by Brea Viragh
Shifter By Christmas
A Paranormal Novella
Brea Viragh
Contents
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Brea Viragh
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © Brea Viragh 2018
All rights reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than the work in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.
Cover Artist: Jacqueline Sweet
He’s hot and ripped in all the right ways. Yet underneath his buff exterior, he harbors one very large secret. She is determined to discover it, even though her life is complicated enough without adding a man into the mix.
Despite the massive snowstorm keeping her stranded and unable to leave, nature photographer Farris Waters does not intend to spend Christmas in the arms of handsome Lakota Linden. She doesn’t need any more distractions. Still, there’s something about Lakota she can’t get out of her mind.
Unaware of his hidden ability, Farris had spent a week snapping photos of him—in animal form—for the holiday edition of her nature magazine. So when lynx shifter Lakota changes right before her eyes, she’s thrown for a loop and her trip takes a sharp turn into unexplored territory.
The temperature is dropping, snow is piling up, and soon, despite her stubborn resolution, she won’t be able to resist him.
Shifter by Christmas is a paranormal romance novella with heat, laughs, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.
Chapter 1
“Please,” she whispered, her breath creating a small white cloud in front of her face. Her hands shook as she adjusted the lens of her camera, focusing once again on the wild animal. “Please hold still for me.” It was the desperation talking. The desperation and consuming desire to get in a good shot despite the circumstances and frigid temperature.
She must have some sort of psychic powers. That was the only explanation for it. Because no matter what she said, the lynx obeyed her perfectly. It was like a dream. Or a delusion. If she could still feel her toes she might be skeptical of her sanity. Or perhaps she’d made an unconscious bargain with some woodland deity in order to communicate telepathically with her new animal subject—the price of such a wondrous gift to be determined later.
Honestly, she was open to any explanation at this point as long as the wild animal less than four feet away from her remained calm. So far he’d been the perfect subject. And she hadn’t spooked him into running away or attacking her, which was practically a miracle even for someone like her who held more than average respect and reverence for nature. It was more than she could say for the stray cat or fox or whatever it had been that had taken a vicious bite out of her ankle at the gas station. It still itched, but she could bear it. This was far more important.
Just one more second… Farris Waters bit her lip and adjusted the lens of the camera. She kept her movements slow and precise, unwilling to risk scaring the lynx away.
He sat still, tufted ears perked and head tilted slightly to the side, almost as though he’d read her mind and understood. If so, he’d be the first male in her life to actually listen to her. Did miracles really happen?
Farris breathed in deep and it felt like ice crystals were forming on the inside of her lungs. The cold didn’t bother her much. This was her time. To work. To make a comeback. It didn’t matter that she was using up the last of her travel fund to stay at the hostel for another week. What mattered was the shot. “Visions of the North” was to be a holiday wildlife calendar she’d conceived to accompany her nature magazine’s big Christmas re-launch, and in her mind the success or failure of it rode squarely on her shoulders.
And the magnificent lynx, surrounded by soft snow, sitting perfectly still, was her ticket. If she hadn’t watched him shift on his haunches to scratch his ears, she would have thought him a fake—well, barring their meeting the other day when she’d literally stumbled upon him by accident.
At least, she thought it was a he. She couldn’t tell through the fur, but the creature exuded a distinctly male energy.
Maybe it was the direct way he stared at her as she crouched low on her belly, scooted closer, and tried not to wince when snow shifted right down into her pants. Maybe it was the permanent smirk on his animal face. Or the way his whiskers twitched at her whispered insult about the snow being a bastard. Almost as though he was laughing at her. Silly human.
“Okay, Mr. Lynx,” she continued, inching her camera higher for the right angle. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. You are going to be the pride of my calendar. I should call you Mr. December. In fact, yes, you will be the crowning beauty of the twelve months. December it is.”
Her cheeks lifted in a beaming grin when a stream of sunlight broke through the clouds, falling in a shaft directly over them. Yes! The scene was practically shooting itself. She didn’t need to do anything other than sit back and enjoy. Oh, and snap the photo.
Farris let out a soft sigh, struck by the majesty of the scene, the presence of the breathtaking animal in front of her.
This was not normal, a part of her mind screamed. Maybe she really did have superpowers. Or she’d soon have to deal with whatever deity had granted this extraordinary gift and came to collect payment.
Her camera was full of photos, amazing shots of the frozen north, and yet none of them compared to the shots she’d gotten of the lynx. She’d come to this same spot earlier out of sheer dumb luck, stumbling off the path because she’d had to pee and wanted the privacy of a bush to squat behind. When she finished doing her business—and nearly tripped on her snowshoes in an attempt to pull up her snow pants—he’d been crossing her path.
She’d stopped where she was, one foot frozen in midair, holding her breath. Waiting to see what he would do.
Amazingly, he sat. Stared at her. Like he was waiting for her to make the next move. She wasn’t in a good position for a picture at that time, and knowing she’d missed a big opportunity had mentally beat herself up over it for the rest of the day.
But her luck held when she came back the next day to the same spot and found the lynx sitting there, as if waiting for her. She’d never had that kind of luck before. Had she merely been uncommonly lucky to find his favorite territorial spot? Or had he returned especially for her? Did he know how badly she needed the holiday calendar to work?
Was the universe finally throwing her a bone?
She had another two days in Rossland, British Columbia, before she was expected to drive to her next location, and a total of five days before her irritating and chauvinistic boss needed the final proofs for the magazine article and calendar. Was she cutting it close? Damn right. Worth it? Absolutely.
“Okay, buddy, I’m going to say goodbye for the day. Thank you for allowing me to photograph you.” Ke
eping her voice low, she shifted out of her prone position into a crouch. Only then did she become aware of the aches in her muscles and joints from being in one position for too long. She’d spent the better part of five hours outside, trekking along the same trail and trying to find where she’d shot the day before. Sure, it would be better to shift around and find new landscapes, new perspectives. But for some reason she was drawn to the spot, to the lynx, an irresistible feeling in her gut urging her back here for the past two days. Of course, the scenery was also gorgeous, so that helped.
Taking care not to make any sudden moves, Farris flexed her nearly-frozen fingers to get the blood pumping and packed the rest of her equipment back in the camera bag, trying not to focus too much on her phenomenal luck. She knew from past experience those types of things never lasted for long. Any little high was always—always—accompanied by a low. It taught her from an early age to expect a price for happiness.
She sent a mental goodbye to the lynx and started on her way back to the hostel. Everything was frozen solid. It was tough going in heavy snow, especially wearing what felt like two oversized tennis rackets attached to her boots. The snowshoes had taken a lot of getting used to and she still had trouble walking in the things. At least she’d managed to make it out to the park that day without falling on her ass or breaking her neck. That was definitely an accomplishment. Now if only she could make her way back…
Hours later she was curled up on her bed with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a mug of microwaved hot cocoa warming her hands. She breathed in deep, letting the chocolaty goodness seep in through her pores and penetrate the shaft of cold in her insides. Then sighed in pleasure, reaching down to scratch the healing bite on her ankle. There was nothing better than rewarding herself at the end of the day, and with the temperature dropping into the negative toward evening, she deserved the downtime.
The hostel was modest, and even though she couldn’t spare the change, she’d splurged for the single room so she didn’t have to deal with strangers. She’d never been good with sharing. Not beds, not toys, and certainly not boyfriends. Although wasn’t it funny how almost every one of them had wanted to branch out with more than one girlfriend.
She told herself not to focus on negatives. There was still a lot of work ahead of her, including uploading her shots for the day, doing a little creative editing, and sending them off for the boss to proof. Which did nothing but solidify her desire to take a minute for herself.
Here she could enjoy the quiet solitude and the views looking out onto the snowy streets. The sheets were clean and starched, the hot chocolate free, and the microwave included in the price of her stay. What more could she ask?
She raised the cup to her lips and jolted when her cell phone began to ring, the shrill and annoying automatic tone that had come with the phone, one she hadn’t bothered to change even when it scared her out of her own skin half the time.
Baleful eyes gave the cup another sweeping glance before she set it down and reached for her phone on the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Please tell me you’ve got something,” the gruff voice begged her from across the country. It sounded like Terrance was yelling at her from across the room, echoing out of the receiver. It was a gift of his. No matter where he was in the building, you could hear him. “Farris, baby, I need good news!”
Her lip curled and she reached overhead to punch her pillow into a more comfortable position. “I am not your baby. I’m your employee. Please stop calling me names.”
“I can’t help it. It slips out. You’re just so sweet and delectable, I could take a bite out of you.”
The name had gotten old her first week of working with him. Right after she’d walked into his office wearing a skirt and walked out without realizing the line of her nude illusion stockings was showing. The accident had been taken as an invitation to her happily married new higher-up.
Terrance Kolt was known for making lewd and lascivious comments whenever the opportunity arose, thinking himself God’s gift to anything with two legs and a pulse. Of course, he was just like every other man who tried to hit on her—middle-aged, average men who led ordinary lives and yearned for something extraordinary, and usually had someone patiently waiting for them at home.
He’d mostly kept his comments to himself after she’d told him his “little winky” couldn’t even please a Chinese virgin. Seemed he was back at it again. How sad. And disturbing.
“Yeah, well, pretty soon I’m going to tell your wife and kids about the come-ons, and trust me, they are not going to be happy.” There was only so much she could take before she really lost her temper.
“There are better ways to impress me than handing out idle threats, Far,” he responded, and from his tone, he was pleased with her response. “But I won’t tell you to stop. I kind of like it. Now tell me what’s going on with your little trip. I’ve got two pissy editors waiting for your shots and nothing has come in yet. Did you get my email?”
Farris stroked her free hand down her aching calf. “You worry too much. Let me worry about the photos and you tell your editors they’ll have them by the end of the week, as promised. Nothing is going to happen to that calendar of yours.” Saying it left a bad taste in her mouth. The calendar had been her idea. The same way the magazine had been her idea, a pet project from her creative writing class her junior year of college. Everyone seemed to forget that. “Why give me a deadline if you’re going to hound me every day?”
“I don’t need to remind you how much is riding on your assignment. We need the boost from the Christmas edition to keep going for another year. Otherwise, this piece of shit we’ve worked so hard for is going under. You don’t want it to go under, do you?” he pressed.
That piece of shit, as he so crudely put it, was her baby. She’d been integral to its birth and now that it was walking around on two legs—more like staggering off-balance—she refused to let it fall. Not even when her snake of an ex-boyfriend had sold their combined shares out from under her. Sold them to a man like Terrance who continued to lord his position over her.
Why were men such bastards?
“Please stop calling the magazine a piece of shit,” she begged. “You know it means everything to me.”
“I’m just trying to drive the point home. We need these shots to be the best of your life.” Terrance sighed and she could practically hear ulcers forming in his stomach even over the phone. Part of her wanted to be compassionate and give the man a little credit. He was trying to keep a sinking ship from going under when the funds weren’t coming in to support them. She could appreciate his motives even when he treated her like something to scrape off the bottom of his shoe. Then he came back with: “I knew we should have hired a professional instead of trusting you with it. These photographs have to be perfect. National Geographic perfect. Not looking like something a Stepford wife took on her iPhone of her son’s soccer scrimmage.”
Yup, there went any kind of warm fuzzy feeling.
“I’m doing the best I can.” Farris reached toward the end of the bed and grabbed her camera and the SIM card holding the awesome shots she knew she’d gotten of her lynx friend. “Before you can say anything else to insult me, know I’m going to upload some amazing shots in a couple of hours and they are going to blow you away.”
“I can think of a few other things I’d like blown away.”
“Goodbye, Terrance.” She hung up instead of indulging in his nasty little game when all he wanted was a retort, the spicier the better. Give him an inch, or any kind of encouragement or license, and she’d be getting text messages late into the night. Text messages that were alternately dirty and insulting. Most often a combination of both.
She sat on the bed with her hot chocolate going cold on the bedside table and her heart rising steadily to lodge in her throat.
The magazine had to survive. Her credit card debt along with her emotional stability depended on it. She’d sunk most of her s
avings and decent credit score into keeping it alive, and that was before her ex decided to jump ship, leaving her with massive accumulated debt and a new boss who thought sexual harassment was de rigueur.
She was thirty. Single. Living in her mother’s basement and struggling to pay her bills, all the while hearing about her sister’s perfect job, perfect husband, perfect life. It wasn’t like she had a lot to offer on her resume, either. There was a bachelor’s degree from a liberal arts college and she’d used that as a springboard for starting the magazine.
“This sucks.” She set the camera on the nightstand and allowed herself to fling back on the bed in a huff. Slapping her head sharply on the wooden headboard was icing on her cake.
Chapter 2
Lakota Linden knew what he was doing was wrong, but it didn’t stop him. Any second thoughts he might have had at first were gone. It hadn’t stopped him that first day when he’d seen her crouched in the snow struggling to adjust her snowsuit, when his heart gave a lurching pump because she’d scared the shit out of him. It hadn’t stopped him when he saw the beatific smile lighting her features the moment she spotted him, once she moved past fear and into delight. And it hadn’t stopped him the next day when he went back to the same spot hoping for another glimpse of her, hoping she would be there. Oh, yes, another glimpse of those delectably round thighs squeezed into her pants and her bust pressing against the zipper of her jacket. Or those beautiful brown eyes twinkling in the light reflected off the mounds of snow.
