Her Christmas Wolf (Sawtooth Shifters Book 4)

by Kristen Strassel

  And he was cute.

  All the guys that were associated with Forever Home had the most incredible eyes. I’d never seen anything like it. The Channings all had blue eyes that reminded me of a clear sunny day, and Shea’s were like liquid gold. It was the first thing I noticed about him when he came up to me. Like the sun going down, setting the horizon on fire. They glowed from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat.

  He hopped out of the truck, swinging his arms in front of him, looking around the property. He always wore a hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, even though it was freezing. I’d only met him a couple times, but he’d worn a hoodie every time. It was a silly little thing that I could count on. There was a difference, having something to look forward to that brought comfort. I much preferred it to all the signals that ushered in pain. I’d clung to the promise of days like this while I endured the never-ending cruelty. There were two different kinds of survival.

  Shea’s forearms were covered with tattoos, and I hadn’t been able to take a close enough look to see what they were. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. Even in my sleep. Last night, I dreamt about someone who could’ve been Shea with vines winding around his arms. They bloomed in the sun, golden and orange, like teardrops fallen from his eyes. Butterflies and birds fluttered around, and the whole thing was so peaceful.

  I wondered what it meant. Since I spent a lot of time lost in my own thoughts, I recorded them in a journal, then looked them up in a dream dictionary to see what my brain was trying to tell me. It was the only book that came everywhere with me. I guarded it with my life to make sure no one could take it away from me. I’d marked it up with notes and things I never wanted anyone else to see. I drew what I could remember in the morning, then would look up the meanings of the images. They’d follow the same themes: control, vulnerability, and a longing for affection. CAST had given me a tablet to read on, and I loved that thing. Reading was my only escape, and how I knew things should be better. I didn’t remember any stories from when I was little, I’d forgotten all the fairy tales I learned before I was in the cage. I discovered romance novels, much to my social worker’s dismay. I didn’t want to read about kids and be reminded of my past. Instead, I wanted to dream about the future. I noticed the books had a lot of the same themes as my dreams.

  I didn’t have time to write in my journal this morning. Work started early at Forever Home. I was excited about this, having something to do. At CAST, I hadn’t been ready for responsibility. Before that, I had to concentrate on surviving. This is what I wanted, to feel normal. And I was looking forward to getting to know Shea.

  I had a feeling there was more to him than he let everyone see. I wondered what he dreamed about.

  Last night had been so good I forgot to be nervous about today. Until now. The ranch was huge, and eventually Trina would leave me here to work with the man who had incredible golden eyes. So much left to chance.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Trina said when she cut the engine. “But I think it would be really good if you did.”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t let Shea order you around. He’s not your boss. You’re quiet, but I know you’ve got a backbone.” Trina didn’t give me a chance to answer before she got out of the truck.

  “Nice hat,” Shea said as I approached. Last night Trina bought me a pink knit hat with a giant pom pom and a matching scarf. Pink was my favorite color and I hardly ever got anything in it. Trina suggested I stick with a black jacket, gloves, and boots, since it was a working farm and things could get messy. I had so much fun shopping, picking everything out, that I didn’t care what I wound up with.

  I went up on my tiptoes and tapped the brim of Shea’s hat. I couldn’t believe how bold I was being. Two days ago I wouldn’t have gotten out of the truck without being dragged. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle.

  Shea’s mouth opened in surprise. Maybe I’d done too much. I lived my whole life inside an eggshell, terrified it would crack.

  “She does make noise,” he said. The surprise turned to a smile, and he poked my hip. “I like that sound. I’m going to make you do that a lot.”

  “Okay, this isn’t Farmer’s Match. The cows are probably aching to be milked.” Trina ushered us toward the barn. Shea might’ve liked my laugh, but Trina didn’t. A familiar burning feeling claimed my stomach.

  Shea laughed. “Please. Like anyone at Forever Home can talk. Is this the first time you’ve dated one of your guests, Trina?”

  What the....

  “I won’t dignify that with a response. You’re going to teach Delaney how to milk a cow and I’m going to refrain from throwing your ass off the property. Remember, I’m your reference.”

  I reached for the little notebook in my pocket. I almost wrote a note to Trina, asking her to stop talking to Shea like that, but I didn’t dare. It could be me she was irritated with. And she was the one in charge of the cages. It only took one person to turn the rest against me.

  The barn was bigger than most houses and much warmer than I expected.

  “How do you say ‘cow’ in sign language, Delaney?” Shea asked.

  I folded down my middle three fingers and brought my thumb to my temple. I waved my hand twice.

  “That’s cool.” Shea repeated the motion against the brim of his hat. “Now I’m going to show you a few more things you can do with your hands.”

  A new sensation clenched my belly.

  He brought me into a large stable. Hay crunched beneath our feet.

  “This is Bessie, and from the sound of these moos, she needs to be milked.” He placed a small stool next to the cow. “Have a seat.”

  I shrank back against Trina and shook my head. That animal was huge.

  “She can just watch today.” Trina put her arm around me, rubbing my arm. I tensed, but didn’t pull away.

  “Bullshit. If she’s here to work with me, she’s going to work. I’m not going to baby her.” Shea approached us and held out his hand. “Come on. Bessie wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Trina spoke against my ear. I nodded, but I was lost in those golden eyes.

  I took Shea’s hand.

  He led me over to the stool, still holding my hand as I sat. He crouched down, one leg on either side of me, the heat of his body seeping through my jacket. “Good thing you wore those gloves, because she likes it when your hands are warm. This is a pretty sweet barn, and it’s got towel warmers. The guy who owned it before Shadow was a mean old bastard, but he didn’t mess with his livestock. Take off your gloves, and press these against her udders. It helps get the milk flowing.”

  Shea put the warm towel in my bare hand, and led me to Bessie’s udders. I wouldn’t have touched her on my own, but he was my bravery. It wasn’t bad at all; her udders were firm under the towel, and she let us work.

  He handed me a dry towel. “Pat her dry. Be gentle.”

  Shea got up to grab a bucket. I looked back to Trina, and she nodded in encouragement. The warmth was back, Shea’s big hand clasped over mine. “Ready to milk a cow?”

  No. My heart thundered in my chest. Shea could probably hear it. I nodded.

  “Awesome.” He rubbed something gummy in my hands, massaging it into my palms. I wasn’t surprised his hands were rough, but he was much gentler than I expected. His breath hitched, warm against my cheek. “Everything we do here is to make the animals feel safe. Like us, they’ve been through a lot of shit. That’s over now. I put Vaseline on your hands so you have some slip. We’re going to take diagonal udders, it’s easier that way. Close your thumb and your forefinger over the base of the teat like this.”

  Shea closed his hand over mine.

  “And once your palm feels full squeeze down. But don’t let go of the base, or the milk will go up, not down.”

  A stream of milk hit the metal bucket. Followed by another. Holy crap, I was milking a cow. Shea was doing more of the work than I was
, but I’d done like fourteen things that scared the shit out of me since getting out of Trina’s truck and only tried to hide once.

  And nothing bad happened.

  “Those are empty, so we’ll move to the others. You’re doing awesome, Delaney. You’ll be taking over this place in no time.”

  Chapter Five

  Shea

  I’d never seen The Redheaded Stepchild so packed outside of a Full Moon Fever Party. People cheered in the parking lot line as I walked to the back door for the fight. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins and I punched the air, trying to use some of my energy. If I didn’t, I got stiff and fought like shit. I needed to keep moving.

  “Don’t you want to know who you’re fighting?” Major asked. With all his grumbling and wanting to be alpha, he made a perfect manager, and X was my biggest fan. I kicked ass, and they handled all the business shit.

  “Don’t care.” I shuffled back and forth while we waited for Jacques, the club owner, to come to the door. It didn’t matter, I’d never lost a fight. There weren’t a lot of things I was good at, but fighting was my thing. I didn’t have a strategy, I knew what to do when I saw my opponent. It was like a dance, every move he made revealed his weaknesses to me. No formula, just divine intervention.

  “He never listens.” X sighed, ignoring me. These two loved to talk like I couldn’t hear them. “He’ll be a cocky motherfucker until someone knocks some sense into him.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Jacques said when he opened the door. “But tonight you have your work cut out for you.”

  I insisted we arrive close enough to fight time to drive my brothers batshit crazy for exactly this reason. People tried to psyche me out, including Jacques, who was going to pay his mortgage off the money I raked in for this place tonight.

  X helped me gear up for the fight. He wrapped my hands, put my gloves on, and slipped the dental guard into my mouth.

  “Can I give you any advice?” he asked.

  “Can I stop you?” I garbled around the guard.

  X laughed. “Don’t do anything stupid, just for the money. Things are going good at the shop. And they’re working out at Forever Home. You come home grinning like an idiot. We like having this ugly mug around.”

  He whacked the side of my head before walking away.

  I wouldn’t do anything stupid, and it was because of Forever Home. More specifically, Delaney. To see her sweet smile. For the first time, I actually wanted to go to work, be part of something bigger than myself. Every other time it was for the paycheck, and for my own pride.

  Little by little Delaney was crawling out of her shell. I wished she was here tonight, sitting with my brothers in the middle of this giant crowd, so I could show her what I was really good at, besides taking care of animals or saying goofy shit to make her giggle. It was already my favorite noise in the world, hands down, because I knew how much it took for her to let go and do it. Problem was, she’d run out of here screaming as soon as I stepped in the ring. It broke my heart. I never dreamed anyone could conquer me, but after six months on Ryker’s farm, starving and broken, that kind of fear settled deep. I was strong enough to shake it off, and so was she. She’d get there, when she was ready. Fighting didn’t always mean throwing punches. There were so many things about me that she wouldn’t understand, and I had to figure out a way to explain them to her before it was too late.

  The crowd roared as my opponent and I were introduced. I could tell who those rich fuckers from Vegas were. Their mouths dropped, whispering to each other during our weigh in. My opponent was human, I knew it from the weight difference. Some giant Canadian oaf who had no idea what he was in for. From the way he moved, I guessed he’d been cut from his hockey team and was here to make a quick buck.

  ‘Lone Wolf’ wasn’t a cute nickname. He’d find that out real fast.

  He never saw the first punch coming. But as his head cracked back from the impact of my glove, he knew that money fucking belonged to me.

  Some guys trash talked me, thinking I got lucky, landing a blow like that. Canada agreed, although he was smart enough to keep it to himself. He turned bright red, his breath coming in rough angry pants. I moved a million miles an hour compared to him, but I’d never slow down to match his game. Sometimes that was a trick, too. I never changed my plan to accommodate anyone.

  I kept him off-balance. Canada stumbled, landing a couple blows, one to my eye that stung like a bitch. I learned long ago I only needed one. He was slower than shit, and I took advantage of that, drumming my signature beat on his chest, knocking the air out of him. They were all the same, and the bad decisions came quick. I blocked his punches, landing more to his face and throat, before landing the final blow to his face.

  Everyone’s nose made the same revolting sound when it broke. First the crack, and then the wet thump before Canada hit the ground. The busted nose wasn’t the only thing that did him in, but combined with the empty lungs and the bloody eyes, it was one hell of a nail in the coffin.

  Counting to ten was a courtesy. These guys pissed me off, slow fucking humans feeling too much pain. I pulled my arm away from the judge, storming off the stage while everyone still cheered.

  “What the fuck, Shea?” Major grabbed me. He was the only man I’d ever met quicker than me, he’d taught me everything I knew. “You won.”

  “I’m not doing this anymore. It’s a fucking joke.” Even more of a joke, I had to hold up my hands and wait for Major to get me out of my gloves.

  “What do you want? More money? The take of the bets should be pretty good. The place was packed.”

  I glared past my brother. I couldn’t see the crowd anymore, but fuck those people for betting against me. “Some fucking respect.”

  I’D ALWAYS WORKED WITH guys. Loud, crude, and dirty. Everything Delaney wasn’t. She’d become my sweet little shadow, pink pom pom like a cherry on top, teaching me the sign language words for the animals and working way harder than I ever expected. Survivors were kindred spirits, and she didn’t need words to tell me how precious this chance was to her. By the end of the week, she could milk Bessie and collect the eggs from the chickens without my help. At first she wouldn’t even go in the coop. It was huge, but I wouldn’t patronize her. I knew how that felt. Like no one expected people like us could actually do a good job. Fuck them.

  In the beginning of the week, I’d catch her sneaking looks at me. Her eyes would dart so fast they’d be back on whatever she’d been working on immediately. I didn’t cut her any slack, and I’d hold the gaze as long as she was willing. Those blue eyes, protected by her frames, had so much to say. Day by day she got bolder, not looking away when she was caught. A slow smile would spread across her face, and she’d nibble on her bottom lip, which was as pink as that hat, like she wanted to take the whole thing back but couldn’t.

  If she was any other woman, I’d pin her up against the stall and take her right there. Lay her down in the hay and go wild. But that was just it. She wasn’t any other woman. And that’s what had me going fucking crazy.

  If I was better with words, I would’ve figured out a way to ask her what the hell did they do to you?

  Monday morning and I was on top of the fucking world. A thousand bucks in my pocket, even if it was covered in bettor’s slime, did wonders for my attitude. Wolves healed quickly. The new skin on my knuckles was pink and shiny, although the cold would split them open this morning for sure. My shiner had faded enough that it would look like a shadow under the brim of my hat. If Delaney noticed it, I’d tell her the truth. It might scare her, but it wouldn’t do as much damage as a lie. That I wouldn’t be able to fix.

  Delaney sat at Shadow’s desk, hard at work. She’d taken off her jacket, her hair free and falling down her shoulders. She chewed her lip, so lost in the project she didn’t look up when I came in.

  “Whatcha doin’?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the desk. She didn’t leave me much room, colored pencils everywhere. I slid the paper away fr
om her when she jumped, angling it so I could see the drawing.

  She drew a man’s hand in grayscale, and this girl had some fucking talent. It looked like it could have come off the paper and grabbed me. His arm was engulfed in a flowering vine, the blooms vivid like fire bursts in orange and yellow. Butterflies kissed the petals, and—

  Delaney slammed her hand over the image, her own hand so delicate in comparison to the photo. She snatched the paper away. She put her head down, and her hair hung in her face and I couldn’t read her expression.

  Blood pounded in my eardrums in tandem with the echo of her hand landing on the paper. Delaney’s shoulders rose and fell with her breath.

  “It’s incredible.” I broke the silence. She didn’t look up. “It looks real.”

  She ripped a piece of paper from the pad and picked up a pencil. She pushed it at me when she was done writing.

  The letters were shaky, confidence shattered, but the message almost sent me off the desk.

  It’s you.

  I steadied myself, looking back to Delaney. She wasn’t hiding anymore. Her body trembled, our gazes locked. Her lips parted, and but I knew I had to be the one to speak.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you.” My words shook. They didn’t sound like they belonged to me.

  She gasped.

  “I’m scared too, Delaney. I’ve never felt this way before. You can’t run away from everything that scares you. If the butterflies in my stomach look anything like the ones you drew, they can’t be bad.”

  She picked up the pencil again, holding it over the paper before writing. She curved her arm around the message, shielding it until she was ready for me to see it. I expected her to erase the words or crumple the paper and throw it away in frustration.