by E A Price
The Reindeer’s Easter Family
E A Price
Copyright ©2018 by Elizabeth Ann Price
All rights reserved. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No reindeer were hurt in the making of this novella, the injuries came afterward in the annual Easter Egg Hunt. Or Easter Egg Battle Royale as it is now known.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
One
Tank stared straight ahead of him. Various children wearing homemade bunny and chicken costumes, being chased and corralled by harassed looking parents milled around giving him wary looks. After four hours, he was used to it and paid them no mind.
He was a reindeer shifter, and standing at six-feet-ten inches tall, he was a big reindeer shifter. He worked as an enforcer for his reindeer herd, which basically meant security. For now, it meant he was assigned to guard the new human mate of the herd second in command.
He didn’t know what happened. But all of a sudden, Harlan had a human mate called Temp, and he wanted someone to guard her at work. Branch assigned Tank, and that was that.
It was pretty tedious, but Tank didn’t mind. Temp ran her own charity, and she told him that mostly she would spend all day there. He was fine with that. He could stand in the same spot for hours, staring in front of him, not thinking of anything.
The only problem with staying at the charity center was that there were dozens of people coming and going, but since he started that morning, he was starting to recognize most of them. However, it didn’t help that Temp said he wasn’t allowed to frisk anyone… anyone else that is. Frisk nine or ten people and suddenly you’re doing something wrong. To try and compensate for this, he had insisted Temp have a receptionist, and since she couldn’t provide one at short notice, Tank had the trainee enforcer run down to do it. He had everyone sign in and out, and report to Tank if he thought there was any suspicious behavior going on. Plus, he was Tank’s cousin, so he liked keeping him there and out of trouble.
Temp walked past him again and slowed, giving him an awkward smile. “I’m really sorry you’re stuck here,” she said.
“No problem.”
“You know I really wouldn’t mind if you wanted to leave – I’m fine here. We don’t have to tell Harlan.”
Slowly, he canted his head and gave her a deadpan look.
Temp shrugged. “You’re right; it’s not worth the argument. Are you sure I can’t get you a coffee at least?”
He shook his head.
“Well, if you want anything just help yourself – the kitchen is that way.”
He nodded. She’d told him that five times already. Either she didn’t like him being there, or she was guilty that she was the cause of him being there. He supposed she was brand new to being a part of the herd. She’d get used to it, like her sister, Mira did.
Mira had started dating their alpha, Branch a few months back, and not long after Branch had an enforcer follow her at work, to ensure she stayed safe. Course, he didn’t tell her at first leading to a mishap where she thought she was being stalked. Long story short, after a couple of days walking with a limp, the enforcer was fine, and when Mira was asked, she agreed that having a bodyguard around some of the time wasn’t a terrible idea - if only to appease Branch.
Temp smiled at him and swiftly left to tackle another problem. He saw the woman’s to-do list – it was staggering. From what he could see, she ran around like her butt was on fire most days. He preferred his job. It involved a lot of standing, watching, grunting and occasionally, some ass kicking. Mostly, the standing though, and that was in his wheelhouse.
He supposed becoming an enforcer had been inevitable for him – given his size and hard stare that could stop a rhino in its tracks. It literally had stopped a rhino shifter once. The guy was belligerently hitting on his younger sister, and a look from Tank had put him right off his sleazy game.
College had never been on the cards for him. He wasn’t really cut out for studying. Nor was an office job. He couldn’t strut around in a suit making business deals. Nope, he was perfectly suited to his job. People thought he was dumb just because he could stand around for hours without getting bored. While he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, he was more than happy for people to think him an idiot.
His brow creased as he felt something pulling at his trouser legs – first one then the other. He peered down to find two tiny females, tugging at his trousers, and either he needed eyeglasses, or they were twins. Both had curly black hair decorated with bright ribbons, big brown eyes and chubby cheeks. They were about three or four – he wasn’t a good judge of kids.
“Are you a giant?” asked the one in pink, while the one in yellow blinked up at him, clearly interested to know the answer to the question too.
“No,” he rumbled in as gentle a voice as possible. But given his deep timbre, it was like a foghorn trying to be gentle.
Carefully – because small human females were delicate – he tried to shoo them away from his legs. Naturally, that made them cling onto him tighter.
“You are,” insisted the pink one. The yellow one nodded in agreement with her sister.
He looked around hoping one of the many people running around there wanted to claim ownership of the barnacle-like children now very much clamped onto his leg. Nobody did.
“Let go,” he grunted. They stared at him, and he added, “Please… ah, pretty please?”
The pink one started giggling, and the yellow one joined in. Soon, he had two giggling children attached to his legs, and no one seemed inclined to help him.
Hesitantly, he shook one of his legs - the one currently sporting the pink twin. Her giggling ratcheted up a few decibels. He tried the other leg, getting the same reaction from the yellow twin.
He was just considering how he would go through life trying to find trousers to accommodate the children attached to his shins, when rescue came in the shape of a disapproving young girl. She looked to be about eight, and the expression on her face when she looked at the twins suggested ‘older sister.’
“What are you doing?” chided the young girl to the twins.
“Playing with the giant,” said the pink twin. Her whole face took on a pouting look that suggested she didn’t like being told what to do by her big sister.
Tank recognized the look. It was one he got from his younger sisters all the time.
The older sister rolled her eyes. “He’s not a giant.”
“Is too,” insisted the pink twin.
The yellow twin nodded emphatically.
“No, he isn’t.” She looked up at Tank cautiously. “I’m sorry.”
> She grasped the arms of the resisting twins and in spite of their wobbling bottom lips, started dragging them away.
“Bye, giant,” called the pink one.
“He’s not a giant,” hissed the older sister.
“Is too!”
“No,” she whispered furiously, “he’s just a reindeer shifter – he’s nothing special.”
Tank had remained stoic in the face of the limpet-like attack the twins waged on him, and then the disapproval of their older sister, but on hearing that he flinched.
No, he didn’t care about the ‘special’ comment, more that he was just a little concerned that she knew he happened to be a reindeer.
The secret of shifters was closely guarded and only told to human mates and their families who could understand the importance of keeping the truth under wraps. He hadn’t scented any shifters in the center. So, how on earth did she know that?
Two
“Eighty-six dollars and seventy-three cents,” said the cashier with a friendly smile.
“Oh, crikey!” muttered Marion.
She delved into her purse, but in spite of some energetic couch diving earlier that morning, all she’d been able to scrape together was seventy-nine dollars and six cents. Feeding three hungry girls was getting to be very expensive, particularly given their animalistic natures…
“Ummm, I don’t have enough,” she admitted.
There were several groans from the people behind her, but she ignored them.
The cashier gave her a sympathetic look. She was a regular there, and he knew she was on a tight budget. Usually, she was super careful and walked around the grocery store with a calculator, totting up the amounts to ensure she didn’t go over her budget. But, she was in a rush and had just thrown things into her cart. Usually, she’d be okay, but it appeared that the owner of the store had put prices up just a little.
“You know we do offer store credit,” said the cashier.
Marion shook her head fervently. She was not going to delve down that rabbit hole. She had a bad experience with credit cards in college – she went wild for a couple of months and then proceeded to pay for it for the next six years. Nope, she was not going to get sucked into credit again. Particularly as it wasn’t just her she had to think about anymore.
“I’ll just put something back.”
That elicited more groans from behind her. Marion surveyed everything and easily decided that soda was the first thing to go. She loved cola but could live without it. Next, she got rid of the broccoli. The kids didn’t like it, and she only bought it because she thought she ought to – she could feed them fruit, they’d be fine.
“Ummm…”
“Almost there,” said the cashier encouragingly.
“Oh come on!” snapped the man behind her. “Some of us have places to be.”
“Patience is a virtue,” said Marion, waffling between losing the waffles or the donuts.
“You stupid…”
Marion braced herself for an insult, but it never came. Actually, the guy started stammering. She frowned and glanced back at him. The obnoxious male was staring wide-eyed at something, and when Marion followed his gaze, she understood immediately why.
There was a huge male glaring at him. He was six-foot-five and broad as hell, with a grim countenance and dark, soulless eyes. He was also someone that Marion unfortunately recognized.
“Marcus?” she murmured. “What are you…”
Marcus strolled over to the cashier – also staring at him – and handed over nine ten-dollar bills.
“Keep the change,” he said gruffly.
Then he strolled out of the grocery store. For a moment, Marion almost thought she had imagined him, but given that he was waiting for her by her car, that hope was quickly dashed.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted as she pushed her cart toward him.
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “No thank you?” he sneered.
“Thank you,” she breathed, pretending that the very sight of him didn’t make her legs wobble. “But what are…”
“I came here to see my granddaughters.”
Crap. That was just what she was afraid of – she supposed it was too much to hope that he merely happened to be shopping for groceries at the Pick ’n’ Save. That probably was a long shot given that he didn’t even live in the same state as her.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his thin lips, and Marion curled her hands into fists, pushing her nails into her palms, hoping the pain would stop her from shivering. She knew that smile all too well – it usually meant that something bad was about to happen.
“Marcus, I don’t…”
“Jack is dead.”
Marion gasped. “I… I’m really sorry.”
Shock raced through her, but as it sank in, relief took over, then guilt for feeling relief that her ex-husband and Marcus’ son was now dead.
Marcus rolled his huge shoulders. He didn’t seem particularly upset, but then, she had never been very good at reading the taciturn male.
Maybe he was mourning, upset over Jack, so he wanted to see his grandkids – maybe he thought they would remind him of his son. Maybe she should remember the fact that he once slapped her so hard she was seeing stars for a week.
“I’m not sure seeing the kids is a good idea. They don’t really remember you…”
Marcus took a step towards her, and she gripped the handle of her cart. It made quite an effective barrier between the two of them.
“They are my flesh and blood.”
Marion took a deep, fortifying breath. “We had an agreement.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes, and she almost shrank against the dark, penetrating look being leveled at her. Finally, he grunted and stepped away. “All I want is to see them. I’ll be round tonight.”
She watched him walk away and jump into a truck. It wasn’t until his truck was a dot on the horizon that she managed to pry her hands away from the handle of the cart.
Three
Tank tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Which wasn’t easy for a six-foot-ten reindeer shifter trying to hide in some bushes.
He spoke to Temp about the girl, and she was shocked that she knew he was a reindeer shifter. Wherever the leak came from, it wasn’t her – she hadn’t told anyone that shifters were real. He reported it back to the head enforcer, Mal, who ordered him to check out the child and see what was happening with her.
Temp told him the kids belonged to her assistant. Marion hadn’t been at the center as she had a dentist appointment, but everyone was looking after the kids for her. Which was apparently the norm as Marion happened to be a single mother. One of the volunteers dropped the kids at home, so he hadn’t seen this Marion female yet.
But, he was camped outside her house, so maybe he’d get a glimpse of her. He didn’t know why, but his inner reindeer was strangely excited about that fact. It was strange. He had no idea who this woman was, or what she was like, and yet he had a reindeer chomping at the bit to find out.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced down to see a message from his mom telling him his dinner was in the warming oven. He nodded in acknowledgment – not that she could see him, and stowed his phone back into his pocket.
He caught movement in the window, but couldn’t see anything definite. He found himself getting impatient to see her.
Her house was small, and its shabbiness couldn’t be denied, but it was well kept, with bright flowers in pots on the porch and a big welcome mat. Even the few toys in the garden were neat and tidy. He doubted Marion had much money, but she took pride in what she had, took the time to make things look nice, and he liked that.
Tank stiffened as a truck parked in front of her house – not just in front of it, the front wheels were in her garden, crushing the well-maintained lawn and flowers beneath it. He withheld a snarl on her behalf. What kind of asshole would be so thoughtless?
A large male lumbered out of the driver's seat, and the scent carried t
o him on the wind. Crap. Wolf.
His eyes flickered between the wolf shifter, ambling to the front door and the window where he saw movement. Maybe this was her baby daddy. That would certainly explain how the kid could scent he was a reindeer. Shifters – particularly wolves – started getting traits of their animals even before their first shift. She didn’t smell like a wolf shifter yet, but she was certainly going to be one if her sense of smell was anything to go by.
As he watched the rough looking male swagger, he felt a swell of disappointment. Had she really mated with this Neanderthal? All he needed was the club, and he could be a taller, slightly more shaved version of Captain Caveman!
The male banged on the front door. Then proceeded to adjust his belt and crotch. Humph. Tank folded his arms.
The door was opened, he heard a few muffled words and then watched as the male pushed the door and strode into the house.
“What are you doing?” called the female loudly.
That he heard – the scared tone of her voice rang out loud and clear. Something inside him stirred, something instinctual. He needed to get over there. Needed to help her – to protect her and her children. He almost felt like his own life depended on it.
Four
A few minutes earlier
Marion drummed her fingers on the kitchen table. Her girls were eating dinner, but she couldn’t touch hers. How could she eat knowing that Marcus was planning on showing up?
Her first instinct had been to run – but where? And how far would she get with her seventy-nine dollars and six cents?
She could call the cops, but she really didn’t trust them. The last time she was in a bind with Marcus, she went to the sheriff of the wolf pack’s small town, and what did he do? He merely called Marcus and asked him to come pick her up. Yeah, the sheriff was firmly in Marcus’ pocket and could give a damn about what she was going through. She didn’t know for certain whether he had friends in the local cops, so she wasn’t going to risk it.
They were supposed to have an agreement she thought bitterly. He wasn’t supposed to be there, and she wasn’t supposed to ask for any child support. It was an agreement she honored, but now, here he was.
