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

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

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

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 below-

zero 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  happily-
ever-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