by Anne Marsh
Wait. Fuck.
He’s got my list.
Carr
Dee’s notebook is fucking revelatory.
Yeah, I read it. I’m a Viking, not a saint.
I drop onto one of the big leather couches in front of the fire, put my feet up, and page through it slowly because goddamn the woman writes even more than she talks and it’s all lists of words, diagrams, bullet points, and bits and pieces of paper she’s glued in. She has house plans, garden plans, lists of baby names, flower names, and business names. The woman’s indefatigable.
Vikar should totally hire her. As the leader of our Viking team, he’s always looking for fresh talent. She might not be a voluntary member of the pack, but she’s got their best interest at heart. Her notebook lists dozens of different avenues the pack could explore now that they’re relocating from an icy cave system in the middle of nowhere to somewhere more civilized. She’s all about the business opportunities.
She’s also got a pretty awesome collection of recipes that this bear’s sweet tooth wouldn’t mind checking out, either. There’s a three-milk cake that shoots straight to the top of my fantasy wish list, not least because it sounds sticky as shit and I could have a real good time licking it off her. As I page through, it also becomes clear that my girl’s not big on green and leafy, which works for me. I’m so busy reading and flipping that I don’t hear Fell until he’s on top of me.
“You reading Fifty Shades?” Fell lunges, reaching for the notebook with one hand while his other paw swipes at my head. As if I’m just gonna give it up to him. I knock him on his ass, wondering if that’s enough to stop him or if I’m gonna have to interrupt my reading to administer a fucking beatdown. He grunts and gets up from the floor. Doesn’t look like he’s holding onto any hard feelings because he winks at me.
“Just wanted to read the good parts,” he says, as if that’s the most reasonable request in the world.
“Get your own book.”
“Are we having a book club meeting?” The Viking who saunters toward me is grinning like a motherfucking loon. Vik always has had an eye for trouble. Mischief, mayhem, drunken debauchery, outright murders and massacres—the man’s all in. No better brother to have by your side in a fight, but I still don’t want him reading Dee’s notebook. Some shit’s private. I give him a look but he doesn’t back off. Just keeps coming until he drops to his knees before me, arms folded on the edge of the couch. Guess he really feels like living dangerously today.
“Didn’t know you were such a fan of reading.” I turn a page and hit the mother lode. Dee’s made a list of adjectives describing her perfect man. Trustworthy. Funny. Caring. Kind. Honest. Huh. Yeah, I need a second opinion on that.
I scrub a hand over my head and knock Vik in the shoulder. “You think I’m honest?”
“You want me to describe you?” he asks, laughing.
“No, just answer the question.”
“You’re blunt,” he says. “I’ll give you that. No bullshit from you.”
Caring and kind? Not so much.
Funny? Think she’s gonna have to rethink that one, too.
But trustworthy? I keep my promises. One out of five isn’t bad.
Vik’s grin gets wider. “You doing a magazine quiz or just taking a personal inventory?”
“Maybe I’m getting ready to beat the shit out of you,” I offer.
Naturally, that’s when Fell decides to get in on the joke.
“He’s dipping his toe in the dating pool,” the fucker volunteers. “One of Calder’s wolves.”
Vik whistles. “You want a werewolf ball and chain?”
“Not thinking about marrying her. We’re out of here next week on a mission anyhow.” So no, I’m not thinking long-term. Just about tapping her ass. Claiming her. All the shit I shouldn’t be doing.
I hook my fingers into Vik’s shirt and drag him close. “You seen Dee?”
“Pretty little werewolf?” Vik’s hands sketch Dee’s curves in the air and damned if my brother doesn’t get her shape exactly right. Bastard’s looked at her.
My eyes narrow and I growl.
“You leave her alone.”
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Keep’s pretty full. She might need a place to sleep.”
“Sorry to ruin your night.” I shove the notebook into my jacket. “But she’s already got plans.”
Not my subtlest declaration.
Bastard fucking laughs. “Does she know that?”
She will.
“She’s mine.”
Vik laughs harder but he gives up what he knows. “Last time I saw her, she was with the other girls, trying to sort out sleeping arrangements. Don’t know where she ended up, but she can’t have gone far.”
I don’t recognize these emotions. The anger’s familiar, but the rest is terra fucking incognita. I think I might actually be… worried. About a werewolf I barely know and don’t have time to deal with. Doesn’t stop me from striding out of the great hall, though. A moment ago I wanted to gut Vik for having looked at her but now I want to do so much more than look. And it’s not even like I just want to toss her down on the closest bed and bang the ever living hell out of her. If this was just a dick thing, I’d know what to do.
I need to go back inside the hall and drink until I pass out. I need to not be out here looking for a wolf who can’t stand me and who’s made her romantic plans crystal clear. She wants a nice, stable wolf for long-term fun and games. She wants a relationship.
She wants a good guy and I’m no hero.
I move through the keep, looking for her. She’s not with any of the other werewolf females. I check with Calder (who’s really unhappy about the interruption because he’s got his mate naked) but he hasn’t seen Dee. No one has. I’m sure it’s fine. She’s independent. She takes care of her own shit—so she’s probably found a quiet space to hole up rather than playing sardines with the pack. I’ll just keep looking and make sure. I haven’t checked the main hall yet—bet she’d like looking at the tree all lit up. Bet she’s there and everything is good.
I’ll just double-check.
Dee
You know the Christmas story where Mary and Joseph go trudging from inn to inn because every place they try is full up and it’s not like they could have called ahead for reservations anyhow? I have a whole new sympathy for them and their dogged persistence in knocking—it’s super awkward asking people if they have room for you only to hear over and over again sorry, no room here. After trying four different rooms, I’m not certain what I’m going to do.
Calder has to be here somewhere. I know he’d make a place for me because he’s our new Alpha. I’m his responsibility and he takes his responsibilities very, very seriously. It’s just that when I finally followed my ears to the main hall, he was already disappearing out another door—and since he had his mate caught up in his arms and the two of them were doing plenty of laughing and kissing, I actually don’t want to find them.
They were clearly headed off for a night of hot loving and interrupting that would be even more awkward than fielding the polite get losts the rest of my pack tosses my way. The single gals do try to make room for me. I’ll give them that. The problem is, they’re crammed into a small room that’s wall-to-wall sleeping bags as it is. Unless I lie on top of someone, I’m not fitting in there.
The keep’s bedrooms appear to be entirely full.
I know this because I canvass every door I can find—and no one, anywhere has room for me. After I knock my way down the hall, I give up and return to the great hall. Worst case, I can sleep on one of the benches there. The hall’s high ceiling disappears into the shadows; paired with a seemingly never-ending stone floor and a massive fireplace that throws a welcome warmth, it’s a strange combination of off-putting and welcoming. But the enormous Christmas tree that stands in one corner, lights twinkling and dripping colored balls, is a beacon. Ooh! Somebody’s hung teeny-tiny chocolate Santas from the branches.
C
hocolate makes everything better.
I grab a handful, shuck the little metal hooks from the colorful tinfoil, and dig in. After months of an all-meat diet in the pack’s cave, chocolate is definitely the manna of the gods. Plus, there’s no one here to count or to demand I share or to wonder out loud if I should really be consuming that many calories given the current size of my butt. Christmas calories shouldn’t count.
One thing has become plenty clear tonight. I don’t belong here in the Vikings’ keep anymore than I did in the pack’s caves. Maybe things will be different under Calder’s leadership. Maybe he’ll be okay with my striking out on my own. It’s Christmas and it’s okay to make a wish list—after all, it’s not like I’m holding my breath waiting for Santa to deliver the goods.
For long moments, I breathe in, enjoying the silence and the emptiness. Living with the pack gets crowded, and right now, space is at a premium.
When I hear footsteps, I know who it has to be. See? It’s like Fate is on my side. She’s summoned him here and I’ll have a chance to… do something. I don’t know what, but the hall’s not cold, we have a Christmas tree, and I’m starting to feel the festive spirit. Grinning, I look up—and Ake steps into the great hall.
“Been looking for you,” he snarls.
Oh. SHIT.
I crossed him off my list but I don’t think he got that memo. I stop feeling sorry for myself and start feeling scared. Ake limps toward me looking all kinds of pissed off. His lower lip is split and both his eyes are slowly turning purple. Somebody has kicked his ass. Since he’s still breathing, however, I don’t think he’s run into Carr yet. Right now… yeah. Right now? I kind of wish he had.
I retreat until the tree brushes against my back. “You left me.”
“You owe me.” He keeps moving until he’s right in front of me. “And payback’s gonna be a bitch.”
I don’t owe him. He’s not my Alpha. He’s not my mate. He’s not my choice. “No.”
That’s not a fancy denial, but it covers everything. N. O. Otherwise known as: back the fuck off and leave me alone.
“Wrong word,” he croons and his palm crashes against my cheekbone. I slam backward into the tree, colored balls smashing around me. He’s the dominant wolf. I’m supposed to submit. To let him take charge and give the orders. There’s probably a really good natural selection kind of reason for this sort of pecking order, but I hate it.
I hate being pack.
I fucking hate Ake more, but right now all I can do is wait this out. If I say no again, he’s just going to hurt me that much more. As a higher ranking male werewolf, he has rights that include touching. I’m not sure how Calder will lead our pack, but our last Alpha made it perfectly clear that no isn’t part of my vocabulary. He wanted a yes woman. The best I can do now is to not say anything. I won’t say yes even if I can’t say no.
The man’s hands are everywhere, squeezing and touching. His face is a mess. I don’t know if he can actually get it up because when he rips his jeans open, his stomach is a mass of bruises and claw marks. If he weren’t a wolf, he’d be dead.
His hand shoves my head down.
“Kiss it better.”
My knees hit the ground, putting me eye-to-dick with him. Part of me (the risk-adverse, lonely part) wants to give in, to let him take charge. It’ll hurt, but then I’ll have a place. I’ll belong with him.
With Ake.
Funny how I suddenly have visions of Vikings dancing in my head. Okay. One specific, grumpy, pissed off Viking. Calder’s not particularly nice and his manners leave plenty to be desired, but right now he’s a safety line I’d like to cling to. I stare up at Ake, trying to pretend his dominance is secretly okay with me. That I could get used to this, could take his orders in and out of bed in exchange for a place in the pack.
Nope. I can’t do it.
I try to get up, but Ake’s fingers bite into my shoulder and scalp, digging, pressing, forcing me down. The rough gesture sends bright pain through my body and I bite back a whimper. When his fingers twist in my hair, I cave and let a sound out.
Ake grins at me. “Play nice, bitch.”
As if he’s not the one hurting me. As if I deserve this.
I shove up. I don’t have to take this. I can figure something else out. “Fuck off.”
God. How can he look so mean when he’s smiling? He slaps me across the face hard enough to make my ears ring. In fact, the loud roaring deafens me so badly that it’s a moment before I realize I’m hearing the sounds of an enraged monster rampaging across the keep toward us and not the after effects of Ake’s blow. Whatever it is, it’s big. Ake curses, turning to meet the threat, and I scramble backward. Fuck. FUCK.
An enormous, completely feral monster the size of a small truck barrels out of the darkness and slams into Ake. One big paw slams my tormentor into the wall—on the other side of the hall. I have a moment to appreciate the ferocity of the hit before the bear swings its massive head my way.
Oh, no.
I cringe backward but all it does is nose me further under the tree. As if it’s making sure I’m safe because it’s a protective White Knight Bear. Carr. Since he massively outweighs me in both the poundage and the teeth departments, I move as instructed.
Then he takes off after Ake. The only way out is past the two of them, so I retreat underneath the tree. I should run. Get the hell out of here. But it’s been a long, shitty day, my bear friend is both enormous and enraged, and I’m fresh out of plans and fallback options. I wrap my arms around my knees and bury my face. I’m going to take the cowardly route for a few minutes. There’s more noise from the entrance that I’m pretty sure is followed by the arrival of other Vikings. They sound pissed as hell too, their shouts mingling with the bear’s roars and Ake’s bellowing. The unmistakable sound of heavy fists meeting flesh fills the hall.
Whatever.
I am fresh out of give-a-fucks. And because I’m feeling just a little teary and today has sucked the big one, I curl up underneath the Vikings’ ginormous Christmas tree. There’s some kind of red velvet skirt surrounding the base, and really, I could do far worse. Maybe I just won’t come out until New Year’s.
Naturally, my new teddy bear has other plans.
Stupid, furry fucker.
Big feet pad softly toward me and a shaggy head nudges my arm. An enormous, gargantuan, tooth-filled head. Carr snarls softly and butts my arm.
Laughter floats across the hall. “We’re gonna take out the trash. You be nice to our boy and he’ll be nice to you.”
If the Vikings are talking to me, that means… shit. I know they’re shifters—I’ve just never actually seen one of them in bear form and I guess I’ve been a bit of a Doubting Thomas. Or expected some kind of furry cuteness along the lines of Smoky the Bear.
On the bright side, nobody’s eaten me.
Yet.
Because honestly? The night’s still young.
The bear pulls back, disappearing into the shadows. A man emerges from the place where it vanished. Either he had a secret stash of clothes handy or Viking werebears keep their clothes when they shift, because Carr’s not naked. He’s wearing the same jeans, boots, and T-shirt he was wearing earlier, although he’s lost the jacket somewhere.
He pokes his head beneath the tree. “I didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
He sighs. “That Calder didn’t kill Ake. Fucking assumptions. Promise you he won’t be back this time.”
Okay then.
He waits a moment as if he’s expecting me to say something and then he grunts, big hands close carefully around my arms and tugging gently. He wants me out. I want to stay exactly where I am. But he’s big, I’m not, and although I get a couple good kicks in, making the tree jingle, he still pulls me out like I’m the very last present and I’m all his. And then right when I’m almost clear of the tree and am considering how fast I can make a break for the door, he drops down beside me and pulls me onto his lap.
The
hall gets darker, the colored tree lights dancing over the walls and the floor, and if I hadn’t had such a bad day, it really would be nice. Carr strokes a hand up and down my hair and I just don’t feel like moving. His thigh doesn’t make a bad pillow at all.
His fingers rub the back of my neck. If I were a cat, I’d be purring. “Why are you here?”
The truth sucks. “There’s no room in the inn.”
He snarls. “There’s always room for you.”
“Actually, there isn’t.” I give him a moment to let it sink in. “Your keep is overflowing with people. I tried the doors I found, and short of stacking us like cordwood, there simply wasn’t room for one more.”
His hand slides beneath the edge of my T-shirt, drawing soft circles over my belly. “You didn’t knock on my door.”
“Ummm, no. I didn’t realize you had a vacancy.”
He eases back against the wall, hot eyes staring at me. I can feel the tension vibrating through him. “For you? Always.”
Okay then. “I didn’t know that.”
“You should have.” The pissed off look returns to his face. It must be a permanent expression.
“Anyhow, I came down here and—” I shrug.
He nudges my chin up with one big finger. “And?”
“And Ake demanded I kiss it better.” I make a face. And then, just in case Carr doesn’t connect the dots, I shove my fist, thumb up, in front of my crotch and waggle it.
A strong hand strokes down my hair and then curls around my shoulder, easing me down onto the floor.
“Carr?”
“Yeah?” One minute I’m lying here, curled up against him, and the next he’s got me flat on my back, legs apart. The man has some serious skills. Big hands rub my thighs and then move up to the waistband of my jeans. He’s not Ake. He’s not a werewolf. If I ask him to stop, he’ll stop.
Still… “What are you doing?”
Big hands undo and unzip me. “Kissing you better.”
The man must be a card-carrying member of the eye-for-an-eye school of thought if he thinks giving me oral will make up for my shitty, shitty day. It’s ridiculous and I want to protest, to wriggle away, but it’s been so long since someone wanted to take care of me. I don’t want to push my volunteer away, not until I’m feeling just a little better. And okay, the man is seriously hot and stopping him now might make my vagina revolt and kill me.
