by P. Jameson
Malcom stood tall before his mate, naked and waiting to see how this would all play out. Waiting to see if Francesca would still be his for Christmas. If she could accept the new him.
A… new kind of shifter.
***
Francesca stared at Malcom. Human Malcom. With his sexy, tattoo covered body. With his beard that drove her insane when he used it between her legs. With his soft, telling eyes and strong hands.
Malcom.
And she tried to reconcile it with the fierce, flaming being who roared fire at his enemies. Whose mane burned a crown around his head like a fearsome king from some fantastical world. Who had defended her against his horrible family.
How? How were they the same person?
She blinked over and over, but there was no moment of clarity.
“Say something.” His voice was rough. Careful. The way it was that first day when he walked into her shop to buy a candy cane.
“Did you know that would happen?”
“No. My animal was a cougar. I was a werecat, like the rest of my brothers. But a witch cursed our animals to be locked inside of us. I was broken. Like they are.”
“A witch?”
Malcom nodded. “The story I told you about the brother who ran away to start a new life. He fell in with a clan of decent werecats. There were a few witches there too. They helped him fight for his freedom. Wounded us like this. As you can see, it was deserved.”
“So, the fire? That’s… what… new?”
“Yes. And the mane.”
“How?”
He let out a long sigh. “You,” he said simply. “I don’t know how, or why. But it was all you. My beast led me to your shop. One look at you, and I knew you were mine. Knew I wanted to try with you. Try harder than I ever have.”
“Try what?”
“To be good. To be real. To have a future where I didn’t hurt people.”
“With me?”
“With you, Bright Spot.”
This was her Malcom. Somehow, the beast and the man were one.
He wasn’t delusional. He wasn’t unhinged. He was… unique.
Francesca brushed her palms over her cheeks, trying to swallow down all she’d seen tonight. But it was impossible. She needed time. Space. Needed to think. She still shook from the leftover adrenaline in her system. She still heard Felix’s sharp whistle. Cringe.
“I… I need to process. This is all so much.” She rubbed her temples, the ache in her chest growing stronger. The soul deep connection she felt with Malcom was throbbing. “I’m going to lie down.”
Numbly, she turned to leave the kitchen, but didn’t make it to the stairs before his voice stopped her.
“Francesca.”
“Yes?”
“I’ll leave if you want me to.” His voice was thin. “Would it make things easier?”
She faced him. He was buck naked, but his shoulders were proud. She could feel the hurt pouring off him, but his chin jutted strongly. His eyes dug into hers, vowing to think of her first.
But who ever thought of him? Who put him and his needs first? Not his so-called family. That was for damn sure.
Only you.
And it hit her like a wrecking ball what he’d done: he’d bowed to her. His beast, so powerful, lowered himself to her in front of his worst enemies. She was no animal—not even a part time one—but she knew that meant something.
“No,” she whispered, tears teasing her eyelids again. “I meant what I said before those assholes showed up.”
His relief thundered through her so strong it felt like her own.
“What is that? Why do I feel you, like you’re part of me?”
“We’ve bonded. The supernatural part of me has claimed you as mate. The bond links us together.”
She rubbed at her chest.
“It’s supposed to be wonderful,” he said quietly. “It’s not supposed to hurt you so much. Maybe it’s because I was broken for so long.”
“Is there a way to stop it?”
Malcom jerked his head back, looking like she’d slapped him. Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask.
“Uh… yeah. If you want.” He pulled his gaze away from her. Stared at the floor, at his hands where he rubbed one palm with his thumb, found a window. Anywhere but her. “I haven’t marked you yet. Haven’t made it permanent. So if I left, and we were apart for some time, it would fade. As long as we stayed away.”
No. She didn’t want that.
He shook his head. “I’ll uh… let you go to bed. Things will be better in the morning. You’ll see. I’ll fix all this, Francesca.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving her staring after him, more confused than ever.
Chapter Fourteen
Francesca awoke the next morning, when the light was barely gray through her blinds. It was early, but she’d never been one to sleep in on Christmas morning.
She smiled to herself.
Yesterday was weird. So damn weird. But today was a new day. And it was Christmas. Which meant anything could happen.
She rolled over, feeling the bed next to her, but finding it empty. Her smile slipped. She’d gotten so used to waking up to him. Waking up alone again felt like a punch. Had he even come to bed last night? She’d slept too hard to know for sure.
Throwing on her robe, she padded downstairs in her candy cane print flannel PJs. The tree was lit up, but Malcom was nowhere to be found. Quickly, she pulled his present out from its hiding spot and tucked it under the tree before he could catch her. It was a thick leather bomber jacket. She’d picked it out because he didn’t have one, and she knew it would look great on him. But now she realized… why he didn’t need it.
She let off an ironic laugh. Her man breathed fire. No wonder he wasn’t worried about the cold weather.
Now that she’d had time to sleep on it, she was ready to face the fact that a supernatural world existed beyond her knowledge. Shifters and witches and… she’d have to ask him if vampires existed. And she was in love with one of them.
A piece of paper leaning against the blue gift bag she’d spotted yesterday caught her eye. It had her name on it, but it didn’t seem like part of the present. She picked it up and sat back on her knees to read.
Francesca, here is my gift to you. I wish I could have been there to see you open it, but I have to do the right thing now, and go. I never wanted to hurt you. Only love you. I’m sorry, mate. I hope you’ll remember the good times and be happy.
Always yours,
Malcom
“No…”
Francesca read the note over and over, willing it to say something else. Anything else besides that he was gone. How could he do this?
Never wanted to hurt you…
Was he still trying to protect her? From what? Those bastards he called brothers were long gone. And judging from the I-just-peed-my-pants looks on their faces, they weren’t coming around here again. Not unless they wanted to risk a fiery death.
But last night he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d asked her if she wanted him gone… she said no…
The mating bond.
That’s when everything changed.
Things will be better in the morning. You’ll see. I’ll fix all this.
He left because of the bond. Because she’d asked if there was any way to stop it. Shit. Of course. When he explained the mating bond, she hadn’t told him it was okay. That it felt good more times than it had ever hurt. Or that relationships were about accepting the great parts and the rough parts. All the parts. She hadn’t told him any of that because her mind was still reeling from the threat of getting gang raped and finding out her man was a flame-throwing lion shifter.
Forgive a girl.
This was a misunderstanding. That’s all. And misunderstandings could be fixed. She just had to find him, and explain.
But where would he go? Not back to Brightwoods. That would be too obvious.
She snatched the blue gift bag from under the tree and
pulled out the bunched up tissue paper, tossing it over her shoulder. In the bottom of the bag was a flat rectangular box. Carefully, she removed the lid.
Francesca gasped out loud at what she found.
Inside, was a diamond pendant shaped like a northern star. Like the one that sat high in the sky that first Christmas night. A beacon for the lost. A bright spot.
Tears streaked down her cheeks as she got Malcom’s message, loud and clear. Bright spot. He’d been lost, and she was his beacon. A star that led him home. What he didn’t realize was… he was hers too. Her bright spot, lighting up her lonely life.
With shaking hands, she removed the necklace from the box and attached it around her neck, tucking it into her shirt, close to her heart. Then she ran to the kitchen to shove her feet into her snow boots. She shrugged on a jacket, grabbed her keys and phone, and ran to her car.
She had to find Malcom before he disappeared. She’d check the shelter first. He wouldn’t need to be there—not if he could afford to buy her such an expensive gift—but it was the only place she could think of. If he wasn’t there… well, maybe she’d contact that guy Skittles. He seemed to know things. And hadn’t specifically threatened to do anything to her “holes”.
She shivered at the memory.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
***
The shelter was busy. People poured in like grain from a bucket, hoping to get some of that delicious smelling Christmas breakfast. So many. Why hadn’t she visited here before. From now on, she was going to make it a point to know what happened at the shelter. She could bring them flowers too. Flowers would probably bring a lot of smiles to a place like this.
She wasn’t going to find Malcom by looking. There were too many beards and too many flannel shirts. She could go person to person, but it could take forever, and she needed to find him now.
Winding through the crowd, she tried to get to the front.
“Hey! No cut-sies!” one lady called. She had a thick green parka on, and underneath, she wore a bright floral dress that fell to her knees, and… jeans. Her hair was high in a bun on her head, carrot red streaked with gray. She pushed her glasses up her nose, and gave Francesca a glare. “I’ll share my pancakes with you, if-a ya want. But you have to promise not to cut.”
“Oh, I’m not cutting in line. I’m just looking for someone.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Not falling for that one, sweetie. Used it a time or two myself. It’s not a good one either, for future reference. Try something like… I’ll give you my bacon if you keep it quiet. Then you got a deal. Most anyone will wheel-n-deal for some bacon. Name’s Philly, by the way.” She winked and her glasses slid down her nose again.
Francesca gave her a smile. “But I really am looking for someone. He’s tall. Has a beard. Wearing flannel. Maybe you know him?”
“Look around, hun. I know him. All twenty of him. You got anything else to go on?”
“Malcom? His name is Malcom. And he has these really expressive eyes. Soft lips. He’s kind but gruff…”
Philly’s face had gone serious, and Francesca realized she’d only been humoring her before. “You’re looking for Malcom?”
“Yes! Do you know him? Know where he is? I need to find him—”
“What do you want with him?”
“Please, if you know where he is…”
Philly eyed her. “You the girl he’s been googly-eyed over?”
“Yes! I mean, I don’t know about googly-eyed, but I love him. And he loves me. I just need to tell him it was a misunderstanding, what happened last night.”
Philly narrowed her gaze. “You step out on him?”
“No. Never!”
“‘Cause he don’t deserve being treated like that, and if you did, then I’d have to tell ya I don’t have a clue where to find him.”
“I didn’t,” Francesca assured her. “Listen, it’s Christmas. I need to see him. Please. Do you know where he is?”
Philly nodded toward the front of the kitchen where the line was inching closer.
Standing on her tiptoes, Francesca scanned the room for any sign of Malcom, and finally caught the very top of his head. He was behind the counter. Not in line for food.
“Thank you,” Francesca said, giving the lady a hug. “Thank you, Philly.” And then she shoved her way forward, promising everyone who stopped her extra bacon. She’d have to bring some up to the shelter after she straightened things out with Malcom.
Behind the counter, he spooned scrambled eggs onto plates as people passed by. He chatted with them in his gruff way, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. And even this close, she could feel the pain traveling through their bond. The same pain she’d felt reading his note.
He thought they were over. Yet, here he was, dishing up food for the people who needed it. And he didn’t have a smile for them, but no one seemed to require it.
Her chest throbbed with emotion. Damn, she loved him. No matter what supernatural beast he was or what intimidating thing she might experience through their bond. It didn’t matter, because her heart was gone for him.
Malcom’s head snapped up at that very moment, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on her. His gaze pierced her, but she managed a small wave. He mumbled something to the person next to him, and passed off his serving spoon before coming around the counter.
When he got close, he reached out his hand, but jerked it back at the last minute and nodded for her to follow. He led her down a small hallway that ended in a dead end. They were alone.
“What are you doing here, Francesca? We have to keep our distance if we want the bond to fade.”
“I needed to find you,” she said, her voice trembling. “So we could talk about last night. We didn’t talk. You were just… gone.”
He shook his head, frustrated. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving town after this. Just wanted to say bye to Philly and do my part for the shelter for helping me so much.”
“You’re leaving?”
He nodded solemnly. “Have to. My beast is going crazy wanting to be near you. It will be easier if I leave.”
Her eyes flooded with tears. Everybody leaves. But he didn’t have to.
“Do I get a say in the matter? Shouldn’t it be my choice if you keep away or not? Because if I have a choice, you staying is my A-choice.”
He sighed and he was close enough his breath was warm on her face. “Don’t want to fuck this up for you. You deserve a normal life, baby. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”
“But I want the life we started together… the one where I tell you I’m in love with you, and you say we match.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “But you didn’t fall in love with the beast. You didn’t know what you were getting.”
“I still know you, Malcom. I know you put me first. Left because you thought I needed you to. But I’m telling you what I need…” She pushed in closer to him, needing to feel his warmth. And he needed her too. She could sense it. See it, in the way he clenched his fists to keep his hands from her. “I need you to stay. If you love me, I need you to stay.”
A tortured frown creased his brow.
“I don’t know. I can’t tell if the fire from the bond will ever get better. I can’t stand knowing it hurts you”
“It’s feeling better already. Maybe you need to… you know… mark me. Like you said. Make it permanent.”
His frown deepened. “Francesca, you can’t say that to me unless you mean it.”
Pressing her body against his, she promised, “I do mean it.”
Something clicked in their bond. Something good. Relief, excitement, a million good feelings and a couple doubtful ones.
Malcom still wasn’t sure.
“Look…” She dug the necklace out of her shirt and held the star between her thumb and finger, rubbing it for strength. “I opened your gift. You picked this right? Because it meant something.” She gave him a watery smile, whispering, “I’m your brig
ht spot… and you’re mine. Together we’re magic. Together we can do anything. Even find our way through this. So mark me for Christmas. Give me your forever, and I’ll give you mine.”
She the battle waging behind his eyes. Wanting what she offered, but still worried there would be repercussions. And then she saw when he threw caution to the wind, and went all in on their future.
Malcom’s mouth crashed down on hers, plowing in for a hard kiss before he pulled away. “Right now?”
“Right here. Make it permanent.”
He looked over her shoulder. The hallway was empty. Dark even. Like it never got used.
He twisted her around so she was up against the wall and covered by his body in case anyone wandered by.
He found her eyes. “We mark by claw and by scent. The slash will sting, but I’ll make it worth it, okay?”
Francesca swallowed hard and gave him a sure nod. She wanted this. She was ready.
“When I come inside you, I’ll mark you with my scent. Any shifter who gets near will know you’re mine, under my protection, and the bond will be set. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Francesca…” He pressed his lips together, staring so hard at her.
“What?”
“It’s just… I don’t know what I am now. Don’t know what will happen in the future.”
She curved her hand around his bearded cheek, and kissed his lips softly. “You’re Malcom. You’re still the badass with a soft heart that I fell for. You’re still my home, except instead of some hard-shell exterior, you guard us with fire. I’m yours. You’re mine. That’s all you need to know.”
He kissed a fierce promise to her lips and flipped her so her back was to his front. “Bend,” he instructed and she pushed her butt in the air, bracing her arms on the shelf nearby. Malcom yanked her pajama pants over her hips and kneaded the globes of her ass before swiping a finger through her folds to test her wetness.
She was already dripping for him.
Bending, he dropped a wet kiss to one ass cheek, whispering, “Gonna claw you here, mate.”
