Santa Paws: BBW Holiday Bear Shifter Romance (Christmas Bear Brothers Book 1) (6 page)

“You just get us to the North Pole,” Dermot said, “I think we can handle it from there.”

“As you like. OK. We have clearance; let’s get this bird in the air.”

This bird was more like a penguin, awkward and not meant to fly. But it was their only shot of getting to the North Pole. He had tried to book flights with a couple of major airlines. They had almost laughed him off the phone, and he hadn’t even mentioned reindeers.

“We’ll be OK,” he said to Vicky.

“Who are you trying to reassure?” she asked. “Maybe if we crash I might find my Christmas spirit quick enough so I can fly to safety.”

“Just remember you can’t live without me,” he said, and then they were rising so quickly, he was slammed back into the seat. “I forgot how bad John is at this flying lark; it comes from him being a hawk. He thinks that vertical lift is always the way to go. But my stomach is still down on the ground.”

“At least if we die, we die together.” And despite the danger, she sounded the happiest she had since he had set eyes on her less than twenty-four hours before.

“We’re together for eternity, remember?”

And the way she looked at him let him know she would never forget.

Vicky closed her eyes as they came in to land. At least if she died she couldn’t ruin Christmas! But as they came in to land, she knew she didn’t want to die, she wanted to live a long and happy life with the man next to her. She wanted to embrace life, to have kids and watch them open their presents on Christmas morning.

As they bounced along the runway, she took hold of Dermot’s hand and with it, she took back control of her life. “Let’s go find Santa,” she said.

He turned and looked at her, smiling. “I might need a change of underwear first; bears are not meant to fly. Especially not in a tin can.”

“I heard that,” John said above the noise of the engine. “Eyes and ears of a hawk, remember?” he said with a grin. “There we go, Dermot, I would say the debt was paid, but to be honest, anytime you and the pretty lady need something, you know where to find me. For that matter, do you need me to wait for you?”

“No. I think we’ll find our own way home,” Dermot said, and then as they were running across the tarmac, he turned to Vicky and asked, “You will give me a lift, right?”

“Santa does not run a taxi service,” she said bluntly and then stopped, looking around. “That’s if we get to Santa. This is the geographical North Pole; we need magnetic North.”

“How do we find that?” he asked, looking up into the permanently dark skies.

“We follow the lights,” she said, pointing into the distance.

“Oh my,” he said. “I have never seen anything like it.”

In the distance, a shimmer of green and blue hovered in the sky like a curtain of light. A thrill of recognition passed through her, as if she were coming home. Inside, her reindeer lifted its head, and they both felt the stirring of the old magic deep inside them.

She took Dermot in her arms and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Believing anything is possible.”  She moved to pull away from him, but he caught her in his arms, and held her close. When his lips met hers, she really did feel magic threading through her veins, or was that her desire waking up to this new world? A world filled with love and longing.

“We should go,” he said, drawing back from her, his kiss leaving her breathless. “We don’t want to keep Santa waiting.”

They raced out of the airport and then stopped. The question they had now was how exactly were they supposed to go across the snow towards the northern lights. They couldn’t walk, and there were too many people here for a bear and a reindeer to be seen together. Dermot would probably be shot, and anyway, everyone knew the only bears in this part of the world were polar bears.

“I have an idea,” she said.

“Why do I get the feeling I am not going to like it?” Dermot asked.

“Because there’s a chance you won’t. But it’s our best shot at getting across the snow.”

“Can’t we just … you know, change?” he asked, following in her wake.

“Where? You are going to stick out.”

“Are you implying I am the wrong kind of bear?” he asked.

“I most certainly am,” she said, and then stopped, turning around to get her bearings. “Down here.”

They headed down an alleyway, the smell of fish reaching them. Her nerves began to get the better of her; she wasn’t sure what kind of welcome she would get. Especially when they saw Dermot.

“You should stay here,” she said, her hand on Dermot’s chest.

“I am not allowing you to go anywhere alone. Not in a place like this,” he said, eying up the bar behind her. “If a bar is hidden away down an alleyway, it usually means the clientele have something they don’t want the law to see.”

“I’ll be OK. I’ll go in, get what we need and then we can leave.”

“I can’t imagine what we need from a place like this,” he said, looking behind her as the door of the bar opened, the light illuminating his face. Which had a hard expression on it. Here was a bear who was about to protect his mate.

A large man, all muscles, with blond hair and dark brown eyes stood looking down at them. The expression on his face alert. He had sensed an intruder and was ready to protect his territory.

“OK, boys, we don’t need to fight. Hans, I need a favour,” Vicky said, getting herself between the two men.

“Who is this pretty boy with my favourite vixen?” Hans asked as he came down the steps of the bar.

“Hans, this is Dermot, my mate.” She emphasised the word
mate
, letting Hans know she was expecting him to show Dermot some respect. He was with her, not just some bear wandering by. “And we need your help.”

“Do you now?” Hans came down to stand before Vicky, his shoulders squared, and she was sure she could hear the two bears growling at each other.

“Yes. And we are in a hurry. So if you could hand over the keys of your snowmobile, that would be great.” She held out her hand to Hans, who looked at it and laughed.

“You expect me to give a big brown bear my keys,” he said, sniffing the air. “Could smell him coming from down the street. I’m not going to let him touch my snowmobile.”

“I need them, Hans, this is important.”

Hans looked down at Vicky and his face softened. “You know how much I love you, Vicky, but if I hand over my keys, then I will lose the respect of the others. They are unruly enough as it is.”

“Hans. I can’t fly. You know what that means?”

“The other reindeers will have to pick up the slack. I always thought Rudolph needed to be more than a bright red lantern. Santa could use GPS and stick Rudolph at the back of the other reindeers so he can pull harder.”

“That is not funny. If I don’t join the others, there will be no sleigh, no gifts for Christmas. Please.”

“He can fight me for them,” Hans said.

“My pleasure,” Dermot replied, beginning to strip his coat off.

“No. I don’t want you to fight.”

“Bears will be bears,” Hans said. “And don’t worry; I will go easy on him.”

“Who said I need you to go easy?” Dermot said.

“Boys, please stop,” she said. But when the door opened behind Hans, she knew there was no way they were getting the keys to his snowmobile without some kind of a display of strength.

“Let’s give them a good show, shall we?” Hans said to Dermot, cocking his head to one side and smiling. “I’ll try not to break your nose.”

“And I’ll try not to knock your teeth out,” said Dermot.

“We do not have time for this,” Vicky said, but there was no use arguing with them. She knew Hans well enough to understand he couldn’t look weak, and Dermot had his pride. But when the first blow connected with Dermot’s jaw, she didn’t know if she could bear to watch.

“That the best you can do?” Dermot goaded, shaking his head.

“Oh no, I can do much better than that,” Hans lunged forward, but Dermot was ready for him, and her mate got a hard jab into Hans ribs, winding him.

Hans was an experienced fighter, though, and soon recovered. As they swapped blows, evenly matched, Vicky wondered if they would ever make to the North Pole before it was too late.

Dermot was used to fighting with his brothers; they often sparred, but none of them took it seriously. Hans, well, he had something to prove, probably to the group of muscle-bound men spilling out of the bar behind him.

“Don’t have much in the way of entertainment here,” Hans ground out between trying to land several blows on Dermot. “You make this look good, and the snowmobile is yours.”

“That’s what you want?” Dermot asked, taking a swing and landing a glancing blow on Hans’ cheek.

Hans fell back, hitting the snow, but he sprang to his feet, athletic in his movement, and Dermot knew this was going to be a tough fight to win.

“Yes. You make this look good, and you get the snowmobile. Of course, only if I win.” Hans grinned.

“You want me to lose the fight?” Dermot asked incredulously.

“Look, brother. You need to walk away from this; I would prefer to keep this pretty face. We can either slug it out until one of us lays bleeding in the snow, or we can play it smart and both stay alive.”

Hans had a point. Dermot was no good to Vicky if he was crippled; one way to permanently kill someone’s Christmas spirit was to have to spend hours sitting in the ER.

“Whatever you say,” Dermot said, and then Hans took a lucky shot, which hit Dermot right in the eye.

“Dermot!” Vicky shouted in distress.

Dermot tried to focus. The world was spinning around him and his eye hurt like hell. In amongst that he could see the shape of Hans coming in for another attack. Dermot guessed if he went down now, Hans would not see it as a good fight, so he raised his fists and shielded himself. At the last minute his vision cleared enough for him to see Hans, and he struck with his left hand. A sickening thud filled the air.

Both fighters took a moment to recover. When Dermot could see once more, he could make out Hans shaking his head to one side. He had hit him in the ear, and Hans was suffering with his balance as he tried to get himself back in the game.

Dermot moved in for another blow, and the two men grappled with each other. “Shame I have to let you win,” Dermot said. “Because right now I think I could knock you out.”

Hans pushed him away. “You know what? Maybe we should do this for real?”

Dermot shook his head. “I have important business.” He lunged at Hans. “Too important. But I could always come back for a rematch.”

Hans laughed. “You’re on. Now let’s finish this.”

They both fought hard, landing blow after blow on each other, until Hans signalled that they needed to stop. Both were bleeding, and Dermot’s eye was swelling up, so he had no arguments about Hans throwing one final punch, that hit Dermot square in the jaw and sent him reeling to the ground.

The world went dark for several seconds as he fought to stay conscious. Above the ringing in his ears, he could hear Vicky laying into Hans, and then she was at his side, stroking his face, kissing his bruises.

“Dermot, I am so sorry,” she said, tears falling on his face, hot and salty on his sore skin.

“It’s OK,” Dermot said, although he felt he had been hit by a train. Carefully, he sat up, to see Hans kneeling next to him.

“Good fight, brother.” He held out his hand and Dermot took it, even though Vicky was glaring at him. And as their palms met, Hans slipped the keys—to what Dermot only could hope was a snowmobile—into his hand. “Red one out back. Wait until we all go inside, and then take it. I might have to tell them you stole it. But by the time anyone notices, you will be miles away.”

Hans winked at Dermot, then kissed Vicky briefly on the cheek, much to her horror. But as she got up to give Hans another piece of her mind, Dermot grabbed her hand and said, “Stay here with me. Then we can get going. Santa is waiting.”

He opened his hand and showed her the key, and she looked at him and then pulled him into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she said, and then he lay back down, letting the stars spin above his head.

A sleigh. That was what he had been hit with, a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer. Yes, he was sure he had a concussion. But it had been worth it: anything for his woman.

“I am so sorry, Dermot,” she said as she pulled him to his feet and watched him sway as he tried to focus.

“Anything for you,” he said, sounding drunk.

“Come on. We have to get out of here,” she said and took him by the hand, leading him slowly through the snow. “He said round the back, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Dermot said.

She looked back at him, concerned that he might need a hospital. “Look, I’m useless to Santa as I am. Maybe we should just go and get you checked over?”

He shook his head and the rest of him shook too. “No. Look, I did this for a reason. To get you to the North Pole. We get on the snowmobile, and follow the lights. Can you drive one of these things?” he asked, pointing to the red snowmobile lined up next to five others.

“Yes. All you have to do is climb on, and put your arms around me.”

“That I can do,” he said.

It was awkward because of the amount of clothes they had on. But she swung her leg over the snowmobile, got comfy and then held out her hand to steady him as he climbed on too. Once she was satisfied he was holding her tightly, she started the engine, hoping no one inside heard the noise. Dermot was not up to hanging on for a high-speed chase.

Easing the throttle forward she started off slowly, increasing the speed gradually until she knew how well the ski handled, and how well Dermot was hanging on. A tingle of excitement took hold of her when she looked up and saw the aurora above her head. It was bright, calling to her, and her reindeer was standing with her head erect watching it too.

Was this it? Would they be able to claim back the thing they had lost and fly over the Earth tonight, bringing joy and happiness to those asleep below them?

She didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to put too much pressure on herself. So she settled for enjoying what was here, what was real. The feel of Dermot resting his head against her back, and the cold air filling her lungs, while above them colours danced in a never-ending show of beauty.