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

by Eve Langlais

  “I am,” she said. She glanced at Emily and then away. “I was. I– we were friends. Well, not really. Partners, I guess. We did what we did because we both hated werewolves.”

  Hunter scowled. “‘Was’ is right. You let me get too close. I can kill you before you can shoot me.”

  Tiffany pushed the release on the rifle and let the magazine fall to the floor. She pulled the bolt back, ejecting the loaded round and making it clatter and roll across the ground. With the gun empty, she set it on the ground and let it fall with a crash. “I saved you,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed. “Why? What do you want? You said you hate me.”

  “I hate werewolves,” she corrected. She blushed and glanced around the room. “Hated. Maybe I still do, I don’t know. Things change, you know? People change.”

  “So what do you want and why should I give it to you?”

  “I want what you can give me,” she said. “I told you the other day. I would do anything for you. You opened my eyes, Hunter. You showed me that you’re not the cold, cruel bastard most of your kind are. You gave me a chance. You made me realize you do care.”

  Hunter barked out a laugh. “I gave you a raise because I told Emily I would.”

  Her eyes rounded. “What?”

  “I’d been watching you, but the chance with Emily let it all come together.”

  “Wait–did you love her?”

  Hunter considered her question for a brief moment and then shook his head. “No. She was too good to be true.”

  Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that mean?”

  “She didn’t want anything but to be with me? To be my maid and wife and chef and sexual servant? What women really wants that? It’s a foolish man’s dream, maybe, but she kept me distracted enough to not question it as I should have.”

  Tiffany swallowed. “I– I actually do know of a few girls like that. They’re smart and could do almost anything, but they get off on being bimbos. Or at least that’s what they call themselves. I don’t get it.”

  Hunter blinked and shook his head. “What?”

  “Sorry. Just pointing that out. They’re pretty rare, but if you look on the Internet you–”

  Hunter waved his hand, cutting her off. “You’ve been teasing me for weeks now,” he said.

  She swallowed and the nodded. “I thought you wanted me. At first, at least. Then Emily told me about you and her, and I was just confused. You kept showing interest, though. I thought maybe you were just the pig I’d figured you for until you invited her to the hunt. We’d figured out what happens here. On the hunt, I mean.”

  Hunter sniffed and turned back to glance at Tyler. His breath was hissing and gurgling through parted lips. Flecks of red stained his lips and frothed at the corners of his mouth. Hunter shook his head and turned back to Tiffany. “You knew about the hunt? Why didn’t you help her and kill us all?”

  “I thought you’d kill her and then come back to me,” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I didn’t think she’d be successful, not by herself, but then she told me her plan. I knew I had to come. I had to help.”

  “You’re too late,” he pointed out.

  “No.”She met his gaze as she shook her head. “Help you.”

  “Because you think you love me?”

  “I do!” she insisted. “It’s crazy and probably because of the damn pheromones your kind releases. And maybe because I get off on the danger and thrill of being near someone like you. But all that is just a good time. It’s really because you gave me a chance. You saw me and singled me out and made me feel special. You did that, Mr. Wynn, not some sociopathic killer.”

  “I’m not a sociopathic killer,” he argued.

  She stared past him at the body on the floor of his bedroom. “Oh really?”

  “I was defending myself.”

  “Fine,” Tiffany said. “What about past years? What about every month when you get away to hunt?”

  “I don’t go every month,” Hunter said. “And when I do, it’s for elk, deer, caribou, and bear. We only hunt a person once a year, and I’ve never killed one before.”

  “Wait, you guys only kill a person once a year?” she asked. She tilted her head and then jerked her accusing eyes back up to his. “But you helped kill innocent people, right?”

  He sighed and gave a short nod. “I would track and run them down, but Tyler was the one who almost always went for the kill. Stephen, when he could, but Tyler usually beat him.”

  She nodded. “Do you need to do that? Kill people, I mean?”

  “No.”

  She gasped. “I thought–but you–my friends told me that you had to or you went crazy and couldn’t change back. You’d become bloodthirsty and butcher everyone you came across.”

  “Has anything like that ever happened?” Hunter challenged. “Have you ever read about a wolf doing that?”

  “What? No. I mean, I guess not. Unless it was covered up.”

  “You haven’t read about it because it’s never happened. The hunt is a thrill, but it’s not necessary. Hunting wild game is just as satisfying.”

  Tiffany blinked and stared into space, her eyes flitting back and forth without seeing anything. “All those lies,” she whispered.

  Hunter turned again as Tyler jerked in his chair and then collapsed on himself. Air and blood hissed out of him until he lay unnaturally still in the wooden chair. Hunter turned back to Tiffany. “It’s done. All but me.”

  “And me,” Tiffany breathed. “I was here. I saw it.”

  “I meant my kind. My pack. I’m all that’s left.”

  Tiffany licked her lips and looked around. She glanced at Tyler and then away, shuddering before she focused on Hunter’s feet. “So now what do we do?”

  Hunter sighed. “How did you get here?”

  “Snowmobile. I hope you’ve got some gas here so I can get back?”

  He smirked. “All right. Here’s the story. I was out chasing a blood trail,” he said. “Got lost in the dark until I saw a bright light through the trees. By the time I got back, the cabin was a raging inferno and I couldn’t get inside to help.”

  Tiffany’s eyes widened. “You’re going to burn them?”

  He nodded. “There can’t be any evidence.”

  She swallowed loudly. “What, um, what about me?”

  Hunter stared at her long enough that she began to fidget with her hands and stared down at them.”You know what happened here.”

  She lifted her eyes to his. “I won’t tell anyone! I promise. Please, Mr. Wynn! I want to help you. To be with you. To be like you.”

  Hunter tilted his head. “You want to be like me?”

  “Jesus! Yes, I’ve been telling you that all along. I want what you can give me? That’s what that means!”

  “Most people die,” he warned. “It usually takes about four weeks and when the change takes them, they have to fight it and master it, or they die.”

  “I’ll take that chance. I can’t stand living like I have been. All the fear and hate and never getting anything done. In the last few weeks since you noticed me, my life has been so different. So much better! If I can have that and be like you–and be with you?”

  Hunter sighed. “I’m not good with relationships.”

  Tiffany risked a smile. “Neither am I. Look at me, I just shot the closest thing to a friend I have. How about we try to suck at relationships together and see what happens?”

  “Aren’t you afraid you’re biting off more than you can chew?”

  “Oh my God, did you really just make that joke?” Tiffany shook her head. “Fine. No, I’m not. I know you’ll help me through it. I’ve seen what kind of a man you are beneath the lawyer mask.”

  Hunter nodded. “Bite me.”

  “What?”

  “Bite me. Break the skin. Taste my blood and meat.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “You want this? That’s what you need to do.”

  “I thou
ght you had to bite me and not kill me?”

  He shook his head. “Whoever these wolf hunters are you learned from are idiots.”

  “I’ll say!” she agreed. She swallowed as silence stretched between them. “Um, how?”

  “Christ,” Hunter muttered before he lunged forward and grabbed her.

  Tiffany screamed as he ripped her winter coat with his powerful hands and yanked her sweatshirt away from the side of her neck. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and bit down, his teeth sharpening and protruding as they pierced the soft flesh where her shoulder met her neck. He sawed at the wound and licked up the blood before pulling back and leaving her standing unsteady and with her chest heaving.

  She reached up to her shoulder and then brought her hand up to stare at it. “You bit me?” she whispered. She looked at him and then dropped her eyes down to where something else was heaving. “And you liked it.”

  “It’s like that,” he admitted.

  Tiffany stared as his manhood rose to its full glory and then she grabbed her shirt and finished pulling it off. She unfastened her snow pants and jeans and kicked them off before stepping up to him. “I want it. Show me,” she whispered before she kissed him and tasted her blood on his lips.

  Hunter swept her up and carried her to the couch. He sat down with her on his lap, but she wasn’t satisfied until she rose up and shifted so she could straddle him. She held him still and sank down, parting her flesh and moaning as she worked him deep inside her. When she could go no farther, she stared at him and then presented her firm breasts to him.

  Hunter bit her breasts and nipped at her nipples, making her cry out and writhe in his lap. She rode him, rising and falling on his hardness as he lavished her tortured nipples. When she couldn’t take anymore, she pulled his head up and kissed him, her teeth bruising his lips and scraping his tongue. She shuddered, overwhelmed to finally be fucking him and for it to mean so much. She had to break the kiss and was panting into his ear as she neared her peak.

  “Do it,” Hunter growled. “If you want it, take it. Join my pack. Become my mate.”

  Tiffany groaned and felt the first waves of pleasure cresting through her body. She slammed down on him and began rotating her hips, crushing her soaked sex against his pubic bone while he throbbed inside her.

  She tasted his flesh in the same place he’d bitten her and felt it beneath her teeth. His skin was firm and spongy. Almost rubbery, yet he tasted of salt and of man. Hunter grabbed her hips and thrust up, swelling and exploding and filling her with a heat she hadn’t imagined. His orgasm took her over the edge into her own, blinding her with its intensity and forcing her muscles to contract and explode. Including her jaw.

  When she was able to focus again, she tasted blood. His blood. More than just the hot mixture of copper and salt she felt something rubbery in her mouth. She suckled his wound and moved the stringy material around with her tongue. Hunter was breathing hard beside her and making soft grunting sounds in his throat.

  She kissed him again and lifted her head, pausing only to pluck the pale bit of meat from between her lips and hold it up. Her eyes rounded as she stared at it.

  “Eat it,” Hunter breathed. “It’s my flesh. My meat. It will make you stronger. Make it easier to be like me.”

  “You… eat… people?”

  “We can,” he said. “Do it. Soon you will change. You are strong. Determined. Ambitious. You can beat the wolf and be like me.”

  She nodded. “I will.” She sucked his flesh between her lips and swallowed it. She licked her lips and then kissed him again.

  When the kiss ended, Hunter stared at her. “A pack of two,” he said. “It’s a good start.”

  She giggled. “And you’re the alpha?”

  “Damn right. You do what I say.”

  “Anything you say,” she agreed. “I’m your mate.”

  ***

  A Cold Winter's Bite © Copyright 2014 Dawn Michelle

  About the Author

  Dawn Michelle is a girl next door turned mother of two and household champion. After years of watching her husband write novel after novel and not trying to write the stories she was interested in she decided it was time she showed him how it was done.

  If you enjoyed Dawn’s writing and would like to have a chance to find out more about her and her new releases, please sign up for her newsletter. You can also reach out to her personally at dawnmichelle@novelconceptpublishing.com.

  Dangerous Distraction

  A Guardians novella part 1

  Lola St. Vil

  Bellamy is on the hunt to capture Knight; a dangerous fallen angel. But When she finds him she also finds something she thought she’d never find––love.

  The crystal casing is roughly the size of a ring box; it holds a red liquid–like substance and sparkles in the light. It’s called a Rah. It is a symbol of an angel’s heart. Giving it away to someone is equivalent to asking that someone to marry you. And that is exactly what Derek is asking of me. He wants me to belong to him––forever.

  Shit.

  We are seated in the most exquisite and romantic restaurant in Paris: Restaurant Le Meurice. The Versailles–inspired restaurant is bejeweled with crystal chandeliers, marble, and candlelight. Outside the window the snowflakes perform a graceful ballet as they fall to the ground. The tree–lined streets thrive with Christmas lights and decorations. The humans walk by happily with their thick coats and shopping bags.

  Derek clears his throat politely. That pulls me out of my thoughts and brings me back to our table. I look down at the Rah; it reflects my image back to me. I’m beautiful. Before you roll your eyes in disgust, I should mention that I’m an angel and most if not all of us are pleasing to look at.

  I have long, raven hair that frames my face perfectly. My stark, misty grey eyes and long lashes make it hard for me to go unnoticed. And my high cheekbones, flawless complexion, and full lips serve to enhance my beauty. However if there is one thing about me that makes me stand out it would have to be my figure. My shapely legs, toned arms, and curves are what garner the most attention.

  I try not to attract too much attention; I wear my hair in a simple low ponytail and put on very little makeup. And although I am secretly a lover of fashion gods like Alexander McQueen, Giambattista Valli, and Elie Saab, I generally don’t wear them. Instead I opt for sophisticated, classic garments from Giorgio Armani, Tom Ford, and Donna Karan.

  While I do my best to downplay my physical attributes, one thing I cannot bring myself to do is give up my heels. When I slip on six–inch Miu Miu, Manolo, or Louboutin heels, all is right with the world. How deep does my love for shoes go?

  There are times when an angel can start to lose faith in humanity. When that happens, Omnis, the creator of all things, advises us to visit places on earth that can restore our faith and wonder in the humans.

  In order to do that, some angels go to places where humans worship, some angels go to museums, and others go to concert halls and listen to beautifully arranged compositions. But for me, there is no truer expression of humanity’s beauty, creativity, and genius than the shoe department at Saks Fifth Ave.

  The only thing I obsess about more than my footwear is my job. It’s like this: in the angel world there is a hierarchy. And among the most powerful are Para angels. And within the Paras there is a small elite group called the Omari; we are hunters. We track and capture angels who have broken the rules. I’m the first and only female member. Even with heels on, I can out fly, out tackle, and out fight many of my teammates.

  Being the first female member is an honor, but it’s also a real pain in the ass. All eyes are on me. If I fail to capture an offender, it’s like every female Para has failed. Yet if I capture one, which I do very often, it’s treated as if it’s just dumb luck. I bet you didn’t know angels could be sexist pigs, but there it is.

  I haven’t been on the job long, but I have worked tirelessly since getting accepted into the group. The training and dail
y battles are enough to make anyone want to give up, but not me. My parents instilled in me the notion that I could do anything. And that is what I truly believe––I can do anything. I look down at the Rah on the table once again.

  Well, almost anything…

  “Bellamy!” Derek calls out to me.

  “Yes,” I reply, too stunned to think of another response.

  “I’m asking if you will have my Rah,” he says gently.

  “I know,” I say sincerely.

  “So…what’s your answer? Will you accept my Rah and give me yours in return? Or as the humans say, ‘Will you marry me?’” he asks.

  Derek is also a Para, but he’s not part of the Omari. He has sandy brown hair, a perfect smile, and warm eyes. We’ve been dating for over a year now. He’s kind, sincere, and fun to be with.

  So say yes to his proposal, dummy.

  “Bellamy, are you happy being with me?” he asks.

  “Yes, of course I’m happy.”

  “But not happy enough to take my Rah?”

  “I didn’t turn your offer down,” I remind him.

  “So your answer is ‘yes,’” he pushes.

  “No,” I reply.

  “Oh,” he says, sadly.

  “No, I mean, that’s not my answer,” I reply, losing patience with myself.

  “Bellamy, I love you. Do you feel the same way about me?” he asks.

  “Yes, you know I do.”

  “Then marry me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just the timing is bad. I just started being Omari.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I have a lot on my plate, Derek. We need to give it some time.”

  “This is crazy. We love each other and we should make it official.”

  “Again, I’m not saying no. I’m saying let’s wait until things calm down.”

  “You know it’s funny, but I feel like waiting is all I’ve been doing. I wait for you to return my calls, I wait for you to return my texts, and lately I wait to get messages from you saying that once again you will be canceling on dinner plans.”