by Anthology
“Your scream temporarily affects the abilities of other worlders. It lasts a few seconds at best. But the horn drives all other worlder abilities from your enemies for much longer—long enough to kill them.” He smiled. “Change into your jotnar form, and give me your horns.”
“No.” Even if she wanted to meet his demand, she didn’t know how to turn into a frost giant. The closest she’d come to her assuming her other form had been when she’d had sex with Max. It wasn’t exactly an option just now.
“I may have pushed your father into the ice hole. I figure he has maybe a minute before he dies of hypothermia. If he doesn’t drown first.”
Malevolent rage washed over her like an icy wind. The cold seeped into her skin as if it were lending her its bitter strength and will.
“That’s my girl,” Dawson said with a chuckle.
This time Rachel was aware of her change. Her limbs became longer, her toes burst out of her skates at the seams and she shook her feet free. The ski jacket fit like a straight jacket until it ripped at the shoulders. The stretch denim and athletic shirt she wore were the only things that survived the transformation. Even her underwear and bra had ripped apart.
Rachel hadn’t grown horns when she’d been in bed with Max, but now she could feel the pointed tips push through her forehead, but instead of spirals like her mom’s, Rachel’s grew out then forward, like a Spanish fighting bull.
Dawson held a long machete in his hand now. “Look at those beauties.”
She opened her mouth and roared, the sound shaking snow off the nearby trees. For a moment, Dawson Lars frowned, then he smiled. His smile turned into a laugh of victory. He fist pumped the air. “It worked. I really worked. I ingested some shavings from the horn, and it’s made me immune against your war cry.”
Rachel snarled. She kicked back on the ice, her large giantess feet shaving a layer and sending out a frosty spray. She put her head down. Lars’ expression changed from smug to surprised as she charged him.
With a hit that would have made any hockey enforcer jealous, she skewered Dawson Lars through the chest. She roared her victory as she snapped his neck and tossed her fallen enemy aside. Her celebration was short lived. Her parents. Oh God. Her father was under the ice. She ran inside the shack. Her mother’s head had exposed wounds on both sides of her forehead, and her blood shot eyes were wide with fear. Rachel ripped the tape from her mouth and undid the ties on her wrists so she could get the rest herself.
“In the hole,” her mother said, working the knots at her heels.
“I know,” Rachel said. “I’m going in.”
“No.” He mother shook her head. “Your man. He jumped in right before you got in here. He’s under the ice.”
“No!” Not her father and Max. She couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t lose either of them. She prepared to jump in after them. A hand cresting the surface stopped her from taking the plunge.
She grabbed it and pulled, yanking her father up out of the freezing depths. After she pulled him away from the hole, she waited, barely breathing, for Max to surface.
When he didn’t, she lay down and shoved her arm into the water. She felt around in the icy slush, praying for Max to surface. Her pulse quickened, her chest constricted, and she put her head under the water, searching the murky depths for the man she loved, and while they just met, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, she did love him.
He took her hand. When she got a firm hold on him, she yanked him to the surface. His lips were blue and his teeth chattered, but he was alive.
She could hear her father coughing, and her mother sobbing as she hugged him hard. Rachel turned to Max. This was a man who’d rescued her, who’d risked his life over and over for her, and cared enough to put his life at risk again to save her father. Her heart swelled with an overwhelmingly joyous ache.
She wrapped him with her shredded jacket and kissed his cold, trembling lips.
“It’s after midnight, you know.”
“So?”
“Merry Christmas, Rachel.”
“Merry Christmas, Max.”
He kissed her again, heat returning into his lips. “You know I’m going to marry you, right?”
Before Rachel could respond, Destan appeared in the doorway.
“Wow, in front of the parents. Kinky,” he said. “That’s some racy shit there, bro.”
“Rachel,” Callie said, pushing her way past Destan. “I like the blue hair. You’re full of surprises.” She embraced Rachel quickly then immediately tended to Rachel’s father and mother. Her glowing hands instantly brought them relief.
Eustan reached around his brother and tossed Max his duffle bag. “I thought you’d want your clothes before you properly introduced yourself to your new in-laws.” He looked at Rachel. “Welcome to the family, sister.”
She lifted a brow. “I haven’t even said yes.”
Eustan smiled. “Yes, you have.”
“Run,” Destan said to her. “Run as fast as you can.”
“Into my arms,” muttered Max, and he kissed her deeply.
Epilogue
The house was warm and smelled like apples and cinnamon. Max wrapped his arms around Rachel, kissing her every time they passed under the mistletoe, the chandelier, through a door, and basically everywhere and as often as he could. Lights and garland decorated the banisters. The windows were frosted with artificial snow. Christmas cards were lined up on the mantle. Stockings were hung on hooks.
Recorded carols played softly in the background, and Max couldn’t think of anything better than being with Rachel and her family on Christmas day.
The front doorbell rang, and Rachel’s father yelled, “I’ll get it.”
Pinecones were in a bowl near the fire place, and Max enjoyed watching them spark and pop when Rachel would throw one onto the burning logs.
“Max,” a familiar voice said.
Max turned with Rachel in front of him like shield. “Dad.” Max and his brothers looked a lot like their day. Dark hair, tall, broadly built, only his dad had blue eyes.
Gray’s face was stern and serious, and Max tried to gage just how much trouble he was in. “Your brothers have filled me in on the situation up here.”
“I’m sorry. I know I blew it.”
His dad shook his head. “On the contrary. You stopped a potential disaster to the crown. If the terrorists would have used the horns against us, it might have turned the tide in their favor.”
Rachel’s mom practically ran into the living room from the kitchen. She smoothed her chestnut hair, and took off her apron. “Myron Gray. How lovely to meet you again.”
He nodded and smiled. “Have we met?”
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember. It was the last year your parents were still the rulers of Caledon before your sister’s Truine. It was a lovely ball.”
“Ah,” he smiled wistfully at the memory. “The night I met my wife.”
Tawny Campbell smiled. “You made a handsome couple.”
“Thank you. We married one month from the day.” He turned a knowing gaze to Max. “Introduce me to my soon to be daughter-in-law.”
Max grinned. “Dad, this is Rachel. Rachel, meet my dad.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance, sir.”
“She’s a special one, son.”
“I agree.” Max fairly burst with pride.
Rachel’s mom left the room and came back in with an ornately decorated metal box. It had a keyhole on the front. She handed it to Myron Gray along with the key. “I was going to send this to you with Max, but since you’re here.”
Gray frowned, but he took the offering. He opened the box. Inside was a curled horn. One of the horns Dawson Lars had cut from her head. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. We jotnar used to serve Caledon, but we’re nearly gone. Only a handful of us have survived. Secrecy has been our savior, but after what happened yesterday, I want to help Caledon and the Triune anyway I can.”
“Thank you,
Mrs. Campbell,” he said reverently. “Your sacrifice will be remembered.”
“Just kick their asses,” she said.
Gray laughed. “You got it.”
“Oh, Mom,” Rachel said. She moved out of Max’s arms and into her mother’s embrace.
They held each for a good minute, before Tawny leaned back and fingered her daughter’s hair out of her eyes. “I’m very proud of you, Rachel Ann.”
Rachel smiled. “I love you too, Mom.”
“Don’t be sassy,” Tawny said, wiping a tear from her eye. She turned to Gray. “Will you stay for dinner?”
“Better not.” He gripped his sons shoulder. “Your mother expects you to bring Rachel home before New Year’s for a proper introduction.”
Max encircled Rachel in his arms and pulled her close. He stared into her crystal blue eyes and knew love at first sight existed, because beyond a shadow of a doubt he loved her. He didn’t know her favorite color, her first crush, or what movies made her laugh and cry. It didn’t matter. They had the rest of their lives to learn about each other.
“I love you.”
Rachel raised up on her toes and kissed his chin. “I love you too, Max.”
The End
About Renee George
Renee George is a bestselling author of urban fantasy, paranormal romance, erotic romance, contemporary romance, and romantic comedies that highlight varying themes. www.midnightshifters.com
Winter Blues: Kotara Pryde by T.J. Michaels
A Pryde Ranch Shifter Novel
When a lioness shifter comes calling in the dead of winter...you'd better have ice cream.
Kotara Pryde is an accomplished scientist, doctor, and bounty hunter, along with her sisters, for the Shifter and Were Armed Tactics agency, S.W.A.T. She loves her life and her freedom, but being the last Pryde to take a mate has its downsides...like utter loneliness during the most charitable time of the year. What better way to battle the holiday blues than to go on a little mission in the mountains, right? But when she's pulled from a deadly avalanche, Kotara finds herself at the mercy of the man who framed one of her family members for murder. Now she must decide if he's as innocent as he claims, or if he's playing her like her brother-in-law's banjo.
1
Kotara paused outside of her cousin’s suite before knocking. Derria Sozi-Pryde and her mates were like bunnies when it came to sexing. Once she was sure that there was no moaning, screaming or pleading, she knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Derria called.
No way in hell. There were way too many sex hormones in there. The last thing she needed was yet another cold shower from all the “gimme some” those three were giving off.
It still amazed Kotara that Derria had gone on a typical hunt for the Shifter and Were Armed Tactics agency, S.W.A.T., and come home with not one, but two mates.
Lucky bitch.
Moments later, Lakota Phillips opened the door. Kotara breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was dressed this time. Shifters were the most immodest of creatures when it came to nudity. She was glad that they had a healthy sense of self, but for a single female in a house full of mated shifters, life in the horny department could be a bit…trying.
“Did you hear Derria say it was okay for you to come in?” he asked, with that typical twinkle of mischief in his eye.
“Yep. And for the millionth time, I am not coming in there.”
“I know, I know. Too many pheromones.”
“Damn right. Now if you guys don’t mind, you, Kerr and Derria are wanted downstairs. Library in ten minutes.”
She did a smart about-face and left him standing there looking all gorgeous and puzzled. She almost laughed, but the reason they were being summoned was no laughing matter.
Kotara hit the staircase at a brisk walk. The chalet-style mansion was a luxurious but homey feeling place. She ran her fingers over the thick swirls carved into the highly polished bannisters. Her gaze was drawn to the Persian-style design woven into the carpet as she moved, her combat boots making no noise on the plush wool carpets.
From the fourth floor down to the first, the beautiful paintings of various cultures and their animal spirit guides called to her. Her thoughts fell back to when she and her sisters were building this place. It was important that they be good stewards of their lands. It was the reason the research laboratories, lovingly called the Labyrinth, were all underground with rolling prairies covering their existence. Each log for the chalet, the trees in the orchard, the plants in the gardens, and the water features—everything had been chosen with care because the design of the estate was meant to fit with the surrounding acreage of the ranch.
Down on the first floor, Kotara headed straight for the library. In the center of the brightly lit room was her favorite piece of equipment—a table made of highly polished aspen. With one tap of the remote embedded into the center of the table, the thing transformed into a literal King Arthur-style Round Table. Thanks to Niah Pryde, it had all the electronic bells and whistles that allowed them to coordinate missions out of this room.
Kotara took a seat closest to the wall of windows that looked out onto the prairie. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and simply bathed in the sun, appreciating and loathing this place all at once. Moments later, her family began to stroll in—all hunters, the lot of them.
But they were so much more.
Neesia and Niah Pryde were the oldest twins. Neesia was the matriarch and Niah was the technical genius. Pryde Industries’ security division existed solely because of Niah, while the scientific division was all on Koreas and Kotara, nicknamed the mad scientist wonder twins. Neesia and Niah sat near Kotara while their mates, Jason and Lou, settled in next to each other.
Derria and Lakota strolled in, followed by Kerr, the only non-feline, non-hunter in the pride. Alone, Koreas, Kotara’s twin, came in last. Her human mate was missing.
“Where’s Austin?” she whispered into her twin’s head.
“Fishing down at the river. You know he hates these briefings because it usually means we’re headed out to chase bad guys.” But Kory brought just the slightest hint of him with her given he was imprinted on her skin.
Looking around the table, Kotara smiled. She loved her family, loved this place—all seventy-seven thousand acres of it. And for the first time in her life, Kotara Pryde wanted to be anywhere but home.
* * *
“Okay, let’s get down to business,” Jason said as he hit the speakerphone button, followed by the tone of the speed dial. All small talk ended and the room went quiet. They all knew the drill, but that didn’t make the instant anxiety dissipate one bit.
Every person in the room was an agent for S.W.A.T., with the exception of Kerr Blackwood, Derria’s second mate. He wasn’t an agent, but his entire pack—or rather, former pack—were expert hunters. In fact, it’s what they were known for.
Kotara braced herself for the coming conference call. In front of the video screen sat Jason, Neesia, Derria, Lakota and herself. Everyone else remained off-screen for their own safety. The Shifter and Were Armed Tactics agency might make the safety of shifters their top priority, but it was still a bureaucracy. And everyone, shifter or not, knew such organizations eventually became corrupted. So the Pryde’s kept their own secrets and their family close at all costs.
On the video screen appeared a stern-faced woman. Dark hair was pulled back into a French braid so tight, Kotara often wondered how her eyes weren’t stretched to mere slits, especially when the woman wore a perpetual scowl.
This was Captain Lola Johns, the crankiest bad ass director at S.W.A.T., who luckily believed that the Prydes were capable of reeling in the worst of the worst of the shifter world’s offenders.
And she wasn’t wrong.
Jason jumped right in. “Johns called this meeting. I don’t know why but it has to do with Derria and her mates.”
Well, she hadn’t seen that coming. After all, there was very little that eased by either Jason o
r Neesia. Ever.
At their nods of understanding, the sound was enabled.
“Hey, Johns. What’s going on? It’s been months since Derria chased Kerr all the way to the mountains of North Carolina. Surely the trail is completely cold by now. We’ve researched everything we could get our hands on and come up empty on finding whoever set up Kerr.”
“Until now,” Johns replied dryly.
Kotara looked from her sister to Jason, glad to see their eyes were as wide as her own. Johns spoke into the silence.
“We have a lead, though a rather reluctant one,” she said.
“Reluctant? Why?” Derria’s words were pressed through gritted teeth. Kotara didn’t blame her at all. Someone had done a hell of a job putting her on the trail of her mate in hopes that she’d kill him. And she almost had. Thank the universe for mating pheromones, otherwise her cousin’s hunt would have turned out quite differently. Derria would have killed an innocent man.
“He’ll be reluctant because he’s human and has no idea he’s about to become the focus of a S.W.A.T. mission,” Johns declared.
An eruption of questions, queries and outrage followed the good Captain’s declaration.
“What the hell do you mean?” growled Derria.
“Human? Are you serious?” Jason.
Kotara sucked in a breath, while Neesia glared daggers at the screen.
Johns, ever unflappable, waited. Finally, she dropped the real bomb.
“We occasionally work with the human military when it furthers our own cause. No different than Pryde Industries managing several contracts to provide superior technology to the military and world-class solutions to global biotechnology manufacturers. The only difference is that the assets we manage wear skin—namely our shifters and their military humans.”
So while S.W.A.T.’s job was to keep humans in the dark and safe from rogue Weres, they were working with the military on the down low? Holy hell, what a bombshell.
