by P. Jameson
Relief flooded her expression, but Tabatha wondered…
“Were you?”
The small crinkles in Sela’s forehead unfurled and her eyes went soft. “No. I was lucky. One of the luckiest.”
Oh. Good. Because Nash seemed like a mean one. Hell, they all seemed mean, didn’t they? But then Tabatha remembered what kind of front Maxim put up, and what kind of mask Rocco and Jett wore, and wondered if it was just what they all did for appearances. Because they felt they had to.
“My mate didn’t touch me like that for the entire first year. I was sure he’d be punished for it. But he said it was our secret. And he found a way to give me enough of his scent that people didn’t ask questions.” She snapped her mouth shut, looking ashamed. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Oh! I won’t tell anyone. Pinky swear.” Tabatha held out her littlest finger but Sela just stared at it. Maybe their people didn’t pinky swear either. “You just hook your finger around mine and it means we keep it between us.”
The vixen frowned. “A vow?”
“Yeah, like a vow.”
Eventually, Sela twisted her pinky around Tabatha’s and the deal was sealed.
“Tell me more about you and Nash. I love hearing love stories.”
Sela led her down a new aisle as they searched for anything that could be made into festive décor. “Oh, it wasn’t love at first.”
“The best ones usually don’t start out that way.”
Sela’s lips curved into the smallest smile as she went to digging in a bin full of red flannel shirts. She picked two and added them in the basket.
“He issued a spur for me because he wanted to protect me. Isn’t that sweet? Usually the males fight because they desire a female and the only way to keep her is to own her. But not Nash. He did it because he didn’t want me to endure a bad mating.”
That was interesting. And she wondered if there was a whole other soft side to the man… even if he did hate humans.
“Were you friends before?”
“No. He was several years ahead of me in school. I knew of him. When I noticed him watching me one day, I did what so many females do, and tried to make myself unattractive. Butchered my hair, wore makeup to make my face all wrong. I was terrified he’d choose me. But he didn’t for a long time. Not until…”
“Until what?”
“Not until another male wanted to claim me.”
“And then what?”
Sela’s smile faded and she met Tabatha’s eyes. “Then he killed the male and took me home.”
Tabatha’s stomach twisted.
“Not the love story you were looking for, right?” Sela murmured. “But it’s mine, and it’s all I have, so it’s important.”
“I get it. I really do. Things weren’t picture perfect with me and Max either. Still aren’t. As you can see. I’m here, in this place where my kind is hated, when all I want is to be home and happy for Christmas.”
“Why are you here then?” Sela asked, seeming truly curious.
“Because the skulk is important to my mate. And he’s important to me. So, I will help however I can. Even if people want to act like I have the plague.”
Sela walked on, chewing on Tabatha’s words.
“Why are you being nice to me?” Tabatha asked, and the vixen looked over her shoulder with a shrug.
“I don’t have many friends. I know what it’s like to be judged for things that aren’t your fault. I guess it’s not hard to be kind when you can relate to what another person is going through.”
She was right. Enemies could be made friends when they could see life through the other’s point of view.
“Besides,” she added, “I’ve never talked to a human before. Had to see what all the fuss was about.”
Tabatha laughed loudly, grabbing the attention of Rocco and Nash from across the room. “I’m afraid we’re just not that different when you boil it all down.”
Sela glanced at her mate before giving Tabatha that small smile again. “I guess not, human. I guess not.”
Chapter Ten
“Oh, stop pouting would, ya? It wasn’t that bad.” Tabatha trudged through the snow-covered field on her way back to Maxim’s cabin. Behind her was a disgruntled Rocco, hauling the fir tree she’d convinced him to chop down.
“Woman, it was bad.”
“Which part though? The shopping or the chopping?”
“Both, damn it.”
She laughed. He was fun to pick on. And at least it was giving her something to take her mind off of the lousy first meetings she’d endured.
“I tell you what. How about I make some cookies as soon as we get in. First thing. And then you can eat them all. The whole first dozen, as your reward.”
He didn’t answer for a while but there wasn’t a time limit on the offer.
“Cookies?” he asked when they were nearly there. “What kind of cookies?”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Chocolate chip.”
Again, he was quiet. “Do you… do you put extra chocolate chips in them?”
“Of course. Is there any other way?”
More silence, but she had a feeling she was cracking his code.
“My mother used to make the best chocolate chip cookies,” he murmured so quiet she wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it.
“Is she here? Maybe we can trade recipes. Mine is the one my mama used when I was a kid—”
“She’s dead,” he said flatly.
“Oh.”
They were only steps away from the cabin now, but it seemed like miles with the awkward air between them.
“I’m sorry, Rocco.”
He said nothing.
Nothing as he dragged the tree up the steps and through the front door. Nothing as they set it up in the corner to wait for the frost to dry from its needles.
Then as they stood back looking at the bushy thing, he uttered a simple, “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I will take your chocolate chip cookies as payment.”
She grinned huge, and maybe she noticed the lines around his eyes ease before she turned for the kitchen.
“Mama’s famous chocolate chip cookies coming right up. Trust me, you’re going to love these. You’ll forget all about the shopping and chopping with the first gooey bite.”
She was halfway into the recipe, Christmas music playing and ingredients littering the small cabin kitchen when Lexington burst through the front door looking like she’d just seen Rudolph.
“Shitballs,” Tabatha gasped, jumping at the vixen’s intrusion and spilling flour all over the floor… and then rolled her eyes because that was definitely an expression she’d picked up from Hot Rod Turner.
Shaking her head, she reached for a towel but stopped when she noticed Lexington’s worried look.
“What is it?” Rocco demanded, leaving his spot on the couch to stomp into the kitchen.
“Maxim. He’s… there’s a spur.”
“What?” Tabatha’s heart sank all the way to her feet.
“Fuck,” Rocco spat, racing out the door.
“At the meeting hall,” Lexington called after him. She grabbed Tabatha’s arm and hauled her out of the cabin, talking ninety to nothing. “The skulk is questioning his authority since he mated a human, so he’s being challenged for his alpha position.”
Goddamn it. More of the human-hating garbage. She was getting tired of feeling like some freak of nature. Like… like the source of all their trouble. And honestly, all her positive-thinking uber optimist crap was running low. She wished they could just… leave and never look back.
“Well, is that such a bad thing really?” she asked Lexington. “Maxim doesn’t want to remain their alpha anyways. He said Cedar Valley is our home.”
Lexington jerked to a stop, looking Tabatha dead in the eyes. “He can’t lose it like this,” she said. “Not by a spur.”
“Why? Can’t he just lose the fight and be done with it?�
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Lexington shook her head, eyes looking pained. “Tab, a spur is a fight to the death.”
Fight to the death.
“What?” Those words stole her breath from her lungs.
“When a spur is issued, the animals fight until one is dead. It has always been this way.”
Tabatha shook her head. “No. No, that isn’t true. Rod and Maxim had a spur over Seraphina and neither one died.”
Lexington swallowed hard. “That’s because one of them was human. Put two hounds at it, and they won’t stop. Damn it, they won’t stop until one is no longer breathing. I’ve seen it before.”
Tabatha tried to draw in a breath. “Shit.” Panic was real and heavy in her veins as she ran to catch up with Rocco.
And she wasn’t the only one. She noticed people leaving their houses and businesses, all of them heading in the same direction. To the big brick building she’d seen this morning on the way through town.
When she reached the meeting hall, the roaring of the people was so loud she couldn’t hear her own cries as she called for Maxim. She pushed her way through the throng of bodies, all of them suddenly oblivious to the fact that they were touching a human. The only concern was the fight that was happening somewhere ahead.
She heard snarling and the snapping of fangs, and tried to follow the sounds to their origin. But she only started making progress when Lexington grabbed her arm and hauled her forward, shoving through the war-painted bodies.
As they pushed through to the open space in the middle, Tabatha saw a tangle of blood and fur, and her chest locked up with fear.
No, no.
The last time she’d seen Maxim fight, he was defending her against a handsy ex-boyfriend. A human that he’d almost killed. Now, he was fighting a shifter. A warrior like him. One of his own people.
And one of them was going to die.
“No,” she breathed.
Blood sprayed the concrete floor and a sharp whimper rose above the rumbling voices. There was no way of knowing which of the two males it came from. She screamed, but it was like no one heard her. The two foxes continued their vicious brawl.
Someone, anyone, should stop this. Desperately, she looked around for help.
Men yelling, cheering the fight to its ultimate conclusion.
Women silently watching the brutal scene with dead-looking eyes.
Rocco and Jett looking angry as hell, but chained to their spots.
And… someone she didn’t expect to see.
Maxim’s mother.
The woman stood near a raised octagon platform in the center of the room. Her shoulders were high and proud as she watched the fight, emotionless.
How? How could she watch her only child bleed and be bled on the floor of a meeting hall in front of all their people. How could she let him kill or be killed? But most of all, how could she do it without even a blink of emotion while Tabatha’s heart was dying a slow death just thinking about the horror this would end in.
As if the woman could read her mind from across the room, she shifted her eyes to Tabatha. It was the first time she had actually looked at her, actually set eyes on the woman her son had chosen to spend his life with. And that was when Tabatha saw it.
Fear.
The same hopeless fear she’d seen in Nash’s angry eyes.
Fear.
Because everyone in this place wore a fierce, unmovable mask to cover up anything real. They painted their faces to block out their expressions. They used their might to force away desires and dreams, and turn them into tradition. They used their prejudice to keep the rest of the world at arm’s length.
But how many of them felt real love for others? How many would be devastated to lose a mate or one of their family? How many would die to protect their children from an enemy?
More than would ever admit it, she figured.
Many more.
They were brutal, barbaric.
And they were so fragile they were about to shatter.
That’s what Maxim knew, deep down inside. That’s why he’d asked her to come here, why he put off their future to give his people a wisp of a chance. He wanted to save them in the realest sense of the word.
Save them from themselves.
Goddamn it, she loved him. Loved the man he was and the man he would come to be.
No way in hell was she letting him go.
And she wasn’t letting him do something he’d forever regret.
Breaking away from the crowd, she ran into the middle of the circle waving her arms and screaming for all she was worth.
“Stop, stop!”
Whether it was the shock of someone other interrupting their rave or pure magic, the crowd went quiet. As if she’d thrown a wet blanket over a fire. From blazing to silent-night in a blink.
But it took longer for the two foxes to notice her, and they continued clawing and snapping. Blood continued to stain the floor.
“Stop!” she yelled again. “Please, stop.”
She knew the instant Maxim realized she was too close. The anger radiating from him got sharper as the two animals broke apart to stare at her.
“Don’t do this,” she pleaded, and before she could blink away her tears, Maxim shifted, becoming human again.
Human, and bloody.
A sob ripped from her throat as she took in his wounds. Deep claw marks opened up the skin over his ribs. Dark bruises the size of her fist spattered his thighs. The paint on his face was no longer black because of the red it mixed with.
The other male looked worse and didn’t bother shifting into his human form.
“Mate, get back to the edge. Now.” Maxim’s hard voice didn’t seem defeated even if his wounds looked lethal.
But she wasn’t moving.
Her standing in the middle stopped the fight, and that was all that mattered for now.
“No,” she said.
He looked over her shoulder, nodding, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Rocco and Jett move forward.
She swung around before they could reach her and put her hand up to fend them off.
“Don’t you dare touch me. Don’t even think about it.”
Jett stopped in his tracks, looking to Maxim for help. But Rocco kept coming.
“Rocco, I swear to god if you touch me…”
Edward. She had Edward tucked away in her boot for an emergency.
She didn’t think too hard as she bent to grab the pepper spray tube and in one swift move, she slipped the safety free and pointed it right at Rocco.
He pulled up short, a confused expression falling across his face.
She felt Maxim come up from behind, his presence hard and commanding. But she wasn’t going anywhere. No matter what he tried.
“Mate,” he ground out. “Get to the edge of the ring.”
“No. Not until this stops.”
“Tabatha.” He so rarely called her that anymore. It was stormy or mate or woman or mine. Her actual name was reserved for when he was real damn serious. “It will be over soon.”
Over soon. Meaning one of them would die soon.
“No, Max,” she cried.
And because she couldn’t think of another way to make her point, she forgot about using Edward and turned into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She buried her face in his thick chest. She didn’t care about the blood or the sweat or the stupid warpaint. She just needed to hold him so he would remember he was supposed to be here. With her. Not dead. And if not dead, certainly not a barbarian.
He winced, but she held on tight. If he was in pain, it was okay for a hot minute. As long as it helped him come back to his senses.
She didn’t count her breaths, but so many of them went by before his big arms came around her, crushing her close.
“Stormy, what are you doing?” he rasped against her ear, his hand running up her back to grip the nape of her neck.
“Keeping you.”
She didn’t care that a room full of his people were
staring at them. It didn’t matter. She let all her emotions show because this place was nothing but an emotional drought. They needed it desperately, to feel. The good, the bad, and the ugly. It needed to be worked out. And the first step was to open it all up. Bust the dam wide.
She cried into Maxim’s neck, feeling all the love that she had for him. It burned in her chest in a way that was eternal and beautiful. Her heart would be forever scarred by him. And she didn’t want it any other way.
He winced again, and she almost pulled away, but his arms had her locked in. They were a cage around her. Protecting. Guarding their fledgling bond like it was a piece of spun glass.
Their bond.
The mating bond all the shifters spoke of. It felt… it felt stronger.
The people standing around began whispering. Small and quiet at first, and then growing into a shocked rumble. Tabatha couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it was different than before. These murmurs weren’t angry. They were... awed.
“What the fuck?” Jett bit out.
But it was Rocco’s, “Oh, shiiiit,” that had her pushing away from Maxim’s chest.
Maxim’s… healed chest.
Tabatha stared, wondering if she was imagining things. But the rips in his side were closed up. No longer bleeding. Only a pinkish scar remained. And the bruises all over his thighs, were yellowing out. The other cuts and scrapes were simply gone.
“What… what is…” She dragged her gaze up to his face for an answer but he just stared down at her with those animal eyes that always made her feel like a treasure.
“Did you feel that?” he whispered, sounding as awed as the rest of them. “Our bond is real.” This time, the words came out hoarse until the last one was said on a mere breath. “You healed me.”
“I… I did?” The vixens told her this could happen. But she never really believed it. And even worse, she had no idea how she’d actually done it. Could she do it again?
Maxim’s answer was a sweet kiss to her lips. One that was soft and intimate, and lasted so long the noise of the crowd kicked up again.
And still, he didn’t stop.
He kissed her softly until she was a melty puddle at his feet, only pulling back when her legs started to give out.
She’d heard of kisses that melt your bones. Now she had experienced one.
