Shifters in the Snow: Bundle of Joy: Seventeen Paranormal Romances of Winter Wolves, Merry Bears, and Holiday Spirits

by J. K Harper

  Still holding up both hands, she snapped her fingers.

  The door to the kennel clicked then creaked open.

  “Come on. You’re free.”

  The cub didn’t budge. He stared at her, his uncertainty evident in the chaotic swirls of his aura.

  “I’m not a shifter,” she said, sensing an explanation might help. “I’m a witch. A nice witch who wants to make sure you get home to your mama and daddy before tomorrow. Today’s Christmas Eve, you know. You want to be home for Christmas, don’t you?”

  The cub hid his whole face against his paws and cried.

  Hazel crawled on her hands and knees. Pausing at the door to the cage, she watched for his response to her closer proximity. He tensed, but he did not recoil. After a beat of hesitation, Hazel reached inside and pet the top of his head with an index finger, keeping her touch soft in case he disapproved.

  “Chin up, little guy. You can’t cry on Christmas. It’s against the rules.”

  Rather than pull away, he clambered to all fours and doddered forward. Without warning, he crawled atop her lap and nuzzled his muzzle to her side.

  Taken aback, Hazel hugged him as he continued to let out the softest, saddest little cries she’d ever heard.

  “Shh, it’s okay.” She smoothed a hand down his back. His fur was long and fluffy, though the texture was rather coarse.

  He whimper-sobbed for a few moments longer, then he sighed as if he’d run a very long distance.

  Hazel cuddled him close. She’d never held a bear cub before. Hell, she’d never even seen a grizzly cub before. Wild grizzlies really weren’t native to Tennessee, after all. But he was just the cutest, fluffiest ball of fur, and his aura had calmed considerably, so she held him for as long as he needed.

  “We’re gonna get you home. I promise,” she whispered. “But I need to get you out of here first. Stay as you are, okay? Just until I get you to my car.”

  The cub eased.

  Hazel slid off her coat and used it to swaddle him. The tip of his nose felt cold as he nuzzled his face against the side of her neck.

  She stood, carefully lifting him, and headed to the stairs.

  “Sir,” she said, speaking to the man. “I am leaving. You will remain downstairs for ten minutes, and then you will return to Jeopardy. You will only recall that you sold the cub and that you will never, ever engage in these activities again. Merry Christmas.”

  The cub kept his face hidden the entire journey out to the car. The dogs remained silent.

  With the cub resting on her backseat, she reversed out of the gravel driveway and headed north. When she’d cleared five miles, she pulled over to the shoulder of the disused road and put the car in park.

  “It’s just us now,” she said. “I’m going to get something from the back. I think I have a t-shirt you can wear. Can you try to shift? I won’t look, I promise.”

  The bear cub sniffed. He mewled, and Hazel took that as his agreement.

  Hopping out of the car, she rounded to the back hatch. She pretended to rummage around, but she’d already found the shirt. She had a whole box of them. Fancy Fortescue Distillery’s primary shop in Gatlinburg had been running low, and she was supposed to have dropped off the box the day before.

  Battling Gatlinburg’s winding, icy inclines hadn’t appealed, though. She now regretted her sloth. She would miss driving around this year’s displays of gaudy Christmas lights. Bummer.

  She hadn’t heard anything to indicate a transformation from animal to little boy. Still, Hazel waited, giving him his privacy. Shifting with a stranger in the back of a car probably made the task even more daunting. He was just so little, she had to wonder if this was his first time in his bear.

  Chilled, she cupped her hands and exhaled into her palms to warm herself. Shifters had fur and the magic of their animals to keep themselves toasty. Witches weren’t so lucky.

  After a moment, the cub still hadn’t shifted, so she climbed into the backseat and pulled shut the door.

  His head lolled, and he appeared weary rather than wary.

  “Have you eaten recently?” she asked, knowing the bear couldn’t respond with words. Seizing her bag from the passenger seat, she rifled through its contents until she found the small bag of heart-shaped marshmallows she’d stowed the day before. “Do you like marshmallows? I love marshmallows.”

  She scattered a few across her palm and offered them to the cub. “I’m sure your mama wouldn’t approve, but it’s all I have right now. We’ll get you something better just as soon as you’ve shifted.”

  The cub’s nose twitched, but he still seemed too timid to dare eating from her hand. She popped one into her mouth to show they weren’t dangerous.

  “Maybe we should play to your instincts. I bet a big, strong bear like you would prefer to hunt for his food.”

  Splaying her fingers, she focused on the marshmallows. Simultaneously, the four heart-shaped puffs of sugar went sailing. They flew, dancing on the air like snowflakes.

  The cub cried out, but not with fear or anxiety. Delighted, he coughed out a long, raspy sound.

  He was laughing.

  Hazel swirled an index finger, drawing one of the marshmallows closer to the cub’s head. Rising onto all fours, the cub wiggled then pounced. His teeth clacked as he caught the marshmallow in mid-air.

  His pupils dilated as he chewed on the fluffy confection. A wispy little growl rumbled in his chest, and he dove for a second helping.

  Hazel opened the bag and sent the rest of the marshmallows flying. They swirled and flitted through the air, turning the inside of her Subaru into a life-sized snow globe.

  By the time the cub had pounced the final heart, he’d perked considerably. A sugar rush wasn’t exactly ideal, but at least he had some fuel in his tank.

  “Focus really hard, okay? Think about wiggling your human toes. I bet you’ve got teensy tiny little toes.”

  A sudden crack announced his pending shift. Hazel felt the sizzle of magic and knew the change had begun. Fur receded into human skin. A small boy of no more than six now sat with his knees drawn to his chest.

  He really did have teensy tiny little toes.

  A heart-crushing sob emerged from his throat.

  “You did it! Good job!” Throwing her arms to the ceiling, Hazel cheered.

  The boy had a headful of messy brown hair to match his grizzly’s fur. His pale face was partially hidden beneath a layer of dirt. She helped him put on the too-big t-shirt and then arranged her coat over his lap to warm his bare legs.

  “Hi.” His voice was scratchy and meek.

  “Hello, sir.” Hazel offered her right hand for a shake. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  He eyed her hand with caution, then clasped his fingers around hers.

  “Again, I’m Hazel. What’s your name?”

  “Mama says not to tell my name to strangers.”

  “Your mama is a very smart lady.” Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an unopened bottle of water and removed the cap. “Can you tell me her name, at least?”

  “Bonnie Holloway.” He took the bottle when she offered it, and she made sure he drank deeply.

  “Holloway is a very nice name,” she said when he took a break for air. “Do you know where you’re from, Mister Holloway?”

  He wiped the back of a hand over his nose, muffling his answer. “By Junebug.”

  “Junebug,” Hazel repeated, searching her memory. “You are from Tennessee, right?”

  He nodded quickly, and she gave him an encouraging smile. “We’ll find it, then. Are you hungry?”

  His next nod was so thorough, he almost knocked the back of his head against the seat.

  “How about this: we’ll get you any kind of food you want. And then you can tell me more about where you’re from.”

  “Okay, Hazel.” He gave her a shy smile, and she ruffled his hair.

  Once she had him belted into the backseat, they set off. Hazel was never a hazardous driver, but sh
e navigated the icy roads with extra care.

  Sourcing non-artery clogging food on Christmas Eve proved impossible. When she reluctantly offered McDonald’s, the little boy brightened considerably.

  Two Happy Meals later, and he was downright chipper.

  Protein, even over-processed protein, worked miracles for a shifter.

  As they sat under the golden arches, he revealed his father’s name. A scour of Google and Facebook yielded no relevant results for Bonnie or Harrison Holloway.

  Shifters were notoriously private. Bears, especially, were known for keeping to themselves.

  Hazel had ways of locating his family, but she’d rather avoid those if possible; they all involved blood. He’d been through enough without having a stranger poke him with a needle.

  Persistent, she tapped her phone’s screen while the little boy chomped french fries. Junebug did not exist in Tennessee, not even as a small, unincorporated community.

  “You’re definitely from Tennessee, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Gosh, listen to you. Such a polite little man.” She glanced at the rearview mirror and was surprised to find his reflection staring back at her. “I can’t find Junebug.”

  “Maybe because it’s frozen,” he said with the sort of sage logic that could only come from a child.

  Hazel lifted an eyebrow. “Junebug’s a river?”

  “A baby one.”

  “A creek?”

  He slurped orange juice through a straw and nodded.

  She searched again, finally locating a Junebug Creek in Polk County. It dumped into the Hiwassee, which converged with the Ocoee. “Hey, does Reliance ring a bell?”

  His green eyes widened with excitement. “Reliance!”

  “You took quite a trip, Junebug.”

  “Junebug’s not my name, silly.”

  “Well, it’s what I’m going to call you until I know your name. It looks like we’ve got an hour’s drive ahead of us. Do you want to sleep?”

  “Can’t sleep. The monster will get me.”

  Hazel checked his reflection in the rearview mirror again. “What monster?”

  “The monster that chased me to the river.”

  “Wanna tell me about it?”

  He crinkled his nose. “It’s too scary.”

  As Hazel refastened her seatbelt, she angled herself so that she could look right at him. “You ever met a witch before, Junebug?”

  “Just you.” He wiggled his bare toes. “You’re pretty. I like how you smell.”

  “You’re a little charmer,” she said with a laugh. “Witches can’t turn into bears, but we can do something else.”

  “What?” he asked, leaning forward.

  “We get rid of monsters.”

  “Do you eat them? My daddy would eat them.”

  “Nope.” She reversed out of the parking space then turned right, heading out of Cleveland. “But if you tell me what chased you, I’ll make sure it never chases anyone ever again.”

  Chapter 3

  Whiskey and Honeysuckle

  Hudson steered his Chevy onto the long dirt driveway that led to Harrison’s two-story Craftsman.

  Harrison sat in the passenger seat, gravely silent. He hadn’t spoken a word since their dawn departure. Hudson checked the rearview mirror. His father’s headlights greeted him. Hollis Holloway had ventured out for every long, fruitless search.

  To say Christmas was ruined would be an understatement. Life as the Holloways knew it was ruined.

  Hudson had never felt so fucking helpless in his life.

  They’d scoured every mile of the Hiwassee from Reliance to Chickamauga Lake. They’d scouted the woods, freeways, and underpasses. They’d trekked residential roads on both sides of the river, trespassing on private property whenever necessary. They’d even checked the local and regional animal shelters and sanctuaries, just in case someone had wandered across a bear cub.

  After four days of finding nothing—not even the barest hint of a scent trail—Harrison was broken in half. Bonnie was in pieces.

  At some point in the coming weeks, Hudson would be expected to say it was time they stopped searching. But that wasn’t something he could ever say. That wasn’t a call he could ever make.

  He’d scour every inch of Tennessee and its surrounding states if it meant finding Beckett.

  Bonnie was already outside when Hudson slowed to a stop and cut the engine.

  She stood alone, her hair tied into an unkempt bun. She’d been wearing the same clothes for days now. Her bloodshot eyes glistened with a sheen of fresh tears.

  Thanks to their witch ancestors, bear shifters were empathic by nature. Fully mated pairs could sense one another at all times.

  Hudson couldn’t begin to fathom the circle of devastation wafting between his brother and sister-in-mating.

  Harrison climbed out of the truck, stoic in his silence. He joined Bonnie by the hood and enfolded her in an embrace.

  Hudson headed inside with his father.

  “Mama,” he said with a nod as they entered Bonnie’s kitchen.

  Hollis kissed her forehead, but he did not speak. After over thirty years together, they didn’t need words.

  A cloud of loss hung over the house. Upstairs, baby Hannah slept peacefully, oblivious to the rest of her sleuth’s pain.

  “Have you eaten?” Violet asked, flicking her forest-green eyes from Hudson to Hollis. “Of course you haven’t.”

  She clicked her tongue and rose from her seat by the kitchen table. Hudson put on a fresh pot of coffee while she prepared food.

  By the time the Mr. Coffee pot was filled to the brim, Harrison and Bonnie finally came in from the cold.

  “We’ll go back out at daybreak,” Hudson said after a long stretch of silence. “I suggest you all try to sleep tonight.”

  “I’m going out again,” Bonnie said, so quiet only a shifter could have heard her. “Tonight.”

  “Bon—” Harrison started.

  “He can’t spend Christmas alone,” she choked out. “He can’t. He’s—”

  Bonnie’s outpouring of grief came to an abrupt halt. She rose from the table so quickly, she knocked back her chair.

  Racing through the house to the front door, she ran out into the snow. Harrison darted after her. Seconds later, Hudson’s nose told him why.

  Following his brother outside, Hudson registered the hum of a motor at the end of the mile-long driveway. Headlights bounced in the distance.

  Beckett’s scent flitted on the faint breeze, growing stronger as the navy-blue Subaru crawled uphill.

  “Oh, thank grizzly.” Violet exhaled deeply, sounding almost faint.

  Before Hudson could express his own relief, his grizzly straightened. Deep in his chest, the beast rumbled. Then it growled. Then it outright roared.

  The sweet aroma of honeysuckle mingled with amber whiskey, overlaying a base of dogwood.

  There was a woman in the car. And she smelled like mate.

  His mate.

  Merry fucking Christmas, Hudson Holloway.

  Before he could celebrate either miracle, before he could even catch a full glimpse of his mate’s pert profile, Harrison and Bonnie had flanked the SUV as it rolled to a stop behind Hollis’s Ford.

  Beckett was hollering even before Bonnie threw open the backseat door. “Mama! Daddy!”

  Harrison had not gone for his son, however. He heaved himself at the driver’s side door. He snarled his distrust at the woman behind the wheel. The supernatural sheen of his bear overtook his eyes, turning them a vibrant green.

  “Harris.” Hudson’s voice boomed like thunder. He was halfway down the driveway, his stride long and purposeful.

  But Harrison was already yanking the woman out of the car.

  Before Hudson had even reached them, Harrison recoiled as if he’d grabbed one of the hot irons in Hudson’s workshop.

  “What the fu—” he censored himself at the last minute.

  “I will tha
nk you to keep your hands to yourself, sir,” drawled the woman, her eyes a blaze of blue that made the sunniest summer sky seem paltry by comparison.

  “Don’t be mean to her, Daddy!” Beckett called with a surprising amount of urgency for a boy of his size. “Hazel made the marshmallows fly. I’m going to marry her.”

  With her gaze still fixed on the almost-seven-foot-tall behemoth of an angry papa bear that was Harrison, the woman—Hazel—arched an eyebrow. “Are you really, Junebug? Pretty sure you’re supposed to ask first.”

  “I didn’t tell her my name, Mama,” Beckett said quickly. “You told me not to tell my name to strangers. Can I tell her my name now?”

  Bonnie was too busy squeezing the life out of her son to reply. Violet joined Bonnie’s side and pulled them both into her warmest embrace.

  “You’re a witch.” Harrison’s voice graveled with the threat of a swift shift.

  “I am.”

  “You stole our son.”

  “If that were the case, I’m a terrible thief. Look at me, returning the goods.”

  “Watch your mouth, witch,” Harrison growled. “My son is not tradable goods.”

  “He’s not, but you should be glad you missed the Craigslist ad someone put up for him,” she replied with an indignant scoff. “‘Have a Beary Merry Christmas with your very own grizzly cub. Yours today for the low price of one-thousand dollars. Serious offers only.’”

  “What?!” Hollis’s outrage echoed through the surrounding oaks.

  Harrison looked ready to slash the woman in half, so Hudson edged closer, aware that any sudden movements might set off his brother’s bear.

  “Go to your son, Harris,” he ordered. “Now.”

  Harrison assumed the most affronted glower he’d ever mustered, but he must have seen something in Hudson’s eyes. Something that made him do a double-take of the woman.

  Slowly, he moved away, and then his full focus fell to Beckett.

  The woman finally turned her attention to Hudson, clearly ready to assess the level of threat she expected him to pose.

  Her guarded expression fell. The eerie blue had already faded from her irises, but Hudson was enthralled to see her ‘normal’ eye color was a similar, bold shade of sky.