Sugar, Spice, and Shifters: A Touch of Holiday Magic

by Élianne Adams

  “Nah. Figured you didn’t want to drink alone. Come on. I’ll buy you a cup.”

  “You’re gonna miss your run.”

  “I’ll be one less wolf for ’em to keep up with, then.” He tipped his head toward the shop, and she started walking.

  “I hope I’m not ruining your night,” she said.

  “How would you do that?”

  “I mean, I’ve totally latched onto your schedule like an octopus, and I’m squeezing the life out of your plans. I won’t be offended if you have other stuff you need to do.” Not offended, but she’d be sad. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out just to have fun, and Finn was fun.

  “I thought we were on a date,” Finn said.

  That’s right. She didn’t know what that was supposed to feel like any more than he did, apparently.

  “Aren’t we?” he asked as they stepped to the end of the line.

  “We are.” She twined her fingers together against her belly and chewed on the inside of her lip.

  They didn’t say anything for a while, just moved forward whenever the line did, and occasionally met each other’s nervous gaze.

  Graciella had never been the nervous type. There were things that scared her, sure, but for the most part, she confronted life head-on, in spite of her ignorance about things. Finn made her nervous in a way she’d never felt before—in a butterflies-in-belly and tingling-cheeks kind of way. It was a feeling wolves never described because they so rarely had a chance to feel it.

  She liked him. That’s what it was. She liked him, and she wanted to know more—no, everything about him, and she wanted him to like her back.

  Wolves usually didn’t care, because it never mattered, anyway. The women were stuck with whoever had bitten them.

  Maybe that would be different for Graciella Modesto.

  FOUR

  “You ever wish you could go with ’em?” Finn canted his head toward the desert and the pack members who’d run howling into it.

  Graciella looked up from the shoe she was tying and scrunched her nose. “Nah. Not really.” The line had been so long at the coffee shop that by the time they’d gotten through it, they’d missed the start of the earlier movie. Graciella had said she’d felt gross after working in the greenhouse, and wanted to go home and shower before the big dinner anyway.

  It had sounded like a good idea to Finn, and he’d done the same while Christina peppered him with questions from the other side of the shower curtain. She was staring out a back window of the Denis home at him now, holding Cecily and occasionally shaking her head.

  “You don’t think about shiftin’?” he asked Graciella.

  “No. Not really. I guess I don’t really care one way or the other about it. After all, Christina doesn’t shift, and it doesn’t seem to impact her life one way or the other.”

  “She feels left out, though. Especially on full moon nights when all the other ladies shift and she can’t.”

  “She feels left out? Really?”

  Finn grunted. Christina couldn’t shift because Anton refused to bite her. It wasn’t because he didn’t want her as his mate—the truth couldn’t be further from that—but rather because she was tiny and wouldn’t have made much of a wolf. He worried about her. She probably would have been fine with all her packmates around her, but Anton was the kind of man who didn’t leave anything open to chance. Finn respected him for it, and actually agreed with his brother-in-law’s choice.

  Graciella shrugged, and stood. “I just don’t feel the compulsion. I mean, I know I’m a born wolf. Both my parents are wolves, and obviously Lisa is. I just—I don’t know. I don’t care if I can shift. I don’t see what purpose it’ll have in my life, and you’ve got to admit, it causes a lot of problems for women.”

  “With pregnancy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alpha said it used to be that men would wait longer to bite their mates. Not until after the women had a few kids. They always had them real close together, and when they were done—” He slashed his hand through the air. “Chomp.”

  “Yeah. So she could protect the kids if she had to. We’ve evolved so far from that, though, so why do it?”

  “It’s just tradition, I guess. I reckon there ain’t that many women who’d think the same way as you.”

  She wriggled her eyebrows and pulled the door closed behind her. “Or very many men?”

  “I can think of at least three.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started walking with her back toward Norseton proper, pausing to wave at Christina who was still in her window.

  Christina opened it and called out, “Finn?”

  “Yep?”

  “Can you take Cecily with you so I can shower?”

  “Okay.” He looked down at Graciella. “Be right back. Sorry. Anton must’ve gone out with the pack.”

  “Don’t apologize for helping your sister.”

  “Back home, ain’t nobody wanted to be bothered with a baby that weren’t theirs.”

  “Can you really blame them, though?”

  Finn shifted his weight. He most certainly could.

  “I mean, I wouldn’t watch anyone’s kid from my old pack, either. Men always got so hostile about folks being around their kids, or I’d get pissed because they snap at them so much and I couldn’t say anything to them about it.”

  Oh. That wasn’t what he’d thought she’d meant, and he was relieved for it. He needed her to be different from typical wolves. Typical didn’t suit him. Wolves who were typical thought he was weird. ‘Weird’ got cast away.

  He jogged to the house he shared with Christina and Anton and met her at the door. She handed him the black backpack Anton usually used to tote around baby stuff, and tucked Cecily into his arms.

  “You smell funny.” Christina scrunched her nose and put her hands on her hips.

  “I just showered.”

  “I know. I was there.”

  “Yep. Askin’ me all them damn questions.”

  “’Cause I have to keep track of what you’re up to.”

  “I’m all right,” he said.

  “I’m just making sure of it. You were on your own for a long time. It’s so easy to get overwhelmed when you share a brain with a wild animal.”

  “I’m fine. She don’t stress me out like the others do.” He cut his gaze over to Graciella, who had walked to the road to chat with Leticia, who was riding back from the desert on a four-wheeler. Since like Graciella she couldn’t shift, she’d done the next best thing and followed the group on the ATV.

  “Want to talk to Alpha about it?” Christina asked.

  “About what?”

  “You smell weird.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” He switched Cecily to his left arm and skimmed his lips over the top of her head. She was so soft. Holding babies was still such a novel thing for him. Nobody had let him do it before. Thanks to Graciella’s earlier explanation, he understood why.

  “It was there, kind of, before you showered. I thought it was just the potting soil. Still there now, though.”

  “What is still there?”

  She crinkled her nose again. “I think it’s pheromones.”

  “Huh?”

  “I can’t be sure, but Alpha would know. Since we tend to do everything out of order with mating, I don’t know what would happen between folks who courted in advance of the man biting the woman.”

  “Anton hasn’t bitten you, so it should be the same with him.”

  Her face flushed beet red. “Uh, no. We’d—you know. Before we got married, I mean. He was already imprinted with my scent, so—things would have been—you know. Different.”

  “Oh.” Finn and Christina had never had a conversation about what had gone down after she’d arrived in Norseton for her mate-matching ceremony. He’d never asked—because he’d thought it was a private thing—and she’d never volunteered the information, either.

  “Can I just suggest that if you’re goin
g courtin’,” she said, “that you—well, wait a while before you think about biting her?”

  “You ain’t gotta worry about that. I don’t think she wants to be bitten.”

  Christina let out a relieved-sounding breath. “I’m sure Lisa would be trilled to hear that.”

  “You assuming Graciella would want me to bite her, anyway. She’s just bein’ nice, is all. She’s a nice lady.”

  Christina pressed her lips into a flat line and her gaze tracked over to the Modesto sisters. “Wolves aren’t nice, Finn.”

  “She is.”

  “What I mean is, if you weren’t you, she probably wouldn’t be.”

  “I really don’t know what you’re gettin’ at.”

  “I think you should talk to Alpha. I really do. Maybe tonight at dinner?”

  He shrugged. “Okay, but I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “We don’t know how big of a deal it is. That’s the problem.”

  — — —

  “Yeah, that is a problem,” Alpha said, and Finn groaned.

  They stood in the courtyard behind the executive mansion while the pack waited for the main course to get set out.

  Finn didn’t like Alpha’s chuckle one bit.

  The older man pushed a hand through his thick mane of hair and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I don’t mean to be a problem for her. I—”

  “Chill out. When I say problem, I mean a problem for Lisa. She was very insistent from the time I sent for her sisters that they not be forced into doing anything they weren’t ready for. She’s going to say that Graciella isn’t ready, because she’s her big sister and that’s what big sisters do sometimes. But it’s not up to Lisa.”

  “What is not up to Lisa?”

  “Graciella taking a mate. She’ll take one when she wants to, and not a moment sooner. And Christina was right—as she usually is. You do smell weird. Graciella is the one who trigged it.”

  “How and why?”

  “She didn’t do it on purpose, Finn. And it happened because she’s ready to take a mate. I guess you’re the likely candidate. Keep it between you and me, but the wolf goddess is whispering to me that she likes the match. That means the two of you each likely has something the other needs.” Alpha gave Finn a hearty thump on the back. “Watch yourself. If Lisa doesn’t try to maim you, she might get Colt to have a try.”

  “Maybe if I leave her alone, they won’t find out.”

  “Why would you want to leave Graciella alone?”

  “It just seems like the right thing to do.” Finn didn’t want to, but he sure didn’t want to cause any discord in his new pack. He liked it there, and wanted to stay.

  Alpha thumped his back again. “Good luck with that.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Only that doing it sounds easy in theory, but I think it’ll be harder to manage than you think.”

  “I have to be the bigger person.” The older person, at least. He had a good seven years on the woman, assuming his math was right.

  “Okay. Just don’t be too broken up about it if you fail, is all I’m saying.” Alpha walked away, whistling, and Finn stared after him, scratching his head.

  Confusion wasn’t an unusual state for Finn, but more and more, he felt like he needed to get a leg up on what was going on around him. He thought that’d been a more straightforward thing at Norseton, but at the moment, he wasn’t so sure.

  “There you are!” Graciella stepped out of the doorway, still holding it open. “You coming back?”

  “Uh—yeah, I planned to.”

  “Come on. I got Christina to swap seats with me.”

  Oh, shit. “Why would ya do that?”

  “So we could chat without the whole pack hearing us.”

  “What do ya wanna chat about?”

  “Finn.” She sighed, let go of the door, and strode over. Gripping his hands, she gave him a tug to get him moving, and her energy nearly stole all the air from his lungs.

  What the hell was that?

  Heat washed over his skin, as if he’d stepped into warm ocean water. He’d done that once when he’d passed through South Carolina. He’d gone to Isle of Palms with a couple of other unaffiliated wolves, and they’d all played in the ocean for the first time. Splashing like little kids at eighteen and nineteen years old.

  Of course, he followed her. He didn’t want that warm feeling to go away.

  Instead of going right toward the dining room, Graciella pulled him toward the left.

  “Where we goin’?”

  “I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a secret. I discovered it when I needed a certain gardening book the Afótama matriarch wanted to loan me.” Graciella pulled open a heavy door and drew him up one staircase, then down the hall to a narrower set of stairs.

  They emerged in some sort of turret filled with old, dusty books of all sorts, ranging from paperbacks to hardbound editions. The window seat inside the niche beneath the large window was spacious, and covered with a mishmash of cushions both small and large.

  Graciella had him sit and kept her hands pressed to his shoulders. “You stay right there.”

  “What for?”

  She walked to the door and engaged the lock. Turning back to him coyly, her teeth spearing her lush bottom lip, his heart thrashed in his chest and worry settled into his gut.

  What are we doing?

  “I didn’t want anyone to barge in. If we’re gone too long, one of those wolves might try to pick up the trail.”

  “What they gon’ be bargin’ in on?”

  “I just wanted a few minutes with you.”

  Her walk was the serpentine sashay he’d always admired, and that all the Modesto sisters seemed to have. It was harder to notice when they were in a hurry, but when they were moving slowly—like Graciella was at the moment—it was all hips and attitude. Sexy as hell, and going to get him into so much trouble.

  He gulped. “What do you want a few minutes for?”

  “Wanted to see something.”

  “Like what?”

  She gripped him by the collar and tugged him forward a bit so they were nose to nose. For a moment, she just stared at him, and he wondered what she saw—and if it scared her, or if she liked it. From where he was sitting, the view was pretty nice.

  Her eyes were all the colors of the forest—brown and green with some gray thrown in—surrounded by thick, dark lashes that seduced without a single coat of that gunk some women used.

  And her lips…

  Gods, her lips.

  They were on his in a moment, sweeping across the bottom, and the tip of her tongue traced his seam. He opened for her and pressed his hands tentatively to her waist and then downward, as she darted her tongue into his mouth.

  She tasted like that sweet dipping sauce that had come with the appetizers downstairs, and a bit of the coffee he’d watched her sip so daintily. He’d been watching her lips all night, at least until Christina had caught him in the act and kicked his shin under the table.

  Shouldn’t kiss her. Shouldn’t touch her.

  But his hands were on her ass, kneading it through the soft knit material of her long skirt, and she was thrusting her chest against his as if that needed attention, too.

  Does it?

  “You’re gon’ get me in trouble,” he said on a hiss when she snaked her hands down the front of his pants and grabbed his package.

  “Don’t want to get you in trouble. Just want you.”

  She pushed him down onto his back and pulled her shirt over her head. Her full, heavy breasts were held in place by snatches of lace and ribbon that didn’t cover much of anything at all.

  “Why bother?” His gaze fixed on the large, dark nipples peeking through the sheer fabric, and he hissed again at her grip on his cock. So fuckin’ hard.

  “Why bother with what?” She rubbed him beneath her palm.

  His toes curled in his bo
ots and his breath came out in a stutter. “Th-the bra.”

  “Oh.” She reached a hand around to her spine and loosened it.

  Her breasts fell into his waiting hands—how’d they get there?—and she straddled his thigh, grinding against it. He’d be wearing her ripe, fertile scent as if it were cologne if she didn’t stop, and if he went downstairs smelling like sex, Lisa might just kill him.

  He was too young to die.

  Graciella lifted her breast and tickled his lips with the nipple, so, naturally, he pulled it onto his mouth.

  “Mmm, I always love that.”

  Who’s she been doing it with? Growling, he pulled her skirt up over her ass and shoved his hands down the back of her panties. He’d meant for his grip of her cheeks to be punishing, but she made that dirty little moan again and wriggled against his thigh.

  He flipped her onto her back so fast that she yipped.

  He crushed her mouth with his as he yanked down her panties, and devoured her lips, her tongue. He stole her air as he parted her thighs.

  He worked his fingers down her cleft and moaned into her mouth. So wet. He just had to have a taste.

  He pulled way from her and jammed his fingers between his lips, licking them clean and moaning at the salty, tangy flavor.

  “P-put your mouth on me,” she whispered, pawing at the back of his head.

  He fell to his knees and yanked the thin strip of fabric aside, devouring her in a way that was neither skillful nor gentle, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  “Yes. Yes!” She pulled him even tighter against her, working her hips side-to-side to grind her sex across his extended tongue.

  He parted her with his thumbs and drove his tongue into her slit, lapping at her entrance and supping on all the cream he could reach, while wondering how to get her to make more.

  He slipped a finger inside just to feel her, and let out a strangled breath as she clenched it tight. If he put his dick there, maybe she’d do the same thing. She’d make him feel so good, but also so dirty, because he was supposed to staying away.

  Maybe he would stay away, but not just yet. He kissed her lower lips with more urgency, stroking his index finger in and out of her and feeling his balls draw up so tight inside him. She was so wet, so ready for him, and she smelled like a sinful temptation, so he kept right on eating.