Christmas After Dark: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Abigail Owen

  He stared at her before putting one hand up to his reddened skin. "You're right. I deserved that." Alec walked over to the bar, shrugging off his coat. "Can I please have a drink before you throw me out?"

  A few steps took her to the front door, cold air still swirling around his entrance. Cass twisted the deadbolt lock on the door and flipped the sign to CLOSED before moving around the redwood counter, putting the wooden barrier between them.

  She poured out two shots of whiskey, using the good stuff.

  He stayed silent.

  She pushed a glass at him before emptying hers in a single gulp, the burning in her throat helping to tamp down the raging emotional storm building inside.

  He drank and put the glass down on the varnished wood with a deep sigh. "Been a long time since I had one of these."

  "Really. Don't they have bars in Hell?"

  "Cass." He shook his head. "I know I can't say anything to make it right, but I didn't mean to be away so long..."

  "Long?" She resisted the urge to throw the bottle at him. Instead, she refilled her own shot glass and drank. "Is that a fancy way to say abandoned?"

  He winced as if she'd slapped him again. "I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was going to be right back."

  "Really? Really?" She forced herself to put the bottle away before she gave into the temptation to keep drinking—that way lay trouble, and she had enough on her hands as it was. "What did you think, that you'd walk back in here and nothing would have changed?"

  The urge to reach out and grab him was almost overwhelming. Instead, Cassie wrapped her arms around herself, the invisible pain digging deep in her soul. "You said you loved me. That we were going to have a life together." She drew a shallow breath. "Even if you were a shapeshifter."

  The word still felt odd in her mouth, like cotton.

  "Especially because I'm a shapeshifter." Alec moved around the edge of the bar. "One you helped out. Because you've got a big heart—that's why I fell in love with you."

  She closed her eyes and flashed back to their first meeting, two years ago.

  The path along the river was an old friend, rising up to meet her daily walk home, as it had for years. It ran past her front door, her family's home for three generations—all of them keeping the bar going for the coal miners who needed a stiff drink after work.

  When you'd seen your best friend die or maimed horribly, you needed something to take the edge off—and Nyre's bar was the best place to do it. Originally owned by her grandfather and passed on down to her father, the bar was tucked away from the main road where only those who knew where it was could find it. Over the years, the customers had lessened with time—when the mines and the mills shut and people were laid off, but there was still a steady flow of local traffic, enough to keep the business going.

  The brisk winter air nipped at her nose as she trod along, heading home after locking up the bar. A full moon was rising high over the trees, casting a strange pale light over everything. There was about an inch of snow on the ground, crunching under her boots.

  She took her time—there was no one waiting for her at home. It was her first Christmas without her father, without her mother. Jean, her aunt, had suggested Cass fly to Arizona and spend it with her, but Cassie turned it down, claiming she couldn't leave all the work to Danny over the holidays.

  The truth was that she wanted to be alone.

  She was okay with that.

  The river burbled as she walked, the water lifeline leading up to Pittsburgh and down south, through West Virginia and all points past. It flowed day and night, no matter what.

  It'd been a staple in her life since growing up, sustaining her through her mother's death and now, her father's. Most of her childhood friends had grown up and left the area, now only photographs and updates on social media.

  Yet... she wasn't lonely.

  She had the woods and the water, the river wildlife keeping her company. Big, fat trout running wild, prime catches for the sportsmen further downstream. Otters, splashing and jumping out of the water as they played around the driftwood stacked up on the grassy beaches. The ducks and Canadian geese swimming by, some climbing onto the road and stopping traffic for the time it took to migrate over to the nearby park.

  A soft whimper caught her attention, stopping her in her tracks.

  She looked around, moving slowly. If it were a hurt cat or dog, any sharp, jerky move might set it off. The last thing she needed right now was a fight with an animal, driven crazy from the pain.

  A second noise directed her down to the riverbank, where the waves lapped against the shore.

  "Oh, damn."

  Cassie knelt down by the otter, wincing as she took in the angry gash on the small leg. The jagged cut seemed deep, but wasn't lethal—as far as she could tell. Still, it appeared painful, the three-inch slice in the animal's hide seeping blood.

  "What happened to you?" she said in a calming tone. "Bet one of those barges nicked you, right? Fell asleep floating in the water and banged right into one? Or did you try to swim out of the way, cut it a bit too close... playing a game, hmm?"

  The otter stared up at her with deep, dark eyes. He didn't snap at her, at least not yet. His sleek body, covered with brown/black fur, lay half-in, half-out of the water. It was obvious he'd hauled himself up onto the shore, unable to swim back to his home.

  "Damn." She studied him as she pulled her leather gloves out of her coat pockets. They came in handy for carrying wood from the outside woodpile into the house—now they'd serve double duty. "Please don't bite me. I'm trying to help."

  The otter eyed her as she leaned in, his slick fur a dark contrast against the white snow. He let out something akin to a peep when she collected him in both hands, but did nothing.

  "All right, then." Cassie let her breath out slowly—she'd feared the worse, a fight with a rabid otter. But she wasn't going to leave him out here, not on Christmas Eve with the temperature dropping rapidly. It'd be hours if Animal Control came out to collect him, if they even bothered.

  The otter lay in her hands as she retreated up the bank and walked cautiously but quickly to her house. A light snow began to fall, covering both of them with fluffy white flakes.

  "Bet you never thought you'd spend Christmas like this, hmm? Me neither." She maneuvered him along her forearm as she pulled off a glove with her teeth and fished in her pocket for keys. "I think I've got some tuna, and then we'll try to clean up that wound..."

  It might have been the oddest way to spend the holiday night, but she wasn't going to leave a wounded animal alone to die in the cold.

  She went to the bathroom, trying to figure out what would work as a temporary home for the hurt creature.

  The bathtub would have to do. She gingerly placed the injured otter on the mat, keeping eye contact with the animal.

  "Stay there. Please," Cassie said. "Really don't want to go chasing you 'round the house."

  He tilted his head to one side, watching as she filled the tub with an inch or two of water. She pulled down a towel and folded it multiple times before placing it in the tub to create a small island.

  "Right. Let's see how this works." She picked up the otter and placed it on the damp cloth.

  The otter let out a sound almost like a purr, settling on the towel.

  "An excellent start." Cassie stood up. "Be right back."

  She went to the kitchen, grabbing a small packet of tuna off the shelf. It only took a few seconds to dump the fish onto a saucer and return to the bathroom.

  "There." She put the plate next to the animal. "I don't know if this is what the professionals would recommend, but it looks right to me."

  He observed her for a second before eating the fish, hungrily scooping it into his mouth.

  "At least you've got an appetite." Cassie pulled out the first aid kit, eyeing the gouge in the animal's leg. "I'm not even going to try to put a bandage on that—but if you'll let me, I'll clean it up and help prevent any infection."<
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  She pulled out a series of cotton balls and wet them in the tub water, leaving the bottle of alcohol in the small box. "No need for that yet," she said quietly as she slipped the leather gloves back on. "Not to mention I'm damned sure it'd hurt like hell. You haven't bitten me so far, but I'm not going to tempt Fate."

  The otter stopped eating as she approached the open wound on his leg, but she didn't sense any anger or fear. He tilted his head to one side, watching her intently.

  Cassie dabbed at the deep cut, the cotton soaking up the blood. The cut wasn't deep—she pushed gently at the thick pelt, trying to push it aside to get a clearer view.

  The creature let out something akin to a human grunt, his paws clawing at the air.

  "Sorry." She drew back, tossing the cotton ball into the nearby garbage can. "Looks worse than it is, I think." She gave him a thumbs-up. "Thanks for letting me take a look at it. Take it easy tonight and tomorrow I'll take you over to the local animal shelter—they'll have a better idea of what to do with you."

  Stripping off her glove, she hesitated before reaching out toward the furry face.

  The otter trilled before bowing down and letting her stroke the drying fur. It was so odd, the dense fur smooth under her touch.

  "Damn," she said before pulling back. "You're such a sweet thing."

  The animal let out something akin to a chuckle before returning to his food.

  Getting to her feet, Cassie covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. "Try to rest—we'll have that looked at tomorrow." She stopped, caught up in the otter's intense stare. "Merry Christmas."

  She retreated to the outer rooms, leaving the otter alone. Weariness overcame her as she stacked huge pieces of wood into the fireplace while her frozen dinner spun around in the microwave.

  After finishing the late-night meal, she changed into a sweatshirt and track pants before settling into the old rocking chair by the freshly-lit fire. The blanket resting on the back of the chair smelled of pipe tobacco, her father's only vice.

  She couldn't wash it—not yet.

  Cassie's cell phone rang, startling her. She stared at the caller identification before tapping the small screen.

  "Aunt Jean! How lovely to hear from you." The talk turned to Jean's current obsession—to persuade Cassie to sell her half of the bar, the house and coming to stay with Jean in Arizona. Jean had moved out of the state a decade ago, thanks to a lucky lottery win enabling her to retire from her secretary job early.

  "You can buy a nice house here, find a job when you get settled, used to the climate here." It was easy to imagine her aunt, long red hair pulled back into a ponytail, sitting outside on her porch drinking lemon water and admiring the sunset. "You'd have enough seed money to buy something comfortable."

  Cassie considered starting up the usual argument about not leaving the area where she'd been born and raised, but after all... it was Christmas Eve.

  "I'll consider it."

  That was enough to send Jean into a litany of possible jobs and boyfriends, most of which Cassie was sure were much worse than being described. Her aunt had retired into a seniors' community that seemed to be loaded with single nephews and grandsons looking for love, and the nearby town desperate for decent help—at least, until Cassie married and settled down.

  An hour later, she was ready to call it quits, gently pushing her aunt off the phone with promises to visit soon.

  The fire was beginning to die down, and she added another log before closing the wire curtain and lying down on the couch, choosing to stay downstairs for the time being. A few clicks of the television remote to find the yearly all-night Christmas movie marathon, and she was ready to call it a night.

  She glanced over toward the bathroom door, listening intently for any sign of trouble. It was slightly open, giving the poor creature an out if he really wanted to leave the room. Chasing him around the house might be a bother, but it was better than worrying about him scratching the hell out of her walls.

  A last sip of cooling tea, and she closed her eyes, listening to Kris Kringle explain the Christmas Spirit.

  2

  When she woke, sunlight was slowly creeping over the carpet, streaming in through the nearby window. The fire was nothing more than a pile of embers, safe behind the wire screen.

  Cassie yawned as she got up and went to the fireplace. She jabbed at the remains with the metal poker, trying to decide whether to put another log on or not.

  "If I'm taking that otter to the vet... best not to bother." She said to herself before putting the poker away, ignoring the small woodpile sitting by the hearth.

  Cassie walked toward the bathroom, pushing the door open. "Merry Christmas!" she called out. "Let me grab a cup of coffee before we start calling around. Might have to make a few before we find an open vet or animal sanctuary, but..."

  She paused, taking in the sight of the naked man lying in her bathtub, a small piece of brown material covering his private parts. He sat up, shock spreading across his face as he gripped the edges of the tub.

  What the...

  Cassie stepped toward the stranger.

  "Who the hell are you and—"

  Her foot hit a wet spot on the tiled floor.

  Cassie's mind listed every move as if she were on Broadway, choreographed in slow motion.

  Twist. Slip.

  Fall.

  She tried to turn, avoid smashing her head on the toilet bowl, and succeeded in only a glancing blow against the sink.

  Shit.

  The world spun around before going black.

  She blinked wildly, the ceiling coming into focus as her vision cleared.

  I...

  I knocked myself out.

  Well, that's one way to celebrate Christmas.

  Cassie lay still for a second, assessing the situation. She didn't feel any pain, other than a throbbing on the side of her head, obviously from hitting the sink.

  The ceiling was familiar—her living room. She'd stared at those cracks for hours over the years, lying down on the couch with a good book and glancing up every now and then to give her eyes a break.

  So, she was still in her house. Except not on the bathroom floor.

  "I'm sorry." The gentle, rumbling voice washed over her. "I didn't intend to startle you. You slipped on the floor, smacked your head on the sink. I brought you out here to the couch to recover."

  Cassie turned her head slowly, following the voice back to her rocking chair—the one she'd vacated earlier. The fire was burning bright, flames leaping into the air from the stacked wood.

  A man sat there, watching her.

  Long, dark hair fell over his shoulders, long enough to be pulled into a ponytail if needed. His bare chest was visible through the gaps, toned abdominal muscles on full view. A blanket covered his lap, taken from the back of her couch.

  She might have fainted, but she wasn't dead. A slow burn started inside her as she stared at the stranger, taking in the dark brown eyes, the gentle smile touching his lips.

  If she was hallucinating, she had excellent taste.

  Still...

  Her gaze went to her phone, sitting on the table beside the mystery man. Barely out of reach...

  "I think not." He tilted his head to one side, giving her a wistful shake. "I'm sorry, but I can't have you calling the police on me. Besides, on Christmas morning—likelier than not, they'll think you're drunk and ignore it."

  "Can't blame me for trying," she said.

  Her attention fell on his left leg, peeking out from under the blanket.

  No.

  Way.

  The cut wasn't deep, the pink skin standing out—showing the healing process was well underway. But it was in the exact same place where the otter had been injured.

  She drew a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts.

  He looked down, following her stare. "Ah, yes. Thanks for your help—it would have healed anyway, but it was really nice to relax in your bathtub. A lot more comfortable than lying in
the mud or floating in the water." He smacked his lips. "The tuna was lovely. Really helped boost my healing with the protein."

  Cassie couldn't help studying his mouth as he spoke, still coming to terms with the obvious.

  "You're an otter. And a man." She fought to find the words. "A shapeshifter, right?"

  The phrase rolled around her mouth like marbles, turning her thoughts to cotton.

  "Yes. Name's Alec Riverstorm. Pleased to meet you, Cassie."

  She pushed herself up into a sitting position, painfully aware of the insanity swirling around her. "How do you know my name?"

  "I've seen you around over the years," he said. "You, your parents—anyone who walks by the river. You talk, I listen and learn." Alec smiled.

  Cassie rubbed the back of her neck. "I see." She gave him a slight nod. "Thank you for taking care of me."

  "My fault totally." He got up from the chair, letting the blanket fall. "I shouldn't have surprised you like that. I didn't even see the water on the floor—must have splashed some of it out of the tub when I changed. Glad it wasn't worse." He advanced on her, taking his time as he crossed the floor.

  All the air left her lungs as she stared at him, the slip of what she assumed now to be otter pelt covering his groin.

  It confirmed her previous assessment—Alec had a swimmer's body, toned and taut from head to toe.

  The heat that had been simmering in her veins kicked up a thousand degrees. There was still a bit of a limp in his walk, showing the wound hadn't totally healed.

  He paused, gesturing at the sofa. "May I sit down?"

  "Sure." It seemed like the only thing to say.

  "Thanks—if you don't mind, I'd like to check you over, make sure you're not dealing with a major concussion." He took hold of her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks. Locking eyes with her, Alec nodded.

  "Pupils look good—no difference between them. Any headache? Any pain?"

  She reached back and touched the swollen knot at the side of her head, wincing. "Other than when I touch that, no."