by Cecilia Lane
Chapter 2
Izzy Howell stalked through the snow, camera poised to catch the pileated woodpecker she’d spotted moments before. Maybe, just maybe, she’d catch him on the other side of the tree.
She loved this. The chill in her lungs, the puff of breath with her exhales, keeping as still and quiet as possible. Even her inner cougar seemed to crouch and hold utterly still. The change was appreciated after the last week of nonstop screaming.
Sendings flashed through her head. Vivid images blended together into a stop-motion movie. Moonlight overhead. Paws crunching in the snow. Ears pricked to catch the sound of her prey.
Izzy shoved back on her cat’s need to hunt. Wildlife for photographs was one thing, but slicing bits from Ryan was quite another.
She froze when she heard the telltale tap-tap-tap of the bird’s beak as he foraged for buggy goodies. Slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb him before she got her shot, she searched the branches. The red crest was easy to spot with a background of snow-topped evergreens. Izzy grinned, and raised her camera.
“Incoming!”
She turned just in time to jump out of the way and avoid a kneecapping by a bear cub rolling down the hill, his sled slowly coming to a stop behind him. The near miss didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest. The little cub popped onto all four feet, shook out his fur, then grabbed the rope handle of the sled and bolt back up the hill.
“Sorry!” his rattled, but indulgent, parents shouted.
“Oh, don’t worry about it!” she called back. Hopefully they were too far to see her scowl. “I was just packing up. Have a good holiday!”
Jerks.
Working quickly, she scrolled through her last few pictures. Each blur deepened her frown. A red smudge shot off the side of the frame, leaving only green, brown, and white smears behind. Only one wasn’t blurred beyond all recognition, and that one caught another hiker on the edge of the tree line.
She shot a look back up the tree, but it was no use. The woodpecker had flown away in search of more private hunting grounds.
Great. Just fluffing great.
Her bad mood wasn’t their fault, of course. Or the lack of a clear picture. It wasn’t like the bird was a rarity or she’d need to leave town anytime soon, either. The chill of the snow wasn’t even in the top ten of her concerns. All things considered, the day was pleasant. Certainly not some of the downpours or blizzards she’d found herself in over the years.
On top of her reason for the trip to Bearden, though?
Izzy scowled and checked her watch. She’d spent enough time avoiding the middle of town. With check-in only a few loops of the minute hand away, she figured she might as well head into the disaster.
The smoke rising from chimneys set far back from the road kept Izzy company as she eased around the curves of Bearden’s roads. This far from town, the decorations were strewn about with reckless abandon. A ribbon on the mailbox here, some mismatched lights there. Just enough to add a spot of color to the wintery landscape.
Like the aftermath of a bomb, the evidence of the explosion grew and grew as she neared the epicenter. More lights wrapped around the eaves of homes, more notes of jolly music squeezed between the cracks of her Jeep door, more bows and shapes stuck to the streetlight poles. Just... more.
The town square was exactly how she remembered it from her last Christmas visit. Snowmen and women—the last sure to send the Old Maids into a tizzy as some jokester had pressed hard little acorns into her mounds to serve as nipples—dotted the open space. A handful of cubs dashed between the creations, sliding to their knees to reload snowballs from the arsenals they’d scattered before unleashing them on their friends.
All that innocent fun would grow exponentially over the next few days. Bearden’s Winter Wonderland Bash was a huge to-do among the townsfolk and out-of-towners, supernatural and human alike.
Izzy followed the signs advising guests where to find parking and slid into one of the last available spots. Grabbing her things, she dragged down a deep breath of cold, wintery air, then hit the sidewalk and marched straight for the inn.
Noise burst over her the moment she stepped inside. Cubs bounced on hips or ran screaming circles around their parents’ legs, refusing to quiet for more than ten seconds after a frazzled ‘hush’ was issued.
And how could they, with the giant Christmas tree dominating the lobby? A train circled the outer edges of bottom boughs that stretched wider than Izzy’s arms. Whistles were let off now and again, and the thing sometimes paused for Santa and his sleigh to appear on one side of the tracks and cross to the other. The mechanics seemed like magic to the little ones who still had faith in St. Nick.
The families weren’t the only ones doped up on treats and carols. Couples young and old were caught up in the holiday magic. They held hands and stared longingly into each other’s eyes, faces full of tender love and all that other garbage. Izzy turned from a couple canoodling by the fire before she went outside, beheaded the nearest snowperson, and dumped the carcass in their laps as a warning to their potential future.
“Izzy Howell! As I live and breathe!” Aunt Muriel shouted over the din.
The woman slipped around the side of the front desk and hurried through the crowd to the grumbling of guests waiting to be checked in. Firm arms drew her into a hug that left Izzy startled and stiff, before melting completely into the embrace.
Her aunt released her a second later. She glanced around one shoulder, then the other, confusion adding a wrinkle to her forehead. “Where’s Ryan?”
Two words. Two words she’d been expecting but hadn’t yet figured out her response. Hell, she hadn’t even made the calls to spread the news. Everyone in her life was blissfully unaware of the schism that split her happy holiday plans.
Her inner cougar let off another pained scream.
Izzy’s face fell with the sting of hurt she’d kept at bay for the last week. “He’s not coming.”
Skies above, the words chilled her chest as much as the first time she’d heard them. She’d arrived at home, prepared to change the contents of her luggage before jetting off for another two weeks, only to be surprised that no other suitcases lined up next to the door.
“Oh, Izzy…” Muriel murmured with a sad shake of her head. A ding of the front desk bell whipped her around, but her smile was in place when she drew Izzy into another hug. “He wasn’t worth the dirt on your shoes.”
“It’s fine, Aunt Muriel,” she denied. “I’ll be all right.”
“Of course you will, my dear.” Another ding was followed by the frantic call of Muriel’s assistant, Gina. Panic washed over her face as she waved her hands through the air. Muriel clucked her tongue. “We’ll talk about that later when I have this crowd under control. Until then…” Muriel dangled a key high in the air. “Now, what do you say?”
Too late, Izzy saw a bit of mistletoe attached. Keeping the roll out of her eyes, she leaned in and gave her aunt a peck on the cheek before snatching the key away. “Thank you, Aunt Muriel,” she intoned as flatly as possible.
Her aunt chuckled and pinched her cheek. “Only the best for my favorite niece. Now, run along before I put you to work. I’m up to my eyeballs in check-ins.”
Izzy kept her head down to avoid the dirty looks of guests she skipped ahead of for service. She waved off one of the bellhops, wondered briefly when Aunt Muriel had started employing those, and breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the top floor.
Her mouth dropped open as soon as she was safely behind the door of her room. Suite, she corrected herself. Muriel had parted with her best dang suite during the most popular time of the year.
She counted no less than three vases of flowers, one of which was pure candy instead of blossoms. Petals were scattered across the gigantic king bed, probably stripped from the poor flowers sacrificed for the candy vase. On a small table between two luxuriously stuffed chairs in front of the fireplace, chilled champagne waited to be poured into flutes. Izzy
snorted at the chocolate covered strawberries that went along with the liquid treat.
Muriel had given her the honeymoon suite. For the vacation she was now taking alone.
Izzy let her bag slip from her shoulder with a hiss. She stomped for the nearest bouquet, then dumped the flowers right into the trash.
Most wonderful time of the year, my left butt cheek.
Chapter 3
Izzy tied her hair into a messy bun and let the water heat near to scalding before she stepped through the glass door. She’d always been a shower-thinker, and holy butts, did she need to do some thinking. Though what good it would do, she was less sure about. Her relationship was done. Over. Kaput. The genie was free and never, ever going back in the bottle.
It still hurt. Still an embarrassment. All those sweet treats and florals were supposed to be for a couple stomping through one half’s home turf and showing off the man at her side. Now, they were utterly useless gestures.
Well, not entirely useless. She was absolutely going to go ham on the candy bouquet. In lieu of ice cream, candy bars in front of the fireplace would do.
Honestly, she doubted she’d spend much time in the room. It was too big and lonely. And that was coming from someone perfectly comfortable to be left on her own. Hiking deep into the wilderness for shots of wild animals didn’t exactly pair with a packed social card. But over Christmas? When she was supposed to be snuggled up with someone else? Yeah, the space was just too heavy and hurtful.
Izzy sighed and turned to let the water fall over her tight shoulders. The warmth felt good but didn’t help ease the tension. That went far deeper than muscle alone.
There was that word again. Alone.
She made a face at her feet. Skies above, she needed a drink. The self-pity thing wasn’t for her. She’d liked, she’d lost, and now she needed to put the pieces back together. That was all she could do.
Over the sound of the water and her rushing thoughts, the suite door creaked with a new entry.
Izzy straightened and pulled on her cougar. Footsteps shuffled inside the room. Her room. Not some neighbors heard through the bathroom wall.
Hope sparked to life before she smothered it completely. Ryan, while generous, was not a romantic at heart. Nor did he question himself once he made a decision. Her ex wasn’t on the other side of the door.
Feeling like a cartoon character stopping in a cloud of dust right on a cliff’s edge, Izzy took a giant step back in her thoughts.
Her ex wasn’t on the other side of the door.
But someone else was.
Heart pounding in her chest, cougar ready to steal her skin, she cranked off the water and shoved open the glass door. A chill hit her body even with all the steam in the air, but Izzy barely felt it with adrenaline pumping through her veins. She quickly wrapped a towel around her frame and searched for anything she could use as a weapon.
She whipped open the door, spiky bristles of her hairbrush ready to smack into the intruder. Dumb, she knew. She had claws and fangs, but Muriel would probably get a little angry if she called down to room service for a body removal.
“What are you doing in my room?” she demanded.
It was then that she focused on the wide chest in front of her. A plain black shirt stretched over the man’s frame, tight enough to offer the suggestion of ripped muscles underneath. Up and up, she took in the span of his stomach, crossed the expanse of his chest, fell into the dip of his throat. A short beard not much more than a five-o’clock shadow dusted his cheeks and upper lip. Above those, she met his eyes.
Blue. Blue eyes. Crystal clear blue, like some of the waters she’d had the pleasure of swimming.
And they were furious.
“Your room?” the intruder growled. His eyes drained of blue and left behind a glowing silver. “You’re in my room.”
Izzy inhaled. Over the anger and irritation came notes that threatened to send her to her knees. The richness of wood smoke filled her lungs and left behind something even more delicious on her exhale. She’d experienced aftertastes before, but afterscents? She must be losing her mind.
But there it was, stroking at her awareness. Rich notes, like leather and whiskey, and sweeter ones, like chocolate and hazelnuts. Delicious, decadent, entirely mouthwatering. Urging her close enough to press her lips to his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
Her cougar sank down inside her head and kneaded her claws at the suggestion.
Izzy pulled up straight. Nope. Not happening. She’d rather deal with an unruly beast screaming away than one ready to show an intruder her belly.
“I don’t fluffing think so,” she snapped back at him, realizing too late what that wood smoke scent meant. Dragon. Fire. Wings. The whole deadly deal. There were a few of them around Bearden, but they mostly kept to themselves and certainly didn’t go barging into the rooms of others with their ridiculous alternate realities of room ownership.
“Fluffing?” A thin trail of smoke exited his nostrils with his snort. “You know what? Forget it. Just get out of my room.”
“Once again,” Izzy said with an exaggerated sigh. “My room. If you don’t like it, take it up with the front desk.”
“Gladly,” he said in a tight voice. “I’m ready when you are.”
That was… not the outcome she intended. Him out the door, the lock firmly engaged with the extra security bolt slid shut. It wouldn’t keep a dragon—or any shifter, for that matter—out if they really wanted in, but the extra layer of security might serve as a deterrent for his reentry. He could sort out where he truly belonged with her aunt at the front desk.
Except he refused to cooperate, and instead stood there like a brick wall.
She glared. He glared right back.
She lifted her chin. He stared down his nose.
She quirked an eyebrow. He folded his arms over his chest.
Stubborn, stubborn man. And one she wasn’t getting rid of any time soon.
Fine. She’d go down to the fluffing front desk with him and let Muriel tear him a new one.
“Well?” Izzy gestured wildly with her brush. Her towel slipped with the movement and she barely caught it in time, much to his amusement.
Oh yeah, he definitely wanted to feel the sting of her brush bristles.
He stepped aside with a mocking wave of his hand. Izzy glared as she stomped across the suite and into the alcove that housed the bed and her bags.
“Well?” she asked again. His eyes bored right into her, like he couldn’t believe she was real. “I’m not dressing with you staring at me.”
His teeth ground together, but he turned.
“Ridiculous,” she muttered as she ripped open the zipper. “Barging in on a woman like that? He’s lucky he didn’t get stabbed.”
Clothes burst out of the bag, as unfolded as when she stuffed them inside without rhyme or reason. She’d been looking to get away as quickly as possible, not ensure every item was neatly stored. She tossed a shirt to the side, then dropped socks to the ground. She found the sweater she wanted, but the static also drew out a flimsy, silky chemise that she balled into another shirt and tossed to the side with a growl.
One quick dry and shimmy into her clothes later, and she spun around to land her eyes on an impressive set of shoulders. Her cat purred in her head, drawing down more of his decadent smoky hazelnut scent, before she kicked the beast to the darkest corner of her mind. No matter how delicious Mr. Intruder smelled, she simply wanted him gone.
Her cougar hissed and spat as Izzy slipped past the stranger and hurried for the door. “Waiting on you!” she snarked over her shoulder.
She caught sight of him shaking his head at the ceiling before she marched into the hallway. Footsteps followed, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a glance over her shoulder. He’d forced her into this jaunt, he could be the one to catch up.
Izzy stepped into the lobby to find the check-in congestion had cleared. A handful of guests gathered around the firep
lace and a father and son crouched down at the base of the tree to watch the train roll past, but none even looked up when she slammed her hand on the bell to draw her aunt out of the back office.
“We have a problem,” he started as soon as Muriel appeared.
“This creep broke into my room!” Izzy said over him. She winced an apology to her aunt when the father shot them a look and gathered his son into his arms. Lowering her voice to prevent any extra attention, she added, “Please tell him where he needs to go because he refuses to believe he’s wrong.”
“I’m not wrong,” he growled, narrowing blue eyes on her.
Muriel paled. “Oh, dear. Oh, oh, dear. You have a key, I assume?”
He reached into his back pocket and dangled it between his fingers. The feat would have impressed Izzy—those dang jeans looked molded to his rear—if not for the fact that he’d been one open door away from ogling her sans clothing.
Muriel reached across the desk with a tight smile. “And your name?”
“Zane Darkwood.”
Izzy eyed him without turning her face. Of course he’d be a Zane. Dark and broody, that was the type of person named Zane. She bet he was arrogant, too. A control freak, probably, which lined up with their little stare down until she agreed to sort out the whole room mess.
Muriel pressed a few more buttons, then reached for a binder under the desk. She flipped to the back and scanned a finger down the listings she trusted more than whatever the computer had on file. “It appears there has been a mistake,” she murmured.
“No kidding,” Zane said flatly.
“Gina!”
Gina pushed through the door without any delay, almost as if she’d been hovering around the corner and waiting for the summons. “Yes?” she asked in a small voice.
Muriel opened her mouth, but it was Zane who spoke first.
Shoulders straight, eyes snapping to the woman crowding against the doorframe and wringing her hands, his measured tone sounded seconds away from snarling. “You’re fae.”
