Cupid Claws: The Twelve Mates Of Christmas, Book 6 Page 5

  “Point taken,” said Rowan, taking the stickers from Avery.

  “Here,” said Avery, passing her basement key to Holly. “Now, please keep this matchmaker out of my hair, Holly. The last thing I need is a boyfriend for Christmas.”

  Rowan swore he saw Krampus smile as Avery insisted she wanted to be single for Christmas. Rowan followed Holly to the basement, which, of course, was lit by Christmas lights.

  “Wow,” said Holly. “I feel like we’ve done some good today for that man and his family.”

  Holly found a box marked ‘String Lights’ and saw a power strip. She checked each strand of lights, making sure each strand, each bulb worked.

  “I found a box of toppers,” said Rowan.

  “They only need one topper,” said Holly. “Besides, they probably already have ornaments. I think Avery just wants an excuse to have us clear out this basement. Some of this stuff has probably been down here since the eighties!”

  “The nineteen-eighties, or the sixteen-eighties?” joked Rowan.

  “Very funny,” said Holly. “Speaking of funny — did you get Avery’s joke?”

  “What joke?” asked Rowan.

  “The joke where she called you a matchmaker,” said Holly. “I didn’t get why it was funny.”

  “She wasn’t joking,” said Rowan.

  “What do you mean?” asked Holly. “You’re not some gray-haired grandma with a dozen cats and a matching teapot for each. There’s no way you’re a matchmaker.”

  “You got a smartphone?” asked Rowan.

  “Of course,” said Holly. “Somehow, I even get reception up here, at The Wreath, and down here, in the basement. What’m I looking up?”

  “Rowan Hooligan, matchmaker,” said Rowan. “Trust me — it’s legit.”

  Holly ran a search. Rowan’s matchmaking service popped up. There were no events scheduled for the next few weeks, but, there was a gallery of past events.

  “Speed dating? Really?” asked Holly. “Does that stuff really work?”

  “Absolutely,” said Rowan.

  “I can’t see myself dating that many people,” said Holly.

  “That’s the point,” said Rowan. “Ménages, harems, reverse harems — those are real, and great for people that want them, but for people that just want to find their one and only, well…isn’t it worth going on a hundred bad dates to find the one person you’re meant to be with, for the rest of your life?”

  “Are they fun?” asked Holly. “I feel like they’d be nerve-wracking. I’d be worried about saying the wrong thing.”

  “My speed dating events all have three key ingredients — they’re fun, they’re fast, and they’re themed,” said Rowan.

  “I don’t follow,” said Holly.

  “Fun activities are an icebreaker, fast speed dates are the best kind, and of course, a theme helps attract people with a specific shared interest,” said Rowan. “What’s something you like?”

  “Hmm…well, I really like springtime, when the flowers are blooming, and it’s finally nice enough to go outside,” mused Holly.

  “Look up my ‘Spring Fling’ from this year,” said Rowan. “It’s in the photo gallery. Tell me. Does it look fun?”

  Holly found the album marked ‘Spring Fling.’ The event was held outdoors, at a botanical garden. There was soft lighting, as the moon supplied most of the light. A four-piece string quartet was playing. Holly could imagine strains of Classical music weaving through the garden beds. The guests were in light, airy pastels, eating appetizers off of small plates and drinking pink lemonade.

  She swiped to another photo. There was a station where people could make flower crowns and boutonnières and corsages and leis. Holly could practically smell the florals through the phone screen. All the couples looked happy as they made their small floral trinkets.

  Holly swiped again. In the next photo, there were people making custom floral cocktails out of floral-infused vodka and juices. There was lavender limeade, rose hibiscus iced tea, gin and vodka infused with violets, chamomile, and jasmine, and many other ingredients. Couples were mixing drinks up for each other.

  Holly kept swiping, losing herself in the event. In all the photos, the couples looked to be having a good time. Everyone had someone — except for Rowan, who was seen signing people in to the event, checking IDs, ushering people into the event, refreshing floral displays, adjusting lighting, and arranging group activities, like the actual speed dates, which took places at wooden picnic tables covered with white lace tablecloths and Japanese inspired floral arrangements.

  Holly could imagine herself there — but not just because she wanted to make bouquets. She wanted to be there with Rowan, as the two of them watched the world whirl around them, as they watched nervous singles match up and become a part of a happy couple.

  “Holly?” called Rowan. “Hello? Earth to Holly? Which one of these do you like better?”

  Rowan was holding up two balls. One was big and blue. The other was red and veiny — but on closer inspection, the white paint wasn’t meant to represent veins, but spreading tree branches.

  Holly stood up and held Rowan’s balls in her hands.

  “Hmm,” said Holly, cupping the balls, examining every last inch. Then, she put them back down in the box.

  “Something wrong with those balls?” asked Rowan, quirking a brow.

  “Those aren’t the balls I want,” said Holly, standing close to Rowan.

  “So…what balls do you want?” asked Rowan, brushing a hand underneath Holly’s chin.

  “I think you know which balls I want,” said Holly, brushing her hand over the front of Rowan’s pants. “Is that your ax, or are you just happy to see me?”

  Rowan lifted Holly up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “I think you already know the answer.”

  Rowan carried Holly through the basement and sat her down on a fabric cushion in a wide, wooden piece of furniture.

  “What’s this?” asked Holly, looking around.

  “While you were busy daydreaming, I was cleaning up the basement…and found this,” said Rowan. “I guess Avery must’ve used it for a Christmas display.”

  “I never thought she’d have a sleigh-shaped bed down here,” said Holly, fingering the green and red silk fabric covering the mattress on the bed.

  “I don’t think she ever expected that a reindeer shifter would claim his fated mate on this sleigh, either,” said Rowan.

  “You mean —” started Holly.

  “You’re the one, my one,” said Rowan. “It has to be true. I feel something, Holly, and I know you feel it too.”

  “You’re sure?” asked Holly.

  “I know, in my heart of hearts, that you, Holly, are my fated mate,” said Rowan.

  Holly unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her thick, ample breasts. “I don’t exactly have a mate mark, but…I have a feeling you’re meant for me, too.”

  “These are much, much nicer than a mate mark,” said Rowan, lifting Holly’s pillow bosom, a breast in each hand. Rowan took one of Holly’s nipples in his mouth and nipped it. Holly let out a gasp as she felt Rowan’s rough tongue swirl over the tip of her breast like snow swirling in a freshly shaken snow globe. Holly leaned back on the bed and arched her back as Rowan crawled on top of her, pressing his knee between her legs.

  Rowan scented out Holly’s arousal. His cock throbbed underneath his pants, begging for egress. Rowan undid his belt and unzipped his work jeans.

  Holly pushed Rowan up, away from her curves.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Rowan.

  “No — I just want to see you for myself,” said Holly. The basement was gently lit by the light of the Christmas lights strung up along its walls. In the low light, it was hard to make out Rowan’s features. Holly looked over Rowan with her hands, using her fingertips instead of her eyes, her touch flowing over his body like ivy up a brick wall. Holly closed her eyes and felt Rowan’s soft skin and hard muscles underneath her hands.

  It w
as clear Rowan was a man truly accustomed to a different lifestyle than the one he was living at The Wreath. His calluses were new, not honed from years of manual labor. His skin had few scars and was soft, like that of a cosmopolitan man. Only the mate mark and his musky scent were proof he was a shifter.

  “I want you,” murmured Holly.

  “What was that?” asked Rowan mischievously.

  “I said, ‘I want you,’“ repeated Holly. “You’re the one toy on my Christmas list.”

  “And let me guess — you want to open a gift early?” asked Rowan. “Tell me, Holly, have you been Nice this year, or have you been Naughty?”

  “I’ve been real nice,” said Holly.

  “Then are you sure you want to play with this toy?” asked Rowan, running Holly’s hand over his thickened crotch. “Because…trust me. Things are going to get real Naughty.”

  “Prove it,” said Holly.

  “That sounds like a challenge,” said Rowan. “If you get to play with a toy, then I think it follows that I…well, I get to open up a box of my own.”

  “A box?” asked Holly.

  “Yeah,” said Rowan, running a hand up Holly’s twill work pants, to the place where her legs met.

  He ran a finger up her slit. Rowan felt moisture. He resisted the urge to lift the fingers to his mouth and lick them clean. Instead, he pressed down, at the top of the slit, making Holly gasp. “This is the package I want to split wide open.”

  “Fuck,” moaned Holly.

  Rowan undid Holly’s pants and tore them off her body. He tore his own jeans off and ripped off his boxers, revealing a thick, throbbing cock — surprising not a soul.

  Rowan… started Cupid.

  What? asked Rowan.

  This isn’t a good idea, said Cupid. You’re making a mistake.

  The entire reason I was sent here was because I didn’t claim a mate, said Rowan. I know what I’m doing.

  All Holly was wearing was her panties and bra — not a pair picked for the occasion — and a blouse, hanging loosely from her body. Rowan made short work of the shirt, tossing it in a pile with the pants. Rowan lifted Holly up and placed her back down on his lap, so she was facing him, her legs wrapped around his waist.

  Rowan’s naked cock was raw and throbbing against Holly’s slit, a bubble of precum soaking Holly’s panties. Rowan rocked Holly forward on his lap, her clit rubbing against the thick shaft of Rowan’s cock. As Holly moaned, Rowan gingerly removed her bra. Then, he slipped her panties aside.

  “You care about these?” asked Rowan.

  “I, uh, don’t exactly have a change of clothes here,” said Holly.

  “Pity — because there’s nothing I want more than to rip them off with my teeth,” said Rowan. “I guess we’ll have to save that for next time.”

  Holly’s heart fluttered. She felt her cheeks blush. Rowan was already so sure that she was his mate that he was talking about a ‘next time.’

  Then, Holly remembered when she’d heard men say similar things — correction when she’d heard shifters say things that sounded just like the words flowing from Rowan’s mouth. Obviously, she hadn’t ended up with any of them.

  Rowan turned around and pressed Holly’s back to the bed. He gently took the panties in his teeth and lowered the panties using his mouth as well as both of his hands, his index fingers hooked underneath the elastic band of the panties. As he moved the panties down Holly’s curves, he took in her scents — the natural scent of her skin, the smell of her arousal. He tossed the panties aside and pushed back on to the bed.

  “After this, nothing will ever be the same,” promised Rowan.

  Rowan, you know, you’re — started Cupid.

  Not now, said Rowan.

  Dude. Just listen to me! Cupid insisted. There’s an order to this! You have to —

  Not. Now. Rowan repeated.

  Rowan slipped into Holly. As Rowan stuffed Holly’s stocking, he felt her velvety walls clench around him. Heck, her stocking even had fur trim!

  Holly spread her legs and took more of Rowan’s length in. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She threw her hair back on the pillow. She couldn’t believe it — she was getting claimed for Christmas! It was the best Christmas gift she could’ve asked for.

  “Oh, Rowan,” moaned Holly. Rowan’s cock split her like lightning splitting a Christmas tree in two. His electric touch caused her body to start to blush, to glow red like the mixed hues of the Christmas lights. Holly raked her hands over Rowan’s smooth muscles. She ran her fingers over Rowan’s back, which had a thick layer of hair, just like his chest. She ran her other hand over Rowan’s face, feeling his rough stubble beneath her finger like a thousand tiny pinpricks.

  “I need you to come for me,” whispered Rowan. “That’s how this works, Holly — to claim you, we both have to get there at the same time. I’m holding back for you.”

  “Don’t,” said Holly. “I want to feel you in me, Rowan — your essence, flowing into me. I need that heat.”

  “I know that’s not all you need,” said Rowan. He took a handful of Holly’s solid curves in one hand and ran his thumb over the soft flesh. He kneaded it gently in his hands, as if he were trying to fold a paper crane out of pastry dough, and heard Holly let out small gasps that turned to moans.

  Rowan moved his other hand to the spot between his body and Holly’s. He looked down at where their parts met. Rowan pressed his thumb on Holly’s clit. With every press, he could feel that Holly’s Christmas cracker was close to popping. It was time to end things with a bang — starting with his.

  Rowan could feel Holly was close to the edge. He splashed into her, releasing his cum as he rubbed her clit against the base of his cock, hoping that soon, he’d bring Holly to her own climax. From the gasping in his ear and the feeling of Holly’s nails raking desperately against his arms, he knew he’d succeeded in his mission.

  Holly came around Rowan’s cock and reached out to grip his shoulders. That’s when she saw the word — ‘Naughty,’ lit only by the faint glow of the Christmas lights lining the basement.

  Holly touched the mark on Rowan’s chest. Nothing had happened to the word. It didn’t change in any way. She’d never seen a mate mark like it before, broad, spreading from shoulder to shoulder, but, she knew mate marks could come in all shapes and sizes.

  “Rowan…” started Holly.

  Rowan looked down at Holly’s hand.

  Oh no, thought Rowan.

  He looked at his chest.

  Oh yes, said Cupid.

  He looked back at Holly’s hand.

  No, I forgot, I didn’t have my mark, and — started Rowan.

  He looked in her eyes, welling with tears.

  What did I say about doing things out of order? asked Cupid.

  “Holly, I —” started Rowan.

  “I know,” said Holly. “You thought, but you thought wrong. It’s okay.”

  “Holly, it’s not like that,” said Rowan. “I’m…I’m not what you think I am.”

  “You’re not a shifter?” asked Holly, quirking a brow. “I just saw you fight a frikkin’ Easter bunny in your reindeer form. I know you’re a shifter, Rowan, and your mark…well, if we were meant to be, it would’ve glowed.”

  “Holly, that’s not my mate mark,” said Rowan. “You have to believe me.”

  “Rowan, it’s a big ass mark on your chest that looks like a tattoo,” said Holly. “Do reindeer shifters have their mate marks on their butts or something? Because not one inch of you changed, and that includes your mate mark. I know that means that…we’re not meant to be together.”

  “No, but that’s not my mark,” said Rowan. “I mean, it is, but it’s not, because, it’s complicated. I’m a reindeer, but not just any reindeer. I’m one of Santa Claus’ eight magic reindeer, and —”

  “Rowan, look,” interrupted Holly. “I like you. I like you a lot. But, obviously, we weren’t meant to be — aren’t meant to be. We can still be friends…but we can’t be fri
ends if you lie to me. I’m not stupid. I know Christmas magic isn’t real.”

  “But —” started Rowan.

  “I’m not stupid, so don’t treat me like a frikkin’ kid or something,” said Holly. “There’s no such thing as Santa Claus or Christmas magic. There are just stupid girls who think they’re more than just ugly ducklings, who fall for shifters they can’t have.”

  “Fine,” said Rowan.

  You’re going to give up that easily? asked Cupid.

  There’s nothing else I can do, said Rowan. If she doesn’t want to believe in Christmas magic, there’s no changing that.

  Chapter Four

  December 7th, 2012

  Rowan played in his head what he was going to say to Holly. He had to figure out a way to get her to listen to him, to hear the truth about what had happened in the basement. As he chopped down the Christmas tree for the ‘roo shifter, he played the conversation in his head, playing both his part and Holly’s part like a child rehearsing for a school’s non-denominational winter holiday celebration pageant. As he dropped off the tree inside the bakery, he psyched himself up to talk to Holly in a firm but respectful manner.

  But, before Rowan could say anything more than ‘hey’ to Holly, Krampus shouted, “We’re leaving, boy — now!”

  “But — “ started Rowan lamely.

  “Boy!” roared Krampus, and Rowan swore he saw Krampus’ emerald eyes fill with absinthe flames.

  “Bye,” said Holly softly.

  Rowan grabbed the pastries from the back of the pastry. Krampus had grabbed the carafes of coffee and was carrying them down to the dock.

  “What’s going on?” asked Rowan. “Is there an emergency at The North Pole?”

  “Your training is not complete,” said Krampus. “Every minute counts.”

  Rowan hurriedly got in the boat and undid the rope. He started rowing.

  “One minute, you wanted to be in that bakery, and now, you can’t seem to wait to get back to Camp Kringle,” said Krampus. “At least you’re obedient.”