Christmas Moon (10 page)

Now, that desire strengthened to a need.

Bree had risked her life today to save a
member of his pack. She wasn’t even a Hound anymore, and hell, he
couldn’t say any other Hound would have done what she’d done. Most
didn’t give a rat’s ass for the shifters they were supposed to
protect. But Bree had. He’d seen the flash of scorn in the local
Hounds here, knew damn well Shifter Town Enforcement probably
wouldn’t welcome her back—at least not in White Pine—and yet she’d
done more for his pack than anyone else.

Rylie was okay because of her.

Someone else might have tried to blame Bree.
After all, the rogue clearly had a beef with her, not with Hunter
and his pack. But she hadn’t asked for a husband that had wound up
a murderer, she hadn’t asked to lose her daughter, and she damn
well hadn’t asked for some psycho to stalk her here and torment
someone else.

But the moment Hunter had asked for her help,
she’d given it willingly.

The least he could do was help her get a tree
in time for Christmas. He flipped open another box. Halloween
decorations in with the Christmas. Picking through the black cats
and jack o’ lanterns he spotted the old tree stand and pulled it
out. Tucking that under one arm and the first box under the other
he shouldered his way out of the shed and kicked the door shut
behind him.

By the time he had the box and stand in the
truck he was ready to go, and a glance at his watch told him he was
right on time. A curl of anticipation twisted in his gut and he
headed for the cab, only to head back down towards Bree’s house.
Just a few days and already the sight of her house was becoming
normal. Something he longed to see.

She was standing in the driveway, her hands
stuffed in her coat pockets. She’d drawn her long ruby-spun hair
into a pony tail and had a pair of green earmuffs on atop her head.
A few Christmas window clings hung in her window, already a
difference from the empty façade just an hour ago.

And she looked...happy.

Proud.

Hunter couldn’t help but wonder why the
sudden change in spirit. He pulled to a stop next to her and
reached over to open the passenger door for her. She smiled and
pulled herself inside. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said, flashing
her a smile and backing the truck down towards the road again.
“Though I do have to ask, why now?”

Bree bit her lip. A nervous gesture, full of
innocence, and Hunter jerked his attention back to the road. He
wanted nothing more than to kiss those lips of hers, soothe away
the little indentations left behind from her teeth. The more time
he spent with her, the more he wanted to know her.

He drummed his fingers against the steering
wheel to take his mind off what it would be like to kiss her again.
He knew she was soft, knew the way she’d lean into him, but hell a
moment like that had to have been luck.

“I’m tired of not living,” she said finally,
her voice was soft, but in the quiet of the truck, Hunter could
hear her easily. Every whisper-soft note and the melancholy etched
in every word. “After...after my daughter died, I didn’t want to
move on. I didn’t want to keep living. And all the things Arianna
enjoyed I couldn’t imagine ever enjoying them again myself without
her.”

That was something Hunter could understand.
Pain made people withdraw; it made them give up hope. Time,
thankfully, tended to ease the wounds left behind. Sometimes it
took far longer than one hoped, but eventually most found the will
to live again, to move on.

“Ari loved Christmas. Especially finding a
Christmas tree. It had to be a real one, she loved the smell. Loved
tromping through the snow to find one.”

Hunter cast her a glance and saw her lips had
curved into a delicate smile, warming to the memory of her
daughter. Joy left a glow in her eyes, and he could hear the
fondness in her voice. Unlike the first time she’d talked about her
daughter when all he’d heard was the pain that the memory brought
back, now all he could hear was the love.

“I kept all the ornaments and stuff, but I
just couldn’t bring myself to find a tree each year. Couldn’t
imagine having a Christmas without her and then without Caesar.” He
eyes closed against her husband’s name, and Hunter found himself
reaching for her, his hand catching hers as he gave it a light
squeeze, reassuring.

“You’ve had Christmases without her. It comes
every year, whether you want it to or not.”

Her hand tightened on his. “It took me awhile
to figure that part out,” she murmured. “That I’d had Christmases
without her and they were dark, lonely events. I want this one to
be different. The kind of holiday she’d have enjoyed.”

“Well then,” he said and turned up a winding
road that led into the forest. “Let’s get you that tree.”

And after that, he’d see what else he could
do for her.

***

Bree stared at the bushy pine in the midst of
all the snow. Ari would have loved it. Thick, heavy branches,
perfect for wrapping in lights and garland. Strong enough to hold
her favorite ornaments—like the gaudy little carousel that sang
when she pushed the button on the bottom. Bree’s heart twisted at
the memory, a flash of pain burning through her, and she had to
take a step back.

Tears threatened to burn, but the moment she
turned away Hunter was there, standing in front of her. He touched
her face, the soft wool of his gloves skimming over her cheek and
she closed her eyes. Right there, he held her together, just the
touch of a fingertip against her skin.

“You okay?” His other hand lifted until he
framed her face, his thumbs skimming under her eyes. Wiping away
the tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed.

The memory played out in her mind. Ari’s
little face round with joy as she jabbed the button, the small
horses spinning round as it jingled merrily. The ornament was so
heavy they always had to hang it on the bottom, where the branches
were stronger, just so it didn’t fall and break. It had broken the
first year; one of the horses was now missing a tail.

Her eyes opened. She didn’t even know how to
begin to explain the swirl of emotions inside her, but the moment
her gaze met his, she knew he understood. “We can find a different
tree.”

“No. This one is perfect. Everything I
wanted.” She leaned her face into his touch. “I was just
remembering her favorite ornament. I hope it still works.”

She’d probably cry when she first heard that
tune again, but she hoped and prayed it still worked. “I hope so
too,” he said quietly and she smiled.

Reaching up, Bree touched both of his wrists,
holding his hands in place. Hunter stilled at her touch and for the
briefest moment she regretted the slight touch. Then his gaze
drifted down to her lips and she watched the heat bank in his eyes.
“Hunter.”

His eyes lifted to meet hers again. He
stepped closer and Bree felt her heart pick up speed, slamming in
her chest. One hand slid to cup the back of her neck, fingers
tangling in her hair, the soft touch of his gloves soothing against
her skin.

Another step and Bree leaned into him, rising
on her tip-toes to press her lips against his. It started out soft,
gentle. Just a phantom of a kiss, a quick ray of hope, but she
couldn’t pull away. Didn’t
want
to pull away. Something
about kissing Hunter filled an emptiness inside her, reminded her
she wasn’t alone—didn’t
have
to be alone.

Amazing how in such a short time a stranger
could turn her life upside down.

He pulled away first, his dark eyes molten as
they stared down at hers and Bree smiled. He’d become a heck of a
lot more than a stranger. She almost dared to call him a friend,
and she wanted to call him more than that.

Then he blinked and stepped away, color
hinting at the edge of his cheeks. “Sorry. That was probably not
appropriate.”

“What part?” She didn’t bother to hide the
incredulity in her voice. She’d kissed him. He had nothing to
apologize for.

“A moment ago you were mourning your
daughter.”

“And a moment after that I was reminding
myself that someone else has walked into my life and reminded me
what it’s like to live again.” He stilled at that and she felt the
blush creep up her neck. Bree looked away, staring at the tree
beside her. “Some, you know, crazy next door neighbor who thought
to remind me that I wasn’t exactly alone in the world. He even
washed my garage door for me.”

“My wolves did that.” There was a chuckle in
his voice as he spoke.

“Yeah. And then he was brave enough to stay
for hot chocolate. Nice enough to check on me instead of hunting
down a rogue. Even insisted on staying...”

The words died in her throat when she heard
Hunter step closer. He slid a hand around her waist and turned her
back to him, his eyebrows drawn down as he watched her. Then he
leaned in and kissed her again. “Why don’t we get this tree home
for you?”

His lips brushed her forehead and he stepped
away. Bree watched as he headed for the back end of his truck. Even
in the winter jacket, he radiated strength, presence. And as he
looked back over his shoulder at her and smiled, she felt her heart
flip in her chest.

Then he pulled the saw out of the truck and
turned his attention to the tree. Bree let him work, watching and
reveling in the ease in which he tackled the problem at hand. The
tree shuddered when it hit the ground, snow drifting up in white
clouds around it. He looped a rope around the trunk and with a
little work on both of their parts, they had it safely in the bed
of his truck and ready to go home.

She touched the prickly branches and smiled.
It was perfect.

Hunter laid a kiss against her cheek. “Let’s
get it home and decorated.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, fisting a hand in
his jacket and a warm glow suffused in his eyes.

“Everyone deserves a touch of Christmas,
sweetheart. Especially those who’ve tried to forget.”

Chapter Thirteen

The scent of beef stew warmed her house. Bree
carried the steaming bowl of stew into the living room and settled
herself on the couch. The tree glowed with dazzling colors along
the window. Hunter had not only stuck around to help her put it up,
but decorate. The house, the tree, everything. Her heart
clenched.

He had no idea what his actions meant to her.
How much she’d cherish the memories he’d given her for this
Christmas. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she let out a slow
breath. This Christmas she’d make new memories; they wouldn’t have
Arianna in them, or Caesar for that matter, but they’d still be
good ones. Scooping out a spoonful, she savored the rich flavors of
vegetables and the thick gravy-like sauce. Christmas music hummed
from the radio and for the first time since she’d moved here, the
place felt like a home.
Her
home.

About damn time too.

By the time she’d finished with her dinner
she was all but bouncing with joy. Humming along to Silent Night,
Bree moved around the house, putting up pictures she’d kept hidden
in her closet. She hung a pair of stockings on the door, one for
Arianna and one for her.

Night fell outside the windows and with it
came fresh snow, the first in days. She leaned against the window
sill beside the tree and watched the snowflakes trickle down. The
lights hung along her eaves lit the snow, making each flake dazzle
with color. Bree lost track of how long she stood there,
remembering past Christmas evenings where Ari had made snowmen and
angels outside, begging not to have to come in.

The first yawn snuck up on her, the tendrils
of sleep tugging at her, and Bree closed her eyes, her head leaning
against the window trim. Today had been exhausted, long,
stressful...and yet, triumphant. She’d found herself again, helped
someone else, and for the first time in years, she’d found
happiness again.

Turning off the lights, she headed toward her
bedroom. There were no constant phone calls to keep her nerves on
edge and while the rogue was still out there, tonight was the first
chance in awhile for her to truly get some sleep. Tomorrow she’d go
back to the ravine, she decided, to see what else she could find.
Maybe she’d even look up what she could on the Hale’s and see if
she could learn something about the man stalking her.

The moment her head hit the pillow, sleep
grabbed hold of her and dragged her under, the weary aches of the
day nothing but a distant lullaby as she drifted off. But somewhere
in the trenches of sleep she felt the first stirrings of
unease.

Bree woke, her heart a hammer in her chest,
and glanced at the clock. Almost three AM. She’d been asleep maybe
three hours. She glanced around the dark expanse of her bedroom and
couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. With a grunt, she
pressed her face into her pillow.

“Losing it, girl,” she muttered to
herself.

Her body was so used to being on high alert
now, used to the broken, jagged remnants of sleep she’d been
getting with the bloody phone. Pair that with the adrenaline from
today and of course she was having issues.

Bree tugged the comforter up to her chin and
closed her eyes, trying to will herself back to sleep, when the
hair along the back of her neck prickled. Tension stretched through
her muscles and she found herself holding her breath, staring into
the darkness like a child awaiting the monster in the closet.
Damn.

She listened to the familiar sounds of her
house at night. The clock ticked steadily along, the wind played
along the loose boards on her front porch. Nothing sounded out of
the ordinary. She wanted to tell herself to suck it up, ignore it
all, and go back to bed.

But she’d been a Hound for too long to ignore
her instincts when they came knocking. And right now, they were
screaming that something was wrong. Rolling out of bed, she reached
towards her nightstand where she now kept her gun when a shadow
moved by the door.