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

by Eve Langlais

  She climaxed, her stomach muscles locked as her body shook.

  “Up.” When she didn’t move, he lifted her off him with ease. Her legs barely held her so he picked her up and marched to the bedroom.

  He was between her legs before she had a chance to scoot all the way onto the bed. In one hard thrust he was inside. He growled and all she could do was cling to him.

  Every thrust stole her breath, her body falling into a deep abyss. So deep she might not ever come out.

  She reached the peak first, but he kept going, feeding the overflowing fire in her.

  “All mine,” he said, his whole body shuddering. He lay quietly with her; the only sound in the room was their quickened breaths.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I don’t think ‘all right’ really is the best word for what I’m feeling right now.”

  “So what then?”

  She thought for a moment–which was rather hard. Cyn wouldn’t be the last gal to turn down rough sex once in a while, but what had just happened was beyond mind–blowing. Every bone in her legs had no substance; her throat was parched from screaming out his name. And even with all that, her core clenched again in anticipation. In response, his cock hardened and thrust again. Ever so slowly.

  Damn insatiable little wolf.

  Chapter Nine

  There was nothing in the world like waking up and feeling ready to kick the ass of everyone who’d ever pissed you off in the past. Strength pulsed through Cyn. Even her hair had the shine and volume from her high school days. But one thing was for certain, she wasn’t a werewolf yet. He hadn’t offered to change her and she hadn’t asked. Getting up and leaving the bed was just like any other day.

  Kaden rolled over onto his back and placed his hands behind his head. He was awake. One glance at him was one too many for her. The muscles in his arms flexed and she had to look away. Sheer perfection from his chest down to the place where the covers hid the best part. She stood alongside of the bed waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. When she took a step, the bed groaned as if someone else was getting up. She didn’t look back.

  Would he try to stop her? With each footstep, she reminded herself she wasn’t the same woman who’d had to be carried into the cabin. She was well enough to take care of her brother and come back.

  She’d come back, wouldn’t she?

  The living room was dim. Kaden maintained a respectable distance behind her. All the curtains had been left shut and only streaks of light peeked through the cracks. Something new over the fireplace drew her attention. A set of stockings. Four of them with names stitched into the top. Make that three. She had one, as well as Kaden and Naomi, while Sinister’s stocking was an oversized, shockingly white sock with his name written in pen at the top. She snorted. Not surprised. Someone, most likely Sinister, had come in while they were busy in the bedroom and had left candy–real candy–in the stockings.

  Someone had left her bag by the door. She fetched it and put on her boots.

  It was Christmas Day. Every single Christmas, the McGinnis kids would gather wherever the family deemed was safe and they’d open presents and eat some kind of burnt bird. Zach made the most horrible cook, but he tried and everyone made an effort to choke down a bite or two. Except Ty. He just complained.

  This Christmas was different, though. The broken–down tree was in the wrong place. There were no presents. The lights were dimmed as if everything that mattered to her were dead. She opened the window for good measure. There was a fresh layer of snow outside. Perfect Christmas weather.

  She shrugged on Kaden’s coat, refusing to look at the man in the room. She sensed his unwavering gaze. If she looked at him, she suspected her resolve would melt away and all these new feelings she had for him would cloud her judgment.

  If she left now, once she reached the highway and then Prince George, she could reach Vancouver in about ten hours. It wasn’t like she hadn’t hitchhiked before.

  She grabbed her bag and left the house. The sounds of the door opening and closing behind her could be heard. Any moment now she expected him to grab her arm. To say something to stop her. To her surprise, it was the dark wolf that ended up walking beside her. He was massive. Something to be feared, but now she only felt safe.

  Her hand brushed against the soft fur along his flank.

  She couldn’t help thinking about what had happened the other day. Kaden had killed someone to defend his pack. He’d protected his loved ones as he’d told her he’d do. He’d protect you too, a voice whispered in her head.

  The wolf remained at her side as she trudged through the snow. The landscape was beautiful. The morning light reflected against the snow and a gust of fresh air blew across her face.

  Contentment filled her and that overwhelming feeling made her stop walking. This was her first Christmas without arguments. Without an upcoming assignment nagging at her. The cabins were small, about the size of her apartment, but when you lived so simply, why would you need more? She could stay here. No more hunting. No more hearing about dead family members. But could she stay here with Kaden? Michael couldn’t give her a normal life and neither could Kaden, but the werewolf was something just as wonderful. The way he made her feel safe. The way he’d given a part of his soul so that she could live longer.

  The wolf circled in front of her and blocked the path. She could go around him if she wanted to do it. Like she had planned when she first left the house. But at that moment she knew she was done running. She was done searching for the normal. Instead of dying, she could live on with someone who wouldn’t have to hide. And whatever dangers they faced, they could face them together.

  Instead of going around Kaden, she picked up some snow. She didn’t have any gloves, but she didn’t plan to hold the snow for very long. With a mischievous grin, she lobbed the snowball at him. Before she caught the wolf’s reaction, she turned and made a run for it. What kind of fool would just stand there?

  Laughing felt good. When was the last Christmas she’d had a snowball fight with her brothers? It had been so many years ago she’d lost count. By the time she reached the cabin, she had turned to see she was alone. She scanned the valley and couldn’t spot him.

  The snowball that hit her on the side of the head came out of nowhere. Ehh, she’d deserved it. Kaden emerged from the trees, quite naked, and marched over to her holding more snow. “Are you done?” he asked with a grin.

  “Since you’re naked–very much so.” She held up her hands in surrender. Damn, he didn’t even shiver. He dropped the snow and walked up to her. Silence passed between them, but all the while she took in his gaze. The hint of a smile on his beautiful face. Was this what it felt like to fall for someone? This feeling where you could stand out in the cold and not give a damn? As long as that special someone was right there with you?

  “Aren’t you cold?” she finally asked him. She opened the coat and invited him into her arms.

  “Not that much.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. His heat radiated against her skin as she rested her cheek against his chest. She inhaled. He smelled delicious. All male.

  “You don’t worry about shrinkage, do you?” she blurted. She had to say it.

  “So you noticed.” His eyebrows danced.

  Smart ass.

  He used his hand to tilt up her chin and he kissed her long and slow. For a moment, she forgot about the cold, the fact that she was a hunter, and any other misgivings. Only this perfect sliver of time existed with Kaden and that was more than enough for her.

  Chapter Ten

  Cyn had all the energy in the world, and yet, she slept better than she had in years. Maybe it was the man who held her close who made that possible. There weren’t any artificial smells. No hospital. No heart monitor beeps.

  If she stayed here, she’d be free of that and she’d have him, too.

  “You keep squirming,” he said against her forehead. His breath was warm. “If you keep it up, I might have
to make love to you until you fall asleep again.”

  Now that was an offer she wanted to consider. “I’ve slept for long enough, but I’m not ready to get up.”

  He chuckled, running his hand up and down her arm. The firm touch formed goosebumps along her skin.

  After they had made love again, they lay naked, limbs intertwined. It was Kaden who broke the silence again. “My pack is coming here. Your brother has…done his part in terms of our agreement.”

  She visibly swallowed. “Will they accept me?”

  He kissed her forehead, slowly. “You’ll be my mate soon and once that happens, I’m never letting you go. No matter what happens, you’ll be by my side.”

  “And what if I try to leave again?” She sensed his smile in the darkness.

  “I followed you twice before to let you decide on your own, but you won’t be so lucky if you try again.” He kissed her neck, drawing her leg over his hip. “You’re mine now.”

  She laughed. “A real fight. Very nice. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  The End

  About the Author

  Shawntelle Madison is a web developer who loves to weave words as well as code. She’d never admit it, but if asked she’d say she covets and collects source code. After losing her first summer job detasseling corn, Shawntelle performed various jobs–from fast–food clerk to grunt programmer to university webmaster. Writing eccentric characters is her most favorite job of them all. On any particular day when she’s not surgically attached to her computer, she can be found watching cheesy horror movies or the latest action–packed anime. She lives in Missouri with her husband and children.

  Links: Website | Facebook | Mailing List

  The Hunter's Moon © Copyright 2014 Shawntelle Madison

  A Ghostly Gift

  Angie Fox

  One simple mistake…

  It really didn’t look “that much” like an urn.

  For a girl who is about to lose her family home.

  So she dumped it out onto the rose bushes, and rinsed it with the hose.

  Releases the ghost of a long–dead gangster.

  He really didn’t have to be so rude about it.

  And open’s Verity Long’s eyes to a whole new world…

  Verity Long doesn’t want to see ghosts, and she’d rather not let anyone know her little secret, either. But when a restless spirit stirs up trouble in her friend’s holiday shop, Verity and her very new, very dead gangster friend decide to take a peek.

  There they discover a mystery a eight decades in the making and are tasked with reuniting a pair of war–torn lovers before they are doomed to spend eternity apart.

  Chapter One

  The ghost of the gangster adjusted his Panama hat, briefly exposing the round bullet hole in the center of his forehead. No doubt it would have been a grisly wound, had it not shimmered in black and white, along with the rest of Frankie Valentine’s body.

  The hook–nosed former thug stared down at the chessboard laid out on the floor between us, contemplating his next move with the focus of a commander planning an epic battle.

  Absently, he reached for the cigarette case in his front left suit pocket.

  “No smoking,” I said.

  He cast me a glance. “Yeah. It might kill me.”

  We sat in the back parlor, in the flickering light of a thick pink candle in a dish on the floor next to us. The electricity in my home worked perfectly fine. And I considered myself a modern girl. But due to money issues, I’d sold the century–old chandelier.

  A fire crackled in the hearth. Frankie and I had gathered the wood up onto the porch as the sun tossed orange and purple streaks across horizon.

  I’d gotten my workout in with the logs. Frankie had observed and made snarky comments. It cost him too much energy to move things on the mortal plane. He left that up to me.

  Frankie pointed to the board. “Make my queen move diagonally, three spaces to the left.”

  I squinted to see what he meant. “I don’t think queens can go that way.”

  “Of course they can,” he huffed. “I’m the one teaching you, remember?”

  Yes, but I didn’t think he was above cheating.

  Frankie also liked the pieces facing perfectly straight ahead. Not angled, not backward. Who knew ghosts could be so anal?

  I went ahead and scooted his piece over. Technically, he was my guest, and I found I enjoyed treating him as such.

  Besides, I owed him. A lot.

  Last month, I’d accidentally trapped his spirit on my property when I dumped his funeral urn out onto my rosebushes. At the time, I believed my ex–fiancé had given me a dirty old vase, long overdue for a rinse with the hose.

  Big mistake.

  Now I had a resident ghost living in my two–story Victorian. Frankie had the power to show me the supernatural world in a way that no one else could. With his help, I had become a ghost hunter. Briefly. In order to save my house.

  Now I was trying to get back to normal.

  If by “normal” you meant hanging out on a Friday night with a long–dead gangster.

  Frankie watched me as I hovered my fingers over different pieces. Deciding.

  His urn rested on the marble fireplace, above a homemade snowflake chain and next to a small plastic tree from the dollar store. I’d tasked my friend Lauralee’s kids with making paper ornaments.

  “When’s the next job?” he asked.

  My back crinked a little and I stretched it out. It would have been nice to own a table and chairs, but I had only a few hundred dollars left from our last job and I didn’t want to risk spending it. I knew what it was like to be down to my last nickel. I wasn’t going through that for furniture.

  “I don’t want to be a ghost hunter,” I admitted to him.

  “You were good,” he said, without a trace of irony. “Does this have to do with you dating the fuzz?”

  I let out a self–conscious chuckle. “No.” Then again, Ellis Wyatt probably wouldn’t want me ghost–hunting either. We’d almost been killed when we’d faced a poltergeist on his property.

  Frankie broke into a grin. “I get it,” he said knowingly. “You were doing it to get lucky, not for the money.”

  “Ew, no.” Yes, it was how Ellis and I had fallen for each other, but, “It doesn’t mean I want to do it again.”

  Frankie grinned. “Yes, you do.”

  Oh, Lordy. I was glad when I heard knocking on the front door.

  “It’s me,” my sister called. The hinges squeaked as Melody let herself in.

  I hadn’t expected her tonight, but that didn’t mean anything. She passed through my empty front room and straight into the parlor. Her blond hair was up in a messy bun and she carried a Tupperware container. “Hi, Verity. Hi, Frankie.”

  I stood and gave her a hug. “How’d you know he was around?” I asked. Half the time, Frankie disappeared into the ether, or wherever ghosts went.

  “He always backs your queen into a corner,” she said.

  Frankie groaned. “Aw, come on.”

  I looked back at the chessboard, trying to see where I was in trouble, but found myself distracted when Melody handed me the delicious–smelling container. “Mmm…roasted potatoes, onions”–I pulled open the lid–”gravy,” I added with pure delight.

  “I made too much pot roast,” she said, as if it happened all the time.

  She was lying through her teeth. Melody could barely bake a chicken. When it wasn’t undercooked or scorched to a crisp, she’d forget and leave the giblets packet in the middle.

  Ever since my sister found out I was living on ramen noodles and granola bars, she’d been buying ready–to–go grocery meals, boxing them up in Tupperware, and delivering them to me under the guise of Martha Stewart.

  “Thanks,” I told her, keeping up the facade. Otherwise, she’d move on to phase two, which would be her trying to give me money she didn’t have.

  She chewed at her bottom lip. “I have to confess.
I’m not just here to give you dinner this time.” She cringed. “My friend needs help with a ghost.”

  Frankie barked out a laugh. “Fantastic. She’ll do it.”

  Good thing Melody couldn’t see him or hear him. I shot him the hairy eyeball. He looked much too pleased with himself, hovering over by the fireplace.

  “This…thing I do,” I said, returning my attention to Melody, “it has to be a secret.” People in our small Southern town already believed I was an odd duck. I’d be crazy to add to the gossip. Besides, the work was dangerous and scary. I was a graphic designer by trade. “I need design jobs.”

  “How’s that going?” she mused, knowing the answer.

  Not so well. Ever since I’d offended the first family of Sugarland, Tennessee, by leaving their son at the altar, my freelance business had dried up.

  Now I was secretly dating his brother, Ellis.

  I didn’t know how things could get worse, but I was willing to bet they would if that little nugget got out.

  Or if I started chasing ghosts.

  I headed for the kitchen with my dinner.

  Melody followed. “The good news is, she can’t pay you anyway.”

  “This is getting better all the time,” I mused.

  Melody flipped on the lights. “She does have a nice pre–owned kitchen set she’ll give you,” she added, grabbing my lone plastic plate out of a drying rack by the sink. “This is my friend Julie from high school.”

  “I like her.” Julie had always been nice to me. She owned a resale shop downtown. The store carried some fancy high–end antiques, but much of the merchandise consisted of good, gently used items.

  Still…

  I took the plate from my sister and slid the entire pot roast meal onto it. “What does Julie want me to do?”

  My sister leaned against the counter. “The store has always been haunted. She’ll leave at night and come back to find pennies stacked up on her cash register. Or she’ll open up in the morning and smell cigar smoke. One time, she watched an entire display of antique doorknobs start shaking like we were having an earthquake or something. A customer saw it, too.”