All rights reserved. Copyright © 2023 by LA Magill. All distribution rights reserved for the exclusive use of Wicked Women LLC.
The following festive free read is a short story set between the events of Blood Shield and Wing Strike (books 2 and 3 of the main series) in the Harmony Ends universe.
Happy holidays and happy reading!
Training in my tiger skin has been wonderful since Yamini left because I finally have more one-on-one time with Alpha. Jason, too, unfortunately, but still an overall improvement. The problem is Alpha almost never has enough time.
So, I’m relishing the rare chance of walking side by side with her as we head home to the gigantic Fortress. If I’m tired after a couple hours of exertion, she must be wiped out. Must be. But, my Alpha’s walking tall, striding long, and facing the clammy winter air with only a mild grimace. Meanwhile, I’m shivering and grumbling.
I can only tell the strain Alpha’s under when she lets me catch her eyes—that glorious contact that touches something so deep inside my spirit it kindles true faith. Unshakeable loyalty. Unwavering adoration. Unlimited trust.
When we get to the Fortress’ door, I don’t want to go in. I’d rather brave the winter chill than share Alpha with Jason’s constant need for validation. But, even though I’d protract our moments alone out in the cold, Alpha’s got a curious look in her eye. A mysterious smile tugs the corners of her mouth up.
“What is it?” I ask.
Inquisitive softness fills her tone. “If I’m right, I think there’s a surprise waiting for us.”
I oooh enthusiastically. I had wanted to head straight to the kitchen and gobble up some of that leftover lasagna, but now, all I can think about is what kind of surprise makes Alpha light up like that.
“What kind of surprise?” I ask.
“I’m not ruining it for you.”
A wide grin stretches my lips. Anticipation heats my cheeks. It’s probably some elaborate baked treat Rohan thought up. Or a salmon something. Bears like all salmon somethings.
It could also be a special guest. Maybe your parents, or… mine. A tinge of hesitation mixes with my excitement, but I quash it. Alpha wouldn’t look like that if family drama waited indoors.
Looking forward to whatever or whoever caught Alpha’s nose, I push through the front door with bright eyes. I dart my gaze in every direction, searching for a clue, but there’s nothing conspicuous around the entry. I frown as I slip my shoes off. I cast my eyes about one more time.
I see nothing out of place, but there is a faint smell. Something fragrant but mild, cozy and outdoorsy. But beyond the freshness of the outside, I can’t place exactly what that is with my human nose.
All signs point to Rohan’s skill in the kitchen, but the scent is too subtle for one of his usual creations.
“You absolutely sure?” I ask. Of course Alpha’s sure, but…
“Check in the library,” Alpha says. “At least that’s where I think it would fit.”
Surprise raises my eyebrows. “The library, huh?”
Alpha nods her head toward the hallway. “Go on. I’m right behind you.”
“Don’t need to tell me twice!”
I dart off. The slip of my socks lets me drift around the corners on the Fortress’ hardwood floors, and I’ve practiced tons over the last few months at not smacking into the walls or stubbing my toes along the way. I skid to a halt in front of the library door in seconds.
Shadows flicker through the door that’s just ajar. Temptingly ajar. I lick my lips, but before bursting through, I lean close. I can hear you whispering. I’d know your voice anywhere, at any volume. Always. I just can’t make out what you’re saying or who you’re talking to.
Just as I’m about to enter, I notice something on the ground. I bend down, scrutinizing it.
Pine needles. Pine needles?
It’s just a few of them, brushed back toward the corner as if they got swept the wrong way with a broom. Not unusual, I guess, but nothing special either. With a shrug, I stand back up and push through the door.
My jaw drops. Sparkling colors and shimmering lights draw my eyes toward the window. A massive twelve foot tree, glittering from root to top, glowing from trunk to branch, stands in the center. Fire light plays over the decorated tree. Red ribbon bows and delicate gold bells adorn the tips of the branches, with lots of room left in between. One of your unicorn plushies precariously balances on the top of the tree. It’s been squashed down, so it fits under the ceiling.
“Surprise!” you squeal.
I shake my head in utter shock and delight, finally noticing you, Jason, and your dads standing up against the far wall, but the only one I really see is you. The pine needles caught in your hair, the enchanting twinkle in your eyes, the glossy shine on your lips. Joy radiates through your expression, your smile beaming brighter than the lights on the tree. You flit across the room to me and fling yourself into my dazed arms. Your frizzy curls bounce against my cheeks.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” you ask against my neck. Then you peel yourself back and cup my face. You stare earnestly into my eyes. “I’ve been waiting to do this with you forever, and now it’s even better because we’re not just family. We’re kin.”
I press my forehead against yours and imprint the moment on the back of my eyes so I can remember everything about you right now. The sweet smell on your breath, and the sticky sap on your left fingers. The humming happiness in the back of your throat, and the hope glimmering in your gaze.
“Thank you,” I murmur back. “I’m absolutely stunned.”
You slap your hands playfully against my chest with barely contained glee. Then, you nudge me as gently as you can while so excited toward the tree.
“Go on! Smell it. A really, really deep breath. It’s just the most amazing scent!”
I chuckle as you all but push me into the festive boughs. Jason’s distinct snicker is more aggravating than the light scratching of the needles against my skin, but I ignore both. I take an audibly deep breath and pull my head back out.
“Glorious,” I say. “Just like you promised it would be.”
Your euphoria squeaks out of you like one of Thief’s toys—the only appropriate name for Jason’s klepto pittie, though the Golden Bear doesn’t approve. Which in my opinion, makes the nickname all the better.
Speaking of, our other sleuthmate chooses that moment to approach. He carries a long rectangular box with a decorations label on it. At his movement, your dads also come forward, picking up another box with much fancier graphics on it. As they’re about to speak, though, Alpha comes in through the door.
All of us turn toward her and watch her expression change from a knowing glint, to mild surprise, to open-mouthed wonder. The only thing better is seeing your reaction to her reaction. The giddiness overwhelms you, and you dash over to her. You throw all of your weight against Alpha, and she catches you with ridiculous ease.
You snuggle up to her. “Merry Christmas, Alpha!”
Alpha finally tears her eyes off the tree and stares down at the top of your head. She cradles you, a protectiveness warming her gaze and her voice. Seeing Alpha cherish you the way you deserve, cozy gratitude mellows the flurry of excitement in my chest like I’ve been wrapped up in the thickest soft blanket.
Guillermo clears his throat, emotion welling in his eyes as he watches on, too. Ever since you were targeted with one of those pendants, he’s been so much more open-minded to Alpha’s bonds with us. He walks over toward the two of you.
You pull back, and Alpha turns toward him. It’s getting easier for me to notice the precise angle she slants her shoulders so she doesn’t face him directly. Or how she averts her eyes completely. Those nuances show respect that he can’t see because he has no dominance to interpret those behaviors as the subtle language they really are.
“We wanted you to have something pretty for your first tree,” Guillermo says. He extends the box. “I hope you like them.”
Alpha accepts the box. “Thank you.”
“And I got these because they were the cheapest thing Serena liked,” Jason chimes in. He jiggles his box. “We’ve been waiting for you to put these up. It’s… it’s actually pretty fun.”
Alpha and I fix some leftovers for dinner, then we all spend the rest of the evening in the library.
Hanging ornaments with you is better than what I’ve imagined. When you described it before, I couldn’t picture how fussing over a tree’s temporary baubles would actually be that much fun. Especially because, just as you said, Owen is very particular about what colors can hang next to each other.
But it’s delightful. It doesn’t matter if it’s one of your Dads’ delicate hand-blown glass treasures or one of Jason’s tacky plastic frosted donuts. We pick anything up and suddenly we’re not just choosing the right spot for our ornaments. We’re talking about dates we’ve had and memes we’ve shared. Your dads reminisce about their twentieth anniversary trip to New Zealand. Alpha’s talking about how the smell of pine reminds her of winter solstice parties in the bear sleuth, and Jason’s hot take on fruit cake makes you and your dads gasp.
Amidst all of our cheer, I can’t help but notice how entranced I am by the tree as we decorate. All of it. The smell, the feel, the look. The lights, the colors, the ambiance. I catch myself slipping into primal daydreaming often. You notice my eyes glazing over one of the ornate globes your dad just put up as it sways gently on its hook. You give me a playful nudge, and we share a small giggle.
Decorating takes little time with all our hands working together, but we spend two hours anyway marveling over the tree, drinking hot cocoa, and chatting by the fire. I can’t believe the time when your dads finally decide to go home. Slowly, our family and sleuthmates trickle out one by one, until Alpha is the last to leave. She kisses the tops of our heads before retiring.
Alone, you and I cuddle up next to the fire. I’m more than ready to take advantage of our privacy, but you squeeze my hands.
“Wait,” you say. “First, I have something for you.”
I kiss the tip of your nose. “Really? More?”
You squirm in anticipation then slide off my hips. Tucked behind the sofa are two wrapped boxes. You bring them both to me and hold them out.
“You can only open one of them now.” You crack a mischievous grin. “Choose wisely, oh Christmas tiger of mine.”
Curiosity perks me back up after an evening saturated with laughter and light. I sit up a little straighter. I glance between the two boxes, then up to your eyes, then back to my options. I make a show of agonizing over the choice, but your expression never cracks with a clue.
“Come on,” I plead. “Give me a hint.”
You shake your head. “It’s a perfect present either way. Choose.”
I sigh melodramatically and pick the pink wrapping and silver ribbon option in your left hand.
“A wise choice, my love,” you croon. “Behold your gift.”
You thrust the box in my hand, and I rip through the wrapping greedily. It’s another box of ornaments. The picture on the cover shows pretty orange and blue striped ball ornaments.
“It’s not orange and black like I’d hoped for, but I still think they count as tiger stripes,” you say. Then, you look up at me. “What do you think?”
I blush, the heat flooding up my chest, neck, and face. I mumble, “You’re really freaking adorable, you know that?”
You clasp your hands over your cheeks and preen at me, batting your eyelashes. “I try.”
You and I hurry to put up our special tiger ornaments. We don’t pay any attention to where they go as long as they’re visible; Owen will be appalled. Then, surrounded by your favorite holiday traditions, snuggled up by the dying fire, we share some memories I’ll save for a different set of NSFW diaries.
After, we skip off to bed… except I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see are those reds, greens, yellows, and purples glowing on the walls. The twinkle and sparkle of the ornaments we all hung up. The way those amazing tiger balls glitter.
My eyes flutter open of their own accord. I get up, subconscious desire pushing my restless feet downstairs against my sleepy judgment.
I should go to the kitchen. Or the gym. Instead, my feet head toward the library.
The glitter catches my eyes no matter how hard I try not to look. And I’m trying. So, so, so, hard—because this is your Christmas tree, and I’ll be fallen and Rotten before I ruin the surprise you worked so hard for.
Why did you buy the most glittery ornament in existence?
I know why. But whyyyyyy?
My cheeks clench as if my whiskers twitch in my human skin. Reflex—at least now it is.
My throat tightens. My fingers fist. My eyes… I turn my back to your beloved and bedecked tree. I give it a really good try. My best. Even take two steps away.
Something more superficial than primal instinct sinks into my heels and roots me to the ground. It’s playful. Just as natural and compulsive as instinct, but lighter and brighter in a way I usually only feel around Alpha.
I listen to the feeling, even though I absolutely, positively, one hundred and ten percent do not want to ruin your Christmas tree.
I turn back around. Lustrous shine fills my eyes with wonder and mischief. My brain stops thinking as my body’s only listening.
I take a step closer. The hair on the back of my neck rises.
I take another step. A shiver ripples down my shoulders.
I come within arm’s reach. An unknown force lifts my hand up, stretching, reaching…
The movement comes as naturally to my palms as it does to my paws. I swat the nearest sparkling ornament right off its dainty hook. The delicate orange and blue striped ball shatters, sharp shards and glistening edges smashing on the ground.
I leap backwards, clapping my hands over my mouth as giddy laughter bubbles out of my throat.
My palm stings. My heart races. My delight floods the space between my two skins in an exhilarating rush.
That felt… amazing. Impulsive. Selfish. Joyous. Fun.
Thief comes sprinting into the room, snout high and tail wagging. Her paws rasp for purchase as she thuds into my legs. I throw my arms around her and muffle my reaction against her thick body. She enthusiastically licks any part of my face she can reach, but I don’t care.
As long as she’s the only one who heard me, I’ll be fine.
That, and I need to stop the itch to do it. Just. One. More. Time.
Your hands shake me abruptly awake. I start and spring up from the couch where Thief and I had collapsed the night before. She, though, abandoned me here at the scene of the crime.
The evidence of my lack of self control is painfully obvious behind you. I nervously check your expression and I’m both shocked and relieved that you aren’t glaring at me. Instead, your eyes shine with amusement.
“Well?” You demand.
I hang my head in shame. “I’m so so so sorry.”
“As you should be.”
“I just… I’m sorry I… Can I make it up to you? Last night, I… I just made a really silly mistake.”
“That depends,” you say.
I watch your feet leave my line of sight, but I don’t dare look up. Not when you’re being suspiciously cool about how I demolished seven or eight of your special ornaments last night in a fit of feline frenzy.
You return and push the other wrapped present—this one green paper with gold and white bows—into my hands.
“Open it,” you say.
I blink in surprise and glance up at you. You’re grinning, your eyes are dancing, and your hands rub together.
“Really? Now?”
“Really, now,” you repeat.
I pull the wrapping apart gently to reveal an identical box of blue and orange striped ornaments. I look up to you in confusion.
“What… how…”
You wink at me. “You’re not the first cat I’ve seen around a Christmas tree. But I hope you got that out of your system because there is no third box, you got that my big kitty?”
I put the box aside and envelop you with my arms and my gratitude. I hold you close, counting my blessings over and over that we’re not just together. We’re not just family. We’re kin. You’re mine the way I am yours.
We—you—are the best gift of all.