A Very Wolfie Christmas

  A Very Wolfie Christmas

  A Snowdania Wolves Short

  Sofia Grey

  Copyright 2014 Sofia Grey

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN: 9781310174438

  Copyright © 2014 by Sofia Grey

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Epilogue

  More by Sofia Grey

  About Sofia Grey

  Chapter One

  It just wasn’t right. Sasha stared at the brass band from behind his sunglasses, and wondered for possibly the millionth time if he’d ever get used to this. The musicians played on, barely drawing breath as they segued from Silent Night to Oh Little Town of Bethlehem.

  Shoppers surged past him, some dropping coins into the collecting buckets, others just dodging around the musicians. Nobody paid him any attention. Standing there in his T-shirt, denim shorts reaching past his knees, and flip flops on his feet, he blended easily with the crowd, especially since he also carried a number of brightly coloured shopping bags. Christmas presents. Even if it didn’t feel like Christmas.

  It was the twenty-fourth of December, and yet the sun blazed down, and the temperature nudged twenty-seven degrees. He should be wrapped up in a quilted jacket, ankle deep in snow, not sweltering in the middle of summer.

  With a sigh, he turned and set off toward the bookshop. One more thing to buy, and then he could call it a day and go home. Well, his current home, not his real one.

  He loved Megan and couldn’t begin to imagine a life without her, but he missed Snowdonia. The dull ache of homesickness surged, and for a moment he felt lost. If he could do anything at all right now, he’d grab Megan by the hand and take her back to the Welsh mountains he came from. He’d shift into his wolf form and run, bounding through the snow to circle back to his Mate. He imagined her throwing snowballs, while he chased after them, playful as a pup.

  Maybe one day. He’d agreed to live here in New Zealand for another year, possibly two, and he didn’t break his promises. Not only did it make Megan happy to stay close to her family, but Sasha had taken on an important role with the resident wolf pack, and his pride demanded he see it through.

  Thinking of Megan, he dug a hand into his pocket, and touched the little box that sat there. Would she like it, or would she think it too soon for such a commitment? Not for the first time, he wished he’d paid better attention to his cousin Jake’s courtship of a non-shifter.

  He paused again, bemused by a sparkling window display. A row of Santas wearing board shorts and sunglasses? Shaking his head, he moved on.

  ****

  Sasha hauled the shopping bags up the steps to his front door, and let himself into the house. The first thing he saw was the Christmas tree, and he felt another wave of homesickness. He knew it made sense to have an artificial tree in this heat—after all, a real tree would be dead in a few days, to say nothing of the insects that would infest it—but it was just something else that was wrong.

  Back home, his parents always squeezed a monster fir tree into their lounge, its top scraping the ceiling. That was how Christmas trees were supposed to be, every branch creaking under the weight of baubles and lights and ornaments. And chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. Man, he loved those, but they were impossible here. They’d melt within hours.

  He stashed his parcels underneath the small neat tree, and thought about Megan. Would she like his presents? This was their first Christmas together, and he had no idea what she expected. What her traditions were like. Back home, they’d swap one present each at midnight on Christmas Eve, then open the rest after a fun and relaxed breakfast the next morning. Sasha always shared breakfast making with his twin sister, Tammy, to give their mum a break.

  Dinner would be a giant roast with a mountain of vegetables, and his mum’s special homemade gravy. A dense, fragrant Christmas pudding would follow, and then after they’d cleared away all the dishes, they’d go and run in the snow. He’d missed the traditions last year, while exploring New Zealand, but he’d fully expected to be home by now.

  He’d never imagined finding his Mate. Was there any chance of spending Christmas Day alone with Megan? Their first together,

  When in Rome, he reminded himself. They’d have to visit her family, and he’d behave, play nicely with her over-protective brothers, and be polite to her father and stepmother. Although the barriers were slowly dropping, they were all still wary of him, and he hoped he didn’t have to spend too much time with them.

  What the hell was wrong with him? He never used to be like this. Mopey and introspective. He had a Mate now, the woman he loved more than life itself, and he would do anything to make her happy. Even be friendly to her brothers.

  He heard a car engine outside, and then doors banging, and he hurried to the window. Megan was home. His mood soared. He trotted down the steps, met her on the street, and swept her off her feet with his embrace.

  “Cariad.” He nuzzled her throat, and just like that, his wolf settled. With his Mate in his arms, her caramel-spice scent swirling around him, he couldn’t fail to be happy.

  “Hey, babe.” She squeezed him back. “Give me a hand with the shopping?”

  “Always.” He dropped a tender kiss on her lips, and then turned his attention to her bags. There weren’t many, only two garish plastic bags of groceries and one from the city’s premier department store. “Is this everything?” She’d told him she was picking up the groceries on her way home, and for a normal week, there’d be six or seven bags. For a holiday period, when they’d both be at home—and hoped to entertain friends—this didn’t look right.

  Megan grabbed the glossy paper bag, and he dutifully picked up the food, after a quick peek at the contents. Milk, eggs and bacon. A loaf of bread. Some apples. A bottle of maple syrup. He was carrying the makings of a good brunch, but not much else.

  His heart sank. This could mean only one thing. They weren’t spending much of Christmas at home.

  With the groceries dumped on the kitchen table, and his hands now free, Sasha took the opportunity to hold his Mate. Her thick, dark hair was soft beneath his fingers, and her luscious curves were enough to make his mouth water. “Why don’t we start celebrating early?” he murmured in her ear. “You can get out of your work clothes, and into something more comfortable. Or stay naked—that works for me.” His wolf yipped in agreement, and Megan giggled.

  “Tempting, but we don’t have time right now.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressing against his chest, and it took every ounce of his self-restraint to hold back from peeling her right out of her work suit.

  He had to make do with sliding his hands up the back of her skirt, and palming her delectable ass. If he were a poet, he’d write sonnets about her ass. He hadn’t stroked her skin since this morning, and he could think of little else. Wait. What did she say? “We don’t have time, because…?” he asked.

  Megan sighed. “We’re due at my
dad’s. Don’t tell me you forgot the plan.”

  Sasha racked his brains to remember what the plan had been, and came up empty. He’d told Megan that he was happy to go along with whatever she liked. He’d hoped it meant spending most of the holiday in each other’s arms. Maybe not. “Wanna tell me what we’re doing?” He tried to sound enthusiastic.

  “Well”—she blew out a breath, and his heart plummeted even further—“there’s a barbecue this evening, and Dad wants me there early. There’s some crisis or other.”

  Okay. He could manage that. Megan’s father was a high-ranking politician, and always on the move, fixing a multitude of problems, while shaking hands and smiling for the media. It meant Megan and her brothers came under the spotlight more than Sasha was comfortable with, but he was learning to deal with it.

  “Sure. You got time to shower first? I think you might need some help scrubbing your back.”

  “Sasha.” Her voice was firm, but her curving lips showed her amusement. “Do you only think about sex?”

  “Hey, who mentioned sex? I was just offering to scrub your back.” He ran his fingers up her spine, and enjoyed the way she trembled. “If you can’t keep your hands off me while we’re there, it’s not my fault.”

  “Really, babe, we don’t have time. I had to stay late at work, and then the supermarket was packed, and the traffic was horrendous. We’re already late.”

  Sasha’s wolf whined inside him, but he pasted on a smile. “Come on, then. The sooner we go, the sooner we’re back.”

  Megan’s gaze skittered away to the window and the brilliant sunshine outside.

  Uh oh.

  “Do you mind if we stay overnight? Come back Boxing Day?” she asked.

  He was on the verge of pointing out that was two nights, but the anxious furrow in her brow made him pause. This had to be important to her. His last daydream of a quiet and secluded Christmas evaporated.

  Chapter Two

  Sasha had never seen so many cars at Megan’s home. The gravelled forecourt held at least a dozen, with more abandoned along the driveway. “Wow. How many people have been invited?”

  She glanced at him, the anxious lines creasing her forehead again. “This is normal for Christmas Eve drinks. It’ll be fun, Sasha.”

  She didn’t sound convinced, and doubt settled in the pit of his stomach. His wolf whined some more, and scratched at him. His animal didn’t want to be here either. Feeling like a lamb led to slaughter, he followed her into the house, their hands tightly linked.

  Megan had changed into a tantalisingly short denim skirt that showed miles of golden leg, and Sasha cheered himself up by imagining what he’d do later. It involved kissing from her ankles to her thighs, and then—when she asked him nicely—devouring her pussy and making her come. Repeatedly.

  Lost in thought, he glanced up to see her older brothers, Alex and Hugh. Or Hellspawn, as he still thought of them. They greeted Megan with enthusiasm, and then nodded politely to Sasha. No baiting comments this evening. Odd. Maybe they called a truce for the holiday season.

  It wasn’t that he disliked her siblings. On the contrary, he respected the hell out of them for being so protective of Megan, but at the same time, they could be giant pains in the ass.

  “Hey, Sasha.” Alex stood from his perch on a chiller box. “Want a cold one?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Sasha accepted the beer, popped the top, and took a swig. Yeah, had to be a temporary ceasefire.

  Megan slid her arm around his waist, and then snagged a glass of wine from a passing waitress. “I need to go mingle for a little while. Will you be okay here?”

  “We’ll be fine,” said Alex, an innocent smile on his face. “Dad was looking for you, anyway.”

  “I won’t be long.” She gave Sasha a swift peck on the lips, and then hurried away. Mesmerised, he watched her swaying hips, as she crossed the vast expanse of wooden deck toward her father.

  “She’s amazing with his constituents.” Alex gestured at Megan with his beer bottle, and Sasha noted the care with which the other man spoke. As though he was slightly drunk already. Alex and Hugh had spent several evenings trying to drink Sasha under the table, and failed miserably every time. It wasn’t a fair contest, but he’d never admit to that. His shifter metabolism was better at processing alcohol. That was all.

  “We’re planning a night out,” announced Hugh. “Meggie thinks we should drink more. Uh, do more. As a group, y’know. So we’re going clubbing. Next weekend.”

  Sasha was only half listening, his focus on Megan, who shook hands with a well-dressed elderly couple. The Hellspawn were right. She could charm the birds from the trees, and that was just one of the things he loved about her. He had to make more of an effort to fit into her life. Stop moping over the Welsh mountains he missed so badly, and turn himself into the guy she needed by her side. The guy her father would be proud to have as a future son-in-law.

  “Mighty Mike’s. Yeah”

  Sasha snapped his attention back to Hugh. “Mighty Mike’s?” It was a shifter club in the city, and not somewhere he’d ever expect Megan’s brothers to go.

  “Oops.” Hugh’s expression was comical, and Alex jabbed his brother in the ribs.

  “Dickwad,” he hissed. “You weren’t supposed to tell him.”

  “What’s going on?” Sasha asked.

  “Nothing.” The Hellspawn spoke together, but Sasha didn’t believe them for a second. He took a sip of his beer, and stared at them. He knew he’d get nowhere, if he pushed them. He’d have to be smart. “You…uh…into rock music?”

  “That’s it.” Hugh sat up straighter in his garden chair. “Your mate’s playing, and he invited us.”

  Sasha’s bonded Mate was Megan, but her brothers had zero idea of his shifter nature, and that was how it’d stay. “My mate?” The penny dropped. “You mean Dion? And his band?”

  “Yes.” Hugh was an enthusiastic as a drowning man clutching at a thin straw.

  Sasha was about to call bullshit, when a familiar caramel-spice fragrance tickled his nose, and he turned to see Megan returning.

  “Sorry, babe.” She caught his hand, and squeezed his fingers. “Dad wants me to stay with him, while he talks to his voters. I could be a while.”

  Sasha made a lightning-quick decision. He could lurk on the fringes of the party, or he could step up to his new life, and take his place by his Mate’s side. “Why don’t I come with you?”

  Her eyebrows shot into the tumble of hair that fell over her forehead. “Shaking hands and making small talk with businessmen? Even Hugh and Alex balk at that.” At her words, her brothers grinned and held up their drinks.

  She didn’t think he was up to it? Sasha loved a challenge.

  He smiled at her, loving the flustered look in her eyes. “Lead on, Cariad.”

  *

  Sasha lost count of the number of people he greeted, the middle-aged women he flashed cheeky smiles at, and the amount of times he repeated the same stock phrases:

  I’m Megan’s boyfriend. I’m a civil engineer.

  Yes, I’m from Wales. Have you been there?

  No, Sasha is a Russian name. My grandmother was from Siberia.

  With every passing minute, Megan’s smile grew warmer, and the cramps in his hand were almost worth it. When things wound down, her father turned to Sasha and clapped him on the shoulder. For the first time in the ten months he was dating Megan, he saw approval in the older man’s eyes.

  “Good job, Sasha, I think they liked you. If you ever consider a career in politics, let me know.” George de Salis bent to whisper in his daughter’s ear. “Take your boy, and go enjoy yourselves now. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

  Sasha pretended not to listen, but his superior hearing meant he heard everything. He puzzled briefly over the words. When what was ready? Not dinner, as that was a continuously served barbecue selection. Had to be something work related. Now he and Megan were free, he had other priorities, and kissing her was top of his
list.

  He grabbed her hand, and led her round the back, to the rose garden. The sweet floral perfume filled the air from yards away, and to his delight, they were the only people there.

  “Thank you, Sasha. You were awesome.”

  His wolf rolled over in delight at the love in Megan’s eyes. His beast longed for her to run her fingers through his fur, and the man wanted much the same. He framed her face with his hands, and dropped his head to brush his lips across hers. God, she tasted incredible. He needed more.

  Digging one hand into her thick hair, he tilted her into the perfect angle to take his kiss, and then turned up the heat. The little hitch in her breath ramped him up more, even before her hands slid around his back and under his T-shirt. Her cool fingers brushed over the hot skin low on his spine, and his cock leapt to attention.

  His wolf urged him on. Take her. Now. Here. Common sense nagged at him, though. They stood in a very public section of the garden—her father’s garden. He and her stepmother could appear at any minute. Anyone could.

  “I need to be inside you, Cariad.” He murmured the words against her throat, and then flicked his tongue over the pulse, enjoying the way it raced at his touch. He thought fleetingly of the gift buried in his pocket. Was this the right time to ask her?

  “Not here.” Megan giggled. “But we could go back to my room for an hour. If you wanted to.”

  Sasha lifted his head, and gazed into her warm eyes. With her cheeks flushed and lips swollen, she looked as close to perfect as he could imagine. With an effort, he dragged his thoughts back to her words. “Only an hour?”

  “We still have family stuff to do.” Her eyes flickered to the ground and back up again. “Traditional stuff. You know.”

  She was fibbing, he knew instantly, but judging by the mischievous grin that was fighting to escape her, it was nothing for him to worry about. He stole a kiss as he thought again about the ring burning a hole in his pocket. He wanted her full attention for that. Best to wait.