Authors: Sadie Hart
Tags: #christmas, #christmas story, #shifter romance, #werewolf romance, #christmas novella, #shifter town enforcement
Christmas Moon
A Shifter Town Enforcement novella
By Sadie Hart
Breanne Torres has lost the meaning of
Christmas. Haunted by the death of her daughter and the murders
committed by her husband, she’s distanced herself from her past.
Now, she spends her life in solitude, trying to disappear. But in
the small town of White Pine, the presence of an ex-Hound with a
past like Bree’s is impossible not to notice.
Hunter Reed is the alpha of the White Pine
werewolf pack and Bree’s next door neighbor. He’s done his best to
give his new neighbor space, but when he finds out his pack has
been harassing her, he wants to help her out. And when he discovers
that Bree has lost the spirit of Christmas, he’s determined to show
her the joys of the season again.
But Hunter’s pack isn’t the only one
harassing Bree. Someone from her past is determined that she pays
for her ex-husband’s sins. With a rogue wolf hunting her, Bree’s
only hope of finding the spirit of Christmas is to face her past
and open her life to the potential of a future: Hunter.
Smashwords Edition
Copyright Sadie Hart 2013
Cover Art by Sadie Hart
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Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. The names,
places, characters, and incidents are products of the writer’s
imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be
construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely
coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
Chapter One
Breanne Torres let the cool winter wind wrap
around her. Heavy snow weighed the thick pine branches down until
the trees outside her new home seemed to sag, as if the weight of
the world rested on their prickly branches. It was mild for
Northern Oregon this time of year, the snowfall incredibly light as
the temperatures hovered just barely above freezing.
But the chill morning wind was almost a
gentle respite from the nightmares that still haunted her dreams. A
shudder rolled down her spine and she wrapped her arms around
herself, her gloved hands tucked under her elbows. Sometimes she
wished she could just forget.
Forgetting, however, just wasn’t in the
cards. As if the dreams weren’t bad enough—the blood, the screams,
the memories of people she’d loved and lost—the scents of still wet
paint and wolf reached her nose and Bree grimaced.
Damn
kids.
She knew even before she stepped down her shoveled
walkway in front of the garage that one of the young wolf-shifters
of White Pine had decided to leave her another message.
It was probably the same kid that was calling
her night after night, with nothing but static and rapid breathing
when she answered. She should have contacted the local Shifter Town
Enforcement. Should have reported the vandalism and harassment.
Should have, but that would hardly grant her
the peace she so desperately wanted.
“Damn.” The words stung as her gaze landed on
the red words scrawled across her garage. The spray paint hadn’t
dried well in the cold, bubbling and smearing as it leaked down the
metal siding.
Get out Hound bitch.
At least this time they’d spelled bitch
right. She rubbed a gloved hand over the pounding spot between her
eyes, the ache in her head suddenly back with a vengeance. The
stench of wolf was stronger here, but the whole damn town smelled
like wolves. Half of White Pine’s population was wolf-shifters.
Calling in Shifter Town Enforcement wouldn’t help her any. As an
ex-Hound for Enforcement, the locals here had already made it clear
she wasn’t welcome. And while she might have complained to the wolf
pack’s alpha, there was no saying Hunter Reed would be any
friendlier than the rest of his pack.
She’d thought the small town would let her
hide, get some peace, grieve. In some ways it had, and in
others—like this ‘prank’—it only made the past hurt worse. If she’d
known the death of their daughter would push her husband past the
edge of sanity, if she’d known he’d kill all those people—
Bree squeezed her eyes shut against the stab
of pain in her heart.
Crying didn’t help a damn thing. It didn’t
bring back the dead and didn’t change the past. And it sure as hell
didn’t help her move on. Rubbing the top of her head through her
hat, she gave the red message one last look. The paint still looked
wet. Best chance to get it clean, or she’d be painting the door
again on the next thaw.
Bree turned and strode back inside, dusting
the snow off her boots before heading into her kitchen to pull the
familiar bucket and sponge out from under the sink. She filled it
with steaming water and went back out into the cold.
Once upon a time she’d have tried to figure
out who was behind this, tracked them down, and made sure the
naughty shifter understood that acting out had repercussions. Now,
she simply cleaned up the messes and hoped the trouble just went
away. She’d had enough playing heroine when she’d been a Hound. But
when her skills should have really mattered she’d let Shifter Town
Enforcement, her pack, and so many others down.
She peeled off her gloves and stashed them in
her pockets, only to grab the sponge and get to work. It wasn’t the
hard, grueling scrubbing that it had been when she’d moved here
over the summer. When the warm sun would bake the paint on and make
it damn near impossible to get off without painting over the
graffiti. This smeared under the wet water, but with enough work,
the paint would come off easily enough.
She didn’t look at the words, just
concentrated on wiping off the red, wishing all the while that it
was truly that easy to wash the blood off her own hands.
***
Hunter Reed turned up the sloping winter road
that led into town. O’Reilly’s would be open and he could get
enough food to get through the next week—which was saying something
considering how many dinners the pack was eating under his roof
these days. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say they were all
trying to get a look at the pretty new neighbor.
If the red-haired beauty had been anyone
but
an ex-Hound.
Though he had no doubt that they still wanted
to get a look at her. Everyone in White Pine was curious about the
quiet woman holed up in her little house, purposefully keeping her
distance from the rest of the town. Hunter had to admit, his
curiosity had been piqued the moment the moving trucks had pulled
in that summer.
She’d seemed lonely, broken, but he also
recognized the longing in her eyes the first day he’d strode up her
drive. The longing to be left alone. Something about her had craved
space, so he’d given her that, but in a place as small as White
Pine, true solitude was hard to come by. Everyone knew everyone
else’s business.
This place had no secrets.
Which is why within the first week he’d known
exactly who Breanne Torres was, why she was here, and what past she
was trying to outrun. He shook his head. He’d have thought six
months would have been enough time to sate the pack’s endless
curiosity about the new Hound neighbor. But there were so many
different rumors floating around, no one had lost interest.
Breanne Torres was the most interesting thing
that had happened in White Pine since Hunter had been eighteen and
rammed his car into a tree and tumbled off the side of a cliff.
They
still
talked about that. His lonely little neighbor was
going to be making headlines for quite some time. A wry smile
touched Hunter’s lips and automatically he glanced at the small
house.
Shit.
Red smears trailed down the front of her
garage, and she knelt in the snow scrubbing a way. But he could
still read the sloppily written words.
Get out Hound bitch
.
His jaw went tight. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her cleaning
her garage door and now he had that sinking twist in his gut,
telling him that she wasn’t just bored and looking to make the
house prettier.
No. She was covering up some jerk’s
graffiti.
He turned his truck into her drive and
watched her stiffen. Her long red hair was stuffed under a purple
knit hat, probably not the best color for her, but when she turned
and looked his way it was like a sock to the gut. Damn, but she was
pretty.
Beautiful
. A full, soft face—nothing like the gaunt,
broken woman that had arrived here in early June.
Oh, she’d been pretty then, but she’d had
this wariness about her that had screamed fragile. As if one wrong
move could send her shattering. He’d understood why after he’d read
what had happened in Colorado. Her husband and pack mate in their
local Shifter Town Enforcement had gone on a killing spree across
several states as he tried to pin the deaths on a bunch of
lion-shifters. It had failed and he’d ended up dead, with Breanne
left to pick up the pieces of her rogue-Hound husband.
After something like that, he could
understand a person wanting to disappear.
She stood, the red-tinted sponge in her hand,
and looked him straight in the eye. There was no denying the
strength in her gaze now. Time had no doubt let her begin to heal.
The woman in front of him had the gaze of a warrior. He put the
truck in park and swung out. His boots hit the fresh snow on the
side of her drive way, sending up a cloud of white.
She tensed, and there was the wary edge back
in her eyes, but she no longer looked like she was about to break.
“Can I help you?”
Damn, but he’d forgotten what her voice
sounded like. He’d only heard her speak once and it’d been soft,
nothing but the barest whisper as she asked him to leave and shut
her door in his face. Now it was stronger, vibrant. This was the
voice of a woman who could strike out a command to a whole pack and
simply expect them to listen. It was the same voice that could
bring a man to his knees if she softened the words and let her
voice drift lower, husky.
Hunter ignored the question. There were a lot
of things she could do for him, but that wasn’t why he was here. He
tilted his head in the direction of her garage. “Looks like you
could use some help.”
He strode closer to her, ignoring the way she
shook her head.
“No I got—”
He plucked the sponge from her hand. “You
think kids would have better things to do than freeze their balls
off writing nasty messages.”
Her angelic face tilted to look at him,
surprise flitting through her amber eyes, and Hunter found himself
staring at the wry, half smile that touched her lips. Soft and
full, he couldn’t help but want a kiss. Just one, just to taste
her. See if her lips were as sweet as they looked. A strangled
laugh caught in his throat and he turned toward the words smeared
over her garage. Damn, but he was acting like some
thirteen-year-old pup begging for his first piece of tail. He was
better than that.
“Thank you, but I can get this.” The command
in her voice was far from soft, but he ignored it.
This close he could smell the scent of the
brat who’d done it. A member of his pack, too. Colin Harris. He’d
have a talk with the pup when he saw him tonight at the pack
dinner. A talk that would probably involve a nice cuff to the back
of the runt’s head. This woman hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve
this, and she sure as hell shouldn’t have to clean up the mess just
because one of his wolves had a twist in his tail.
“You shouldn’t have to,” he ground out.
Her head tilted, a strand of red hair falling
loose from her hat and tumbling across her face. He clenched the
sponge hard enough water trickled through his fingers so he
wouldn’t reach up and swipe it aside.