“Hold still, boy,” said Krampus. “There.”
Krampus pulled his hand back from Sean’s chest. On Krampus’s palm was a familiar symbol.
“Wait, stop!” shouted Sean. “I’ll be good. I swear. Don’t take my mark!”
The mark moved from Krampus’s palm. Sean couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Marks didn’t move, couldn’t be stolen, could they? So how was Krampus’ sleeve moving, the various symbols, from ancient runes to modern signs, moved around to let Sean’s stolen mark move through the sea of art. Sean followed the mark with his eyes, but soon it was buried among the symbols on Krampus’ arm.
“What is this?” asked Sean. “What sort of witchcraft?”
“Demoncraft, not witchcraft,” said Krampus. “You will get that back once you’re done being…Naughty. Until you get on Santana’s Nice List, you’ll have a mark that reminds you of why you lost your old mark.”
Krampus ran a finger across Sean’s chest. Sean swore it felt his hand felt like a cloven hoof. Sean looked down. His mate mark was gone, replaced by something else. It was one word, seven letters long, emblazoned on his left pec to his left shoulder in emerald green.
“Naughty? Nice?” asked Sean. “Santana? What are you talking about?”
“Because you haven’t tried to find your mate – and I mean, really tried – you’re in danger of falling into mate madness. Because you’ve willingly decided to do that, to cause trouble for not only yourself but Clan Marron, you’ve made it onto The Naughty List,” explained Krampus. “You’ve heard of it before – from the old songs and stories, sung about my boss, Santana Claus – who you know by a different name, ‘Santa Claus.’ Because you’ve been Naughty, you’ve proved you can’t be trusted with your shift – or your mate mark.”
“The Naughty List? Santa Claus? This doesn’t make any sense,” protested Sean. “What does this have to do with me and my mark?”
“Your Clan has a deal with Santana. When bad boys like you cause trouble for the Clan – or are about to cause trouble, by falling into mate madness – they call in me,” explained Krampus. “I take your mark…and I take your shift. After all, by landing your furry ass on The Naughty List, you’ve proven you can’t be trusted with your shift, so what do you need the mark for anyway?”
“How do I get it back?” asked Sean. “I need to have my mark if I have any chance of keeping my shift. Without my mark…I’ll fall into mate madness for sure. I won’t be able to claim a mate without my mark!”
“There’s only one way to get your mate mark back,” Krampus said slyly.
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” swore Sean. “I’ll do anything.”
“Would you shake on that?” asked Krampus, loosening Sean’s chain.
The demon put his suit jacket back on and put the chain back around his neck. It shrunk back down to its previous size. Krampus extended a hand. Sean took it and shook, hard. Krampus smiled.
“Silly boy,” said Krampus. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to make deals with demons? You’ve lost your right to have your mate mark and shift by getting on The Naughty List. Now, to earn them back, you’re going to have to get on The Nice List. The rules are simple. Get off of The Naughty List. That’s the only way you’ll earn back your mark – but not your shift. Claim your fated mate by Christmas. All you have to do, in exchange for me supervising your rehabilitation, is complete The Ride. Do all that, and you not only leave Montana with your mark and your shift but, you’ll come back here with a fated mate.”
“The Ride?” asked Sean. “Montana?”
“Every year, Santana Claus rides around the world, giving presents to all the Nice boys and girls,” said Krampus, crossing his arm. “He needs strong shifters to pull his sleigh. You’re a shifter, and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be strong. The training camp just so happens to be in a little town called The Wreath, in Montana.”
“I’m a pro athlete. I know how time-consuming training is, especially for what sounds like one Hell of a marathon. How am I supposed to get off of The Naughty List, find my fated mate, and claim her by Christmas…if I’m training for The Ride?” asked Sean.
“That sounds like a whole lot of your problem, and not my problem at all. Say goodbye to your father,” ordered Krampus. “You won’t be seeing your Clan for the next month.”
“The next month?” asked Sean, before he looked to Jasper. “Father…where am I going?”
“Somewhere you can get the help you need,” said Jasper. “It doesn’t bring me joy to send you away, but the best Christmas gift you could give me would be changing your ways, son. Do me proud.”
“You’re going to Camp Kringle,” said Krampus. “Starting now, you’re one of Santana Claus’ reindeer, and you’ve got training to do on Santana’s Christmas tree farm. You might be a pro runner, but that doesn’t mean you’re prepared to pull the sleigh. While The Jolly Fellow prepares for the season, I’ll be whipping your hide into shape. Trust me, I’m one Hell of a boss. Speaking of reindeer…suppose we might as well do this now. Put your hand on this.”
Krampus pulled a snow globe out of his suit pants pocket as if he had pulled it out of thin air. Inside the snow globe was a wooded area coated in tiny bits of snow that seemed to come from the top of the snow globe. Sean saw what looked like a reindeer running through the woods for a split second.
Sean put his hand on the globe. He felt a spark that turned into a flow of energy, of primal power, one more intense than the one he’d felt from the mark swap. As one energy ebbed from his body, another flowed in. Red and green rivers of light flowed in and out of Sean’s palms. He smelled peppermint and swore he could hear the tinkling of jingle bells.
Sean tried to pull his hand off the globe, but a new force compelled him to keep his hand on the small decoration. It was an unknown force, with a voice. His bear told him to run like it always had but another power, a stronger force that didn’t feel like a predator but felt ancient and mystical, told Sean not to remove his hand. Soon, the voice of the bear turned into an incomprehensible roar, the roar echoing in Sean’s head before it faded away into the abyss. The other sound tried to soothe Sean, but Sean resisted the voice’s will with all his muster. It may be able to control his body, but not his heart.
“Congratulations, moron,” said Krampus. “You just gave me your shift.”
“So then who is inside my head?” asked Sean. “Am I possessed, demon? Get your hellion out of my head!”
“Meet Dasher, your new shift,” said Krampus. “He’s one of Santana’s eight reindeer, and he needs a host so he can pull the sleigh. Pro tip: don’t give away all your bargaining power without question. It leaves you in no position to make demands. I took your mark and a shift, and it was easy as taking candy from a baby. You barely put up a fight.”
“What did you do with my shift?” yelled Sean.
“Calm your tits,” said Krampus. “Look.”
Krampus held the globe up. Inside the globe, Sean’s grizzly ran through a snowy forest, chasing rabbits.
“Your shift will remain here until you’ve earned it,” said Krampus. “It’s time to go. Santana Claus isn’t a fan of tardiness, and we’re already late. We have to cut this milk and cookies break short.”
Krampus pulled the chain off his neck and tossed it. The chain expanded into a large circle, around ten feet in diameter. A glowing portal of green flames appeared in the center of the ring, emanating from the circle’s inner rim to the center of the circle. The portal’s surface rippled like water as the chains rotated in a slow circle.
“Wait, Santana Claus? Like Santa Claus? He’s not real. No frikkin’ way. Where are you taking me?” asked Sean. “The North Pole?”
“Try Montana,” said Krampus, pushing Sean through the mysterious portal and into his future.
Chapter One
December 1st, 2007
Joy McLedon wiped down the counters for the third time in ten minutes.
She’d served a couple a pair
of coffees and called out their names — Pandora and Jack — and the two had taken the beverages to the comfiest pair of armchairs in the bakery. She was a curvy gal, much like Joy. Jack was looking at Pandora as if she was the only dang woman in the entire bakery. She’d served many couples during her short time at The Wreath, but the two lovebirds made her believe in more than just Fate. They gave her hope that love was real.
Well, hope that love could find its way into the hearts of others.
Joy wiped the counter and looked at the cute couple. She sighed to herself and smiled.
She knew that Fate could lead shifters to their mates. The way Jack was looking at Pandora, she knew that he must be a shifter. But, Joy was just as sure that Fate didn’t have a plan for her. She’d never been looked at the way that Jack looked at Pandora — not by any man, not by any shifter, and certainly not by her two werebear exes.
Sometimes, things between a woman and a bear just weren’t ‘right.’
“Can’t take your eyes off’m,” said a voice. “You some kind of stalker?”
“Avery,” said Joy, turning to face her boss. “Sorry. I just —”
“I’m kidding,” said Avery. “Relax. They’re a cute couple, aren’t they?”
“They are,” said Joy, putting the towel away. “Sorry I got distracted.”
“Hey, it’s hard to be single around the holidays,” said Avery. “It’s also hard to be hungry. Come on. I made a fresh batch of peppermint sugar cookies. Goes great with our peppermint white mochas. Why don’t you make the mochas and take your break, hang out with me out back?”
“You sure?” asked Joy.
“I’m your boss,” said Avery. “Of course I’m sure.”
Joy made the two mochas, extra peppermint, extra white chocolate syrup, and left her coworker to man the counter. She slipped on her old raggedy jacket and boots before carefully making her way to the outdoor seating area in the back of the cafe.
“I can’t believe you’re sitting out here without a jacket,” said Joy, looking over her boss. She looked around the outdoor patio area. There was a random sleigh made of brown wood, with metal runners, with red and yellow and green accents, sitting off to the side. Joy frowned to herself. It must’ve been a prop Avery was planning to use for one of the bakery’s Christmas promotions.
“I grew up around The Wreath,” said Avery. “The weather suits me. Plus, that’s why I know that couple you were making googly eyes at — they ain’t a couple. Just friends. That’s my boss Santana’s kid, and his…well, I don’t know how to explain Boreas, but, he’s Jack’s father. He’s uh…a colleague of Santana’s, you could say. Those two, Jack and Pandora, actually just met today. Guess they’re fast friends — unlike their fathers. I’d be surprised if they weren’t frikkin’ married by Christmas! Anyway. Enough about local gossip. Where are you from again, Joy?”
“Just a small town called Port Jameson,” said Joy.
“Port Jameson?” asked Avery. “No kidding. That’s where the original Bear Claw Bakery is. I heard there’s a bunch of werebears out that way.”
“There are,” said Joy. “They’re crawling all over Oregon and Washington. Can’t walk ten feet without tripping over a baker’s dozen.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Avery, sipping her mocha and eyeing over her newest employee. “Is one of those bear shifters the reason you’re not home for Christmas?”
“No,” said Joy. “Two of them are. I have two exes at home, one who just broke up with me in September. I guess I have a type: bad boy shifters who are afraid of commitment, but not afraid of my curves. The first one was hot but too hot. And he knew it. Cheated on me. The second one? Total ice prince. Cold. Never let me in. I’m looking for a guy who’s just right, and I’m done wasting my time and my curves on bear shifters.”
“Curvy girls unite!” said Avery, reaching across the table to high five Joy. “So, you worked at the original Bear Claw Bakery?”
“Yeah, the one in Port Jameson,” said Joy. “When they said they were looking for someone willing to come all the way up to Montana to help with the holiday rush, with company housing and transport and a food stipend all paid for, well…I took the opportunity.”
“Are you running from something or running towards something?” asked Avery.
“Ain’t that the golden question?” asked Joy, tapping her cup against Avery’s and looking out over the lake.
The Bear Claw Bakery’s entrance faced the long road that encircled the lake, but the back of the combination bakery and cafe overlooked the lake itself. The lake had an island in the center, covered in trees and a few cabins, with a solitary pier.
For the first time since Joy had started working at Avery’s bakery, she saw activity at the pier. Two figures were fiddling with a speedboat.
“What’s going on over there?” asked Joy.
“Where?” asked Avery.
“Over there, on the island,” said Joy.
Avery glanced at the island and then went back to eating her cookie and rolled her eyes. She muttered something under her breath.
“What was that?” asked Joy.
“It’s someone I know,” said Avery. “You know what the deal is with the island, right?”
“No,” said Joy. “Nobody’s talked to me about it.”
“Well, it’s a Christmas tree farm,” said Avery. “It’s called Camp Kringle.”
“Camp Kringle? Like Kris Kringle? Like frikkin’ Santa?” asked Joy.
“Uh…yeah,” said Avery. “Anyway, the farm has a program for reforming…let’s call them bad boys. A nice girl like you should stay far, far away from them. They may be charming, they may be handsome, but they’re doing their community service on the farm for a reason.”
“Charming and handsome?” asked Joy. “Sounds like you have a crush on one of them.”
“No, I don’t,” said Avery, blushing. “And neither should you. You’re a nice girl. You don’t need whatever drama those bad boys will inevitably introduce to your life. After all, you and I have to focus on Operation Milk and Cookies.”
“Operation Milk and Cookies?” asked Joy.
“I forgot to brief you, didn’t I,” said Avery, rubbing her temples. “Gosh. I’ve just been so busy figuring out logistics with my boss.”
“The owner of Bear Claw Bakery? Jasper Dixon? He’s such a nice kid,” said Joy. “Hard to believe he’s a single billionaire.”
“No, this branch of the Bear Claw Bakery is actually a franchise,” said Avery. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You were talking about Operation Milk and Cookies,” said Joy.
“Right,” said Avery. “Although The Wreath attracts rich people who come here for water sports during the summer and snow sports during the winter, there’s also a lot of poor families in the area, families who can’t afford luxuries. One of those luxuries is holiday sweets. What the bakery’s doing this year is baking up a storm and donating batches of baked goods to families…along with, of course, some containers of milk and plates of cookies for the kids to leave for Santana Claus.”
“Who? Oh, Santa Claus,” said Joy. “Guess y’all call him something different up here.”
“Yeah, that’s what my family calls him,” said Avery. “Guess you know him as Santa instead. Anyway. Operation Milk and Cookies is very labor intensive, as we’re going to need to make up five hundred packages for five hundred families, all in one night. We have the equipment, we can get the ingredients in advance, but what we need is manpower…or, womanpower. That’s why I sent out the APB, looking for a temp, and thank goodness you answered. You’re really my Christmas angel, Joy, so if there’s anything I can do to make your Christmas special, you let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” said Joy. “Hey, why is that boat coming this way?”
“Because it is,” said Avery. “Shizz. Let me handle this.”
Avery sat outside and watched with Joy as the boat made its way over to the small pier hooked up near th
e bakery’s back patio. The dock was usually used by the wealthy summer tourists during the summer. Avery saw that the boat wasn’t a speedboat after all. It was a metal rowboat. Although there were two men in the boat, only one was rowing, using two oars to propel the boat forward.
The man who was rowing had brown hair, in a grown-out crew cut, a wild stubble, and, across his left pec and shoulder, one word, emblazoned in absinthe green: ‘Naughty.’
“Girl…you watch a lot of nature documentaries?” asked Avery.
“Yeah, they’re super relaxing,” said Joy.
“You ever watch any about animals and their coloring?” asked Avery. “Some animals opt for camouflage. They want to blend in. They don’t want to stick out. They’re really effective in groups. Other animals? They go for bright colors. You know what those colors mean?”
“Danger,” said Joy. “They mean you should stay away.”
“That, right there, that mark? That ain’t camouflage,” said Avery. “That’s a straight-up surgeon general’s warning label. Doesn’t get any more clear than that, Joy.”
“Trust me — I know all about mate marks,” said Joy, shaking her head. “Fate gives shifters those marks when they get their shifts. The marks…they lead the shifters to their mates, their fated mates. Well, as you can probably tell by the fact I’m here trying to run away from my own damn broken heart, those marks…they may be like big X’s on a treasure map, but I’ve never been that treasure. I’ve only ever been the ‘ex.’”
“That ain’t a mate mark,” said Avery.
“Is it meant to lead that shifter down some sort of destined path?” asked Joy.
“I mean, it is —” started Avery.
“Then that mark is from Fate, and it might as well be a mate mark,” said Joy. “If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it’s probably a werebear in a duck costume trying to get into my heart and chomp it to bits.”
“Sounds like you got it all figured out,” said Avery, shaking her head — some people thought they had things all figured out when they couldn’t be further from the truth.
Dasher Claws: The Twelve Mates Of Christmas, Book 1 Page 2
