Page 1 of A Merry Misfit Christmas

Chapter One

Kodiak

“Fuck, this is going to be a shitty day,” I grumble when the glass carafe to my coffee pot shatters as soon as the coffee begins brewing. It’s a mad scramble to find a towel to toss over the mess as I curse under my breath. If I don’t have at least two mugs before leaving my house, there’s no way I’m going to beable to deal with the bullshit that happens down at the gym the club runs.

Forget it.I’ll just snag something on the way.

Figuring I’ll leave a few minutes earlier than usual, I quickly dress and then head out the door to my bike. It might be winter, but I’m a bear shifter, so I’m always hotblooded. No coat is needed.

Since the roads are clear, I’ll run on two wheels instead of taking my truck. Six inches of snow dumped on us last night, but the city got the plows out early, and I can’t resist the wind on my back or the freedom that calls to me. Always has if I’m honest.

As I travel the mountain roads of Yukon Bluff toward town, I think back to what drew me to the area and how I came to join the MC and grin. Each of our members is a shifter, but what makes us unique, besides the obvious of being different species, is that most of us would be considered predators of one another. But it’s not like that. Usually. I smirk, thinking of a few times when tempers flared.

Spike managed to create what we call a ‘found’ family. A brotherhood of misfits, so to speak, since most of us left our packs, clowders, murders, or congregations for one reason or another. Usually, it was because we were unwilling to challenge our own flesh and blood for the dominant alpha role, so it was just easier to leave. However, those aren’t my stories to tell.

I left because my uncle decided to challenge my father, and after some underhandedness, he killed my father, as well as my mother and siblings. The only reason I survived? I was out sowing my wild oats, so to speak. Thankfully, one of my friends slipped away and found me, so I was able to escape while other friends went into my home and gathered what they could to help.

For six months, I traveled around the country, moving as far from the place I called home as possible. The day Spike foundme, I was tired, past hungry, and dehydrated. He took one look at me, shifted into his dragon, and flew me to where he had hunkered down. The place was near Yukon Bluff, incidentally. There, he nursed me back to health and explained his idea to me, which I wholeheartedly embraced, knowing there were others like us who needed a place to belong.

We bought the old ski lodge on a hill that overlooked town as well as the thousand acres that surrounded it, then basically put out the word that any shifters who didn’t have a home, who needed a place to belong and fit in, were welcome to join us in Yukon Bluff as we built a new motorcycle club. And that’s how Shifted Misfits started. We even have shifters in town who didn’t join the club who merely wanted the peace that Yukon Bluff offered to those who were misunderstood. They’ve become unlikely allies in many ways simply because they keep their eyes and ears open and let one of us know if trouble is coming.

I snicker out loud, the sound reverberating through the mountainside as I remember how hard it was for us to learn to ride when we first began all those years ago. Too fucking stubborn to take the classes offered at the local Harley dealer, we decided we’d figure it out on our own. Now, however, each of us is more than capable of handling our Harleys regardless of the weather, but there were a few mishaps along the way, that’s for damn sure.

“Good times,” I mutter, remembering when Spike got so pissed off at his ride, he threw it over the cliff after laying it down for the tenth time in one day. I mean, I’m unsure why he had such an attitude; the fucker has the ability to partially shift his arms and legs, so they’re beyond protected when he rides. He just needed to find a way to channel all that hot air. I think he’s found it now.

I slow down as I enter the town proper. We may have a good relationship with the local police, but there’s no reason for meto fly through town on my bike. Nothing’s that important. Well, my coffee, maybe, but that’s more for the safety of others, and I don’t think our sheriff would appreciate me using that as my explanation for why I’m speeding.

Grinning, I pull in front of the local coffee shop, Beanie’s Brew. Best fucking coffee I’ve ever had, but I know for a fact that their hot cocoa is in high demand as well, especially this time of the year. Beanie, of course, always has both available regardless of whether or not it’s about to snow, or the sun is heating up the state.

Once I’ve shut my girl down, I pocket my key and remove my helmet, hanging it off the handlebar. Something sweet catches my nose on the current of the wind, and I’m instantly sporting a hard-on. It’s odd, but I don’t understand the reason since it’s never happened before. My long strides quickly have me at the door, which I open when I see someone trying to exit at the same time.

Unfortunately, in my effort to help, because the cute woman seems to be struggling, I manage to bump her and watch in absolute horror as the drink she’s holding smashes against her sweater.

Herwhitesweater.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Darlin’. Can I get you another drink?” I ask.

“What? No. I think you’ve done quite enough,” she snarls, tossing the empty cup into the trash and storming past me out the door.

I can’t help but watch the swish of her ass as she stomps toward her car. She’s got a curvy figure and the type of bottom that’s round and jiggles with every step. A surge of lust flashes through me before I shrug it off. Just as I’m about to enter through the door, she gives me a frustrated glare. Green eyes flash with wicked, sexy fire.

“Huh. Well, now I’ve ruined her day,” I mutter as I head inside to grab myself some coffee. Looks like I’m going to need Beanie to add a few extra shots because this day is just getting better and better, and I haven’t even dealt with one of the asinine gym-goers yet. At this rate, I may need to go back home and start all over again.

As I wait in line, the scent that’s been teasing my nose since I arrived here, growing stronger ever since I crashed into the pretty redhead, wraps around my soul, and my eyes widen. In an instant, I know what it means.

“Fuck my life. Really? What did I do to piss off the gods?” I grumble. “Of all days to meet my mate, it would be today. Was it a smooth, ‘Hey, you’re mine, wanna get together meeting?’ No, no, it was not. It was a ‘hey, let me spill your drink all over your pretty sweater and ruin it’ kind of disaster.”

“You okay, Kodiak?” Beanie asks, looking at me with a frown on her face. “You’re talking to yourself.”

Great. “Sorry, Beanie. Just crashed into someone and spilled her drink. I need two large coffees, black, but give me a few hits of espresso. Gotta deal with month-end bullshit today, and my pot gave up the ghost.”

“Oh, the redhead? That was Callie. She’s really sweet. I just hired her to do a job for me here at the shop.”

My curiosity got the better of me. There’s no way I’m passing up this opportunity.

“What kind of work does she do?” I ask, trying not to be too obvious as I gather all the information I can about my mate. I’m going to need everything I can learn in order to turn her opinion of me around. I didn’t leave a good impression the first time we met.

“She’s a professional organizer,” Beanie replies, placing the first coffee on the counter before she starts working on the second one.

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