Kiss of Christmas Magic: 20 Paranormal Holiday Tales of Werewolves, Shifters, Vampires, Elves, Witches, Dragons, Fey, Ghosts, and More

by Eve Langlais

  Of course, around Wolf Rock, one was as likely to run into shifters as actual wolves. As she attempted a few more hops, Aria distracted her mind from the pain by asking herself if shifters ate wounded women.

  As she covered the space between herself and the next tree, she noted silently the distance that stood between herself and the ski hill, which she estimated to be at least eighty feet. And once she reached it she’d have to make her way down without the assistance of strong vertical tree trunks for support. Her only meager hope was that someone would see her and come help. Or maybe send a helicopter for her. And a keg of whiskey. Not necessarily in that order.

  She made another resolution as she inched forward: this was the last time she’d take a vacation alone that involved death–defying activities. Next time, she vowed silently, she’d head to a pillow factory.

  Breathing heavily, she tried to fill her mind with everything but the fact that her leg was toast. Puppies. Flowers. Even her ex–boyfriend. Rage aimed at him would be easier to take than this pain. If only she could transfer her own agony to his lying, cheating ass.

  She hopped again. Next tree. Well done, Aria. Keep up the pace. You can do it. Smile.

  This time the smile came out as a wince. A grimace, really. The sort of facial expression that would repulse men and make women coo in sympathy. But no tears. Not right now. Just the determined facial twisting of a strong, independent woman who’s perfectly capable of looking after herself.

  At the seventh tree she slumped to the ground, allowing herself to sit on the firm earth around the trunk which offered a sort of island for her to rest on, albeit not the most comfortable one. She put her head back, closing her eyes.

  “Do I pray for death or just hope this’ll be a great story to tell my grandkids?” she muttered out loud. Then she laughed. A low, guttural sort of chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all. It was only when the pain came back with a vengeance that she decided to rise again, and she pushed with her hands, trying to lift herself, her back against the tree’s trunk.

  It was then that a sound tore her focus away from the agony. A twig cracked. No, not a twig. Something bigger. A large branch, at the very least. And the snap echoed through the woods, reminding her of the awful sound of a bone breaking. What the hell was that? She slumped down further. Maybe it was help. A search party. A herd of half–naked men with six–packs, come to rescue her from her cruel fate, to place her on a stretcher and massage her, feed her magical drugs and examine her under warm lights before putting a cast on her leg and making sweet love to her… Even one man with strong arms would do. The sex would be a nice bonus, but not absolutely essential.

  “Hello?” she said, her voice more tentative than she’d intended. Then, attempting a confident tone, she added, “Hello, is anyone there? I’m hurt. Could you help me?”

  The source of the snapping replied only by continuing its approach as more branches fell victim to their tormentor. Behind Aria the noise continued in a steady rhythm. Snap….snap…snap.

  Then, a new sound. A sort of huffing. Heavy breathing. Oh, jeez. Maybe there was some perverted old man living in the woods. What were the odds?

  Aria turned to her right, looking around the tree trunk. Nothing.

  To her left now, head twisting around slowly.

  And then she froze.

  The enormous face in front of hers wasn’t human. And it was no wolf come to eat her, though in no way was she confident that she wouldn’t be dinner. The bear’s head was at least twice as large as her own, and its nostrils contracted and expanded with each huff aimed towards her. At last, a sensation to numb the pain.

  Fear.

  Chapter Two

  The polar bear stared into the woman’s eyes, his own cold, deep and dark. He seemed at first only to be interested in her face, enjoying the visual feast as the fearful victim before him recoiled in something like terror.

  Good, he thought. She should be afraid.

  He’d seen her out there, on the chair lift and again heading down the hill on her alluring, unstable legs. Something about her appealed to him; maybe it was her face, which was an expressive mixture of beauty and emotion. Or maybe it was the curvaceous body which no amount of winter clothing could conceal. Hips and breasts on a woman were a joy to behold, even for a man who didn’t get to enjoy the sight very often. Perhaps even more for such a man.

  He watched now as her head pushed itself back against the tree and her eyes closed, as though she were resigning herself to the notion that he was about to tear her throat out. She even raised her head as if to offer herself to him.

  Oh, come on, he thought. Really? I’m not a goddamn vampire.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she muttered. “I have the most stupid life on the planet.”

  If bears could laugh, he would have done so in that moment. Yes, he supposed that this was the last thing on a young woman’s fantasy list. But why was she sitting under a tree so far from the ski hill? More importantly, why had she wandered onto his land? Yes, she was a crappy skier. But so many others were, yet no one had entered this part of the woods in ages. And he liked it that way. It was best for him, but more importantly, for them. Only an idiot would dare come close to his domain.

  She really was pretty, this errant, foolish young woman. That at least he could admit to himself, taking pleasure in admiring her physical appearance as she sat as still as a painting. Her hair was long and dark, a little wavy. Her skin was light, the sort of ivory shade that one had to protect from the sun. And her lips, sealed shut as though in some sort of protective stance, were full and pink. He’d always had a soft spot for pouty lips.

  The woman’s eyes still shut tight, the bear backed off a few inches and shifted into human form.

  ***

  The huffing ceased, and the hot breath that Aria had felt seconds before seemed to recede. She allowed one blue eye to pry itself open.

  Well, now she knew without a doubt what had happened: she was dead. The collision had killed her. And now she was on her way to heaven. A naked man–a large naked man whose body was coated in a series of muscles that could only be likened to those that might belong to a bronze statue of some sort of warrior god–stood in front of her. As her other eye opened she thought of pinching herself. Pinching him might have been nicer, though.

  The man crossed his arms in front of his chest. Clearly he felt no need to hide what was between his legs, and Aria could see why; if any part of her looked that good, she thought, she would have been naked all the time.

  “What are you doing on my land?” asked the man, his deep voice breaking the cold stillness and sending a chill through her.

  “I…your land? What are you talking about? This is a ski hill.” Aria’s eyes, which had been fixed between the man’s legs, shot to his face.

  “No. That,” said the man, pointing behind him towards the bare bit of white that still seemed miles away, “is a ski hill. This is my territory. And you should not be on it.”

  “Tell that to my ski. It brought me here.” Aria looked around for the solitary plank that she’d left behind, betrayed by its mate.

  “Your inability to perform an incredibly simple physical task doesn’t excuse you from invading my space. Please leave now.”

  Now Aria crossed her arms. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

  “Listen, buddy. I suppose you think you’re Mr. Fantastic because you can shift into a giant white teddy bear and hang around the woods all naked and buff. But I have as much right to be here as you do. Besides, I can’t leave. If I could, I would have done so some time ago.”

  “My profound apologies. I didn’t realize that you’d been attached to the tree with a length of chain.” The man leaned forward and examined the tree’s trunk as though serious, and it took Aria a moment to realize that polar bear shifters were into sarcasm.

  “I may as well be chained to it. My damn leg’s screwed up. I think it’s broken.” With that, her voice trembled slightly. Aria found he
rself wishing once again for her mother.

  The shifter’s face softened for a moment, and Aria almost thought that he felt something like remorse for his harshness. Probably not, though.

  “Can you stand?” he asked.

  “No. Not on both legs. If you look back, you’ll see from my tracks that I hopped here.”

  The man turned and studied the series of left–footprints that she’d left behind. “I see,” he said. “Well, you’re not going to be able to hop all the way down the hill. This isn’t the bunny slope, you know.”

  “I see what you did there,” said Aria, annoyed enough to resist the smile that wanted to form. “Forgive me if I’m not in the mood for cute and not very funny humour. So what do you suggest?”

  The shifter knelt down in front of her, his knees sinking into the shallow layer of firm snow. Aria’s eyes moved to his thighs, which were thick and muscled, wondering if he felt the cold as she did. From what was nestled between the thighs she guessed not. No shrinkage. Or if there was, she would be intensely curious to see what happened when he hit the tropics.

  Utterly uninterested in where her eyes were focused, the man reached for her right leg. Aria winced, inadvertently yanking her knee towards her chest, an action which hurt like a bitch.

  “Please,” he said. “I would like to help you, believe it or not.”

  “Um, thank you,” she said. It sounded more like a question than anything; this offer of assistance seemed uncharacteristic of the man she’d just met. He didn’t strike her as a generous soul, somehow.

  “I want you off my land. The only way to get you there is to heal you. Or carry you, and that would mean being seen. Not a great idea.”

  So his generosity is founded in selfishness. Despite being half polar bear, he is in fact a typical man, thought Aria.

  She let her leg straighten again, expecting him to attempt to push the fabric which covered it upwards to assess the damage. But instead he placed his hand on her gently, as though he were caressing a feather. He began at the top of her thigh and allowed his hand to slip all the way down to her boot. As the hand passed over each inch Aria felt herself relax, the tension in her body leaving her. But what was more striking was that her pain seemed to disappear as he moved; the bone in her calf, which had been causing such torment, suddenly felt whole again.

  “What are you…?” She didn’t complete the sentence. Instead she allowed him to finish, watching his face. It seemed to her that his features contorted in a sort of pain of their own, as though he were feeling what she had felt, the excruciating agony of it all moving into his own body.

  When at last he removed his hand, his face returned to a state of relaxation and he simply looked into her eyes again and said, “Stand up.”

  “I can’t. I…”

  “Stand.”

  He raised himself to his feet and offered her his right hand. She took it with her left and pulled herself up, hesitant to put weight onto her right leg. When at last she did, there was none of the previous shooting agony. In fact, aside from a sort of residual ache, there was no pain at all.

  She was able to take him in now. He was tall, a good head taller than her, and she was a woman of five–foot–nine. Dark brown eyes peered at her from under a thick head of sandy blond hair. His jaw was square and stubbled, his lips soft and full. Had she seen him on the street she might have assumed that he was an athlete, but not a bear shifter. Certainly not a polar bear. She’d never even heard of such a thing.

  “What did you just do to me?” she asked.

  “I used my gift.” He was examining her face now and Aria felt self–conscious, unaccustomed to being so near a beautiful man, let alone having one scrutinize her. She wondered if he found her repulsive, then reprimanded herself. It didn’t matter. He was just a guy. A guy who could turn into a bear then heal her broken leg with his mind and hand. But still. Just a guy.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean by that,” she said.

  “We shifters have gifts. Skills that most humans can’t fathom, let alone access themselves. Some can read minds. Some can see the future. I heal. It’s what I am able to do.”

  “That’s amazing,” she seemed to whisper. “You’re amazing. But did that hurt you?”

  “I’m fine. It only hurts for a moment.” His voice was tender and soft, then he seemed to straighten, his face taking on a distant look of resolve. “And as I said, I only did it so that you would leave.”

  “So you want me gone?” she asked. She had no idea why; it was a stupid question. Of course he did.

  “I…did want you gone,” he said. “So you should go.”

  But instead of backing off and letting her walk by, he took a step closer to her, his body in direct contradiction to his words. His right hand landed on her waist, gently squeezing her through her ski jacket. Aria looked first at his face and then her eyes began to navigate their way around his form again. Sweat was beading on his chest, and a few drops were sliding down his taut flesh. Somehow in the cold his body was hot, agitated as though he’d exerted himself.

  A trickle of perspiration seemed to lead her eyes to another sight. Pointing up towards her face was his swollen cock, its length and girth certainly worthy of a polar bear shifter. It seemed in this moment to act like a barrier between them, keeping the two apart. He seemed aware of its state and unwilling to allow it to touch her, but she wanted nothing more in that instant than to put her hands on him, an unrelenting attraction replacing anything she’d been feeling minutes earlier.

  As she stared, salivating, she felt her eyes widen and then, blushing, returned her gaze to his face.

  “You’re…” she began, before reminding herself that pointing out a stranger’s arousal was generally frowned upon. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.” Her voice was breathy, as though she’d been hit in the chest. Despite the lack of pain, she felt as though something had winded her, though what it was, she couldn’t begin to say.

  “Lucian,” he said. He dropped his hand to his side as though he’d never intended to touch her in the first place.

  “I’m Aria.” The response was given in spite of the lack of a question.

  “Aria.”

  She loved the sound of her name on his lips.

  His eyes still fixed on her own, his hand went to her cheek and he swept her hair back, hooking it behind her ear.

  “You should leave me now, Aria.”

  “Could you help me? I mean, I don’t see how I can make it down the mountain.” She knew by this point that she could, but everything in her told her to keep him in her life longer, even if only for a few minutes.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said. “I can’t go with you. I never go into town.”

  “Why not?”

  For a moment Aria thought she saw anger in his face, a reaction to her question. Quickly he managed to calm whatever emotion was trying to emerge.

  “Let’s just say that I’m not terribly welcome there.”

  “But you’re a shifter. The town’s full of people like you.”

  “There is no one like me in Wolf Rock, believe me.” Lucian’s eyes moved towards the deep woods. “I keep to myself out here, and I like it like that. So do they.”

  “Who are ‘they’? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not your place to understand. Now go back to town, back to the shifters, people, whatever it is you came here for.”

  “I don’t know why I came here.” The words emerged quietly, earnestly, from her mouth.

  “I will tell you that you didn’t come here to break your leg in two places, only to have it mended by a polar bear shifter who could rip you in two. That isn’t what most people refer to as a nice Christmas holiday.”

  “Actually, the nicest part of my holiday has been you,” she said. In an instant her mind focused and she blurted out, “I’m staying at the inn on the main street. I’ll be going to the pub tonight for a drink. If you want to, please come.” Her own ballsiness surpri
sed her. This wasn’t typical behaviour on her part, particularly when a tall god of a man was standing naked before her.

  Lucian smiled then, for the first time. Oh, dear God. He had dimples. It was too much.

  “You’re a strange girl. Most people would have fled from me by now,” he said.

  “I don’t flee. I get caught up in stupid situations then kick myself for it later. But you’re not a stupid situation and I want to see you again.”

  “I told you, Aria. I don’t go into Wolf Rock.”

  “Then tell me where you live.”

  “It’s best that I don’t. Listen–you go on your way. Stop smashing into trees. And stop trying to befriend shifters who are best left to themselves.”

  With that he finally turned and walked away. Aria watched him go, willing him to turn back and look at her. But he didn’t. At the last moment before he disappeared from view, she saw a flash of white as he shifted into bear form.

  She turned and walked, pain–free, to the white of the ski hill.

  Chapter Three

  The Hunter’s Head Pub was decked out for Christmas, ornaments hanging from its various bits of décor. Even the fake human head which was mounted on the wall, symbolic of shifters’ intolerance of the hunters who had once overrun the area, wore a flashing red light on its nose, reminiscent of Rudolph the Reindeer.

  Various locals were gathered about, having a pint and chatting about their plans for family gatherings and for avoiding them. Aria sat alone at the bar, her eyes occasionally darting to the entrance. Somehow she hoped to see Lucian, though she felt quite certain that he’d meant it when he said that he never went into Wolf Rock.

  The bartender, Cam, was one of the few norms around; it seemed that the pub catered mainly to shifters.

  “So you were on the ski hill today,” he said to Aria, looking at the tag which was attached to her jacket’s zipper. “And how was it?”