Page 19 of Howling Holidays

Despite the hectic snowstorm the week before, the weather is perfect; the sun shines brightly in the morning sky and there is a chill in the air that lends itself perfectly to the backdrop of the farm’s rolling green hills dotted with Scotch pines and Colorado blue spruces.

Logan finds me working alongside Iris and a some of the other female shifters, putting the finishing touches on a few holiday wreaths adorned with red velvet bows and brightly colored Christmas bulbs.

“Hey beautiful,” he greets me with his charming smile that makes butterflies dance in my stomach. “Any chance I can borrow you for a bit?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need to run to town for some extra twine and a few other supplies, I was hoping you’d be up for joining me?” he asks.

With the bustle of the holiday season and the looming threat of dangerous shadow shifters trying to unalive me, I happily race toward any extra time I can spend with Logan. His calm and confident presence are a great source of comfort to me. We grab our coats and climb into the truck to make our supply run.

As we wander the aisles of the general store, I feel a strange tension in the air. The silent stares and hushed whispers are subtle but unmistakable. The locals seem to be watching us closely, casting guarded glances at Logan and I as we move through the aisles. The whispers and murmurs seem to trail from person to person as we complete our shopping list and I feel we’re being scrutinized.

It seems that these longtime residents of the small town have taken note of the unconventional bond growing between me, the newcomer, and the reclusive family they distrust. Little do they know that Logan and I have created a deep and abiding connection that will soon bridge their old divisions and create a new union.

We climb back into the truck and I turn to meet Logan’s gaze. “Has it always been this way?” I ask.

“What, you mean the staring and the whispering?” So he did notice the subtleties, though he didn’t let on that it bothered him. “The town residents don’t know what we are specifically, but I guess they can sense that there’s something different about us shifters. When we interact with them it’s usually polite, but brief. Part of the curse I guess, we are doomed to watch over a town that doesn’t fully accept us.”

“That must be hard, especially with how much you guys support the community. It’s not fair at all,” I reply, trying to curb my frustration. It isn’t right how Logan’s pack is treated, and that the town doesn’t even know how much the pack does for them.

He chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s cute how protective you are over a pack that you just met. We’ve pretty much gotten used to things being this way. It’s not usually this bad though. But with you, they’re not used to newcomers, especially ones who spend all their time with us outsiders.”

“That’s exactly my point. How cruel it is to have to defend a town that doesn’t accept you. I want to break this curse and show them how wrong they are,” I reply.

“How about we drop these supplies off at the farm and head back to your grandmother’s house? We can keep looking through her journals to see if we can find anything else about how to break this curse.”

I nod in agreement, eager for a chance to finally find the answers we seek.

After our long days at the tree farm, we spend our nights continuing to pore over the coded diaries, journals, and lore in my grandmother’s study searching for clues about a ritual to finally break this wicked curse. In a way, it helps me feel more connected to Amelia in a way that I didn’t get to experience while she was alive. It makes me wonder if my dad knew anything about these supernatural secrets.

Yesterday I came across an old book that makes several mentions of a magical stone. I spend my time searching for clues about the moonstone artifact and curse binding Logan's kind. References are maddeningly vague, but the moonstone appears connected to rituals during the Reaping Moon, which my calendar identifies as the final full moon of the year. Just a week away, right before Christmas. If the legends hold truth, perhaps this stone anchors the ancient magic cursing Everwood's shifters. Finding and destroying it could bring their long-lost freedom.

I become fixated on locating the caverns rumored to house the stone, combing topography maps and mining reports for clues. But Logan grows uneasy, insisting reckless action only puts us at greater risk.

"Let’s see what truths the Reaping Moon reveals first," he cautions. "The shadow shifters will be back, and we need to be ready. I want to find out more about them and how to protect ourselves from them first." His resistance and lack of urgency frustrates me. Surely, he longs to free his pack like I do?

Tonight, my agitation boils over as we sit in the antique armchairs by the fire Logan made to keep us warm in the study.

"What are you so afraid of?" I demand, twisting to face him. "I thought you wanted the old curse broken?"

Logan's eyes cloud, thoughts turning inward. "You know I do, Emily. But we still don’t know exactly who, or what, we’re facing. Reckless abandon could cost us everything." His jaw sets stubbornly, even as he places his hand on my thigh. "I can’t guarantee your safety if we don’t do this carefully. I’m grateful to you for helping me find the answers we need. But when the time comes, I don’t want you anywhere near this danger. It’s probably going to come down to a fight. I finally found my fated mate, and I’m not willing to lose you."

I sit up, clutching tightly to the blanket over draped my lap. "You don't need to protect me like I'm some fragile doll! We stand together in this fight now. I won't be confined to the sidelines. Let me help you. Please."

Logan gently grabs my wrist as I rise, voice pleading. "Why do you run so readily towards danger? I can’t lose you too…" His voice trails off and I can suddenly hear the anxiousness in his tone. His words reveal the fear of abandonment fueling his resistance. He’s afraid for history to repeat itself, stealing yet another loved one to darkness and obsession. But our fates don’t walk those same tragic lines.

I soften, cradling his cheek. "Hope requires risk, my love. But we’ll be careful. We’ll get the answers we need, and then we end this for good. Together." Logan pulls me close, tension slowly leaving his frame. He laces his fingers with mine and lets out a sigh. I know we will argue again, both protective and headstrong. But no rift can permanently divide us now. Destiny binds our hearts beyond severing.

In a swift motion, Logan pulls me onto his lap in a straddle with a tight grip on my ass and seals his lips to mine. The kiss starts softly, but quickly deepens into something more intense and needy. His hands pull me in closer and begin exploring my body as I wrap my arms tighter around his neck.

I can feel the heat radiating from his body as he presses me against him, his hands finding their way under my shirt. I gasp as his fingers brush against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Logan breaks away from the kiss, his breathing ragged as he stares into my eyes.

"I need you," he whispers, his hands roaming my body. I nod, unable to speak as desire courses through me. Logan stands, his arms still wrapped tightly around me while he quickly wipes the clutter away from the desk behind me. As he sets me down onto the newly cleaned space, I can feel my heart racing with anticipation. Logan's lips find mine once more, his hands continuing their exploration of my body. I moan softly as he moves down to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin.

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