Chapter 4

It was far, far too early for Winterlyn. Except for Christmas Day morning when she liked to get up super early and sit by the fireplace and watch the sunrise. But on this winter solstice morning, when it was the very coldest point of the year thanks to Jack Frost, and the sun hadn’t risen yet, it was definitely too early.

She made her way to Annette’s home, parking in front of her little cabin. The front door swung open as Winterlyn was about to knock.

It was clear that Annette had been crying.

“Are you okay?” Winterlyn asked.

Annette grabbed her coat and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “Um, yeah. No. Well, yes. I’m good.” She put the coat on and tugged a hat down on her head. “Ready to go to the Well?”

“Isn’t it too early? Will someone even be there for me to talk to?”

“Oh sure,” she said. “I sent a request in advance that someone needed to speak urgently with Santa and explained we’d be there at dawn.”

“Santa?”

Winterlyn had never met the male. He was well known to be kind, but he was also the most powerful warlock in the world and the protector of the Well of Magic.

Annette stepped off the porch and trudged through the snow that blanketed the yard. Winterlyn hopped off the porch and followed her around the corner of the house.

The witch, who seemed angry and sad at the same time, stopped abruptly at the back of the house and turned to face her. “Yes, of course. You have a big problem and you need a big problem solver, and that’s Santa. I didn’t explain the situation because I didn’t want anyone to say no right off the bat since what you’re asking about is pretty unorthodox. I mean, the head of my coven told you it wasn’t worth the trouble, right?”

“Yes. She said the Well wasn’t meant to help shifters.”

“Hey, she’s not omnipotent,” Annette said with a shrug. She turned and used her magic to open a portal to Northernmost. As the portal grew in mid-air, lengthening and widening, Winterlyn was spellbound. She’d never seen a portal open before. It was freaking amazing. They were in Arctic Pines, New York, but through the growing portal, she could see the Northern Lights.

Annette fidgeted a bit, tugging her coat down and putting her right hand in her pocket. “If it works, it works. If not, then at least you tried. If I couldn’t access my magic, I’d definitely want to try everything before I just gave up.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Winterlyn asked.

Annette turned to face the portal. “My grandfather is sick.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Would you rather not do this right now?”

“No,” Annette said. “I was going to wait until Christmas Day, but I can’t. There’s not enough time. It’s now or never.”

“Um, what? I could just ask another witch to take me if it’s not a good time for you.”

Winterlyn suddenly felt very strange. It was as if there was more going on with Annette than just her wanting to help a down on her luck shifter. Taking a step back, Winterlyn glanced through the portal at the dark sky. Snow was falling, highlighted by the Northern Lights. It looked magical.

Annette grabbed her upper arm and moved forward, towing Winterlyn along with her. “Come on, it’s important. It has to be now.”

As they moved through the portal, a male said, “Hey, you were supposed to wait for an escort.”

At the sound of the voice, Winterlyn’s fox chittered loudly in her head and her heart clenched.

“There you are,” Annette said. “Santa, I’ve got to speak with you right away. It’s an emergency.”

Winterlyn stood by the Entrance with her hand pressed to her heart.

What was going on?

The satellite phone on Declan’s hip buzzed as he made his way around the perimeter of Northernmost and had almost reached the Well of Magic.

It was cold as hell.

Or…wherever the coldest place on earth was.

Oh right. Here in Northernmost.

Jack Frost had really gone all out this solstice, blanketing the world in winter and seeming to focus on the North Pole. The snow had fallen fast and thick overnight, and the elves who were tasked with shoveling the paths and walkways were working hard to combat the fast snowfall.

“Declan,” he answered, then released the speaker button.

“We got a request for a witch to see Santa. She wants to come this morning. I have her coordinates,” Hunter, one of the polar bears, said. He was working in the security office, watching the security monitors.

“I’ll grab Bart, I just passed him on my rounds.”

“Just sent you and Bart the coordinates.”

“Thanks.”

He glanced at the screen of the satellite phone and saw the coordinates. He used the walkie to have Bart meet him at the Entrance. As he made his way to the Entrance, he wondered what was so important that a witch needed to see Santa at dawn a few days before Christmas. Santa was a warlock—the most powerful one in the world—but the most powerful witch was Mother Nature. If a witch had a problem and needed help, it would make sense for her to reach out to Mother Nature, not Santa.

“Hey, man,” he heard Bart call as he caught up to him.

“Hey.”

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, and Declan glanced over his shoulders to see Santa. “Morning,” he said. “We could have brought the witch to you.”

“I haven’t even gone to bed yet,” he said with a yawn. “The Nice List takes the most time to go through. If the witch needs help, I’ll probably send her over to Mother Nature unless it’s something specifically I can help her with. Although I can’t imagine what that might be.”

The trio met up near the Entrance. “I’ll open the portal to the coordinates she gave us,” Bart said. “Hopefully she’s there and ready to go.”

Santa shivered. “Frost certainly pulled out all the stops up here. I think it’s the coldest it’s ever been on the solstice.”

“He must be pissed because you keep stopping him,” Declan said.

Santa chuckled.

Just as Bart took a step toward the Entrance, it activated and opened, revealing a small home. Two females stepped through, the first pulling the second by her arm.

Declan said, “Hey, you were supposed to wait for an escort.”

The female being towed froze as she was pulled through the portal. She lifted her head and her gaze clashed with Declan’s.

Holy crap.

He was staring into the eyes of his truemate.

Winterlyn couldn’t move. She was…frozen. Entranced. Captured by the dark gaze of the male who had spoken.

Her fox was doing cartwheels in her mind and chittering loudly.

As Annette moved away to greet Santa, Winterlyn remained rooted to the ground just outside of the Entrance, aware that thick snowflakes were falling around them, and the sky was a beautiful mixture of the yellows and greens of the Northern Lights.

Despite the gorgeous sky, she couldn’t stop staring at the male.

Holy crap, he was sexy.

And who the heck was he?

And why couldn’t she stop staring?

A word flitted through her mind like a whisp of smoke, but the meaning was all too real.

Mate .

“There you are,” Annette said briskly, “Santa. I must speak with you. It’s an emergency.”

Annette’s voice broke the spell between Winterlyn and the male. But she was still feeling the effects on the inside. Her heart was pounding, and her bones were tingling.

Then everything happened in slow motion.

Annette walked toward Santa, who looked exactly like Winterlyn had pictured: bigger than life, dressed in a dark red coat, with a long white beard, and sparkling blue eyes.

The male who’d spoken—her mate!—moved toward Winterlyn, never dropping his gaze from her.

Annette pulled something from her coat pocket and lunged at Santa.

It was some kind of weird looking knife.

Winterlyn’s mate—could she call him that already?—spun with a growl, snatched Annette by her hair and jerked her away from Santa at the same moment the nearby elf pushed Santa out of the way of the blade and disarmed Annette.

Annette twisted free and leaped through the portal with a loud sob, the portal crackling as it closed abruptly and stranded Winterlyn in Northernmost.

“What in the hell was that?” Santa bellowed.

Winterlyn took a step back, her eyes wide as Santa turned his gaze to her. “I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

“Who are you?” Santa asked.

The male she’d come to think of as hers moved to stand in front of her and faced Santa. “Let’s take this inside where it’s warmer. We need to find out what she knows and track the witch who tried to kill you.”

“Damn that male,” Santa said as he picked up the knife.

“What male?” the elf asked.

“My brother. He sent that female to kill me. This is a blood dagger, and it would have done the job. But not today.”

“Why not today?” the elf asked.

“Because it only works when a warlock’s magic is used up. She would have needed to stab me on Christmas Day before I replenished my magic at the Well, not on the solstice. Weird.”

“That’s what’s weird?” the male in front of Winterlyn asked.

“Yeah, if Frost gave her the blade, then he would have told her when to use it, which means something happened, and she came here early. It’s weird.”

The elf shook his head. “Your brother sends a witch to stab you and the date is what’s weird?”

Santa grinned. “Hey, if you can’t laugh when your brother is trying to kill you, when can you? Get to the security office and find out where that witch came from so we can track her. I’ll have words with the head of her coven.”

“On it,” the elf said, hurrying away.

Santa looked at them. “Now, come along, let’s get inside and find out what your mate knows.”

“Mate?” Winterlyn squeaked out the word.

Santa’s brow lifted. “You know, yes? That you and Declan are mates?”

“It might have been nice if you’d left that for us to discuss,” the male—Declan—said. He turned to face Winterlyn and smiled at her. “Hi, beautiful. I’m Declan Knight. I’m a wolf shifter and one of the Guardians. Your friend is in big trouble.”

“I’m Winterlyn Brooks,” she said. “And she’s not my friend. I just met her yesterday when she agreed to bring me here.”

“Why did you want to come here?”

“I can’t shift.” She glanced at the Well of Magic and suddenly felt like a fool. “I thought the Well might be able to help me.”