17. Dario

Chapter 17

Dario

Sleep usually came easily to me unless I was planning a Christmas Spectacular.

But in the days since Chris left, I’d hardly closed my eyes except to blink. My reindeer was in mourning too, begging me to find our mate and mark him.

I can’t just waltz up to the North Pole and demand to see Santa . Besides, the place must be protected with a glamour or something similar, otherwise the world would be at Santa’s doorstep telling him what they wanted for Christmas.

When dawn broke, I staggered into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, watching the coffee maker drip droplets of caffeine into the pot. I needed every one of them to keep me awake.

You have the day off .

Shoot, my brain was so frazzled, I’d forgotten. I could have stayed in bed longer, tossing and turning. Instead, I shuffled into the living room and sank onto the couch. If I couldn’t sleep, the view of the fireplace and mantlepiece made a nice change.

As I sipped my hot brew, the caffeine did its job and I perked up a little. But that had me wondering what my mate was doing. Making lists? Checking them twice? If I was a good omega, would Santa come down my chimney on Christmas Eve?

I focused on the photos and cards on the mantelpiece, but nestled in amongst the papers was a piece of stiff white card with gold embossed text. I was so out of it that I couldn’t recall what that was. An invitation of some sort.

Hoping I hadn’t forgotten a dinner engagement—though who would send a fancy invitation when they could text me?—I grabbed it and fell back on the sofa.

Santa requests the pleasure of your company at the North Pole this evening. Dress warmly and be in front of your house at seven.

I shot up and looked around for my mate. He’d been here or one of his elf helpers had. I peered at the grate and up the chimney, but there was no sign anyone had been here. Not that he left that way last time, but it was my first instinct.

This was better than caffeine!

I leaped around the room, dancing a jig until my reindeer groaned. I was making him dizzy.

“I’ve got a date with my mate,” I sang. I even rhymed. “I’m a poet and I don’t know it.”

Opening my closet, I decided I needed new clothes. I had nothing suitable for the North Pole. Would Santa have central heating? Preferring warm weather to cold, I was determined to show my mate I could exist in any climate. Shivering and complaining about the weather wouldn’t endear him to me.

Shower, a bite to eat, and more coffee later, I was in the car. Our town was kinda small and didn’t offer the variety of stores that bigger places did, so I was driving an hour to do something I usually hated: clothes shopping.

I sang during the drive and bopped in my seat. The journey was longer than usual because of the heavy snowfall, but nothing could ruin my mood.

Santa had invited me for dinner. How many people, whether shifters or humans, could say that? I banged my fists on the steering wheel in time to the blaring music.

“Ack! Big towns!” I groaned when I was forced to park a block from the store. But I refused to let that dampen my mood, and I brightened when I entered the shop.

The salesperson followed me around, and I was dying to blurt out why I was looking for warm clothes that would withstand the weather at the top of the world.

“Are you caroling?” he asked when I explained I’d be outside, perhaps for hours.

“Sort of.”

He gave me a look that said, “I don’t believe you,” but his face lit up when I dropped a few hundred bucks on clothing.

Now that I had my clothes, I decided to stop off at a mall and have lunch. It was my day off, I was going on the best and most exciting date ever, and I’d be with my fated mate.

The bustling mall had been blitzed with Christmas cheer from twinkling lights, to tinsel, to images of Santa, elves, and reindeer. There was a Santa house and kids were sitting on the fake Santa’s knee, some smiling, others wriggling, and also a couple howling.

The guy was doing an okay job, but I was proud knowing I was mated to the real Santa.

Pausing outside a gift shop, I studied the cheesy items that blinked, spoke, or glittered—or all three. I wandered in and perused the shelves, my gaze falling on a cute reindeer with “I love you” written on a sign around his neck. Purchasers could personalize it by adding the name and either a heart or xxx.

It was the cheesiest of all the cheesy gifts, and I had to get it. In the ten minutes it took to add my name, I grabbed a cup of coffee because though excitement was pumping through my veins, I needed a little extra help.

“The love of your life will adore this.” The sales assistant wrapped the reindeer. “Will you put it under the tree and say Santa brought it?” She smiled as she gave it to me.

“I was thinking of giving it to him myself. Maybe I’ll say Santa told me this was the perfect gift.”

She clutched her chest. “So romantic.”

I skipped along the mall, past fake Santa, but waved and gave the guy a thumbs after as he was wiping saliva off his cheek.

Don’t break the reindeer. My beast was already attached to the porcelain version in my backpack

Never!

The rest of the day stretched ahead, and I wished I would crank up time and fast forward it. I’d have to fill the hours before seven, and I decided to declutter. It was a weird time of year to toss out crap when homes were filled with tinsel and wrapping paper.

But the person who’d bought that stuff was the old me.

The new me had a mate!