicklaus.

  She rolled into him mindlessly, rocking her hips so insistently that she lost herself in the drag and pull of their bodies as they moved. It was insistent, and greedy and rough. A giving and a taking. They were making up for lost time, and somehow this stolen reunion was even sweeter than any time before.

  She pressed kisses to whatever skin she could reach. His neck, his chest, his shoulders.

  His searching hands found her breasts and cupped her gently at first, and then more firmly. Finding her straining nipples and then teasing them until she moaned. Then his fingers trailed down her stomach and lower, slipping between their overheated bodies.

  He thumbed her straining clit, and her pussy clenched around him in response. God, his hands were magic–flicking that taut nub until she nearly lost control, and then pulling back, circling it gently before working her harder again.

  She cried out and dug her heels into the hard muscle of his ass, needing to feel all of him. To have him as deep as he could go and then deeper.

  The rocking turned wilder, until the slap of skin on skin echoed through the bar.

  She was close. So close…

  The need spread from between her thighs, consuming her, until she shook with it and cried out. “God, yes, Klaus!”

  When the climax hit, it crashed over her like a tidal wave, dragging her under. Her whole body bucked and quaked, her tight channel contracting around his thick cock over and over, until her cries became his. He moved faster, his motion growing more frantic as she fought to keep her head above water and not drown in him completely.

  “Fuck, Petra,” he groaned, and then froze above her before following her over the edge, coming in pulsing spurts, filling her with his heat.

  With his hands on her hips and his scent on her skin, she let her eyes drift shut to commit it to memory. To capture this feeling and hold it close to her heart, all the while biting back the words she knew he didn’t want to hear.

  Stay. Please stay.

  Chapter Five

  Klaus rose the next morning before the sun. The smell of Petra’s hair filled his nostrils and for a second, he just laid there, breathing her in. He was sleeping on a pile of aprons on the floor of a bar, and he’d never been more content.

  Not in Aruba, on the beach sipping rum runners surrounded by beautiful views and beautiful women.

  Not in Mozambique…on the beach, surrounded by beautiful views and beautiful women.

  Never.

  Petra mumbled in her sleep and let out a soft snore. His heart flipped in his chest as she snuggled close, burying her nose deeper into his neck.

  How was he supposed to leave this? Leave her? It was all he’d ever wanted…and everything he couldn’t have.

  His father’s words on the handwritten letter ran through his mind.

  It’s time to come home and face up to your responsibilities.

  The hot ball of anger wedged in his gut burned even hotter, and he gently slid his arm from beneath Petra’s head.

  Niles was right. It was long past time that he manned up and took some responsibility. And he was going to start right now. Because in spite of what Petra had said, last night had very definitely meant something. It meant everything.

  The first time, the second time, and the third time. She might not be ready to hear it right now, but he had a lot to say.

  As soon as he dealt with his father.

  He rolled quietly to his feet, taking a second to spread the makeshift covers more evenly over Petra. With one last, long look at her, sleeping and peaceful, he headed for the door.

  He turned the deadbolt and then closed his eyes, opening himself to his wolf. Letting that low hum inside him build to a growl, filling him, saturating his very soul. It happened in an instant. The stretch and shift of muscle and bone, the change from man to beast.

  When he opened his eyes next, he was lower to the ground, his vision was sharper, his sense of smell so keen he could scent the dumpster fifty yards away despite the five feet of snow covering it and the glass door in front of him.

  He nudged it wide with his snout and peered left and then right into the graying dawn. Luckily, the humans were being smart today. Still in bed, with nowhere to go after a storm of this size until they were able to dig out.

  He stepped out into the winter wonderland, taking advantage of his wide paws and the extreme cold that had packed the snow hard, and was able to skim across the top, only breaking through every fourth or fifth step, sinking deep enough that it swallowed him to his chest. Despite his thick, dark fur, it was cold.

  But not cold enough to chill the anger burning inside him.

  Probably he should wait. Follow the code of conduct and speak with his father at the appointed time. Showing up like this in the wee hours of morning would only start things off on a bad foot. But he didn’t give a shit anymore.

  The five mile trek to the compound took him three times as long as it should have, and by the time he reached his father’s doorstep, his paws were past the point of numbness and every frigid breath made his chest burn.

  He paused on the front porch, hesitating only an instant before closing his eyes. With a wince, he called his human to the forefront and let it rip.

  “Motherfucking son of a bitch,” he ground out through gritted teeth as his form shifted. The cold that had been almost too much to bear as a wolf now buried the needle and he s
wallowed another string of curses.

  “Serves you right,” his father observed casually from where he stood in the doorway. His arms were crossed over his barrel chest as he shook his head, eyeing Klaus from naked head to naked toe. “Couldn’t wait another half a day until they cleared some of the main roads, at least?” He shoved the storm door open while muttering something that sounded a lot like “stubborn son of a bitch,” under his breath, but Klaus ignored it, sidling past his father into the great room of his childhood home.

  The warmth from the fireplace curled around him and he sucked in a breath.

  “Got some coffee?” he rasped, flexing his fingers and wincing as the blood rushed to them in a burst of little stabs.

  “Pot’s already on. I sensed your churning thoughts from a mile away. Seems like you’ve got something on your mind, son.” Niles trained his perceptive dark gaze on Klaus and then jerked his chin toward the long hallway behind him. “The west wing is the same as you left it. You should have some clothes in the closet. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready to talk.”

  Klaus padded toward the bedroom that used to be his and opened the door.

  Niles hadn’t been exaggerating. It was like stepping back in time a few years. Nothing had changed, including the family pictures that riddled the walls. Klaus and Ivan as young boys, fishing on Echo Lake. Niles watching proudly as the two of them accepted their high school diplomas. Pictures of their mother in the garden just a year or so before she passed away.

  He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut down the swell of emotion threatening to derail him. In spite of the cold, in spite of the pain, in spite of it all, he was home for the first time in three years. It was bound to stir up some feelings. But that didn’t mean he belonged here.

  He grabbed a towel from the en suite bathroom and dried off briskly before unearthing his favorite old hoodie and a pair of gym pants. After donning a thick pair of wool socks, he headed toward the kitchen, mentally prepping for battle.

  The scent of strong, hot coffee greeted him and he tipped his head in thanks as his father handed him a steaming mug.

  “How is the rest of the pack faring lately?” he asked, taking a seat at the granite island. He’d seen several of the other houses on the compound when he’d first stepped on pack lands, but judging by the unmarred snow–scape, it seemed even the werewolves had opted not to brave the weather for a typical early morning run.

  “Fine. The brewery is doing well. Can’t complain there. We’re going international in the spring. We have two new pups.” Klaus couldn’t see the smile buried within his father’s beard, but he could see it in his eyes. “Rachael and Sean had twins last month.”

  Klaus took a long pull from his cup, relishing the bitter heat but also the extra second it gave him to respond to that news. It hit him hard and fast, no question. His best friend and packmate was a father now and he hadn’t even known about it. And twins. That was bittersweet news. They were rare enough for their kind, but even rarer in the pack of Stone Creek. In fact, he and Ivan had been the only two in the pack’s three hundred year history. Until now.

  His hand shook some as he set his mug on the granite slab in front of him.

  “Everyone healthy and doing well?” he asked, keeping his gaze pinned somewhere in the vicinity of his father’s massive beard rather than looking him in the eye. The old man always seemed to see far too much.

  “Mother handled the births like a trooper, and both Ivan and Nicklaus are doing just fine. Although, they apparently like sleeping about as much as their namesakes did when they were pups.”

  The weight of that bombshell hit him on a dozen levels and his mind spun out of control. His friend who he hadn’t spoken to since he’d left had honored him by naming his precious twins after him and his beloved brother. How did a man repay that kind of gesture?

  Surely, not by leaving again?

  Klaus jammed a hand through his hair and settled back into his seat. “Why did you summon me home, Dad? You knew why I left, from what I can tell, nothing has changed. What am I doing in Montana?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “I don’t even know what you mean,” he muttered, already frustrated with the doubletalk. “I’m here because you asked me to come.”

  “Right. And I’ve asked you to come twice before. And before you left, I asked you not to go. Who is this man before me that does as he’s told all of a sudden?” He took a seat in the chair across from Klaus and met his gaze. “So I ask you again, son, why have you come?”

  Leave it to the old man to get to the heart of the matter.

  “Because I had unfinished business. Things I needed to say and do.”

  Niles swept a hand in a, “the floor is all yours” gesture.

  “I love you, Dad. I love the pack.” A fact that had become even more apparent to him now that he’d come back to Montana. It was like the ice in his chest had started to thaw the second he’d gotten there, in spite of the cold. “But I can’t allow you to tell me who I’m going to marry. I’m in love with Petra. I should never have left the first time without telling her. Without at least giving her the choice to leave with me or stay.” He peered into the blackness of his coffee mug like it held all the answers and shrugged. “Hell, maybe that’s selfish to even offer it to her, but maybe I’m a selfish man. I have to at least try. And if you can’t accept my choice for a mate, then this visit will be a short one. If she’ll leave with me, we’ll be gone tomorrow. If not, I can’t stay here regardless. Not with her so close. I couldn’t stand it.”

  Niles leaned back in his chair and nodded, a contemplative gleam in his eye. “Well, that was quite a mouthful. Now, it’s my turn.”

  As he spoke, a tiny kernel of hope took root in Klaus’s heart.

  ***

  “You should’ve let me kill him when I had the chance,” Lita muttered, sending the cleaver in her hand screaming downward to split the chicken on her wooden cutting board cleanly in half. “That was your first mistake.”

  If only it had been her last.

  Petra blinked back the rush of tears and tried to keep her voice steady.

  “I knew what I was doing. He never made me any promises. He didn’t have to. I was willing to take him, even just for a night, knowing how I’d feel afterward.”

  All true. What she hadn’t realized was that reopening that wound would hurt a thousand times more than the first. Was it the added wisdom of the last few years? Realizing that what they’d had was so rare and precious and knowing with every fiber of her being that the odds of finding it again were almost nil? Whatever the case, today was on par with her worst day ever, and it was only going to get harder.

  When she’d awoken this morning to find the space Klaus had occupied cold and him gone, she’d felt ill, but resigned. It was no more than she’d expected…although far less than her pathetic heart had hoped for, despite her tough words the night before. Then the alpha had sent out the call to gather at the compound for an important announcement that evening, and it was the straw that had truly broken the camel’s back.

  Since the roads had been cleared, she’d had to open the restaurant that afternoon even though she was apt to burst into tears at any moment. Now she would have to sit in a room with Klaus and pretend like nothing had happened. Add to that, the stress of wondering what the meeting was about. Niles rarely called one outside of the quarterly check–ins unless it pertained to the brewery, but if that was the case, she wouldn’t have been included on his list of attendees.

  No, this was pack business. Business that pertained to Klaus. And it was important.

  The thought she’d been trying to run from all afternoon came crashing into her now and she couldn’t shut it down.

  What if Niles was ready to step down and make Klaus alpha? Would the lure of the position be strong enough to make Klaus bend to his father’s will and agree to an arranged marriage? Losing him again was bad enough. Losing him and having to see him with another?


  She swallowed the bile that rose to her throat and forced a smile for her bestie. “It really wasn’t his fault. I was the one who initiated things. I appreciate your willingness to maim or kill for me, though.”

  Lita had handled the news about her night with Klaus and his abrupt departure almost as badly as Petra did, and even now, she was chopping vegetables for that evening’s soup aggressively enough to send carrot flying every which way, like orange shrapnel.

  “You’re the salt of the earth, and that guy is a real asshole if he doesn’t see it. I can talk to Chad if you want. See if he has any friends…”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have an interest in spending time with anyone in that way.” She’d omitted one tiny word in that sentence. Else. She wasn’t interested in spending time with anyone else in that way. Being with Klaus last night had only reminded her how good it was between them.

  Petra shook her head to clear it and glanced at her watch, dread making her stomach flop around like a landed carp. “I’ve got to go to that thing I was telling you about.”

  She’d told her friend that she had inherited some stock in the brewery and that they’d scheduled a stockholders meeting, which was half true. She did own some shares. And she hated lying to Lita, but it was a necessary evil. The Supreme Law of Wolves prohibited telling any human about their existence. Telling Lita the truth would only put her in danger if other, less tolerant packs found out.

  That didn’t make the deception any easier. Maybe someday…

  “If I can get out of the meeting early, I’ll come back to help you close up, all right?”

  Lita rolled her eyes and shooed her toward the swinging door with a swat of her hand. “Me and Rosie can manage. Go on. And take the rest of the night off to have a good cry. It looks like you could use it.”

  The offer was as sweet as the girl who made it, and even that sent hot tears stinging her eyes. “Love you,” she murmured, and scurried out the door before she really started blubbering.

  The last thing she wanted was to walk into the alpha’s home with red–rimmed, swollen eyes, broadcasting exactly how much she was hurting, because fuck that. Instead, she focused on the anger.