Comet Claws (The Twelve Mates Of Christmas Book 5)
Comet Claws
The Twelve Mates Of Christmas, Book 5
Sable Sylvan
www.sablesylvan.com
Copyright © 2018 by Heather Davies/Sable Sylvan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Comet Claws
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
The Twelve Mates of Christmas — A Sable Sylvan Christmas Spectacular
Sneak Peek: Cupid Claws
About the Author
Comet Claws
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He's taking her on a sleigh ride...
Pilot Connor Brian has never found the time to find a fated mate.
Well, this werebear's getting grounded for Christmas, because he got his furry butt on The Naughty List.
If he doesn't get off The Naughty List and claim his fated mate by Christmas, he'll lose his shift forever.
That means he's going to have to work with Comet -- Santa'Claus' flying reindeer -- if he has any hope of keeping his bear.
Getting off of The Naughty List should be easy...but it's hard when a curvy bad girl baker keeps distracting Connor from his mission of finding a Nice girl to take back to Nuthusk, Washington for Christmas.
Who said Snow White couldn't be a bad girl?
Curvy baker Noel Newman knows a few things.
She knows how to bake -- good. Real good.
She knows her type -- bad. Real bad.
Heck, you could even describe her type as Naughty -- and from the mark on Connor's chest, that's just what he is.
A bad girl for the bad boy, as classic a combination as eggnog and rum.
The only problem is, Connor can't seem to decide whether or not Noel's the woman he wants to unwrap underneath the Christmas tree come Christmas Eve. Will Noel let Connor distract her from her special Christmas charity project for kids, or, will the Naughty shifter end up helping her do something Nice after all?
One shifter. Seven women.
One BBW. Seven shifters.
You do the math.
There's one thing Noel knows. She doesn't want to be in a harem.
There's one thing Connor knows. He doesn't want to be in a reverse harem.
When seven shifter men roll into town, looking for Noel, and seven shifter women come to Nuthusk, looking for Connor, the pair realize that they don't know each other as well as they seem.
They don't yet know the full story...but will they both find their happily ever after?
This story, featuring a bad boy werebear and a BBW baker, is loosely based on Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.
Prologue
Thanksgiving, 2011
Connor Brian felt the tip of a pine tree graze against his foot.
“A little higher, Eric,” said Connor. “Over.”
“Hear you loud and clear, Connor,” said Eric, his voice coming in through the earpiece in Connor’s helmet. “How’s the view down there? Over.”
“Amazing,” said Connor. “Nothing like it in the world.”
Connor looked out over the Nuthusk Forest. Near the Washington-Oregon border, the wooded vale looked like one of the many forests covering the Pacific Northwest. This forest was special to Connor. He’d run its secret paths with his bear on many a night. It was hard to believe that it wasn’t where Connor would be spending the winter. It was hard to believe it hadn’t spent much of any season there in quite some time, but Connor had his reasons.
“Connor?” asked Eric. “Over.”
“Over,” said Connor. “Sorry. Over.”
Connor held on tight to the fast-rope. He was lucky that Eric was as crazy a bastard as Connor was, willing to let him fast-rope down the chopper when they were still about two thousand feet away from the Clan Marron lodge. He was getting a bird’s eye view of the woods, a view that few ever got to see from his unique angle and height in the air. The deciduous trees glowed in all the fiery shades of autumn’s bounty, the evergreens standing tall and proud, green Gatsbyian beacons beckoning Connor home like the sirens beckoned Odysseus.
The only difference was that unlike Connor, Odysseus had been trying to go home.
“You want to make an entrance?” asked Eric. “Over.”
“You know I do,” said Connor. “Over.”
“Alright,” said Eric. “We’re going to go a little higher and then, lower you down on the green. We won’t land. Just let us know when you need a ride back to the airport. Over.”
They approached Clan Marron. From above, the cars that peppered the lodge parking lot looked like matchbox cars. The people on the lawn looked like tiny figurines. They were looking up, looking for the source of the sound made by the chopper’s surprisingly quiet blades that were still audible from the ground.
Eric flew the helicopter, so Connor was about twenty feet above the top of the lodge, but he hadn’t accounted for the large satellite dish on top of the lodge. Connor pushed his legs against it and propelled himself away from the roof, moving the old satellite dish so that the dish was at a different angle.
“You okay down there?” asked Eric. “Over.”
“Yeah. We’re coming in hot, just the way I like it,” said Connor. “Over.”
Connor started his slide down the fast rope. Eric positioned the helicopter, so they were hovering over the lawn, around 30 feet above the grass, the same length as the rope. Connor saw parents pulling their kids back from the cornhole and horseshoe games set up on the lawn.
Connor slid down to the bottom of the rope, landing softly on the ground.
“Hey, get ready for death from above,” said Donny, who had been quiet during The Ride. “Over.”
Connor looked up. Donny had been in the back of the chopper, spotting him, but he’d also been harboring a surprise. Donny tossed down a cooler. Connor caught it and opened it.
“Death by chocolate?” asked Connor. “Donny, you’ve outdone yourself. Over”
“Just make sure to get us plates of leftovers,” said Donny. “See you soon, you crazy bastard. Over.”
Donny pulled the fast rope up before Eric piloted the chopper back to the airport.
Connor had barely had time to take his helmet off before he was headbutted in the chest by a strong woman who knocked him back a few feet.
“Whoa,” said Connor, dropping his helmet. “Emily?”
“Connor!” said Emily, finishing up her tight bear hug. “I can’t believe you made it!”
“I can’t either,” said Connor. “You know this is one of my busiest seasons. My guys made something for the party.”
“Ooh, it smells good,” said Emily, peeking inside the cooler. “What is it?”
“I have no idea what’s in it, but my bro Donny calls it ‘death by chocolate,’” said Connor. “Better than ‘death by exhaustion from having to wrangle triplets into the bath.’”
“You heard I had triplets?” asked Emily, crossing her arms. “Try quadruplets. Come on. Y
ou’ve got to meet them. Let me take this from you.”
Emily took Connor’s gloves and helmet. Connor clipped his aviator shades on his turtleneck sweater, picked up the cooler, followed Emily inside.
“Let’s leave all that here,” said Emily, putting the aviation gear on a table. “You can put the dessert there too. We’ll put it away later.”
“Where’re you keeping these rascals?” asked Connor.
“Just down the way,” said Emily. “This year, daycare’s in the council chambers.”
“The chambers?” asked Connor with a frown.
“Well, uh, there’s a lot of kids this year,” said Emily. “We needed a bigger room, and there’s a TV in there.”
“Okay,” said Connor, suspicious of Emily. “Is this some sort of surprise party for me or something?”
“Typical Connor, thinking everything is about you,” said Emily, rolling her eyes as she led Connor down the hall to the Council’s chambers. “Guess that’s why you had to make that big entrance.”
“If you could’ve, you would’ve, and you know it,” teased Connor.
Emily opened the chamber doors, but, before Connor could merely follow Emily inside the room, she shoved him into the room.
“Huh?” asked Connor.
“Sorry!” said Emily, slamming the doors shut and trapping Connor inside the room.
Connor looked around the room. There were no kids in sight. Instead, there was a large group of solemn-looking shifters, a group he’d found himself in front of before. It was the Council of Clan Elders, led by the current Alpha of Clan Marron, Jasper Jackson. Next to Jasper was a familiar face: romance novel model Cain Pellichero, wearing a surprisingly goofy Thanksgiving sweater with a turkey on it.
“Uh…hey?” said Connor. “What’s up?”
“Take a seat,” said Jasper.
“Don’t mind if I do,” said Connor, taking the only chair in the center of the room. “I’m beat.”
“Ah, yes, because I’m sure the property damage you caused to the lodge really tuckered you out,” said an older man on the council.
“The satellite dish can be repositioned,” said Connor.
“It interrupted the game,” said the older man. “You broke the dish. What’s Thanksgiving without football?”
“Is that the problem? The satellite dish? I’ll go up there right now and fix it,” said Connor, getting up from the chair.
“I couldn’t care less about the satellite dish,” said Jasper. “Take. Your. Seat.”
Connor sat down in the chair again, watching Jasper. He’d heard that tone before. Jasper only broke it out when he was serious.
“Croatia. Puerto Rico. Argentina. Thailand. Bora Bora. The list goes on,” said Jasper. “You’ve visited many countries this past year, haven’t you?”
“That’s sort of my job,” said Connor smugly. “You lookin’ for a pilot?”
“No,” said Jasper. “What I’m looking for is an answer as to why you haven’t been looking for a fated mate.”
“I’ve found my calling,” said Connor. “For sea captains, the sea is their mistress. For me, it’s the sky. The only curves I need are her thick white clouds. The only thing I need to ride is her turbulence. I’m a happy man.”
“A happy man does not always make for a happy Clan,” said Jasper.
“With all due respect, Jasper, the Clan is not my concern,” said Connor.
“You’re our concern,” said Jasper. “You haven’t found a mate, Connor. You know what that means.”
“It means I don’t have a mate,” said Connor. “That’s all it means.”
“You have a mate mark,” said Jasper. “That means your mate is out there, and it’s your duty to find her.”
“I don’t owe a woman anything,” said Connor.
“You owe it to yourself not to succumb to mate madness,” said Jasper.
“It’s just a myth,” said Connor. “Like gremlins.”
“You think gremlins are a myth?” asked a voice.
Connor turned. A figure appeared out of the shadows like a plane emerging from a cloud. This man was no passenger plane. He was a stealth jet, sleek and dangerous. His hair was thick and black and curly. He had rough stubble around his chin. His eyes glowed a green that reminded one of the verdant forests of Classical Greece, of the Great God Pan that ruled those wild woods and, with a mere pan pipe, drove mortal men to madness. Around his neck was a pewter gray necklace made of thick chain links.
“And who are you?” asked Connor.
“Let’s cut straight to the point,” said the mysterious stranger. “Name’s Krampus. I’m a demon, Christmas demon specifically. I’m here because you are in danger of succumbing to mate madness.”
“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” said Connor, getting up from the chair, but before he could get up, Krampus had torn the chain off his neck and tossed it at Connor.
The chain expanded and looped around Connor, binding him to the chair.
“Silly boy,” said Krampus, walking up to Connor. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to walk away from someone who’s talking to you?”
“What is this?” asked Connor. “What did you do to me?”
“I just told you I’m a demon,” said Krampus. “Gremlins are real, demons are real, and Santana Claus is real. You know him as Santa Claus.” Two thick knobby horns emerged from Krampus’ head and spiraled down to his shoulders
“Santa Claus is not real,” said Connor. “This is insane. Jasper, Cain, are you going to let this freak do this to me?”
“Santana Claus is real,” said Cain. “I suggest you hear out what Krampus has to say. He’s the reason I found my mate.”
“You found a mate?” asked Connor before he burst out laughing. “No frikkin’ way did Cain frikkin’ Pellichero settle down with a mate. No way.”
“I had to do it,” said Cain. “Not only was it my Fate, but, I was in danger of succumbing to mate madness. Last year may’ve been my last chance to have found my mate, Candy.”
“No way,” said Connor. “It’s Candy…and Cain? Now I know you’re pulling my leg.”
“Shut the fuck up. The only thing cuter than that couple is their Thanksgiving sweaters. Here’s what you should know,” said Krampus. “If you succumb to mate madness, do you really think you’ll be allowed to fly a plane? I’m sure what the good people at your airline want is for a bear, not a bear shifter but just a full-out bear, flying the plane. You think they’re going to specially modify the cockpit to hold a bear? You think they’re going to find you a bear copilot? Send you to bear flying school? Make you little bear pilot outfits? Give you special bear eye exams to make sure you can fly? If you believe in all that, you may already have mate madness.”
“So what does the Clan want me to do?” asked Connor.
“Make a deal with Krampus,” said Cain. “It’s the only way.”
“Fine, whatever,” said Connor. “What’s the deal?”
“You know, if you hadn’t been such a total and complete dick, I might tell you,” said Krampus. “Given your behavior, either make the deal or don’t, and accept the terms of the deals blindly or leave your Clan.”
“That’s not fair!” shouted Connor.
“Oh, silly boy,” said Krampus. “I’m a demon, not an angel. I’m not obligated to be ‘fair.’ That’s one of the perks of the side I’m on, not having to be ‘fair.’ Is it ‘fair’ you want your Clan to deal with you, even if you get mate madness? Is it ‘fair’ you want your fated mate to walk the Earth and die without ever having met you? What’s ‘fair’ about that? ‘Fair,’ my goat demon ass. ‘Fair.’ Ha!”
“Fine, I’ll make the deal,” said Connor.
Krampus pulled off his suit jacket and extended a hand.
“Shake on it?” asked Krampus.
Connor shook Krampus’s hand. He expected Krampus to pull away, but instead, Krampus pushed his hand out of the handshake and onto Connor’s chest.
Connor’s chest bur
ned as his tactical sweater exploded away from his body, tearing itself into shreds as it ballooned away from the bear shifter. The tank top underneath the sweater ripped apart as well, leaving Connor’s top half exposed to the demon. Connor tried to wiggle away from Krampus’s touch, but it made the burning sensation even stronger.
Krampus finally pulled his hand away.
“See?” asked Krampus, showing Connor his palm. “You shouldn’t make deals with demons, boy. You never know what tricks they have…up their sleeve.”
Connor watched as his mate mark traveled up Krampus’s arm, into the sleeve of tattoos that Connor realized were other marks Krampus has stolen, from shifters just like him, shifters with no choice but to make a deal with Krampus. The marks moved away to let Connor’s mark into their ranks before they closed, the sea of marks swallowing up Connor’s mate mark.
Connor looked down, at where his mate mark should be. The mark was gone, replaced with one word, emblazoned in green, that Connor could read, even though he was reading it upside down. The mark read, ‘Naughty.’
“What is this?” asked Connor.
“The seal for your new shift,” said Krampus. “You can’t keep your bear shift unless you have a bear’s mate mark. The mate mark you have isn’t for a bear. It’s for, well, you’ll see.”
Krampus reached into his suit pants pocket and pulled out a snow globe. Inside the globe was a living blizzard, and, at its center, the impossible: a flying reindeer.
“At least you’ll get to fly,” said Krampus.
“Reindeer don’t fly,” said Connor. “I think I would’ve hit one with my plane if that were true.
“What part of ‘Christmas magic is real, Santana Claus is real, and you’re coming up to Camp Kringle to be one of his magic reindeer that pulls his sleigh’ do you not understand?” asked Krampus. “Reindeer fly. And the only way you’ll fly again is if you touch the snow globe, take the power of the reindeer, and learn to use the shift under my command.”