Happy Howlidays: Shifters in Love Romance Collection (Shifter in Love Book 1)

by V. Vaughn

  “Are you serious?” Mona yelled from where she stood inside the house.

  Elsa was only able to get a dirty look thrown her oldest sister’s way before Carolyn waved her hand over her shoulder and said, “Mona, go tend to the potatoes on the stove. I’m sure Elsa, as well as every creature along your route home, has heard your arguments.” Then to the other elves shivering but still gawking, pointing and whispering amongst themselves, she ordered, “Get in the house and help get dinner on the table. You’re gonna catch your death out here. Your dad won’t be back until tomorrow. He needs an extra day at market so we’re on our own and I don’t intend on being in the kitchen all night.”

  Waiting until her sisters were all in the house, Elsa ran to her mother, threw her arms around the older elf, and hugged her for all she was worth. “Oh, thank you, Momma, thank you so very much. I knew you would help.”

  Patting her on the back before pulling away, Carolyn nodded her head. “We have to help those in need and I don’t feel the presence of any evil about him, but as he awakens you will need to be careful. We don’t know anything about him. How long he’s been stuck in the snow. Where’s he from. Who he is? Anything…so, caution first, Elsa dear. Please, just this once, caution first.”

  “Yes, Momma,” the elf quickly agreed, spinning on her toes and heading back to the sled. “Go inside and get warm,” she called over her shoulder, turning the toboggan toward the huge red barn to the left of the cottage. “I’ll be in when I get him settled.”

  “Don’t you need help? I can send Olivia out,” Carolyn called.

  “Nope, I got this,” Elsa answered, not wanting to admit that she didn’t want to share her frozen man with anyone else.

  For some unknown reason, she felt protective of him, like he was hers to care for… hers to…well, just hers. If she was honest with herself, which she always was even when it was a pain in the butt, it had made her jealous when her sisters were oohing and ahhing and ogling him. It was unnerving and she was glad when her mom had made them go away.

  “Okay, dear, I’ll keep your dinner warm. Don’t be too long.”

  “Thanks again, Mom. Love you,” Elsa yelled to be heard over the howling wind that had suddenly appeared with a vengeance out of the north.

  “Love you too, sweetheart. Oh, and don’t think you’ve gotten out of getting my Christmas tree. I’ll expect it tomorrow,” was the last thing she heard her mother say as the door to the cottage slammed shut from an especially fierce gust.

  The elf chuckled, knowing full well her mother meant every word she said and that Elsa would indeed be heading back out for the tree she and Mona had already cut down. However, she was asking one of her other sisters to go along. She’d had enough of Motormouth Mona.

  Running around the sled, Elsa struggled to open the heavy barn doors against the bracing wind. Finally getting it secured, she headed back, grabbed the handlebars, and pushed the toboggan with her very special cargo into the warmth. Thankfully, when she went to shut the doors, the wind was on her side and pushed them closed. The only downside was the loud bang that had the reindeer calves belting out their annoyance at the disruption.

  “Shhh, It’s just me. I’ll get you some mushrooms and moss when I’m done with him.” The calves immediately settled down as if they understood what she’d said. She had to snicker at the way they stood with their noses over the side of the pen sniffing as the sled went past.

  Getting to the incubation stall that her father had built for premature calves or mothers who were having a hard time keeping their warmth after delivery, Elsa took off her gloves. The warm air almost stung her bare skin, making her realize that in her worry for the man in her care she hadn’t been paying attention to the dropping temperatures.

  “That’s a good way to lose a finger or a toe,” she mimicked her dad’s low, grumbly voice, repeating the warning he’d been giving them all for as long as Elsa could remember.

  Stepping out of her boots, she peeled off her heavy snowsuit and threw it to the side, knowing she would have to put it on again when she was finished with her patient. Heading to the storage closet, the elf grabbed four thick bedding blankets, two electric blankets, a couple of towels, and a pair of her dad’s long johns. She knew they would be too short for her frozen man, but he was going to need clothes when he thawed out and woke up and she decided they were better than hers with red and green polka dots.

  Arriving back at the stall, Elsa looked at the man, trying to decide the best way to get him off the sled. “Well, first I have to get a couple of these blankets spread out,” she told herself, jumping into action.

  Time seemed to fly, especially with all the questions floating through her mind, like… Who is he? How long has he been buried in the snow? Who put him there? Why did they put him there? Does he have a family; a wife and kids?

  The last inquiry bothered Elsa more than she wanted to admit, so instead of dwelling, she dispensed with the questions and got to thawing him out. The only way she could think to get him off the sled was to pull and pray, so after a prayer to the Goddess, that was exactly what she did.

  With a firm hold on the bottom edge of the pink and grey plaid blanket, Elsa took a deep breath, summoned all her strength, and with one mighty pull grunted, “Oh, great Goddess, please give me strength.”

  Three steps backward and a crash followed by a crack as he hit the floor, teetering just a bit before settling, and the elf had successfully gotten him off the sled and onto the blankets on the floor of the stall. Reaching for the plaid coverlet, Elsa cursed aloud when she realized the fabric had frozen to the ice. “Oh, crap on a Christmas cookie, now what am I going to do?”

  Stepping back, she twirled the long red curl that had fallen out of the bun under the hat on top of her head around her index finger and tried to decide what to do next. It came to her in a flash of inspiration that had the elf running toward the store room, squealing, “The hand-held warmer,” to the calves who were staring as she dashed by.

  Throwing open the door, she grabbed the large silver appliance off the shelf, spun around and ran back, smiling from ear-to-ear. Plugging what looked like a hair dryer for the jolly green giant into the outlet and stretching the cord until she was standing by her patient, Elsa said in her best announcer’s voice, “And now, lady and gentleman,” she winked to the female and male twin reindeer calves then nodded to the man at her feet, “the hundred and first use for a portable reindeer hoof warmer. I give you the Man Defroster. You too can own this amazing appliance for just ten payments of $19.99.”

  Laughing out loud, the elf turned on the appliance, adjusted the heat to just below body temperature, and pointed the nozzle at the spot where the blanket had adhered itself to the ice. Slowly, the frozen blanket thawed, and little by little Elsa pulled it away until she had the entire front of her patient uncovered.

  Alone and with the ice beginning to thaw, the elf was shocked that amidst all the hair, the beard, and what she now could see were bruises and not dirt, the man was even more handsome than she’d originally thought. The aristocratic line of his nose and the strength of his jaw in contrast to the softness she could see in his lips was mesmerizing. It didn’t matter that they were blue from the cold or that the color of his skin, at least for now, was a shade darker than wax paper. Closing her eyes, he appeared tall and regal, standing on a hillside, holding a sword, battling the forces of evil, protecting those he held most dear. There was no doubt that despite his present condition, once out of the ice and back on his feet, he would be muscular, with broad shoulders and the strength of an ox.

  Slowly opening her eyes, Elsa squealed, immediately clicked off the hand-held warmer, and dropped it to the ground before leaning over and staring at a circle the size of a softball on her patient’s chest that was completely melted. The exposed skin was bright red from the heat and the ice surrounding the hole slowly cracked toward his extremities, creating a weird mosaic that would’ve been cool had the guy underneath not been a man
sicle.

  Remembering what her father had said about causing irreparable damage from warming frostbitten skin up too quickly, Elsa said another quick prayer that she hadn’t done more harm than good and simply waited. After a few incredibly tense moments of watching the tiny circle of skin for any changes and seeing none, she declared her patient no worse than when she’d found him. Getting to her feet, she swaddled him in the bedding blankets and topped it off with an electric blanket set on the lowest temperature.

  Positioning four of her father’s heat lamps around him in a weird kind of rectangular shape, Elsa made sure his entire body would get the same exposure to the warmth before carefully choosing a low temperature to avoid any further mishaps. Checking everything one last time, she clicked the lamps on and plopped down on an old milking stool her father had found on one of his travels, tired but happy with her accomplishments.

  Pulling off the green and white stripped stocking cap she had forgotten about until it slipped over her forehead, Elsa sighed as her long red curls escaped the bun she’d tied them in earlier that day and fell down her back. Brushing a few stray hairs out of her face, the elf mused, “Well, bucko, now we let the lights and the heat do all the work. Hopefully, in a day or two you’ll be thawed out and on your way home.”

  Sadness, dark and all-encompassing, made Elsa look away. She didn’t want him to leave. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know him, had no clue if she would even like him when he wasn’t a popsicle, or that he was basically a giant compared to her; none of it changed how she felt. She wanted to get to know him, was interested to learn his likes, dislikes, what made him laugh, what made him scream…if he was as interested in her as she was in him. There was a magnetism about him. It pulled her in, kept her close, and made her want to know more.

  “Oh well, as Dad would say, ‘only time will tell’.” She smiled at the man lying on the floor of her barn and chuckled. “You just lay there and thaw out. I’m gonna sit here for a bit to make sure everything’s okay before I head in to eat.”

  Leaning back against the metal post in the corner of the stall, Elsa yawned, “I hope Mom made pot roast.” Her yawn was so fierce her eyes watered. “I really like pot roast. What about…” Her words trailed off as she fell fast asleep.

  3

  Dreams came quickly. At first she was walking through a meadow on a bright sunny day…

  The glorious fragrance of the spring blooms filled the air as Elsa raised her face to the sun, threw her arms out to the side, and spun in circles, enjoying her first ever real spring day. It wasn’t that there weren’t seasons in the Arctic Circle, it was just that they all involved snow in one way or another. Nothing in her almost hundred years had ever been as glorious as the feel of running along in her bare feet, wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and shorts, in the heat of the day.

  Watching the majestic dragons fly overhead made the elf long for her own wings that she might also soar among the clouds. Elsa was in awe as their brilliant scales glittered in the noonday sun like so many priceless gems being offered to the Heavens as gifts for their many blessings.

  Giggling out loud as the blades of grass slipped between her toes and tickled the bottom of her feet, her laughter soon turned to squeals of delight as strong, masculine hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. The deep male chuckle joined with her own making goose bumps raise all over her body and sending chills of excitement skittering up and down her spine.

  “Put me down, you beast,” she teased.

  Loosening his grip and turning her toward him, her lover let Elsa slip through his hands until they were looking into one another’s eyes. She shivered, the rich baritone of his voice rumbling through her as he murmured with a grin, “Beast, is it? Let us see how this beast loves his maiden,” before gently touching his lips to hers.

  It was a slow and passionate embrace, starting as a simple kiss but evolving into something life-affirming and exhilarating. Their hearts beat as one. The depth of their feelings rose within them. One soul reaching for another, longing to be one.

  Softly, but with a determination only rivaled by their need, he sought entrance and without thought or doubt, the elf opened completely, body, heart, and soul to the man she now recognized as her mate. The missing pieces of the puzzle that had been absent for so long, now fell into place.

  His hair, long and silken, wrapped around her fingers and she held him close, never wanting to be separated from the one who completed her as nothing and no one ever had. Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking her body to his. The strength of his arousal pushed against her center. Elsa tore her lips from his with a gasp just as a bellowed, “Holy Hell are ya’ tryin’ to cook me alive?” pulled her from her dreams.

  Scrambling to her feet while wiping the sleep from her eyes and searching for the source of the disruption, Elsa nearly tripped over the milking stool as she jumped back at the sight of her frozen man standing before her very definitely unfrozen and quite obviously very unhappy with his accommodations.

  Pointing at her as he took a step forward, he growled in a scratchy baritone with a thick accent like her cousins’ who lived in the Highlands. “Are you the one who tried to burn me with your witchcraft?”

  Shaking where she stood, unable to figure out what he was talking about, Elsa stammered, “W-w-witchcraft?”

  “Yes, witchcraft.” He took another step forward. “What else can this be?” He swung his long arm to the side, knocking over two heat lamps in his exasperation.

  The clatter of the equipment hitting the ground and the thought of what her father was going to do if they were broken, snapped Elsa out of her fear and had her stepping up to the man and replying, “I’m not a witch. I’m an elf. See the ears.” She turned her head, pushed back her curls, and pointed at the side of her head. Then taking another step forward, she put her hands on her hips, leaned toward him, and spat, “I’m the one who saved your frozen butt from the silver coffin and that nasty magic. Had to listen to my sister bitch and moan all the way home and then slept on a milking stool to make sure you were okay and this is how you act?” She sucked her teeth. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

  Glaring at the man who was even taller standing up than she had imagined he would be, Elsa refused to be intimidated as she watched first confusion, then anger, then more confusion coupled with frustration, and finally good old fashion suspicion cross his face as he narrowed his eyes and asked, his voice fluctuating between just scratchy to barely a whisper and back again, “What did you say about a silver coffin?”

  Rethinking her plan after hearing the tone of his voice and watching his auras pulse a deep angry red, the elf stood tall but eased her stance, letting her hands slide off her hips as she answered, “I said I found you locked in a silver coffin.” Taking a deep breath and a step closer, she held out her hand, trying to be calm. “I think you need to sit down before you fall down. You’re looking a little worse for wear there, bub.”

  Batting her hand away, he grumbled, “And there was magic?”

  His tone was softer but his aura was still raging as she said, “Yes, there was some kind of really dark, nasty mysticism holding you inside a big silver box that resembled a coffin and was buried in the snow. There were sigils all over it that popped and smelled like the backside of a flatulent walrus when I hit them with my Elven Light.”

  She paused for a second, trying to decide the best way to get him to at least sit down when he asked, “Sigils?”

  “Yes,” she answered, then immediately added, “Oh! Wait! I can show you,” as she raced past him, forgetting all about her initial fear and grabbing her pack. Riffling through the contents, she mumbled, “There you are,” as she stood up and hurried back to the man while flipping the pages to find her sketches.

  Standing beside him she explained, “This one and these,” she pointed at the images, “were all over the place…some big, some small, just pretty much everywhere, and they slithered and hissed before e
xploding into this icky black smoke.” Her finger contacted the paper as she remembered what she’d gone through. “But this big guy, he was huge and right in the middle of the lid. It took a lot of light and power and then when I finally thought I had it beat, the symbol floated into the air and spun around before bursting into a shower of sparks and ash.”

  Turning to the next page, she shook her head. “And don’t get me started on this bad boy. It was on the lock. I thought I might never get it off, but it finally popped open and there you were.”

  It occurred to her that in her excitement to explain, she hadn’t really given him a chance to speak but neither had he tried to interrupt. If the tables were turned, Elsa knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she would’ve been asking a hundred and one questions. Turning her head and glancing up, Elsa was shocked to see the man staring at her instead of the paper. Immediately enthralled by the deep emerald of his eyes and the way they glistened like her mother’s antique brooch in the glow of the lights on the Christmas tree, the elf found herself leaning toward him.

  Visions of dragons soaring through the sky and kisses unlike anything she’d ever known flooded her consciousness. The memory of her dream burst into her mind. Her heart raced. Her palms got sweaty. Her cheeks were immediately hot from her blush as she took a deep breath and said the first thing that came to her mind to distract from her discomfort. “Are you even paying attention? Am I wasting my time here?”

  She had been snippy. There was no doubt about it. It wasn’t the man’s fault, but she never had been one to deal with embarrassment in a graceful manner. As the youngest of seven girls, it had been an hourly occurrence growing up. She knew her sisters hadn’t meant any harm; it was all in fun and just what sisters do, but it had gotten really old…really fast. It hadn’t taken long for her to learn to fight back. She became the first to tell a joke, the first to laugh at herself, and the first to have a witty comeback. It had served her well for almost a hundred years, but standing side-by-side with a man who was truly larger than life made the elf a bundle of nerves and insecurities. Of course, that didn’t stop her from cocking an eyebrow and grumping, “Well?” when he didn’t immediately respond.