First Christmas

First Christmas Diana DeRicci This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation. FIRST CHRISTMAS Copyright © 2010 DIANA DERICCI ISBN 978-1-936165-64-3 Cover Art Designed By Anastasia Rabiyah Edited By Stephanie Taylor and D. Thomas Jerlo

Chapter One Snow fell in thick-flaked flurries, the windows iced in the corners in splintered patterns. Christmas carols played in random order from the CD disks Lyndon had inserted in the stereo. He loved the traditional carols, Bing Crosby being among his all time favorites. No one could croon like Bing, Lyndon thought. The evening grew dark with early night, and he sat in his favorite rocker reading in front of the fireplace. He‟d learned to dismiss the derision at appearing like an old man because of his holiday habit. No one else had to know, and honestly, no one else did. Since his father died, he had no family to see, and doing more for Christmas than the small tree in the corner and enjoying the calm quiet when he was snowed in, just didn‟t appeal to him. But then again, most cougar shifters were solitary people to begin with. They didn‟t congregate at huge family reunions. They were family oriented, but more of a nucleus family, not the in-laws‟ cousins‟ fourth removed and the subsequent divided tree limbs of family. Tilting his head, he closed his eyes, catching the woeful howl of the wolf pack. Their songs bounced over the snow, keen and clear. He listened until it faded, then like a loop, started again. Except, their howls had changed, became hard, aggressive growls. He sat up. That wasn‟t like them, and they sounded very close. Standing, he set the book in his hand on the mantle and walked to peer out his window. Limping out of the trees, he saw the blurred form of a wolf, hobbling. The howls started again, and this time it was a hunting cry. He knew the poor creature on the snow was the harried game. Grabbing his heavy jacket by the fire, he leaped into his snow boots, strapping them down, listening to the wolves‟ cry. He darted through the house, leaving by the side door of the mudroom, circling back around, searching the tree line where he‟d seen it. Gray dusk made the snow seem even thicker as it fell, but he could just make out movement yards ahead of him. The animal had stopped, though streams of steam proved it still lived. He didn‟t recognize this one from his studies, and he‟d catalogued over forty-five different wolves in the local packs. His home, an old look-out cabin, sat nearly on the border of their two

territories, so every now and then, he actually could watch both, but for the most part, they avoided each other‟s land. Cutting through the snow, he listened, the howls coming closer. His hands were beginning to chill, and he stuffed them in his pockets, his fingers digging, but coming up empty. No gloves. He remembered. They were on the shelf drying out from his last foray outdoors. Couldn‟t be helped, he was halfway to the panting animal. Gray eyes focused on him as he neared. It didn‟t attempt to escape, it didn‟t snarl, and it didn‟t become defensive. It laid there. Studying it as he drew closer, he knew this one wasn‟t one of the wolves from either pack. He could also see what the problem was. A bloody paw was packed with snow and debris. “Poor baby,” he murmured. “Found an old trap, didn‟t you?” Cautiously, he eased his way forward, its gray eyes staying focused, yet its demeanor never changed. His brow furrowed. “You can‟t be a wild wolf. You‟d have tried to take my head off by now. I hope you‟re not a release wolf that hasn‟t found his footing.” He‟d have to radio the conservation center when the storm blew over to see if this one resembled one of their release wolves. A snarl whipped his attention over his shoulder. Three sets of eyes. Pissed off eyes glared at him. He growled low in his chest, hissing. The wolves were completely confused, tails in the air, full battle gear locked and loaded. Not turning his back on the three, he crouched and gently lifted the animal from the cold snow. It hung limp as a rag in his arms. “Definitely not wild,” he breathed, the words forming as clouds in the bitter cold. “All right, let‟s see what we can do about your foot.” He had to take the chance to turn away from the watching trio to get back to the cabin. Golden lights soothingly glowed through the frosted glass window in the front. The wolves that had been chasing his cargo stayed behind in the trees, sharp snaps and punctuated growls voicing their displeasure as he took away their game. “Too bad.” But they didn‟t follow him. The wolf‟s forefoot was a mess. With a glance, he hoped it was really only packed and not badly injured. It would be a shame that a release wolf would have to be reclaimed because of an injury like this. Nudging his way into the mudroom, he used a shoulder to secure the door then laid the wolf on a pile of summer rugs.

It whimpered once as its body settled. Gray eyes closed. Taking a quick inventory, he realized there wasn‟t a tag on this wolf anywhere. Hm. Not a release wolf? He stood slowly, still being cautious with the animal, but it seemed absolutely unconcerned with its eyes closed, resting, to anything Lyndon might do. He slipped from his jacket and hung it on the peg near the door, doing the same with his boots, ready for him on the floor. Now, he was definitely curious and concerned about the wolf before him. Not a release wolf, but way too docile to be a wild pack wolf. Lyndon couldn‟t remember any like this one, ever. Kneeling, he lightly touched it, waiting for a reaction, but all it did was open its eyes. “You aren‟t wild, are you?” he asked quietly. “Is that why they were chasing you? Because you‟re not wolf?” It raised its head with a jerk, startled eyes sharpening and focusing on him. “Thought so. You don‟t have to shift if you don‟t want to. I know it‟s uncomfortable when you don‟t know where you are, and the injury won‟t shift well with you. If it helps, I‟m not going to hurt you. I‟m a researcher. A cougar shifter with an affinity and divine love of wolves.” He smiled warmly. “Okay, before I talk you to tears—casualty of living alone during the winter—let me see if we can get your paw cleaned up.” Lyndon stood and turned the corner to gather supplies. **** Jason would have gaped if he‟d been in human form. What had it taken him? Like twenty seconds of inspection to figure it out? This was the most insane thing to ever happen to him. And wasn‟t it just his luck to be rescued by another shifter. A cougar shifter. He knew he should‟ve acted tougher when he‟d come closer, but he was tired from being chased over half the mountain. He wasn‟t even sure what he‟d done to piss off the pack he‟d ran with, but suddenly he was lower than the omega and told in no uncertain terms to get the hell out of their territory. He would have been fine if he hadn‟t hit that log in the drift. It tripped him and he‟d wrenched his paw. Since then, he‟d been hobbling and jogging along, trying to find a safe place to hole up. Then if bad luck couldn‟t get worse, the other pack had taken offense to his invasion into their territory. Christ! Can’t a man find an acre to just play in the snow anymore? He‟d taken a week for Christmas to run, and now he was stranded. Granted, it looked like the man who‟d rescued him

seemed to be mostly safe, even if he rivaled the Space Needle for height. He‟d outed himself without a single hesitation. Most shifters wouldn‟t share their I.Q., much less their hidden ability, or their shifter species. He heard footfalls of socked feet as his rescuer reappeared, a bowl and towels in his hands. “Okay, let‟s see what we have to work with. I‟ll try not to hurt you, but I‟m not a doctor.” He waited as though he anticipated actual acceptance. Jason huffed and stretched out his front legs. He‟d been completely discovered. His mother would have a cow over this. “By the way, I‟m Lyndon, like the president.” He dropped a cloth into the water and squeezed it out. Jason was surprised at the complete care he took with holding his leg. First, he used the water to drip wash the packed snow and debris free. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the twinges and stabs of pain. Slowly, he felt the crusted feeling on his fur thin and vanish. Blood. He hoped it wasn‟t as bad as he feared. A few days at the most to heal and he‟d be good as new. “This doesn‟t look too bad,” Lyndon stated, studying the paw, giving it a long once over. “I was worried it would be more gnarled than this. It probably wouldn‟t hurt to have stitches, but if you stay like this, I can wrap it snug and that should help. If you shift, I have butterfly strips, closest thing to stitches out here.” He dried the paw with tender care, rubbing it with light strokes until it was clean and the fresh blood had stopped welling. Empathy shined back at him from Lyndon‟s ice blue eyes. A cougar with quartz blue eyes? “I‟ll do what I can, but I am limited. You‟re welcome to stay as long as you want, until you heal, whatever. I have supplies to get through March or April, depending on the snowfall.” Jason watched him. Lyndon wasn‟t kidding; he liked to talk. Lifting his head, he sniffed then licked at his paw. He‟d be okay. Then he swiped a lick on the back of Lyndon‟s hand in thanks for his care, and for not pushing the shift. He seemed like a nice guy, but Jason had yet to find a guy who treated his two-legged body with this same kind of respect and kindness being shown to an injured wolf. He waited patiently as Lyndon wrapped his paw. “Okay, you‟re welcome to sleep here or closer to the fire. I‟ll put water down for you. I don‟t have a lot of raw meat, but I‟ll do what I can.” Jason stretched out on the rugs again, his body worn and exhausted, making it hard for him to do much of anything. He‟d

move later. He‟d think about food later. He‟d think about getting home later. Right now, he just wanted to rest. Quietly, Lyndon stood, picking up the bowl and dirty cloths and towel. He went to turn, then pausing, said over his shoulder, “By the way, I do have an emergency radio. If you have someone you need to contact, let me know.” Jason allowed himself to answer this one, shaking his head on the rugs. No. There’s no one. His parents would care if he vanished completely, but they knew he did this every year. Aside from them, there was no one in his life. And he rather they didn‟t know where he was. Jason caught through the slits of his eyes as Lyndon walked across the front room, poked at the fire and added another log. Grasping a book off the mantle, he scooted into a well-worn, thickly padded rocking chair and propped his feet up on a boxed ottoman to read. In the ensuing silence, broken only by the sound of Christmas music, Jason drifted into sleep.

Chapter Two Lyndon woke the next morning, stretching stiffly in the bed. Springs creaked in protest. The hardest part about winter was getting out of bed in the morning. He needed to rebuild the fire. He‟d turned off the generator when he went to bed, and there was a definite nip in the air inside. Blue ball freezing outside, no doubt, he mused. Gritting his teeth, he slid from bed, hopped into his slippers and tugged on his robe over his thermals. With his hair sticking up all over the place, he was sure he was a scary sight. Taking care of his bathroom business, he walked into the living room, and found the wolf curled into a ball in front of the now-dead fireplace. Not wanting to startle him, he said, “Morning.” Gray ears flickered. “I have to get firewood for today. You can use the bathroom, or come outside. I won‟t look,” he said, smiling with a cajoling laugh. He tugged on his robe, watching the animal‟s head. He knew he was listening, but he also recognized pure reticence to changing. “I meant what I said yesterday, I‟m not going to hurt you. I know I look scary and all Paul Bunyon-y, but I‟m not. Just a very soft spoken giant.” When he got no response from the wolf, he turned to dress, leaving it up to him what he wanted to do. Thinking, he dug through his clothes and found something to leave on the bed. Without knowing what his guest looked like, he couldn‟t really offer something size appropriate. He hoped it would encourage him to change, if he wasn‟t walking around naked. Tucking in his shirt, he went to the kitchen to set the coffeepot on the stove then sauntered into the mudroom to get his heavy jacket and gloves. Returning from outside with a stack of wood, he bent by the fireplace to start the fire, and then did the same in the stove. With the coffeepot set to make its magic, he grabbed the snow bucket and went back outside to get snow to melt for water. With that on the stove, he fed both fires a little at a time until they were going well. Lyndon decided to break out one of his jarred stashes of stew. It might help entice the wolf to change. He hadn‟t let his disappointment show when he‟d walked into the room and found him still curled up, only to the side, out of his path to the fireplace. With fresh water left in a large bowl for his guest, he went to the bathroom to finish cleaning up, and combed his hair. The scent

of coffee began to reach him and he sniffed, murmuring in appreciation. Done in the bathroom, he returned to the kitchen to start breakfast. It wasn‟t exciting to be on the mountain in the winter. Just usually really cold, but it worked for him. He didn‟t like crowds. He was fine with people, but large crowds made him jumpy. Long tailed cat analogies came to mind. With a cup of coffee in hand, he strolled out of the kitchen area to where his chair sat facing the now-crackling fireplace. “Can I look at your foot?” He sat down nearby, not too close to make him feel trapped, but close enough that he would have to make a small effort to reach Lyndon. Gray eyes lifted and blinked. He waited. Cautiously, the animal rose and limped over, the white bandage on the front paw looking terribly out of place. He sat down in front of Lyndon and offered his paw, like he wanted to shake. Lyndon removed the bandage, holding the leg steady with his other hand. Balling the gauze in his fist, he dropped it on the floor by his leg. “This looks so much better already. Another day or two and you‟ll be able to leave without a problem.” He let him test the foot to put weight on it. He could with less of a limp. It took Lyndon by surprise when the wolf leaned forward and set its jaw on his shoulder. He recognized the motion. Friends. “Hungry?” he managed to ask. Something about the wolf tugged at him. There was fear, too, in the animal‟s behavior. It wasn‟t normal for shifters to prefer their wild states. Stories in those gray eyes kept him hidden. The wolf stepped back and sat down again, tilting its head, then he nodded. “I have clothes you can borrow. Will you change to eat with me?” Gray eyes closed like blinds had been drawn and his head dropped. It tore at Lyndon when he cupped the long jaw, and he flinched at the slight touch. “Who hurt you?” The wolf backed up and curled in on itself in front of the fireplace again, its tail fluffed over its face, hiding. “All right. You‟re still welcome to eat something, but I‟d like to at least see your face.” Nothing, not a single twitch that he‟d heard.

Swallowing the sigh, Lyndon palmed the gauze and tossed it in the fireplace, standing to return to the stove with his lukewarm coffee. **** For two days the routine was essentially the same. Lyndon offered, and the wolf retreated. Healed enough to leave on the next morning, they both woke to a sheet of falling white. “Well, damn. That‟s going to make it fun,” Lyndon muttered. He didn‟t let it show when he heard the wolf grump. He didn‟t want to stay. Staying meant needing to shift was becoming a necessity. “Well, let me get the morning going. Biscuits and gravy with bacon sound okay to you?” He didn‟t wait for an answer, aware that expecting one would likely put more pressure on his guest. Instead, he laid out clothes again then went outside, tackling the snow to bring it in to melt. Moving around the kitchen, he noticed the gray fur rug that had taken up residence in front of the fireplace was gone. The initial thought was he‟d tried to leave during the blizzard, but he sincerely prayed he wouldn‟t risk it. He kept his surprise from being too obvious when he heard movement—physical human movement—from his bedroom. Seemed patience had outlasted stubborn. At six-eight, Lyndon knew he was intimidating. Because of that, he‟d grown accustomed to moving slowly, talking gently, even if he was prone to talk a lot when he got going. He wasn‟t the type to fly off the handle without provocation, and he didn‟t stay mad for long. He‟d hoped his guest had realized that over the last few days. Heck, even as a full size wolf, he‟d looked more like a pup next to him. Not that he‟d ever say that. Shifters did have pride. “Hi.” Lyndon stopped stirring the gravy on the stove and turned to look for the first time at his guest. Shaggy auburn hair crowned a pale face, taken up almost completely by wide gray eyes. “Morning,” Lyndon replied. In an instant, Lyndon could discern without question why he hadn‟t wanted to change. For a guy, he was too pretty. Big, stone gray eyes circled by cinnamon lashes, with a slim nose and perfect cheekbones, and full, sunset pink lips. With the red tint to his hair and fair skin, Lyndon guessed there was some natural redhead in his family tree, but the overall mix he got was pure feminine beauty. On a guy it was a ticket to a life of hell.

The shirt and thermals he‟d left on the bed swallowed the man‟s frame. He was five-seven or -eight, if he stretched. A light frame made it worse. He wasn‟t thin, or gamine, but he wasn‟t thick like an athlete would be either. Lyndon turned to not stare, aware that would make him more uncomfortable, continuing with breakfast. “There‟s spare toothbrushes in the catchall in the bathroom, and socks in the dresser. The gray thermals will keep you warm.” And everything he owned would be like dressing a five year-old in dad‟s clothes. “Thanks. I appreciate it,” he replied, a little soft, a lot nervous. “No problem. This will be ready soon.” He caught it out of the corner of his eye when his small pink tongue snuck out and licked his bottom lip. “Jason Stanville.” “Lyndon Granger. Nice to meet you.” When he didn‟t make any demands and Jason didn‟t seem inclined to ask, he spun and vanished quickly into the bedroom. Lyndon let out a slow breath. Way too pretty. How has he survived? Considering all the hiding he did the last three days, he wondered if he really was only surviving. **** Jason pushed the gravy around on his plate. It was good; he just wasn‟t comfortable. He wasn‟t used to being around people, and gentle or not, Lyndon was as tall as a mountain. “Your hand okay now?” Jason flexed it spontaneously. “Yes. Thank you. You didn‟t have to do what you did.” Lyndon sipped his coffee. “I know most of the wolves on this range by sight. If a release wolf was hurt, the conservatory would want to know.” Jason nodded. “You live up here year round?” “I leave three times between spring and the first hard fall to bring back supplies. I have a four-by-four and a snowmobile in the barn behind us. That‟s where the generator is kept.” Picking up his plate, he carried it to the sink where heated water for the dishes waited. “You don‟t mind it being so rustic?” “Not really. I‟ve gotten used to it. I‟ve lived up here almost eight years. I‟m not good around crowds. The folks in town are nice enough, and the Rangers check on me every now and then. They‟ll

probably come by after this blizzard blows over, make sure I didn‟t turn into a Popsicle.” Jason‟s lips twitched. “One heck of a Popsicle,” he mumbled. “I know.” Lyndon poured more coffee. “That‟s why I keep as much wood and fuel as I can. It takes me forever to melt to this size.” Jason snort-giggled, feeling his cheeks flush red. Lyndon scraped his plate and washed it. Drying it with another towel, he set it on the shelf. “Eat what you want. With this fresh fall, I‟m going to bring in extra wood and make sure the generator is clear in case it‟s needed. I won‟t be long. There‟re books by the fireplace. I know it‟s not the Ritz, but it‟s warm, and until the storm breaks, you‟re safe.” Mentioning the fact that he was alone with Lyndon made his heart skip into his ribs. It was only a matter of time before… “Thank you.” Jason set his fork down, keeping his eyes lowered. Men always say it was his eyes that draw them first. “I won‟t get in your way.” He knew without looking that Lyndon was staring. They always stare. He squirmed once then made himself stop. “The water on the stove can also be used to wash up,” he offered. “You do what you need to do, use what you want. I won‟t be long.” Jason felt him walk by, his long ambled gait relaxed, not slowing as he passed Jason‟s shoulder. Swishes and stomps told him he was dressing to go out. When the door thudded shut, he released the held breath that filled his lungs to aching. Taking his plate to the sink, he scraped it clean into the waste barrel then washed it, doing the same Lyndon had with his, setting it on the shelf. Utensils were in a drawer by the stove. The cabin did have running water, but it was probably a well system and froze solid during the winter. Walking back to the front room, he stared through the pane of glass to the falling snow. Thick, fat flakes didn‟t just fall, they poured from the sky. It took a few minutes for Jason to make the connection. He went out in this? Just to check the generator? Trembling, he immediately realized Lyndon wanted to give him a little space, and he‟d used the generator as an excuse. Sinking to the floor in front of the fireplace, he wrapped the over-large flannel around his frame. Warm, and as good as a blanket. With his socked feet tucked up under him, he rested his

chin on his knees and watched the fire. Soap opera of the rustic, he thought. The flames gradually soothed him into a meditative state, allowing him to relax.

Chapter Three Hunting with gloved fingers for the stiff tied loop on the safety line to stick his hand through, Lyndon gripped it to follow the frozen rope to the barn. Blind in a blizzard, it was the only way to navigate between the two buildings. He knew he didn‟t have to come out right this second, but the fear in Jason ate at him. He had little doubt the beautiful man had been raped, and likely more than once. Soft spoken, maybe even more than Lyndon, and cautious to a fault, Jason tore at Lyndon‟s being. Protective needs surged. He doubted Jason had a want for them. Lyndon hadn‟t ever expected to find anyone with the way he lived, way out in the wilderness, preferring solitude and quiet to cities and manic living. One of the reasons he‟d taken over the cabin, aside from his research, was because his size made finding a lover, much less a mate for his cougar, frustrating and often heart-breaking. Women were simply terrified of him. Only a few who knew him after many trips to town were comfortable with him, and none were to his personal tastes. The men… Pushing open the barn door, and shoving it shut against the weather, he sighed. Most of them felt they had something to prove. Bunch of big oxen, in his opinion. Thankfully, he didn‟t have to start the truck once he was inside. He‟d done that last trip, when it wasn‟t snowing like a bitch. Needed the door and windows open to let it run to charge and heat the engine through. On the far side of the vehicles, under a tarp, were a few boxes of his dad‟s belongings. War medals from his time in the service before he‟d met Lyndon‟s mother and things he‟d passed down to Lyndon. He‟d do something with them eventually. It wasn‟t like they were doing more than taking up space in a shed meant for that. Tugging off his gloves, he did a check of the generator since he was there, ensuring it was fueled and all the gauges read okay. Along the closest wall stood wood, piled about four feet high and several cords thick. Enough to get him through the winter. He could hunt deadfall if he needed it, but on days like this, camping out with a book or writing down his thoughts about the wolves and environment were the extent of his exertions. He was paid a small amount from conservational societies, but his living expenses, as meager as they were, were covered by the money his father had left to him. So, he had no reason to leave the mountain, but winters were still cold.

It wasn‟t any surprise to him in the least that bears chose to hibernate through winter. He‟d join them if he could. They had the right idea. Completing his checks, he stacked a Lyndon-sized load of wood into the shoulder strap he kept in a coat pocket, a back bunting carrier that left his hands free to navigate the rope. Hefting it onto his shoulders, he had enough to get them through several days if the blizzard didn‟t ease up any. He hoped Jason would be comfortable until then. No way was he letting him try to leave in this, on two or four feet. Iced rope guided him back to the mudroom door and once through, it slammed shut with the wail of the wind sucking at it. Stripping the leather carrier, he crouched to set it on the floor. “Are you okay?” Glancing up, a wide-eyed Jason studied him, his hands trembling until they settled at his sides. “Fine. The wind pulled it shut.” “Do… Do you need any help?” Jason bit on his bottom lip then let it go. Lyndon fought to make his smile non-threatening. “I‟m good. Stay warm by the fire. This just needs to be stacked.” His eyes widened. “You carried all of that?” Jason‟s pulse ticked beneath his skin, pounding. “Pays to make fewer trips in this kind of weather,” Lyndon explained, purposely not saying anything about his strength. Shifter plus giant equaled a circus-strong man. Just another type of freak for people to gawk at. He stayed where he was, still crouched. “Okay.” Watching a few seconds more, Jason then turned on a foot and vanished around the support wall. What happened to you? Thoughtfully, he freed his hands from his heavy gloves then began to stack the wood. Who hurt you? Lyndon wanted to tear their heads from their shoulders. Finished with the wood, he stood and stripped his coat to dry and laid his gloves on the shelf to do the same. As he stretched, he groaned, rubbing his hands for warmth. “Why do you have a Christmas tree?” Jason asked when he came into the front living space. There really weren‟t doors. The kitchen where he ate and living room were one large space, warmed by the fire. The bedroom and washroom were separated by a wall but he had no use for doors. The mudroom was the only area not really warmed by the fire, on the opposite wall abutting the kitchen.

“It‟s a week until Christmas,” he replied, not upset by the question. “But you live alone.” Jason sat in front of the fireplace, his legs pulled into his body, the shirt he wore tented over him and tucked around him. Sitting sideways, he could see Lyndon and keep himself warm at the same time. “I do. It gives me good memories. I spent a lot of time with my dad before he died. Christmas was one of those things we did together. It helps to break up the winter too. There‟s before Christmas, and after.” He shrugged, gathering his study paperwork and a pen to sit at the table. He needed to write down what he‟d seen about the wolves before he forgot the particular animals which had driven Jason into the cabin‟s clearing. Jason rested a cheek on his knees, gazing at the tree. “That‟s nice that you did that; that you have those kinds of memories.” “Do you spend time with anyone?” “Just my parents. I don‟t really go out.” His lips pressed together, not adding to it. Lyndon didn‟t push. Silence sank into the cabin. “Are you warm enough?” Jason startled, lifting his head. “I am, thank you. Did you know if you stare long enough, the ornaments sparkle from the fire and dance?” Lyndon looked toward his tree. “I think I noticed that once or twice. Cross your eyes, it‟s better.” When Jason did and giggled, Lyndon smiled. “How did you get hurt?” “I went through the crust, hit a log or something and wrenched my foot.” He lifted his arm. “Well, my hand, I guess.” He tucked it back into his body. “Running on it made it worse. I‟d tried to hole up, but the three who found me decided they didn‟t like that idea.” “I was worried it was a trap. I hate finding them. Most are too old and degenerated to harm, but occasionally one isn‟t.” “Understandable.” “Do you want to call to the Ranger‟s station, have them call your folks?” Jason shook his head. “No. They‟re not expecting to hear from me for days. Call them now and they‟ll panic. Storm the castle. It‟s not a pretty sight.” Lyndon thought about that. “Okay.” He tapped his pen. He watched Jason through lowered lashes. Was running the only time

he was left alone? Not watched? If he‟d been hurt in the past, he could understand being protective, but something about the way he said that led him to believe he didn‟t get to do it on his own very often. Overprotective parents could do that. He knew he was younger than himself. Lyndon was thirty-seven, and was sure Jason was at least five years younger. “When are they expecting you back?” “They‟ll meet me in Yellowstone after Christmas.” “You don‟t spend Christmas with them?” Jason only shook his head, his shoulders stiff. Lyndon knew when it was time to back down. He focused his thoughts in order to write, the scratch of the pen and glide of paper the only sound for some time. Jason‟s voice brought him up to look again. “Thank you for what you did. You didn‟t have to, though I am surprised you figured me out so easily. Mom is going to kill me when she finds out.” “You don‟t have to tell her,” Lyndon replied. Watching him a moment longer, Lyndon began to suspect it wasn‟t just his past haunting Jason and clouding his gray eyes, but his family as well. He didn‟t want to make assumptions, but some things were instinctive, and wanting to protect the gentle soul sitting in front of the fire ate at him. Lyndon feared it wasn‟t protection he received, but control, and that didn‟t sit well with him. Not in the least.

Chapter Four Jason waited for the cabin fever to hit, but it didn‟t. Two more days inside the warm cabin, and he couldn‟t remember feeling so insulated, so relaxed, from the outside world, in his life. The hard snowfall had stopped, leaving a pristine blanket of white that sparkled like diamonds in the hazy sunlight. “This is going to sound nuts, but I want to make snow angels.” He stood at the window, gazing at all the snow, feeling lighter than he had in years. He didn‟t know if it was because his mother wasn‟t standing over his shoulder, or if he felt safer here than he did at his own home. Lyndon was a giant, blue-eyed teddy bear, and he didn‟t sense a single thing threatening from him. Not like… He pushed it away. Those memories did him no good, and it was over. Devon was in jail now and Jason was safe. It was just hard to go on after everything. Devon hadn‟t even been the only one, just the one to get caught and sentenced. It sucked huge bullocks being „pretty‟ for a guy. He knew his voice sounded eternally prepubescent. He was lightweight in every sense of the word. A good breeze would blow him over. He‟d tried lifting weights. Gave him great definition, which only made some men stalk him harder. His parents had agreed to let him take a self defense course. His physical strength was aided by his shifter blood. It took a lot of fortitude to suffer through the abnormal toll the change puts on the body. It wasn‟t enough. Gripping the window frame, he knew if he hadn‟t been shifter, he would have died as a baby. “Are you okay?” Lyndon‟s calm rumble was close, but never encroaching. He never tried to touch him, not now that his hand had healed completely. The thoughtfulness of even that often made Jason‟s throat tight. Lyndon gave him space because he understood Jason‟s fears about not being able to make his own choices. This was something his mother had never grasped, and her behavior had only intensified since Devon‟s trial. “I want to make snow angels,” he said, rather than trying to explain the knot of thoughts and emotions. Lyndon cupped his chin, peering out the window with him, thinking. “I have some spare outer wear. It‟ll be big, but you can tie it close. Shoes will be a problem.”

Jason wiggled his toes, still in thermal socks. “Can I double layer these? I won‟t be out there long.” He longed to fall back into the powder and make a dent in the perfectness of it. He didn‟t get to play in the snow at home. He cringed inside when he realized that made him sound like a prisoner. “Sure.” Lyndon smiled. “Let me see what I have.” He left for his bedroom, Jason cautiously following. Except for going into the restroom, he didn‟t go in there, sleeping by the fire at night under a blanket and one of the rocker cushions. Lyndon hadn‟t argued one time, or made any problems with the arrangement, letting him keep his space. Lyndon opened the large closet and swept through his belongings. He laid some choices on the bed. “Roll them up, tie them, whatever you‟re comfortable with. The socks are a good idea. I‟ll see if I have a scarf. A little extra won‟t hurt.” Then he left Jason to change. He slipped the flannel over his head, wondering what Lyndon did about washing his clothes. Tugging on extra thermals and over shirts, he did the buttons then tied the ends of the shirt snug to his waist, rolling up the legs of the thermals to stuff into the socks. “I feel like a plumped doll,” he muttered. “All in the name of playtime,” Lyndon stated, holding a heavy wool jacket and scarf. “These were my dad‟s. Still big, but smaller than mine.” Jason‟s relief was fierce when he didn‟t remark on his size or comment. He hated being compared to a doll. He was a man, even if genetics had given him the shit end of the helix. “That will work fine.” He accepted the jacket and eased it over his shoulders. Lyndon handed him the scarf and he swung it around his neck. “My butt may freeze, but it‟ll be worth it.” “Snow angels always are.” Lyndon grinned with him, turning to lead the way outside. Crisp air filled his lungs when he stepped outside. The feel of crunching snow under his feet sent shocks through his toes up his calves, brittle like sugar glass, but sinking into it at the same time like soft sand. He knew he wouldn‟t have long before the layers of clothing succumbed to the biting cold. Clouds floated in front of him with each breath. “It‟s beautiful,” he whispered, staring across the clearing where snow stood a couple feet thick. The mudroom was on the lee of the house, catching less of the drifts.

Trees were coated in a blanket of white, thick piles that hugged the branches. There weren‟t many icicles yet. Not enough thawing, but ice glistened on bark and everywhere in the snow. It was a breathtaking view. Not a mar in the scene. Devilish glee made him hop on his toes. He wanted to mess it all up, because the next snowfall would create a whole new slate of pristine. He watched as Lyndon tugged on a rope, hearing it pop while ice and snow flew off of it. “Always check it to make sure it‟s stable when I come out. Dumb men don‟t survive winters up here.” “Good point,” Jason agreed. He took a few hesitant steps, curling his toes into the snow. Then he took a running leap, spinning and flopping down on his back, a huge poof of powder flying around him. Lyndon‟s deep laughter filled him as he made his snow angel. A numb butt was nothing for a snow angel. Sweeping his arms and legs back and forth, he dug himself into the snow. He spotted Lyndon nearing, facing him, then squeaked when he fell backward the other way. Another powder explosion filled the air and Jason laughed. A few grunts later, Lyndon leaped to his feet. Giving a wide berth around their creations, he offered a hand. “Come see.” Jason grasped his fingers and let himself be bodily lifted from the ground. Lyndon was quick to settle him lightly on his feet again. His hand was warm within Lyndon‟s, skin sliding away as he let him go. Rough, but infinitely tender. Strong, but aware and light in touch. Heat filled his hand to reach his chest. The whole process had taken seconds, but his heart pounded like he‟d been chased by the wolves all over again. And this time it didn‟t flutter in fear. **** Lyndon swallowed, carefully tucking his hands into his pockets, curling his fingers over his palm to capture the unexpected tingle. He hadn‟t anticipated that. He‟d been expressly careful to not touch Jason, worried the other man would become frightened. He hadn‟t expected a physical reaction between them. The sudden surge of heat and sensation had taken him completely by surprise. Walking to stand at the base of the angels, he motioned for Jason, determined to not let it show and frighten him. He was already trembling from the cold, his cheeks hued red, but his eyes were crystal bright. A few more minutes and he would convince him to go inside and warm himself by the fire.

“They‟re beautiful,” Lyndon said, pleased with their angels. “I haven‟t done that in years.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask him why. He really wanted to know more about him, but didn‟t want to make him retreat back into himself either. Lyndon also feared he knew why Jason hadn‟t made a snow angel recently. “You ready for something hot?” Jason blew on his hands, chaffing them in the cold. “I think so. Thank you for letting me do this.” “Jason, I didn‟t let you do anything. You‟re a free man, and always will be.” Jason gaped at him, his lips parted gently. The stunned reaction and comment almost confirmed his thoughts. Guarding in the guise of concerned protection was still a gilded cage. “Let‟s go heat up some chocolate.” Jason nodded, trailing after Lyndon back to the cabin. He glanced over his shoulder, swallowing his chuckle, discovering Jason strode in his boot prints, stretching to fill them with his own pace, gray thermal socks barely making a mark in the indentions. Stripping off the coats, Lyndon hung them and the scarf to dry. “You need it, it‟s here. Don‟t ask.” Jason nodded, his eyes downcast. Lyndon really wasn‟t the kind to temper, but he wanted to desperately beat the hell out of whoever hurt Jason. “Let me change. The socks need to dry, too.” “Go ahead,” Lyndon replied. “You can put them by the fire. Toasted socks.” That almost got a grin, weak though it was. He sighed, watching Jason scurry to the bedroom to strip and cover himself again with the flannel and long underwear he‟d been in since he‟d arrived. He accepted it. The need to protect the younger man got to him. He just didn‟t think Jason would take too kindly to yet another person hovering over him. The pure joy and freedom on his face when he‟d made the snow angel was priceless. “Anything I can help with?” He stood near the table, his hands behind his back. He almost told him no, then changed his mind. He wondered if Jason actually got to help with anything. “Sure. I‟ve got the water heating. There‟s a box of chocolate mix in the pantry. If you could grab that and two mugs, we‟ll be set.” Stunned, Jason stood frozen for a couple seconds. “O-Okay.” Nailed. Lyndon didn‟t sigh. He didn‟t look at him either. Fury boiled up and would have frightened his little guest into a

corner if he let it show. Breathing through his nose, he calmed back down. Waiting for the water to boil, he asked, “Want to help with dinner later?” “Can I?” Anticipation poured off of him. He couldn‟t deny him now if he wanted to. “Yep. It‟s nothing fancy, but it‟s a filling dish.” “I want to help!” Lyndon faced him, and felt the tug of Jason‟s expression pulling at him. “For as long as you‟re here, you‟re welcome to.” “Really?” “Yes.” “I‟d like that. A lot.” “Then you‟re hired.” Jason let out a cheer, smiling broader than Lyndon had ever seen as he prepped the mugs for the hot cocoa. Sitting in front of the fire, sipping hot chocolate, Lyndon asked, “How old are you anyway, Jason?” Without looking at him, he made a curious face. It wasn‟t a critical importance, but he seemed so young at times, then so old, not to mention wounded. It was hard to tell. “I‟m twenty-seven.” He propped his arms on his lifted knees, sipping out of his clasped mug. “You?” “Ten years older. Thirty-seven.” “That‟s not that bad,” he mused lightly. “I‟m sure if I went anywhere, I‟d be carded.” He winced, and shook his head. “Your parents really keep a tight leash on you, don‟t they?” he asked. “That‟s one way of putting it.” He scraped a nail down the side of his mug, huddled into a tight ball as he‟d done for days in front of the fire. “Do you want to talk about it?” Lyndon leaned back in his chair, holding his mug on a thigh. He wasn‟t going to push, but Jason tore him apart. “Why don‟t you just ask what‟s on your mind?” he offered quietly. “It‟s faster, and you‟ll still get the whole picture.” Lyndon paused, staring at him then into the fire. “How many times were you raped?” A flinch, but nothing more. “Enough. At least one man is in jail.” He sipped then ran a finger over his lip. “You really cut right to the chase, don‟t you?” “Seems like it would be more painful to do it in small portions.”

Jason sighed, a soft, woeful sound. “Believe me, it is.” “Just taking a stab here, but this week, this is your only outlet away from whatever you have at home, isn‟t it?” “Yes. It‟s why I don‟t want them to know. They‟ll come get me, and take me back right now, and I… I don‟t want to go.” It wasn‟t said petulantly, more firmly. “Are they shifter too?” “Dad is. Mom is delicate; she‟d kill me for saying frail, but with a steel will. The genetic Petri dish really got me. I look like her, but I‟m a guy. I should have been a girl and look like Dad, then I‟d only be butch, not this.” He waved a hand down his front, sneering. “You‟re a good person, Jason. What‟s on the outside means dick if the inside is rotten. You could look like any top fifty, and it wouldn‟t mean anything.” He rested his chin to a knee. “I know. This…” He swallowed, sipping liquid to clear his throat. “This really wouldn‟t suck so badly if things had gone a different direction. Mike Tyson has a girl‟s voice, but he can kick ass. Rob Pattinson is thin with cheekbones, but he‟s an actor. I found the wrong boyfriend, and I‟ve been coddled ever since. It never ends.” Lyndon knew who Tyson was, but didn‟t have a clue about the Pattinson guy. Wait. Boyfriend? He closed his eyes, the heat in his hand coming back to him in a flash. The single touch. He refused to listen to it. “You‟re a good guy, too, Lyndon. You do know that, right?” His lips twitched into a half smile, his gaze darting to Jason as he stood. “I‟m getting another. Want some more?” He put his hand out for Lyndon‟s empty mug. “I‟d like that. Thank you.”

Chapter Five They were washing the dishes together when the loud brrr of a snowmobile broke the church-like quiet of the evening. “Rangers. If you don‟t want them to know you‟re here, just stay inside, or go to the bedroom. I won‟t say anything.” “You don‟t have to lie.” “It‟s not lying if they don‟t ask,” he explained with a nudge of his elbow, just a light tap. Jason seemed to think about it. “I don‟t want to leave, but when you‟re ready for me to, I will.” “Quit that,” he grumbled. “I‟m not kicking you out. I don‟t care if you stay all winter.” Jason didn‟t lift his head, drying the dish in his hand with extreme studiousness. Lyndon left him to meet Brock. He was usually the one who came that far to see how he fared. Grabbing his heavy jacket, he slid on his boots and walked outside, holding the jacket edges together. “Ranger Brock.” “Good to see you Lyndon.” They shook hands. “You holding up okay? No problems this winter?” He stood beside his snowmobile, his glove-padded hands in his pockets. His cheeks were chapped red from the winter bite on his skin. “No, it‟s been quiet. The wolves haven‟t been on the move much.” “There‟s reports the game moved east some. You may not see them for a while.” “I‟ll keep that in mind.” Brock straddled his snowmobile and readjusted his jacket. “Okay, I‟m off for the next station. Use the radio if you need anything.” “I will, and thanks for checking.” He started the engine and slowly picked up speed, disappearing into the trees on a known trail. Lyndon waited for the sound of his engine to fade to nothing before backtracking to the mudroom. “Everything okay?” “Sure. They do checks as they go station to station. They can see the smoke from my chimney miles away so I don‟t worry. If they didn‟t see it, then they would worry.”

“Oh, that‟s good. Like a long distance alarm,” Jason suggested. “Exactly.” “Dishes are done, and I‟m already melting snow for tomorrow morning. The stove fire is still going well.” Lyndon shifted to meet his gray gaze. “Great. Then we can go warm up by the hearth.” “Lyndon?” “Yes?” “How do I bathe? If possible.” He bit at his lip and looked away. “Jason,” he said gently. With a very light touch, he stroked his cheek. “Just ask, anything. It takes some time to warm up, but there‟s a water basin for the tub. I‟ll show you how to do it.” When touching his skin, he discovered something. Jason didn‟t shave, or if he did it was very rarely. His heart tripped, then thudded hard as the sensation of smooth skin flitted over his nerves. He dropped his hand before he touched more. Staring into gray eyes, Jason watched him, too. “How could anybody hurt you?” Lyndon wondered aloud. Maneuvering a step, he walked past him into the bathroom, before he managed to scare Jason. “It‟s better during the day, after the stove has heated. This panel here…” He flipped a flue handle on the bathroom wall. “Redirects the exhaust through coils underneath the water basin in the wall. It takes about half an hour, but it‟s enough water to scrub with.” “You fit in there?” Jason looked over Lyndon‟s crouched body, steadying himself with a palm on a shoulder to peer at the ceramic tub. Lyndon laughed at his expression and his question. “It‟s tight for me. The left over water at the end of the day is poured into the spout over the stove, which fills the tank. It also collects rain water.” “Oh. I‟m using your saved water. I can‟t do that.” “Jason?” “Yes? “How much snow do you think we have out there?” He shrugged. “Several feet.” “It would take a while to melt, but isn‟t snow just frozen water?” Jason blinked then blushed. Lyndon shooed him backward with gentle hands, then spun him into the bathroom in his place.

“Take a bath if you want. I just realized the flue was left open, so the water will be heated. I‟m terrible about doing that, forgetting to close it after. Use whatever you need, and I‟ll leave a fresh shirt on the bed for you.” He took a step back, holding up a hand to stop any arguments when Jason‟s mouth popped open. “Go ahead.” He was almost out of the bedroom when Jason‟s sweet voice stopped him. “Lyndon?” “Yes?” “Thank you.” He smiled, hiding it by not turning around. “You‟re very welcome.” Lyndon sat in his rocking chair, trying to not think about Jason in his bathtub. He couldn‟t believe anyone would want to hurt him, much less a lover, someone he would have trusted. He seemed fragile, but strong-willed given the opportunity. Lyndon knew no matter how much he physically reacted to him, he couldn‟t move on that attraction. Lyndon would break Jason. Firelight twinkled on glass and crystal ornaments on the small fir across the space from him. Standing, he said, “Jason, I‟ll be right back. I‟m going to turn on the generator. I feel like music tonight.” “Okay,” he called. Swiping his jacket and shoving on his boots, he quickly cleared the distance to the barn. Pulling the cord, the generator hummed to life. He used it sparingly, in case of real emergencies, so tonight wouldn‟t hurt. Returning, he quickly picked out several CDs and slid them into slots. Soon Christmas music filled the cabin. He added logs to the fire in the hearth and settled in his rocker. For the first time he regretted not having an extra chair. Jason had been sitting and sleeping on the floor, without complaint. He noted the blanket he used was folded and tucked against the wall by the fireplace. He anticipated Christmas, even though he didn‟t exchange gifts with anyone, or usually even share the holiday. But if Jason was still there in three days… An idea began to form as Lyndon focused on the tree ornaments and the way they sparkled. Muted splashes told him Jason was finishing up, so he purposely closed his eyes and rested his head, affording him any privacy he wanted until he was dressed enough to be comfortable.

The quiet pad of feet neared Lyndon. “Is it safe? Are you clean?” he asked. Jason chuckled. “For the moment.” Lyndon opened his eyes and found him sitting cross-legged on the floor, toweling his hair dry. Another clean shirt covered him from shoulder to thigh, though he‟d rolled the sleeves up like before. “Jason, I‟m going to make an offer. There‟s nothing intended other than hospitality and comfort for you. Would you like to sleep on the bed?” He didn‟t phrase it „with me‟, or „shared with me‟, because it wasn‟t meant that way. Jason‟s hand slowed then dropped to his lap, the towel clutched tightly. “No sex?” “None.” “Honestly?” he asked with a glacial note of derision. Gray eyes narrowed, calling it a bluff. “Honest.” He let out a breath. “Okay, in honesty, yes, I‟m like you, but I won‟t take advantage of that.” He snorted, and Lyndon felt the wall building between them again, the wounded man not wanting to have anything to do with rebuilding his life. He continued to dry his hair in jerked movements. “The very first time I was raped, it wasn‟t even by a gay man.” Lyndon froze. “It was my uncle. Of course, Dad didn‟t believe me. I refused to talk to his brother ever again. Still haven‟t. He got away with it. Devon didn‟t. This time, they believed me. Want to know why?” His stomach twisted at the brittle anger in Jason‟s explanation. Lyndon didn‟t want to know. “He put me in the hospital. For more than two years, I‟ve been under lock and key with my mother practically bottle feeding me every day. This escape is my only time out, and do you know why? Because I‟m wolf! Because there isn‟t another human being within eighty miles of me when I run. If there was, they‟d refuse me. I‟m a college graduate, not that it matters. I have no friends, no life. Mom is terrified of me being hurt again like that. Dad…” Jason snorted in utter contempt. “He just doesn‟t know what to do with the pretty gay boy who is his son. Football? Hardly. Corporate anything? I tried. I was propositioned twice in the first week. I quit. I even had a porn studio approach me. I turned them down, but

thinking back, maybe I should have just to get the hell out of that house!” He sagged, covering his rage-mottled face with the towel, sucked draughts keeping tears at bay. Angry sobs that tore at Lyndon. Lyndon couldn‟t take it. He slid from the chair and knelt next to him. Wrapping his arms around him, he rocked them both, and with the simple gesture, it was like a floodgate opened for Jason, hot tears that flowed down his face. A half-hearted fist pounded at Lyndon‟s chest as he struggled with himself. It tore Lyndon apart. “I‟m tired of it, Lyndon. I didn‟t ask to be like this,” he said thickly from where he pressed into Lyndon. “I want to move on, move out, get on with life, but I know once I go home, the gates will close and I‟ll be trapped for another year. She‟s getting worse as time goes on. She argued with me about being gone past Christmas this time.” “Don‟t you celebrate Christmas with them?” “It‟s always awkward. They honestly don‟t know what to do with me, or about me. I came up with the idea of range running so at least they could celebrate together without me interfering. It‟s worked well so far. This is the third Christmas I‟ve been free.” He wiped his eyes then leaned against Lyndon‟s hold to look up. “I knew this year when I went home, I was going to have to demand changes, leave if necessary. I can‟t take this anymore. I‟m not that fucking fragile!” He pounded the floor. The shout and motion startled Lyndon. “Oh God! I‟m sorry. I didn‟t—” “Shh. You didn‟t do anything,” he crooned, then laughed. “I wondered where your spirit was. I think it just came out of hibernation.” Jason‟s jaw swung loose. “You‟re not mad?” “Never. Well, that‟s a lie. Everyone gets mad, but I would never get mad at you for expressing yourself.” He swept hair out of Jason‟s face. “He really hurt you, didn‟t he?” Closing his eyes, he settled against Lyndon. “We dated for a few months. I didn‟t even know he had a history of abuse. Not exactly listed on the „get to know you‟ card.” Lyndon nodded. “Afterward, Mom just kind of went hyper-maternal. There‟s maids now. I don‟t have to lift a finger, can‟t. You‟d think it would be cool, but trust me, it‟s not. It‟s like suddenly being shoved back to sixteen, only I‟m legally able to get drunk. Just can‟t get out the front door to do it.” He lifted the towel and swiped it over his eyes.

“Then there‟s the face and the attached theretofore body. I hate the way I look. I‟m constantly mistaken for a girl of nineteen.” “Ouch,” he breathed. “Exactly.” “So you don‟t hate life, just where you are at the moment,” Lyndon deduced. He sighed and snuggled in closer. “Yeah, that‟s about it. I‟m ready to move on, but Mom is holding on tighter. I know I‟m stronger, though there‟s still some things I need to work on. You‟ve helped me to see that.” Without asking, he stood, holding Jason braced easily in his arms. He squeaked, quickly looping his hands upward. “Lyndon!” He glared, but without any real heat. “My knees can only take so much of that,” he explained, calmly settling them both into the rocker. “You can move any time, and you know it.” Shyly, Jason nodded. “Took me by surprise,” he murmured, but didn‟t argue again when Lyndon placed him on his lap, covering him modestly with the shirt tails. “My offer still stands. I respect you, Jason. Did you know you marked me as a friend when you were still wolf? I know about those kinds of bonds even if cats are a little different in the manner. I respect you. It‟s your choice.” “Thank you, Lyndon. That‟s all I ever wanted from anyone.” Moist breath flowed over his neck and Lyndon almost purred.

Chapter Six He hated having to stand and turn off the generator before bed that night. He‟d discovered he liked having someone to hold, that he liked Jason‟s weight settled against his shoulder as he dozed. The downside was getting his ass cold again for the pleasure of electricity. But it had been worth it. The music had helped soothe Jason, and after hearing his story, had given Lyndon even more of a reason to make this Christmas special for him. The problem was how. He didn‟t have a way to make him a fancy gift, and didn‟t want him to feel obligated in any way when he wouldn‟t be able to reciprocate. That wasn‟t the point. Letting Jason feel special was important. Lyndon didn‟t care at all if he did or didn‟t receive anything back. Half asleep, he settled Jason on one side of the bed, covering him with layered quilts then left to turn off the generator. Returning, he banked the fire, placing the screen in front then entered the bedroom space to find him scrunched into a pillow, his breathing deep and easy. He‟d probably hated sleeping on the floor, but Lyndon knew he never would have asked for more. At least it had been warm in front of the fireplace. Stripping down to his thermals, he slid onto the opposite side, waiting for a sign that Jason had been disturbed. Nothing. He relaxed, his own breathing grew steadier as sleep pulled him under. **** Jason snuggled in tight to the body heat behind him. He was engulfed in warmth from the back of his knees to his neck. Watery sunlight crept through his eyelids. He twisted to bury himself into the pillow, fighting it. He hadn‟t felt this good in a long time. Don’t take it away, he moaned silently, pouting. A hand squeezed his thigh lightly, then stilled, steady breathing moving Lyndon‟s chest behind him. Once he was sure he was asleep again, Jason eased from the bed, staring at him for a brief moment. Huge as an ox and as gentle as a cotton fluff. Thick blond hair rose in spikes, classic bed head. Jason grinned, tiptoeing to the restroom, trying to be quiet. Done in the bathroom, he went to the mudroom and gathered wood, stacking it in the fireplace and in the stove. Using the matches above the stove, it took a few tries but he convinced the

kindling to spark and glow. He prepped the coffee. Then all there was to do was go outside and fill the snow bucket to melt. He stood in the mudroom trying to figure out how to carry the large handled bucket and keep his jacket on at the same time when Lyndon walked up. “What are you doing?” Jason jerked around. He couldn‟t read Lyndon‟s expression, but he wasn‟t pleased, he knew that much. “I was going to get snow to melt.” “You‟ll freeze.” “I‟ll only be outside a minute.” Lyndon eased the bucket out of his hand to place on the floor. “Jason.” “I just wanted to help. You‟ve done everything.” Jason glared at him. He wanted to do this! He wasn‟t an invalid, even though his mother saw him in no other way. “Jason, baby. Did you even look outside?” He blinked. “No.” Lyndon offered a hand and Jason slipped his into it, following him. They paused in front of the window in the living room. Snow had started to fall, thick waves of white. “Oh.” He sagged, defeated. “It wasn‟t snowing when I woke up.” “It‟s okay.” Lyndon tugged him backward, his arm and hand crossed over Jason‟s chest. “I know how you meant it. I just don‟t want anything to happen to you, and I know you‟d be determined to see it through, even if you couldn‟t see two feet in front of you.” Jason sighed. “Yeah, probably.” Lyndon snickered. “Uh huh. More than probably. I adore your independence.” He gave him a squeeze, bringing him flushed into Lyndon‟s frame. Jason‟s eyes widened. He knew what that was pressing into him. But Lyndon didn‟t move, didn‟t say anything, didn‟t do anything about it. Crazily, Jason‟s heart began to race, his blood pulsing in answer. Heat suffused his skin, inching up his neck. No one since Devon had made him even get hard. He hadn‟t been capable, yet here he was. His shaft thickened in his oversized thermal underwear. He couldn‟t mistake it for anything else. The tight pull on his groin. It was delicious, and unexpected. Lashes sank as desire flooded through him. It felt incredible to want again. Knowing Lyndon desired him didn‟t scare him, even for his size and strength. Lyndon wouldn‟t do anything, not even touch him, if Jason so much as peeped.

He pressed into solid heat, his head finding Lyndon‟s sternum, slow breaths warming the top of his head. Comforting. Not demanding. A shuddering breath filled Lyndon‟s frame and he slowly let it out, releasing Jason at the same time. “Sorry,” he mumbled. Jason opened his eyes and noticed their reflection was clear in the window pane. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were gray, dark as the heaviest winter clouds, edgy with desire. Lyndon watched him in the reflection, and he was definitely able to see it. “Wait,” he whispered. Lyndon froze. Jason shivered, licking his lips as he studied the bigger man. “This isn‟t a good idea, Jason.” “Isn‟t that my decision to make?” he challenged. “I‟ll hurt you.” “Not if we take our time,” Jason suggested. “I don‟t have condoms.” It sounded to Jason like Lyndon was trying to find any way he could to talk him out of it. Which meant Lyndon wanted him, too. As if the thick cock pressing against him wasn‟t clue enough. “Then we‟ll go slow.” He spun cautiously in his hold. “Lyndon? I haven‟t since Devon. I haven‟t been able to.” With a hesitant twist, he straddled a strong thigh. The pressure on his groin made him tremble. “This is because of you.” “Haven‟t been able to?” he echoed, pain in the words. Blue eyes darkened and he looped his arms around Jason, holding him close. “Baby.” He let out a harsh groan. Lowering, Lyndon laid his cheek to the top of Jason‟s head. “If he ever tries to get to you—” Jason lifted his hand and stilled his words, pressing fingertips to his lips. “Shh. He‟s in jail and will be for a long time. I wasn‟t the only one he did that to.” “I will never understand that,” he murmured, brushing his lips over Jason‟s hair. “Because you‟re nothing like him.” Jason tightened himself into Lyndon‟s hard chest, hearing the slightest purr rumble inside of his large torso. “I‟ve never known a cougar shifter.” He rubbed his head over hard pecs and sternum. “You make my cougar very happy,” he breathed. “Lyndon?” He sighed in contentment. “Yes?” “Take me to bed.”

A slow drawn breath. A single shudder, and then Lyndon relaxed. “Absolutely sure?” He rose on his toes and touched their lips together. “Absolutely sure.” Sweeping his arms upward, he captured Lyndon‟s neck and pulled him down. Lyndon‟s large palms held him close, dipping his head to ghost sweet kisses to his face and lips. Breath curled over his ear as Lyndon whispered, “I‟m not calling you a girl, but you are beautiful. I‟ve never seen lips like yours.” Jason knew he blushed. “It‟s always my eyes,” he remarked sheepishly. Lyndon straightened to peer at them. “Beautiful, yes, but you have the sweetest lips.” “Then why don‟t you kiss me?” “First this.” He released him enough to remove the wool coat Jason had forgotten about. “I‟m sorry I couldn‟t do it all this morning.” “Hush,” he chastised sweetly, sealing his mouth with a slow kiss for punctuation. “I‟ve never had anyone do anything for me. Not since I was a kid,” he added drily. He draped the jacket over the back of the rocker. “I wish I had something that fit you better though.” “I‟m fine,” Jason stated. Clothes were honestly the last thing on his mind at the moment. Unless it was getting out of them. He tugged at the waist of Lyndon‟s shirt and with his help, pulled it over his head. Solid and muscled, his chest took Jason‟s breath away. He felt so good under seeking palms, a light stroke that made Lyndon clench and shiver in reaction. Jason looked up. “Can we here, in front of the fire?” Lyndon‟s blue eyes sparkled. “Let me get the blankets off the bed.” Jason tugged the rocker out of the way, spreading his blanket out first. “Since it‟s already been on the floor,” he explained when Lyndon returned with bedding balled around his hand. Lyndon opened his mouth, and Jason quickly cut him off. “I was fine with it. Don‟t think about it.” Lyndon nodded then began to fluff the quilts into a layer of softness. Jason stepped forward when Lyndon offered a hand. Together, they sank to their knees, the height difference shrinking considerably. “Now I don‟t feel like a giant,” Lyndon mused with a smile.

Jason wound fingers over his broad shoulders to thread with flicks through his blond hair. He likely cut it before winter and let it grow. The length was starting to fall, but given incentive, would stick up in tufts. Jason lightly strafed his fingers through it. “My gentle giant,” Jason breathed, reaching to seal their lips together. Lyndon‟s hands were warm, stroking over his shoulders and caressing Jason‟s jaw. The crackle of the fire was the only other sound in the room, the eddying warmth flowing over them. Jason released his lips to nibble at Lyndon‟s jaw. His body throbbed, a pleasure he hadn‟t experienced in years, a want and need that took his breath away. The brutality of his attack and the fears were gone, but he‟d had no desire, and no want to find it. He‟d feared he‟d actually lost the yearning to be touched or desired. This was a little bit of a miracle to Jason. Moving in slow randomness, Jason coasted with licks and nibbles down Lyndon‟s throat to scrape his teeth lightly over a thick collarbone. “What was your dad, anyway, half redwood?” he joked mischievously, repeating the caresses to the other shoulder. Lyndon laughed, his kneading fingers inching under Jason‟s shirt, large and loose on him. He shivered in delight as roughened fingertips rasped over ribs and abdomen. “No, just a big guy. He was six-six.” Jason relaxed on his calves, shaking his head with a playful grin, staring into crystal blue eyes. “He must have been an amazing man.” “He was,” Lyndon agreed. Jason lifted his arms and his protective flannel was tossed on the rocker with the others, quickly stacking a pile of discarded clothing. “The fun was mom. She was six foot.” Jason paused long enough to catch his shadow-filled gaze. “Really? That‟s tall for a woman.” “I know. She died of cancer when I was twenty-five. She was human.” Jason pressed a flat palm over Lyndon‟s heart. “She was an incredible woman. I can hear it in your voice.” Lyndon sighed. “She was. Dad only lived another five years without her.” Jason lifted his hands and palmed his jaw, stroking with light fingertips. “They have an incredible son.” A single hand drifted up Jason‟s spine to cup the back of his head. He melted, bending willingly when Lyndon tipped to kiss

him. The touch was tender, the pressure slow to build, and when Lyndon urged him to lay down on the blankets, he knew he‟d never find anything closer to heaven in his life.

Chapter Seven Lyndon‟s heart filled his throat. Jason was an amazing young man. He prayed he never met the Devon who had hurt him so badly to have put him in the hospital. Lyndon wasn‟t violent, but he was positive Devon had never met a man like Lyndon either. It wasn‟t violence if it was protection, and he knew he‟d do anything now to protect the sweet guy looking up at him. Yes, he did have amazing eyes, stone gray, windows into his thoughts, and right now they glowed. But Lyndon was definitely hungry for those lips. Fuller now after their kisses, they called to him. “It‟s been a while, baby,” he warned, nuzzling along the side of his face, wallowing in the pressure of Jason‟s fingers in his hair. “I‟ll try not to hurt you.” Jason twisted and nipped at his chin. “Just love me. Quit thinking.” Lyndon swallowed hard then stretched out alongside him off his knees. Being big and getting old sucks, he thought, then he stopped thinking because Jason was determined to make him Lyndon‟s center of focus, and was doing a damn good job of it. Little teeth nipped at flesh with playful growls showing his excitement. “Tell me what you want,” he urged, arching to give those wicked lips and teeth room. “Your lips, your mouth, your hands, everywhere,” Jason breathed, moist and hot against Lyndon‟s neck. Lyndon moaned. He rolled and straddled Jason. “Okay?” He didn‟t want to push him into something that would frighten him. “I‟m good. I love your legs, so big and strong.” Jason stroked his thighs, his thumbs curling inward into the V of his groin and pressing down, making his cock and balls bulge against thermal cotton. Lyndon watched him lick his lips, hunger making his eyes glitter. “That is impressive,” he murmured hoarsely. Lyndon didn‟t stop him when he tugged the waist down on his hips. Jason‟s moan was the sexiest, most thrilling sound ever heard. He watched as Jason propped himself on his elbows, inching down the blanket. Hoisting himself upward, he dropped a kiss on the damp tip. Lyndon hissed as pleasure knifed up his spine with the speed of a lightning bolt. He guessed the moan was all the encouragement Jason needed because he opened wide and covered the swollen head.

Lyndon trembled. Lord, how he trembled. Gasps for air were rough sounds in his ears. It wasn‟t a prime angle, but somehow Jason made it work, bobbing up and down in slow motion. Heat sang from that bedazzling mouth to his balls. Then Jason swirled his tongue, licking him and Lyndon‟s eyes crossed. With an unsteady hand, he tugged lightly at his hair. “Stop,” he croaked. Looking like a well-fed cat, Jason gazed up at him. “Can‟t wait to make you come.” Then surprising Lyndon again, he tugged his waist back into place, covering his cock. “That is too tempting to leave staring at me,” he explained with an impish grin. He licked his lips again, as though in decadent enjoyment. Jason left him speechless. Motioning for him to move to where he had been, Lyndon hooked the long johns on his narrow hips. He‟d rolled them up and tucked them toga style to stay up. They almost poured off of him as he scooted backward, exposing his turgid cock, shiny and damp with his own need. He tossed them, not caring if they made it to the chair or not. Watching Jason‟s expressions, he glided his hands up firm legs, seeing light scars on his inner thighs the higher he went. “Oh, baby,” he said, appalled at the proof. For a shifter to scar… It almost made it impossible to breath. The extent he must have suffered could have very well crushed bigger men. Reverently, he pressed kisses to each and every one he found. The tender sweep of Jason‟s light fingers in his hair eased his roiling emotions. “They don‟t bother me,” he said. Just a fact. Like he had gray eyes. Lyndon‟s heart clenched. “I do have something that would really like to be kissed though.” Lyndon heard the anxious playful need in his voice, followed by the insistent tug in his hair. “I‟m getting there,” he replied. “Please. Need you.” Jason‟s fingered grasp tightened. Jason wasn‟t nearly as thick or long as Lyndon, but he was still well endowed. A shiver coursed down Lyndon‟s back. “Ready?” A whimper was his answer, a needy, hungry plea. Starting at the base, he licked his full length with the flat of his tongue. Jason keened, his hips rising. “God, you‟re sexy, Jason.” “Again. More.” Lyndon didn‟t know if he even knew what he was asking for, just that he needed the pleasure. He wanted to give him that feeling, better, deeper, longer than anyone in his life.

Nudging himself into the V of Jason‟s legs, he lifted his frame on his elbows, able to lick, nibble and devour at will. Jason‟s throaty cries filled the cabin when Lyndon opened up and engulfed his length, taking him to the root. He had a slight curl that rubbed the spongy tip against the roof of his mouth and he took advantage of that, teasing him by rolling over him as he sucked him. He learned his taste and his shape and made a discovery. He wanted more, wanted Jason, and didn‟t want to stop. He groaned, and Jason pumped, thickening. The scent of sex and arousal filled his head, making Lyndon moan again. The sounds made Jason react like he was going out of his mind, his thrusts driving. With a slow, tight rise, Lyndon sucked him to the tip, Jason‟s heavy panting music to him. It had been a long time since Lyndon had been with anyone, but no one in his memories came close to the abandoned passion in Jason. Sucking in air, he spread Jason‟s thighs, licking at the quivering ball sack in front of him. “Smell so good, taste so good.” Jason‟s hand fell away to grip the quilts. Then he moved lower and Jason stiffened. Lyndon froze. “It‟s okay. Reaction. God, please don‟t stop.” Gasps for air made it a stuttered request. Wetting the skin, Lyndon pressed with a finger. Jason‟s thighs quivered, his heels digging into the bedding. “Shit, I think your finger is almost as big as my cock,” he joked, laughing. Then a low growl slipped into a moan. “More, Lyndon. So good.” “You‟re tight, baby. Slow.” Using more saliva, he dampened his finger, easing in and out, watching his ass clench and writhe in pleasure. “Beautiful.” Using his free hand, he stroked Jason lightly, keeping him hard and enthralled. Drips were forming, slicking the head, and he swirled those on tight skin with his thumb. There wasn‟t a part of Jason that wasn‟t vibrating with desire and pleasure. Taking his time, Lyndon loosened Jason until three fingers glided with ease. Knowing there was no going back, he asked once more. “Jason, you‟re sure? I don‟t have any condoms. I won‟t be mad if you say no, even now.” He groaned like a dying man. “I‟m clean. Please.” His cock pulsed, seeping and Lyndon lapped it up, rolling the red flushed head on his tongue. Jason whimpered. “Sadist.” Lyndon chuckled. He love tapped Jason‟s hip. “Roll over.”

Jason flipped like the blankets were hot, rising up, pushing his ass into Lyndon. “Too pretty,” he mumbled. He licked over Jason‟s ass. “Lyndon,” he whined, pushing back. “Okay, baby, I get it.” He smiled, but it dropped like a stone. He didn‟t speak and he couldn‟t move. His eyes traced the scar. Baby. He wanted to weep for the pain Jason had suffered. It had to be the most uncomfortable healing any person could suffer. No wonder he hadn‟t been able to get hard. He‟d had his groin sliced from his ball sack to his anus. I’ll take care of you baby, I promise. Lovingly, he rested his cock on the ring of his hole, stroking his lower back. “Slow, okay.” He felt the rising tension in Jason and knew he was fighting his past. “Would you be more comfortable on your back?” He shook his head. “Just love me, Lyndon, please?” Quiet and heart-wrenching, his lips parted as he breathed in slowing pants. He wiggled. “I‟m ready.” Slicking his cock with the drips gliding from the slit, he dampened his palm, stroking. “Okay, baby. Easy,” he whispered. Sweat beaded on his brow, the fire almost too hot now as he concentrated to control his desire to just take him. Jason‟s light whimper faded to a moan, his hand fisting the blanket when he popped through the first ring. Lyndon‟s eyes rolled into his head. God, he‟d forgotten how tight it felt, how good on his cock. Skin slid under his hand where he gripped his hip. “Still with me?” “Mmph.” He pushed forward, to retreat, gaining a little with each motion. “So tight,” he groaned. Looking down, he blinked, awed to see that pretty ass wrapped around his cock. Shit. Muscles flexed and shook and Lyndon moved. Jason‟s spine arched, his mouth falling open in a silent scream of rapture. Shaking his head like a wet dog, he quivered, clawed at the blankets then relaxed, letting Lyndon stuff him again. “You are amazing,” Lyndon managed, his heart thudding in little explosions into his rib cage. “More.” Gasp, moan. “So big.” Pant. “Feels sooo gooood.” Lyndon closed his eyes and let their bodies find a rhythm. He felt the rising of his orgasm, the tightness in his balls as the preliminary to the end.

“Gonna come.” It was a rasped warning. Using his size to an advantage, he wrapped an arm around smooth hips and lightly caged Jason in a fist. “With me, please.” Jason bucked at the touch, but quickly began to work the friction, moaning louder. Sweat glistened on his back, reflecting the flames of the fire. Lyndon had never seen a sexier sight in his life. Jason thickened and Lyndon‟s balls loved the squeeze on his cock. Like dominoes, one orgasm ignited the other and together they cried out, pulses sparking on nerve endings as jets shot from Jason to the blankets, and liquid heat coated Lyndon‟s cock. Tiny jerks ricocheted between them until, gasping, they both collapsed to the blanket. Carefully as possible, Lyndon slid from Jason‟s heated body, noting the small wince. They had to have something for lubrication next time. Lyndon was just too big for his smaller stature body. Grabbing one of the tossed shirts, he tenderly wiped Jason clean, delivering light kisses to his ass cheek when he flexed and moaned in answer. Tossing it away, he stretched beside him, and like a magnet, Jason was sucked right to his side, snuggling up tight. Lyndon petted his side, stroked him until he heard gentle snores. Closing his eyes, he let himself drift. Just as his mind went blank, he thought of the perfect Christmas gift for Jason, something that would have meaning from him, and for Jason. Content and sexually satisfied in a way he hadn‟t felt in years, he dozed beneath the possessive arm of Jason stretched over his ribs. And loved it.

Chapter Eight Jason cleaned the dinner dishes while Lyndon went to turn on the generator. It was Christmas Eve, and Lyndon was in the mood for music. He smiled, watching him check the rope then saunter to the shed. Crazy how this was the best Christmas Jason had ever had. He wasn‟t at home. Technically, he was still stranded in the wilderness. He really didn‟t want to go wolf to get home, either. He didn‟t want to go home. Lyndon hadn‟t said anything about him leaving. He remembered the times he‟d said he could stay, that he wouldn‟t just make him go. Jason saw his wide back vanish through the door then swing it closed behind him. Resting on a hip, one foot wrapped around the ankle of the other, it hit him. He was falling for the big giant. Both feet went flat to the floor in an instant, the dish in his hand slipped to the water as he grabbed the edge of the sink. Closing his eyes, he drew in several deep breaths. Love? Was he? Did he? Picturing his smile, the tenderness in his crystal blue eyes, he knew what he felt was real, however tentative and unsure he was of embracing it. He‟d thought he‟d loved Devon, too. He admonished himself for trying to put them in the same room, much less the same category of men. They simply weren‟t. But…how did he feel? Lyndon was too kind to make him leave in the dead of winter. That didn‟t mean he shared the feelings. Didn‟t mean he was in love with Jason. “I do love him,” he whispered to the window. He also knew Lyndon wouldn‟t be the man to make the move. Not after Jason‟s past. And his parents. He frowned. Gripping the plate again, he scrubbed. His thoughts tossed, because even if he didn‟t want to return home, he had to. If he wanted to have a fighting chance of staying with Lyndon no matter where that may be, then he had to sever the strangled control of his parents. That had gone on long enough. If he wanted to move forward like he‟d told Lyndon, do something with his degree, then he had to get out from underneath their overcautious watching. His parents wouldn‟t be expecting him for several more days. Maybe by then he could find the courage to explain his plans to Lyndon, because even if he did leave, he would be back. If he had to

walk from Ranger station to station, he would come back. He prayed Lyndon would understand that. **** Lyndon flipped the tarp off the boxes. Most were plastic sealed, or tubs to keep out critters and dirt. Tugging at one of the plastic sealed boxes, he lifted it to rest on the seat of the snowmobile. Carefully slicing the plastic, he opened the flaps. The contents were smaller boxes, some important, some not. The one he wanted was an important one. Reverently, his fingers drifted over the blue felt of the box. Decades old, it was still in excellent condition, saved in his father‟s bureau since his release from the Navy. Lyndon had them all, his declarations and citations, medals and awards. Another sealed box had his old uniforms. It was really all he had left of his father, and he doubted he‟d ever dispose of them. But this…this had meaning. Lifting the box, he cracked the tight lid, the hinge stiff from years of cold winters. Inside laid the medal he wanted to give to Jason. He was sure, somewhere, his father would approve, even if others may not. It was his choice, and to him, Jason had earned it. After ensuring it was intact, he closed the box and stuffed it in his pocket. Closing the storage box, he opened the door of the truck and set it on the back seat. He‟d have to get it sealed again in town in the spring. Small price to pay. Spring. He leaned against the door of the truck while his stomach flipped like a person on a sheet of ice. Would he still be here? Did he want to be? Lyndon didn‟t want him to go, not just that he‟d let him stay because of the weather, but he really wanted him to stay with Lyndon. Thinking about him leaving made his heart ache. He couldn‟t force it, not after what he‟d suffered. Blowing out a breath, it formed a chilled cloud then vanished. “One day at a time,” he told himself. “Christmas. Make it good for him.” He nodded, as though in agreement with that decree. Starting the generator, he left the barn, anxious to give him the gift. He hung his coat and slipped out of his boots. “Lyndon, how do you wash clothes?” He held up the soiled blanket. The quilt hadn‟t found its way back to the bed, but with their body heat, Lyndon hadn‟t really missed it.

He grimaced. “I do them in the tub and dry them in front of the fireplace. It‟s a long day of hand work. I also take everything to town in the spring and get them washed that way. I drop them off and pick them up before I leave. I‟m usually there a few days at a time.” Jason made a small, disappointed moue. “Dishes I‟m good for, scrubbing like a laundry lady, we might have to thumb war for.” “Put it down. I have something for you.” He lifted a confused gaze. “You do?” “I was going to wait, but I want to see your reaction too badly.” Jason lit up. “You‟re serious? You have a gift for me?” “Completely serious. Let me turn on the stereo. It is Christmas, right?” “Probably in New York by now.” “See? Absolutely acceptable then.” Jason balled up the blanket by the wall then skipped over to shimmy into the rocker. Tucking up his legs, he said, “I‟m a-waiting, Santa. I‟ve been exceptional this year.” Lyndon chuckled. “Don‟t you mean exceptionally good?” He grinned back, pure falsified innocence. “Matter of interpretation.” Shaking his head, he started the music. “That‟s more like it.” “I love the classic carols,” Jason remarked with a contented expression, listening. “All the new ones just don‟t have the right ambiance, not the way a carol is supposed to be sung.” “I know what you mean. I‟ve heard a few and there‟s just nothing like a choir singing, or Bing Crosby.” Jason stroked the arm of the rocking chair. “If you had a TV, we could watch White Christmas next year.” It was hesitantly spoken, but it packed a hell of a kick. “Next year?” Lyndon‟s mouth had grown dry. He slid his hand into his jeans pocket, palming the case. His heart pounded. Hard. “If that‟s okay with you?” He opened his mouth, but couldn‟t speak. He wanted to shout Yes! at the top of his lungs. It wouldn‟t come. Because if he was here for next Christmas then he was staying. He‟d never wanted anything so badly in his life. Finally, he managed to find his voice. “This first.” He felt raw, inside and out.

He dragged the ottoman over to sit in front of Jason. Hiding his gift between his large hands, he explained, “This was my dad‟s, earned in battle, and he handed it down to me. I have all of his military things stored in the shed. I can‟t come close to understanding how you were hurt, but I see the strongest, gentlest, most caring soul still within you. I want you to have this, to remind you you‟re not fragile. You‟re strong, and always will be.” Slowly, he lifted his palm. “Sorry I couldn‟t wrap it.” Hesitant fingers hovered over the crushed blue velvet. “One of his medals?” Jason‟s voice was reverent and quiet. “Yes. For you.” Swallowing thickly, he lifted it into his own hands. Jason‟s intake of breath proved his surprise. “His Purple Heart.” “In many ways, you earned it just as much as Dad did.” Gray eyes, bright with unshed tears rose to meet his. “It‟s beautiful, Lyndon. I can‟t—” He rested a hand over Jason‟s. “You can. You‟re not fragile. You‟re perfect.” Jason fell out of the chair, landing in his arms. “I don‟t want to ever leave!” “Shh,” he said, soothing him with a sweeping hand. A few moments passed, the snap of the fire creating a background that would forever be etched into his memory. Then, “Do you hear that?” Jason trembled, shook his head, and tried to breathe. “Come on, baby.” He lifted Jason back into the rocker and stood to look out the window. A low growl suddenly burned his throat as a chopped pulse drew nearer. The sound was unmistakable. The question was, why the hell was it coming there? Jason leapt up. “I hear it! What‟s a helicopter…” He covered his mouth. “It‟s landing! Why is it landing?” Lyndon really didn‟t know, and he feared he wasn‟t going to like the reason at all. Snow swirled and spit as the rotors slowed. It was hard to see through the haze and darkness, but a door popped open and a single man hopped to the snow. Walking with hunched shoulders, he cleared the blades and jogged for Lyndon‟s cabin. There wasn‟t a point in waiting for the man to knock, so Lyndon stepped outside to meet him. Lyndon didn‟t shake. “What‟s the problem, Brock?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the whine of the chopper.

“Can we talk inside?” he asked, then diverted his attention, like he was doing something he really didn‟t want to do. Lyndon snarled. Not liking this at all. He jerked his head and Brock followed him. “What‟s the meaning of this?” “Look, don‟t be mad at me. I‟m just doing my job.” He let out a harsh breath. “Is Jason Stanville with you?” Lyndon crossed his arms and blocked the entry into the house with his body. “Why do you want to know?” “Because there‟s a missing person‟s report out for him from Yellowstone to Calgary. His parents made the report two days ago and they‟ve searched all over Yellowstone already.” “What makes you think he‟s here?” “It‟s okay, Lyndon,” Jason said quietly. “I need to go back.” Disbelief slammed into him. Didn’t he just say he didn’t want to leave? Lyndon firmed his jaw. “If that‟s the way you feel.” His heart broke inside. Jason hadn‟t meant it. It was an emotional outburst. A stiff nod was Lyndon‟s answer. Jason wouldn‟t meet Lyndon‟s gaze. He shifted his large frame to the side, rather than reach for him. If he did, he‟d never let go, Ranger Brock or no. “How did you guess I was here?” Jason asked. “The snow angels. And I thought I saw two sets of prints, but wasn‟t sure.” Brock tucked his hands into his pockets. “I‟m sorry, but I have to take you back.” “I know.” Head down, quiet, withdrawn. Lyndon gnashed his teeth. “Can I say good-bye to Lyndon?” “Yes, just don‟t take too long. They‟re waiting for you at one of the stations.” “You told them he was out here?” Lyndon roared. Brock took a step back, his body going stiff, with anger on his face. “No! They‟ve been camped out. They claim he‟s too unstable and got lost on the trails. I had to do my job, Lyndon.” Though his face clearly expressed doubt with Jason‟s parent‟s reasoning for searching for their son. Rising from his dejected stance, he pinned the Ranger with narrowed eyes. Gray snapped with an anger that stole Lyndon‟s breath. Jason wasn‟t weak. He was one of the strongest men he‟d ever met. Jason was a survivor. Lyndon had seen what was done to him and knew that he could never come close to imagining the horror and pain of what he‟d suffered at the hands of his ex. He‟d watched the younger man come out of his shell while at the cabin.

“I didn‟t. I lost my backpack in a ravine and Lyndon found me.” He was good at improvisation. “And if anyone‟s unstable, they are,” he retorted. “But I‟ll deal with them when I see them. Please, let me talk to Lyndon.” “Okay.” Brock turned, apologetic ruefulness on his face as he stepped out the door. “Lyndon.” “Don‟t, Jason. You have to. I know.” And he was dying inside, because he couldn‟t make him stay. He needed to go. What made it worse was he wanted to go. Regardless of what he‟d said, Lyndon could see it. Jason wanted to go. This was his chance to move forward and gain his independence, though at the moment it felt more like he was escaping than anything else to Lyndon. Jason reached up, ghosting a gentle kiss to his lips. “Merry Christmas.” Lyndon kissed him, sighing as he swallowed words and more. Jason‟s scent would always be with him. He bled on the inside watching Brock guide him to the helicopter and help him in. Someone tucked a blanket over his shoulders. The door closed and his heart went with it.

Chapter Nine “Are you sure about this, Mr. Stanville?” “Sheesh, Jason, please.” Jason shuddered. “And yes, I‟m sure.” He tapped his hiking boots nervously on the truck mat. He was sure, but still nervous as hell. It had been more than three months since that “lost little boy” stunt his parents had pulled. They‟d gone too far. And he‟d spent the next eighteen hours during the drive home telling them that. His father was a notoriously slow driver, and snowed roads made it worse. All the longer to lay down the facts. They weren‟t happy about it and had tried to argue. Jason hadn‟t given an inch. He was done being their kept child. He wasn‟t three and fuck it, he wanted his life back. His dad could barely look at him. Nothing new there. “What are you wearing?” “Thermal underwear and flannel. It‟s necessary in belowzero weather.” He hadn‟t moved from staring blankly out the rear seat window, when usually he‟d be sitting whipped, and docile. Bite me. His dad shut up after that. Neither of his parents were used to him talking so directly, answering that brusquely, or clearly, any longer. He‟d been the meek little son, who‟d needed help with everything, who‟d been incapable and needed protection because he was too pretty. Devon‟s rape had made him close in on himself, he knew that to some degree. His lips pinched as he thought. No, he‟d been enabling their control. That stopped. Now. He hadn‟t realized it until some time after Brock had found him that he still clutched the Purple Heart case, his one tie to Lyndon. That same medal and case were in his belongings, three packed-to-the-seams duffle-sized bags, in the bed of the truck. Hopefully enough to see him through to the next trip into town. He wasn‟t leaving unless Lyndon made him. Brock had startled to have him appear at his station out of the blue. “I need you to take me to Lyndon‟s. One way, ticket, please.” “He may not be there. He goes into town in the spring.” “He‟ll be back, and I can make do until he does.” Brock didn‟t ask any more questions.

The ride was rough and slow since it wasn‟t really a road, just a wider path that wasn‟t always clear. Twice, they‟d had to stop for Brock to hook up the wench and pull a fallen tree out of their way. The spurts of slow travel gave him time to think. In a matter of days, Lyndon had shown Jason what was wrong. He‟d felt it, knew that changes were needed, but his respect and tenderness were the final boot in the ass that Jason had needed. He was healing, and had healed a lot more than his parents would let him see, or that they would acknowledge. His mother needed him more than he needed them. It had just taken two years and a week with Lyndon to see that. He would have moved out completely when he‟d returned, but he had planned on coming home to Lyndon as quickly as he was able. Three months had felt like an eternity, but it had taken that long to do what he needed to do. He‟d managed to find an online magazine that would let him freelance over the internet. It meant he‟d have to use the generator more frequently. He hoped Lyndon would be okay with that. The largest step he‟d made had been to leave everything tied to his parents behind. He‟d bought clothes to get him through the summer, and supplies. When they went to town in the fall, he‟d stock up on winter wear that fit him, though he may filch a pair of thermal socks for sentimental purposes. He turned to look out the door window to hide his smile. He didn‟t think Brock realized Lyndon or Jason were gay. Wasn‟t something he was going to tell, either. If Lyndon hadn‟t said by then, he likely hadn‟t for a reason. “There‟s the cabin.” Anticipation had him sitting forward on the seat. “Would he have a fire this time of year?” “Probably not. It‟s supposed to be seventy by the end of the week.” “Let me make sure there‟s a way inside.” That hadn‟t occurred to him until just then. Brock stopped the truck and Jason got out, his heart fluttering at seeing the cabin again. He hopped around the corner to the mudroom door and tried it, feeling more giddy when it opened with ease. “Lyndon!” he called, but there was no answer. He shook off the tremors of fear. “It‟s okay. He‟s just in town. Probably just for a few days.” Brock lifted his bags out of the bed of the Ranger truck. “Do you want me to wait?”

Jason shook his head. “I‟ll be fine.” He shrugged and climbed back into the truck. “Okay. Tell Lyndon hi. See him in a few weeks.” “Will,” he replied. When Brock had turned around and aimed for the trees, Jason jogged to the shed. The four-by-four was still in its place. “Not in town, huh, big guy? Okay, then where are you?” Closing the shed door, he went back to the cabin, dragging in his bags with him. “Overkill, much?” he muttered. He got them as far as the bedroom and let out a breath. “I hope he likes what I brought.” Then he went to the kitchen to see what he could find to drink and maybe make for dinner for Lyndon if he came home. He was almost certain that he was out running, so he could only wait for him. When he didn‟t appear for two days, Jason began to worry. He‟d figured out the water, and even managed to light the stove to cook, though he‟d burned his fingers more times than he could count. “Country, you are not,” he muttered, sucking on yet another singed digit. He wore light sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt, his sneakers in the mudroom in case he needed them. He‟d been going outside to breathe the air, just to feel the crisp fresh scent of pine and raw earth. It had a very soothing affect on him. Because sleeping alone at the cabin was nerve-wracking, he refused to sleep in the bed without Lyndon. So he‟d reclaimed his spot in front of the fireplace, closed from drafts, empty and cleaned. The best memory he had of his stay. And resting in a place of honor on the mantle was the Purple Heart Lyndon had given to him. **** Lyndon leaped over a log, his long legs eating up distance as he ran. His heart thudded into his ribs from the exertion. It helped to ease the pain if he was too tired to think. He‟d followed the wolves for several weeks, giving him enough to write about for a few articles. He‟d seen no other cougars and took that in stride. They were probably in the higher elevations, hunting. All of the stalking, trailing, following helped to keep his mind from circling back to Jason. Using sharp claws, he bounded onto the trunk of a tree, snaking his way to a thick branch to rest for a minute. He needed to eat, but he hated hunting in form, though it made his cougar happy.

The thrill of the chase, of the capture. His tail whipped, then settled, and he sighed. Three months. The snow had melted. The Christmas tree had become firewood. And he still ached like he‟d left just yesterday. He didn‟t know if going to look for him would be welcome, and he had no idea where to start. The best he could do was try to forget, but he knew he was only fooling himself into thinking he could. The sun was high when he stretched, and wiggled down from the branch. Setting a jogging pace, he aimed for home. A hot bath and dinner. And a book. Maybe he‟d buy some more during his next trip. His feet almost went out from under him when a scent entered his awareness near his cabin. Jason. He knew it was him, though his scent had faded from the cabin. This was new. Fresh. And too deep into the trees on the breeze to be anything but him. Skulking, he rounded the cabin and froze. There, lying on the grass on a towel, with a knee propped to hold his raised bare foot, was Jason reading a book. His long shirt was pulled up to expose his belly, to soak up sun warmth. His coat shivered as he held the cougar still. He couldn‟t believe he was there. He‟d longed and dreamed of this for weeks, months. Slowly, he inched forward. When he was less than a few feet away, he froze again. Jason had stiffened. Cautiously, he closed and lowered the book. “I had a feeling that was where you‟ve been.” He didn‟t move more than to just rest his hands to his sides. When Lyndon didn‟t move closer either, he lowered his foot and stretched out flat, belly up, offering. A careful exhale and Jason relaxed. Lyndon came forward, peering down into his face. Gray eyes widened. “Wow. You really have amazing blue eyes for a cougar.” Then he had the nerve to grin. Lyndon huffed on him then butted his forehead. Jason repaid the gesture. “Let‟s go inside. I‟ve missed you, and I really want a kiss.” Lyndon did his best to walk with some dignity, though he really wanted to sprint and skip, ecstatic to have him there. Jason held the door, the towel swept over an arm with the book in a hand. “You‟re huge for a cougar, too. What are you, like ten, eleven feet? I thought most cougars were like eight to nine feet. Amazing, big guy. Just amazing.”

Lyndon basked in his approval, glad he appreciated his cougar. Once inside, he followed Jason to the bedroom. No suitcases? No bags? His heart thudded painfully. He wasn‟t staying. “Go ahead. I‟ll close my eyes so I‟m not blinded by your studly hotness when naked.” Lyndon blinked, caught his wink, then watched as Jason flopped to the bed and tossed an arm over his eyes. He liked this playful side of Jason. It did seem more natural on him. He’s not staying, his subconscious warned him. Okay, well let’s find out what’s going on then. He went through the shift, stretching when he stood on two feet again. “That feels good.” “I‟m not peeking, but I might. So you better be covered. Not promising I‟ll behave with a naked Lyndon walking around.” Lyndon shook his head, laughing. “God, I missed you.” “You, too,” he answered tenderly. Shuffling through his closet, he realized there were more clothes in it. Wait. Those aren’t mine. Stealing a peek at a tag, they were way too small, but they‟d fit Jason perfectly. And there was way more than a little. He swallowed. Maybe? Could he hope? Tugging blindly, he found a pair of sweats and jumped into them. “How dressed is dressed?” he asked, swallowing when he sounded rough. “The important bits for now. I can‟t think with that temptation.” “Okay, then it‟s safe.” He turned and immediately caught a launched Jason, springing off of the bed to cling to his frame. “Missed you, missed you, missed you,” he cried through a flurry of kisses. Lyndon captured him and then his mouth, silencing him down to a whimpered moan. It sent his soul flying when Jason‟s eyes rolled into the back of his head over the kiss. A shiver stole over him. “Needed that,” Jason panted. “Needed you.” He nuzzled deeply against Lyndon‟s neck. “Are you staying?” “Are you kicking me out? “No!” “Then I guess I‟m staying.” His grin broadened. Stunned, Lyndon collapsed to the edge of the bed, still holding a clinging Jason. “Are you okay?”

“I‟m wonderful now.” He threaded his fingers through Lyndon‟s hair. It had grown another inch at least and was easy to twirl fingers through. Lyndon loved the sensation. “And your parents?” “Are out enjoying their second honeymoon. We talked, a lot,” he stated deadpan. “They weren‟t happy, but I proved I meant it, and that I could go on without their constant supervision. I told them, until the reading of the wills, they can tell their friends whatever they want about me. I won‟t be back to see them unless you go with me. They‟re still living in shock, I think. Their little boy grew up again.” “Wow. I‟m proud of you, Jason.” He ducked his head. “Yeah. It felt good, too. Probably more than it should have. There was a definite pleasure in taking back my life. I even have a job!” Lyndon gaped. “Doing what? This isn‟t exactly commuter friendly up here.” “We‟ll figure out the details. Not anything too major.” He leaned back a couple inches on Lyndon‟s lap. “I do have a small request, though.” “Anything.” “Can we decorate a little? An extra chair or two?” Lyndon burst out with laughter at his puppy dog pleading eyes. “Definitely.” “And how do you feel about TV?” “We could do that, for special evenings.” “Is a washer and dryer pushing it?” Lyndon chuckled, a happy sigh slipping free. “Let‟s see where we end up. Maybe something with electricity would be better for two,” he offered. If he could get into the wilderness on four paws, he didn‟t have to be right in the middle of it. “You mean it?” Jason bounced on his lap. “Jason,” he purred, in all seriousness. “I love you. I want you to be happy.” The joy on Jason‟s face would make it all worthwhile. Jason froze, his eyes going wide. “You…love me?” “Have since Christmas.” Lyndon dropped kisses on his face. Jason melted where he sat, molding beautifully to Lyndon‟s touch. “I love you too, Lyndon. Since Christmas. Our first Christmas together.” “Yeah. I like the way that sounds.”

“Want to go initiate our first spring?” Jason asked with a coy, teasing stare. “Clothes aren‟t the only thing I schlepped up this mountain, big guy.” “Seriously?” Jason waggled his eyebrows. “By the case.” Lyndon groaned then arched with a loud gasp when Jason dragged stiff fingers around a still naked torso, lightly scratching over ribs. “Marking what‟s mine, big guy,” he said. “Just mine.” Lyndon neared his ear. “You‟re going to know who you belong to baby, trust me.” A shiver of excitement swept down his lighter frame. Lyndon tightened his arms, clasping Jason close. “Love you, baby.” He burrowed against Lyndon‟s neck, relaxed and sighing in utter contentment. “Love you back.” The End

About the Author Diana DeRicci is the sexy, flirty pen name of Diana Castilleja. A romance author at heart, DeRicci’s writing takes you into a saucier spectrum of sensuality and sexual adventure, where a happilyever-after is still the key to any story. Diana lives in Central Texas with her husband, one son and a feisty little Chihuahua named Rascal. You can catch the latest news on all of Diana DeRicci’s writing and books on her website. Feel free to drop Diana an email. She’d love to hear from you. Visit her on the web at: www.DianaDeRicci.com Also available from Purple Sword by Diana: Watching Her Every Move Alpha Awakening Love’s Learning Curves Caged Embraced By Passion Delany’s Catch

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