Page 1 of Donner

Chapter 1

Jax

Most people longed for Christmas vacation, and here I was, dreading my vacation from Christmas Village. It had been two days since I'd received the email from the Santas with the message,"We, all the Santas in Christmas Village, believe you need a vacation, and we'd like you to take it before Christmas."

It was already late September, and there was so much to do. Unfortunately, the only choice I had in the matter was when I left, since it had to be between now and the big day. If I waited any longer, I would risk my Santa's success. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I would be back with the strategic weather team, preparing our flight plans for Christmas Eve.

I was still a few minutes early, so I waited in the hallway outside my Santa's office. I tapped the pointed toe of my shoe against the floor, trying not to pout. It would be two weeks before I would prance in my reindeer hooves on my Santa's team again.

Santa had scheduled the meeting as the soonest he could magic me away to the vacation spot of my choice. I still hadn't decided, but I'd packed a bag for somewhere warm and narrowed my destinations to Miami or Las Vegas. Miami would be humid, loud, and by the beach. Vegas would be hot, dry, and full of gamblers.

I wanted someone to gamble on some fun with me, not ignore me for a slot machine. I'd also never been to the ocean. Miami it was. I ignored the tiny voice in the back of my mind shouting about hurricanes. I'd checked the morning radar and there were no storms on their way. Anything could happen in the next two weeks, but I wanted to go somewhere with nightlife. Christmas Village was sadly lacking in that department, at least for me.

Finally, it was time. I rapped on the door, and it inched open so slowly I wondered if Santa had used his magic. Then I saw the tiny elf child staring up at me through long black bangs beneath a pointed green hat. He reminded me of my best friend, Derek, only much smaller.

Santa 30 smiled and rose from his desk, where he'd been tinkering with a music box. He'd rolled up his sleeves and sported his reading glasses. He whipped off the glasses and was around his desk so fast, I swore he used magic. He offered his hand, and we shook.

"Donner!"

The Santas always greeted us by our last names. It was easier that way. There were so many of us now, with all the different Santas running around. My Santa was number 30 of 69. Keeping track of all 69 first names for all nine reindeer surnames and each Santa would be a full-time job on its own. Besides, if he called me Jax, my given name, that would only confuse his staff and anyone else nearby.

"Where are you headed?" Santa 30 asked.

"Miami?" It came out as a question, even though I'd made up my mind. I never sounded decisive, even when I tried. My alpha father had instilled in me a deep disregard of my own self-worth, thanks to his constant belittling. I would never be big enough, strong enough, or fast enough to carry on the Donner name. Thankfully, my Santa never criticized my human form the way my father did, and I flew well enough to be on his reindeer team.

"Miami it is!" Santa didn't second-guess my decision for a moment. He snapped his fingers with a twinkle in his eye. "You're staying at the Winter Orange Resort. I got you the penthouse suite on the top floor. Take the north elevator bank to get there. You'll have a blast there once … oh dear."

Santa frowned, something he did so rarely it worried me.

"Oh dear?" I asked.

Santa blinked, and then he smiled at me. "Everything will work out as planned. You'll see!"

With another snap of his fingers and a whoosh of air past my ears, I was in the giant open lounge area before a hotel front desk. The first thing I noticed was the dampness in the air. It made my skin prickle with goosebumps. It had been cooler in Santa's office than it was here, but the dampness seemed to seep into my bones in a way the North Pole's chill never had.

I risked a look at myself in the mirrored wall in the hotel's lounge. My clothes and even my shoes had been replaced. Santa must have thought my cotton polo, my only short-sleeved shirt, and my summer wool pants would be too hot for Miami. I was in a tank top that covered less skin than an undershirt and a pair of shorts that wouldn't even cover my boxers. I twisted on the balls of my feet, trying to figure out what I was wearing underneath, since it certainly wasn't boxers. Instead, I had something like floss up my ass, much like the elastic band between my toes to hold the flappy foam boards to my feet.

Three tan children brushed past me, wiping chlorinated water on my bare skin in their haste to get "upstairs." A wave of nostalgia crashed over me at the sound. It had been too long since I'd laughed with my friends. It was past time for me to have children of my own, but no self-respecting alpha reindeer at the North Pole would mate with me. I was a superstar reindeer on Santa 30's team, but in my human skin, I was mediocre boyfriend material.

Now, along with the vacation request, I wished Santa would have told me who my fated mate was and where he lived. I hadn't asked because fated mates didn't work that way according to everyone in Christmas Village. Still, I was in Miami. If I was going to be forced to take a two-week vacation, the least I could do was enjoy it.

I almost tripped as I followed the distant sound of chimes, thanks to my ill-fitting footwear. I had never worn snowshoe-like things on my bare feet. Instead of walking, I dragged them, barely letting the weird boards off the ground before stepping down again.

The elevator arrived, the source of the chime sound, and the laughing children huddled inside. One was still drying his hair, while the other was wringing the water out of a shirt onto the tile floor.

"You coming, Mister?" the boy drying his green-tinted hair asked.

"No, I'll take the next one," I said.

"Okay," the girl in a tutu-embellished swimsuit said. She waved as the doors slid closed.

I felt something strange in the back pocket of my shorts. I reached for it and found a hard rectangle of plastic with the hotel logo. A piece of paper was wrapped around the middle of the card.

"This is a card for the penthouse. Use the elevator's card reader to activate. Have a wonderful time! Santa 30."

I turned toward the ding behind me, where another car slid open and deposited two couples holding hands. I politely waited for them to exit, almost missing my chance to enter as the doors started to shut. I stopped them with my outstretched arm, and they sprang open again.

Inside, I did as the note instructed and flashed the card at the card reader.

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