3. Xavier

Chapter three

Xavier

I t isn’t exactly ideal being stuck in plastic and unable to move. I can see how some elves might consider this torture, but for me, I’m just so thankful to be with my fated. Or at least I’m assuming this alpha is my fated mate. I’ll admit, I never saw myself with another alpha, but once Santa transported me into Sage’s house, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Sage was with two other omegas at the time, and I couldn’t understand why my gaze kept focusing on the big guy in the room. But the more I saw him interact with his friends and the more I heard him talk, I just knew.

I didn’t quite understand some of the things Sage said, but a lot of it broke my heart. The need to comfort him was strong. Still is. I longed to hold him in my arms. To smell him and reconfirm what I already knew was true. Sage is mine. And I’m eternally thankful to his friends for lifting his spirits and spending so much time with him that night.

Bootsie is protectively curled around me, purring; something he seems to love doing. From here, I can only see what’s directly in front of me: a small entertainment center with a flat-screen TV surrounded by a well-organized shelf of books. I’ve already memorized several titles, hoping to read some just to see what type of stories suit his fancy. It looks like my mate is a romantic who loves to read in bed.

If I’m facing him just right, then I can see the array of emotions that flicker across his face as he reads. My favorite is when he laughs. Gods, his laugh lights up his entire face.

Sage is unlike any alpha I’ve ever met before. He’s shy, soft-spoken, and sweet. He’s smart as hell and funny, too. I constantly wonder if he’ll act the same way with me as he does with Bootsie, or when he’s alone. Is this the real him all the time, or does he need to show the world a different side of himself when he’s out in public?

There’s something fragile about him, too. I can tell he’s strong from all the conversations he has with his friends, the way I hear him deal with clients, and even when he chats about his day with his cat, but there’s something about him that makes me feel protective.

He’s recently included me in his daily conversations, calling me by name thanks to that magazine. Sometimes, when he talks to me, I get this strange feeling he somehow knows I’m a real person, not just a figurine to talk to.

I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been a plastic elf figurine since time seems to move differently like this. If Sage or Bootsie are nearby, then it’s like time starts up again, but as soon as they are gone, I begin to space out before falling asleep. Maybe sleep isn’t the right word. I’m not sleeping, exactly, but it’s close enough.

As the days and weeks speed by, I feel like more time is passing than I realize. While my time as an inanimate object has been fun, I worry that this is time I’m missing with my mate, not to mention time I’m missing with my Papa. I need to do something or else I might become a figurine forever.

Sage enters the room and smiles as soon as he spots me. Oh, hell. He’s probably just happy to see his cat.

“There you two are,” Sage says as he kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed. He props himself on his elbow. Gods, my mate is so damn handsome. His platinum-blond hair falls into his face. The muscles in his arms strain against his shirt, and I have to admit it’s the first time I’ve been into bulk, but I like it. When I first saw him, he had dark bags under his pretty blue eyes, and I like to pretend that his sleep has gotten better since I dropped into his life. Today, he looks extra alert and happy. Did something exciting happen while he was at work?

He picks me up and stares at my face. “You’re always so warm to the touch,” he says, still studying me. “It isn’t my cat’s warmth… it’s yours, isn’t it?”

If I wasn’t wrapped in plastic and frozen in place, I’m sure my heart would be pounding. He knows. Holy shit, he really knows. Damn, I’d kill to be able to nod my head or blink at him. I never asked Santa how to turn myself back into an elf. I kind of just assumed that as soon as my mate touched me, or saw me, then… poof. Instant elf.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Sage says, lying down on the bed and stretching out his tall frame. He lays me on the pillow next to him, and I can almost imagine a life where I’m an elf again. A life where I can reach out and caress my thumb over his plush lips and see if I can make him shiver with lust.

“When I was eighteen, I did all types of research on my shifter side. I’m a Artic fox, by the way. And I’m pretty sure my father was from Santa’s Village. My journey led me to the North Pole, and the magic welcomed me behind its borders. While there, I met a few reindeer, a Santa or two, and even some elves. None of them are as breathtaking as you, though.”

He traces a finger down my body before tucking his hand back under his face to peer over at me. The gesture is meant to be sweet, but a shudder slides down my body and magic begins to tingle.

I felt that!

‘Do it again, ’ I scream silently, excitement buzzing through me. ‘Touch me again.’

“The elves I chatted with told me a story, or I guess a rumor about how the naughty elves would get turned into a figurine if they were bad.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine the Santa I just met, or any of the Santas for that matter, being so cruel. So, I did some more digging. Rumor has it that on Christmas Eve, the Santas send these figurines to their fated mates. Their soulmates. Odd, yes. But also, very romantic.”

Sage reaches out and touches me again, readjusting me on the pillow. A little wisp of golden magic swirls between us. Sage doesn’t see it.

But I do.

“You showed up on Christmas Eve. My friends have no idea where you came from,” He whispers. “Is that true, Xavier? Did Santa send you here to find your fated mate?”

Internally, I nod. ‘Yes!’

Suddenly, tears well in Sage’s eyes. “I think it’s true. Which means you must be here for Jill or for Mark. Why else would Santa have dropped you here that night?”

He lets out a deep sigh, a tear slowly escaping and landing on the pillow under him. “That means I need to stop being so damn selfish. I’ve kept you here all this time, hoping that you might be mine. Fuck.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m probably making a fool out of myself and talking to a damn doll, or worse, you really are here for someone else and hearing my foolish confessions.”

Wait what? No. No. No. Why the hell would he think I’m meant to be with one of his friends? Is it because we’re both alphas? I don’t care about that. Anger and frustration roll through me. My mate needs me. I want to comfort him. Shower him in praise and make him feel treasured. I want to learn everything about him. I’m starting to get the impression that the magic will turn me back into an elf when Sage needs me most, but if he believes I’m meant for someone else, and not him, would the magic see that as some type of rejection?

Damn it. I need to do something. But what?

Sage leans over my plastic figurine body. Another tear slides down his face, but this time, it lands on me. Another wisp of sparkling golden magic swirls between us. Christmas magic. My body begins to grow, and the next thing I know, I’m lying next to my fated mate.

Sage gasps, but he doesn’t yank away. He doesn’t jump off the bed or run out of the room. His ocean-blue eyes are wide as he takes me in. His mouth falls open.

Without thinking, I act on impulse. I do the one thing that’s been on my mind since seeing Sage for the first time. I lean forward and trace the pad of my thumb over his plush bottom lip. A sweet, tantalizing scent surrounds me. It tempts me forward like a siren’s song. The realization slams into me all at once.

“You’re an omega?”

As soon as the words are out, I know I fucked up. Hurt flashes across his pretty blue eyes. Hurt that I put there. That sudden need to protect thunders through me. Before he can jump out of bed, I crush his broad body to mine and embrace him in a tight hug. It’s awkward at first. Especially since we’re still lying on his bed, and this feels more intimate than a simple hug. But after a moment, he relaxes in my arms.

I inhale that tempting scent again. He smells like vanilla cupcakes and Christmas morning.

“Thank you for saving me,” I whisper in his ear, praying that it’s true and I’m not completely out of time.