A Christmas Spectacle to Bear

by Jennifer Hilt

  “What’s the matter?” Derek’s voice was still more growl than human voice.

  Derek knew Caleb better than anyone. The older shifter might be in excellent physical condition, but he concealed a shattered heart. Years before, a succubus had killed his wife and child. Now he headed the Icy Cap Firehouse. Personally, Caleb couldn’t imagine trying to wrangle a group of non-related paranorms into working together. Male bears were never meant to socialize with one another. But if anyone could make the impossible happen, it’d be Derek.

  “How do you know something is wrong?” Caleb’s throat felt stiff. His fingers skimmed his jaw, making sure it was human skin, not fur.

  His mentor snorted. “Stop stalling. You were itching for a fight minutes ago.”

  Caleb closed his eyes and tilted his head back. If anyone happened across them, they’d be quite a sight. Two naked men ready to tear into each other for no good reason other than wanting to avoid living.

  “I’ve made a mistake.” Caleb kept his closed eyes pointed toward the heavens.

  Only the puff of his friend’s icy breath and the crash of waves in the sea behind them filled the space between them.

  “Continue,” Derek said.

  “I claimed a woman.”

  Derek was silent. Caleb wondered if he’d heard him. He opened his eyes to find his mentor’s dark eyes staring back at him.

  “Did she survive?”

  Caleb let out a strangled laugh. “Hell yes. She’s tracked me down to Icy Cap.”

  “You’ve chosen a mate. Congratulations.”

  “I didn’t choose her. And she sure as hell didn’t choose me.”

  “You must’ve bitten her?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I guess. There was a lot going on.” Caleb ran his hands through his hair. It was sticky with salt water, freezing while they stood here. That didn’t bother him, though.

  “Apparently.” Derek shook his head in surprise, as much to himself as Caleb. “You didn’t make a mistake. You made a commitment. Stop freaking out and tend to your mate.

  Caleb shifted his feet. He wasn’t cold; he was impatient. “She doesn’t want me. How do I get rid of it?”

  “The female tracked you down. That doesn’t sound like someone wanting to end a union.”

  “How do we get rid of it?” Caleb pressed.

  “You’re sure you want to pursue this?”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re not going to like it,” Derek warned.

  Dread crept into Caleb’s belly. Why did every fucking thing about being a shifter have to be so damned complicated? Besides, what could be worse than being chained for eternity to one woman—and a dove shifter, at that?

  “How?” His breath was a whisper on the night wind.

  “Kill her.”

  Fuck.

  “I walked right into that.” Talking to Derek was no help at all. It wasn’t like there was a guide to being an ice bear shifter. By nature, male bears were solitary. Only choosing a mate improved matters. From now on, Caleb would know to be wary of the whole business.

  He understood risks and not belonging. He still believed that even with the deck stacked against him, if he exerted enough sacrifice and willpower, he could master anything.

  Caleb repeated the mantra that he was in charge of his own destiny over and over to himself that night. He believed it.

  Or thought he did, until he realized he was standing in front of the S&S shortly after nine the following morning.

  This wasn’t an accident. Lea was there. He knew it. He’d come to check on her. His urge to protect her was strong. What was she doing here so early in the morning? The parking lot was empty except for the cleaning staff’s vehicles.

  Caleb circled around back but the club was shut up tight. The only signs of life were the bags of garbage stacked up next to the overflowing dumpster. He pulled on the kitchen door, hoping it wasn’t completely latched. No such luck.

  3

  Lea

  She was determined to get a better look at the dead elf before rehearsals started. Having never seen an elf before coming to Icy Cap, she didn’t know what to look for. But she at least had to try.

  Carrying a flashlight, Lea left the prop-shed door ajar. The interior light was on, but she liked holding her flashlight; it made her feel professional. The elf was right where she and Paddy had left him. He still retained the forced smile. His clothes were soiled and ripped—not terribly, but it was clear he’d met trouble. Starting at his feet, Lea shone the flashlight over every inch of his body. No bruising, but his limbs were heavy with an increased odor of decomposition.

  Lifting his green elf cap, she combed away his stiff curls to examine his scalp. A small divot was at the very back of his head. She could fit the tip of her fingernail inside it.

  “Need a hand?” Caleb slid the shed door open.

  Lea’s heart thumped hard against her chest. She’d been so focused on the elf she’d not realized that Caleb had arrived. Now his presence blared like a flashing sign.

  The bear shifter stood buck naked, and the subzero temperatures didn’t appear to affect him one bit. Lea curled her fingers into fists. Part of her hated him for last night’s embarrassing debacle. That slippery feeling was in her stomach again: rejection never felt good.

  He was looking mighty fine this morning. Even without his nakedness, she would have been able to tell he’d recently shifted. His pupils were dilated until only a thin strip of blue iris remained. The briny smell of the sea clung to him.

  She’d tried convincing herself on the shuttle ride over here that he couldn’t possibly be as appealing as she remembered him. But she itched to run her hands over his chest again. Mentally, she plastered herself against him. She liked his lean and muscular form. A runner’s build. He’d be a lean ice bear too.

  Lea’s nipples hardened. She folded her arms across her chest, hoping Caleb wouldn’t notice.

  “Let’s forget last night.” She forced herself to look up at his face. Show no fear. She’d learned that from her brothers. Surely it’d apply to an ice bear too. She wasn’t physically afraid of Caleb; he’d never hurt her. But rejection never felt good. She’d made a mistake. Clearly. But she’d be damned if he was going to heckle her about it.

  She glanced down. He was naked while she was bundled up in a T-shirt, jeans and boots, and her puffy parka.

  “Why?” He stepped toward her, smoothing down her hair.

  Just him standing close made her body tingle. Maybe Caleb was sucking up all the oxygen in the shed. If there’d been any justice, he’d look like a troll. Instead, a light sheen clung to his cheeks and upper lip. He wiped his forehead with his forearm. A fine matting of dark-blond hair started in his lower abdomen, then disappeared down into a lovely vee.

  Lea’s throat was dry. “Have you found a remedy?”

  “I’m working on it.” His eyes again had a predatory look that started a pulsing deep inside her.

  Caleb took another step forward. She tilted her head up to maintain eye contact. There were just a few inches between them.

  Great. In the meantime, this claim between them made her completely sex crazed. Before she’d been confused and horny. Now the object of her lust was right before her.

  She kept her eyes above his waist, although his massive erection bobbed like a red flag.

  Lea licked her lips. “So! Autopsy time.”

  He didn’t move any closer, but his eyes never left her. She raised herself up to kiss his cheek, letting her breasts graze his chest. She remembered how he’d responded the previous night.

  Caleb closed his eyes. His arms gathered her against him.

  A thrill ran through her.

  “About last night . . .” Caleb began.

  She kissed his jaw line, feeling his morning stubble against her lips. It was such a relief to touch him, to give into the pull. She wanted to cry out in relief. Instead she managed, “Nice.”

  “Nice?” His cock tapped her belly. He tur
ned his face toward hers, and their lips brushed.

  “It’s just the claim. Once it’s gone, we’ll be back to how things were before, right?” Lea opened her mouth against his, sliding her tongue inside. His arms tightened around her. She slid her hands down his lean torso.

  An anticipatory tingle, like a pleasant buzz, lit her body.

  Between her legs, an ache began. “Oh hell, I want you,” she said. She wanted his hands touching her everywhere.

  His tongue licked along her neck in one languid swoop.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the pleasure strumming through her body.

  Caleb untucked her T-shirt and shoved the cotton up above her breasts. His hands gently slid down, cupping her pink satin bra.

  Lea exhaled. His hands touching her anywhere made her wild. His thumbs stroked her nipples through the satin, and then he slid a hand around her back to unclasp her bra. The straps slid off her shoulders, letting her breasts fall fully into his hands.

  Caleb lifted her easily onto a covered hay bale. Her back was against the shed wall. He returned to cupping her breasts, lowering his head to kiss one, then the other. Lea arched her back. He took one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard.

  She squeezed her thighs together, trying to soothe the ache.

  Caleb spread her legs, pressing himself firmly against her as he sucked her other nipple. Lea wiggled closer.

  She dropped her hands, stroking from his back to his bare ass. She slid her hands down his thick shaft to his warm balls. Stroking gently, she liked feeling him respond to her. He pressed himself against her hands, shuddering. Lea lightly raked her fingertips across his balls before working her way up his cock with light, feathery touches.

  Caleb groaned.

  Lea felt as if Caleb had found the zip-line to her core. In frustration, she squeezed his balls hard, and he almost shot out of her hands.

  “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?” She’d meant the squeeze to be a “yes,” not to injure him.

  “You surprised me, that’s all,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “You’re so sweet, but that only makes me want to fuck right here. Right now.”

  “Yes,” Lea said. It was that damn ache he started in her that drove her crazy. All she wanted was for him to soothe it.

  Caleb slid his hand down inside her jeans, inside her panties. Slowly, his fingers moved to separate her sex. At last, he slid one finger inside her pussy, then another.

  “You’re so wet,” he murmured.

  Lea pressed herself against his hand, urging him to continue. Pleasure washed over her.

  “Grr. Grr.”

  His fingers stopped moving.

  “Grr. Grr.”

  “Is there by any chance a skunk in here?” Caleb whispered against her hair.

  “Couldn’t be.” Lea turned away. However, a box of costumes she had set inside the door was rocking from side to side. Elvis’s head popped out of a space in the folded cardboard.

  Lea’s spirits plummeted. She wasn’t going to get fucked in this storage shed. Caleb slowly pulled his hand out of her jeans. They disentangled themselves, their panting breath sounding loud in the enclosed space.

  “And I thought last night was embarrassing.” Lea laughed shakily. She packed her boobs back into her bra. Her T-shirt was around her neck. Her panties were soaked. “You’ve gotta take Elvis back to the trailer. I’m due at rehearsal soon.”

  “Now?” He let his hands drop from her, but he didn’t step back.

  “I’m meeting Wanda this morning, and I don’t have time to take Elvis home. Being a troll delicacy, he wouldn’t be safe in the club.”

  Caleb’s erection eyed her. “Good point.”

  She brushed her hair back into a ponytail, but she’d lost the band.

  “Lea—”

  He’d changed his mind. Thank God. He was going to fuck her right here. She was starting to think she’d have to carry her vibrator around with her.

  “What about the autopsy?” Caleb glanced around.

  Elvis twined around their feet.

  Fuck.

  There were days (like today) when she really didn’t think she was cut out for PI work.

  “Right.” She pretended everything was normal. “Don’t you need tools?”

  “I’m not a medical examiner, I’m an ER doc. I’ll check him out, but don’t expect any miracles. I’ve never examined an elf before.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “The North Pole runs a tight ship. I’m surprised the elves are even allowed off campus.”

  Lea thought life at the Pole sounded a lot more like slavery and less like a merry winter wonderland. Maybe there was discontent, and that was a clue somehow? She should investigate this later.

  Caleb found the same notch in the base of the elf’s skull.

  “It’s small and sharp, whatever did that. I’m guessing an ice pick. Did you find one where you found him?”

  “If I’d found a murder weapon at the scene of the crime, I wouldn’t be asking for your help. Now, are you going to cut him open and take a look?”

  Caleb looked doubtful. “I don’t think that’ll do any good.”

  Lea handed him a wicked-looking knife she’d brought from home. Her online PI course had not involved conducting a medical examination, but damn if it didn’t work on every TV show.

  Caleb set the three French hens aside, then plunged the knife into the elf’s chest.

  She stifled a yelp. WTF?

  Sand spilled out from the elf onto the shed floor. The casing of his skin deflated like an old balloon.

  “Told you it wouldn’t help much.”

  Half an hour later, just a few minutes before rehearsal began, Caleb and Elvis were gone and Lea finished sweeping up the sand and dumping it into a black plastic bag. Soon the day was blurred with rehearsals. Before she knew it, showtime arrived.

  At the rate things were going, only a Christmas miracle could save Lea from cockeyed pasties. She wasn’t proud of her backstage desperation. Before her, a dozen Icy Cap troll showgirls lined up, awaiting inspection of their fabric nipple coverings. In just a few short weeks, Lea’s feelings about the pasties had gone from ignorance to resentment to loathing. That was a lot of stress hanging on a half-dollar-size fabric strip that migrated with the dancers’ sweat or body glitter.

  Until recently, she’d not given nipples, let alone pasties, any thought. Now, though, she spent her time evaluating bouncy boobs.

  She’d learned one thing: the audience loved pasties.

  Arming herself with a utility belt stocked with hairspray, double-sided tape, and replacement pasties, Lea performed frequent repairs. It was a hell of a trick keeping a pasty in place atop dense body hair.

  The first six trolls in line shimmied their tits for her.

  The icing on the holiday cookie was that the end-of-year Holiday Spectacle needed choreography. This was the make-or-break show of the season, with paranorms from everywhere flooding in to enjoy the festivities before the holiday. It was a tall order for a slight, mostly freckled dove shifter.

  Lea refocused her mind on the boobs in front of her.

  Pasties in place? Check.

  The drums, keyboard, and saxophone on the other side of the curtain moaned a throaty beat. She paused, recognizing the tune. Kudos to the musicians: they made a song about a snowman sound risqué.

  Peeking through the red velvet curtain separating backstage from the house, she could see that few empty seats remained. High-backed black leather booths ringed the room. The club’s maroon walls and canned red lighting screamed early 1970s. Patrons of the S&S liked it that way. The only nod to the upcoming holidays was tinsel draped over lava lamps. Her uncle had modeled the place after the nightclubs of Atlantic City and Vegas, seeking to recreate that atmosphere in Icy Cap. He’d succeeded. Mostly.

  The majority of the S&S crowd was troll miners. They preferred their steaks rare, their drinks neat, and their showgirls Follies style. No one complained about the lac
k of gluten-free menus or aerial acrobatics. The trolls liked their burlesque with feet on the ground and tits bouncing.

  “This one’s heading south,” said Wanda, the dancer third from the end. She pointed a gloved finger: her silver-tasseled pasty dangled like an overweighted Christmas tree ornament.

  “Hold still; don’t poke me in the eye again,” Lea said as she bit her tape roll, freeing up her hands.

  Like those of the other dancers, Wanda’s pasties resembled snow globes, their clear acrylic tips filled with silver glitter and ending in tassels. When the dancers bounced their tits in unison, the crowd roared approval for the S&S blizzard.

  All the dancers were trolls except Wanda, the lone human.

  The two women had been best friends since second grade. In the class Thanksgiving play, Lea and Wanda had made their stage debut as a pair of prancing turkeys, much to the audience’s delight. Wanda had been hooked on performing ever since, while Lea eventually traded in her pointe shoes for pistols and the family biz.

  Wanda had lived in Icy Cap for four years. She and Tommy left New York after high school graduation, seeking their Alaskan fortune. Their relationship hadn’t lasted long, but they remained friends. Now Tommy was trying his luck in Vegas while Wanda stuck with the S&S.

  “Hurry.” Wanda wiggled with nervous energy. She was almost a full head taller than Lea even without her platform heels and glittery headdress. Lea pressed the tape in place. Wanda’s body glitter made the adhesive skittish.

  The trolls snickered about Lea and Wanda’s lack of body hair, referring to them as “baldies.”

  Done.

  “Shake,” Lea said as she stepped back, willing the tape to hold.

  Her friend rolled her shoulders. Her pasties shimmied symmetrically.

  “Knock ’em dead.” Lea waved Wanda toward the curtain.

  “Break a leg,” she whispered, as the showgirls filed past her into the footlights.

  The last troll in the lineup gave her the middle finger before sashaying onto the stage.

  Don’t quit your day job.