Lycan Christmas

Chapter One

Lorent had just lugged what seemed like the fiftieth box of lights from Rindy and Brent’s basement halfway down the main path that wound through the cabins situated throughout Sanctuary. He set it down next to the other boxes, which were now almost all empty, and watched the others hanging the strings of lights on the evergreen trees that ran along the edge of the dirt trail.

His second Christmas at Sanctuary was quickly approaching, but holidays had never held any special interest to him. In fact, until he’d come here, he’d not been around people who celebrated holidays, nor had he celebrated them. There hadn’t been a reason to observe them, really wasn’t now.

That wasn’t entirely true. He shook his head and silently berated himself for being such a cynical ass. He had his life, a much better one, and friends, thanks to Sanctuary. That was enough in itself to be celebratory, yet he had trouble finding that joyous, lighthearted vibe that everyone else seemed to radiate. “Christmas spirit,” as it was referred to. He didn’t dislike Christmas.

Christmas in itself was okay. It was the gatherings of people it brought that were hard on him, especially following so closely on the heels of Thanksgiving. He wasn’t good with people. Never had been, probably never would be.

He squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a groan. Thanksgiving. It was only a week away. His lungs nearly constricted in the familiar suffocating manner at the thought of a pending get-together. He couldn’t deny he liked the food, and in truth liked his new family as well, but he needed to take them in small doses. Unfortunately, nothing was in small doses where the holidays were concerned at Sanctuary. He took a deep breath wondering if this Thanksgiving might be a bit less smothering and overwhelming. He hoped like hell it would be, but doubted it.

He hated the unease he felt around people, and hated even more the wariness that had embedded itself deep into his subconscious, although that same wariness was what had kept him alive when he’d been a rogue and running with one dangerous crowd after another.

Over a year ago, Knox Slade had given him a choice between reforming and dying. He’d nearly chosen death. Death was peaceful, and he never understood why people were so afraid of it. Hell, living with the constant shit life threw at you was much harder than the ultimate, eternal calm and quiet death offered. Knox would have given him a swift, somewhat painless death had he chosen that particular path. But while his life had been a complete and utter crapfest, it was his, nonetheless, and the survival instinct in him was strong, always had been, which made sense out of how he’d managed to continue breathing as long as he had.

He thought back on the night that had brought him to Sanctuary, the night he’d gotten the idiotic idea embedded into his thick skull that he needed a mate. He’d never given much thought to taking a mate before then, but for some reason, the loneliness that had eaten away at him for what seemed like eternity had finally gnawed deep enough to get the best of him.

When he’d come across Rose Canton’s scent, he hadn’t been able to help himself.

He’d never intended to hurt her, but he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams the fight she’d put up. He grunted, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, remembering exactly how it had felt when Rose had broken it. But those things had turned out to be the least of his worries, for he hadn’t counted on Knox Slade, Rose’s real mate, making an appearance.

When the ancient had gotten his hands on him, he’d been prepared to die. The rage he’d witnessed on the lycan’s face had been a humbling experience. He’d been scared shitless, not so much because he was staring death in the face, but because, in all honesty, even after the countless horrifying things he’d observed through the years, he had never seen a more terrifying sight than the partially changed dominant male protecting his mate.

That night had brought an avalanche of changes crashing down on him, and in whole, he was satisfied with them—for the most part.

He’d been homeless since he was ten years old—not that the outcasts he’d been raised with would be considered family material by any sane person—and had fallen into random rogue packs off and on over the years.

The memories of the things he’d witnessed still haunted him, but when he’d scented Rose that night, despair had finally gotten the best of him. Every pack he’d belonged to, every adult role model he’d had up to that point had taught him that he should take what he wanted whenever he wanted it. While he’d fought the things he’d been told, felt deep down that hurting others was wrong, loneliness had a way of inspiring irrationality.

He’d dreamed of having a woman he could call his own, one who would hold him and love him, not one he had to kidnap and threaten and rape, although rape was something he was not capable of. He wanted a woman who would be kind to him, someone he could share his life with, and when he’d come across Rose—and God help him but she was beautiful—he’d let the misguided lessons he’d been taught from birth convince him she could be his. He hadn’t known until he’d come to Sanctuary that those marked with the main scent had a second scent, a mated scent that only a destined mate could smell.

He’d been taught that those with the scent were marked for lycan pleasure, and once he’d learned of the mated scent, the guilt had been near crippling. Over the years, he’d witnessed the abuse of many women, and even though the urge to aid them had surged in him, he’d been helpless.

Scavenging for food and blending with shadows for safety honed skills of evasion not fighting technique, yet he wasn’t so sure that excuse made him feel any better. What kind of man did that make him? A coward?

The knowledge that he’d witnessed countless marked women robbed of the chance to meet their intended mate gave him nightmares and a forever-burdened heart. And the thought that the same fate might have befallen the one woman in the world who could possibly love him, accept him for whom and what he was, made him wish at times that Knox Slade hadn’t given him a choice about dying.

Bubbly laughter jerked him from his dismal thoughts, and his attention was drawn to Rindy, Brent’s mate. She was a tiny thing, barely five foot tall, with blonde hair nearly the color of wheat, and clear gray eyes. The ancient was nearly twice the size of Rindy, but he handled her as if she were fragile glass. Lorent smiled when Brent picked her up by the waist and held her up to a fir tree so she could string some lights on the branches toward the top.

Rindy and Brent’s property butted up against Anthony’s and Karen’s—

another ancient and his mate—property. Those two properties combined made up the hundreds of acres called Sanctuary.

“Hey, Lorent. You decorating your place this year?”

Lorent, lost in his memories, wallowing in his guilt, sucked in a startled gasp. He should have noticed Shannon’s approach much sooner. Great.

Haven’t you learned by now that distraction is the number one thing that can get you killed? Not that he feared for his life—only his sanity—from Shannon, but another situation and a wandering mind could cost him dearly.

Shannon Levy was the only unmated girl who lived at Sanctuary. He had participated in her rescue from rogues five months earlier. Fortunately, they’d gotten to her before any real harm had been done, and he considered her rescue the first real step in making up some ground for past sins.

Shannon was twenty, five years younger than him, and was pretty enough with her slim, tall frame, dark skin, pert mouth, turned-up nose, blue eyes, and long brown hair. While he found her to be nice, she made him a bit uncomfortable at times with her overly friendly behavior.

She wasn’t his mate, but he sympathized with her, as he figured she was grappling with trying to deal with how she’d come to be at Sanctuary and being a marked mate for a lycan. He understood the struggles of trying to figure out who you were and what was expected of you, especially after living a life with a completely different outlook of what was and was not reality.

“Um, no.” He took a step back when she crowded his personal space, which she did quite often.

“I could come over and help you, you know?” She batted her long lashes at him and slowly ran her tongue over her lips.

The urge to run away was strong, but he’d look like a fool if he hightailed it into the woods because a girl made him nervous. He took another step back and almost threw caution to the wind when she walked two fingers up his chest.

“It would be fun, hon. We could hang out and get to know each other better.” She leaned closer. Her breasts brushed against him as she stood on her toes to slip her mouth up by his ear. “You know I’d like to get to know you better, right, Lorent?”

He felt the hot rush of blood to his cheeks. She had to know that if he got to know her in the way he thought she was insinuating, it would be his balls, because once Anthony found out, he’d rip them off if Brent didn’t get to him first. Anthony and Karen played integral parts at Sanctuary. Anthony kept the reformants in line, which sometimes required a good ass-kicking, and Karen helped the newly reforming rogues with the mental side of things.

While Karen had worked in an office before meeting Anthony, it hadn’t taken her long to find a new interest in psychology. She’d taken several online courses in the subject and was currently looking into becoming a full-fledged psychiatrist.

There were rules about touching the mate of another. Hell, there were rules about everything, but this was the only real home Lorent had ever known, the only home where he felt people actually gave a shit about him—

even if just a little—and he wasn’t going to screw it up by letting his hormones get the best of him.

“I’m sorry, Shannon, but you know I don’t get into the Christmas spirit.

It’s not my thing.”

She shoved her bottom lip out into an exaggerated pout, but before she could say another word, he hurried off with a quick “I’ll see you later” over his shoulder.

He’d gone twenty-five years without sleeping with a woman. He’d kissed and made out a bit, but circumstances had never permitted him to go further than that. He wouldn’t deny he’d wanted to have sex, still wanted to have sex. What red-blooded male didn’t? But he didn’t want to jump into bed with the first willing woman just for the fact that she’d made herself available. As old-fashioned as it might be, he at least wanted to have some feelings—

besides tingly-in-the-pants feelings—for the woman he slept with.

He would never have sex with a woman unless he was one hundred percent sure that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He’d seen too many women used by rogues to want anything other than that. The ideal situation, of course, would be to find his mate, but he held next to no hope that that would happen. If she existed, he’d probably never lay eyes upon her before a rogue got her, and really, what did he have to offer a mate anyway?

He had the option of dating a human woman without the scent, but he wasn’t sure it would be worth the effort. Many lycans did it, but since it was forbidden to tell any human—other than those with the scent—of their existence, if something became serious with an unmarked woman, he would be required to leave Sanctuary. Since living alone for hundreds of years tended to get lonely, some lycans chose this path. And with hope of finding one’s mate dwindling every day with the increasing number of rogues, he could understand the need to have something permanent, or at least semipermanent.

Unfortunately, lycans aged much slower than humans, and a relationship with one could only last a few years. Within ten years or so, it became obvious that something was different when no new wrinkles or evident signs of aging were present. Not to mention no children would come of a union with one not marked. While he understood the need to fill the empty void inside him created by loneliness, he didn’t think a temporary relationship would be worth the pain it would ultimately cause. The hurt suffered in the end when he’d be required to walk away wasn’t something he wished to inflict upon himself, or someone else, for some short-term comfort.

He tried hard not to let his imagination delve into all the ways his mate might have already suffered at the hands of the things he used to hang out with—the thing he used to be. He knew he should cut himself some slack—

the others had told him as much. But he had trouble doing it when inflicted by constant swirling memories of all of the horrible acts he’d seen rogues perform, and of all the times he’d turned a blind eye or never said a word to try to help the victims.

He clenched his fists. When one started sounding like a damned broken record to oneself, it was time to focus on something new. Unfortunately, the self-inflicted torture over his past had become as habitual as weed to a pothead. He’d been a misguided kid, simply a product of society, born into less than savory circumstances, but even under those circumstances, he felt weak blaming others for his actions. He wasn’t a child any longer, and he preferred to take responsibility for the things he’d done.

He made his way to the small cabin he called home and opened the front door. It wasn’t much, but it was clean, and as long as he lived at Sanctuary, it would always be his.

A knock at the door came only moments after he closed it and startled him. He hesitated to answer it, wondering if Shannon had followed him home, and sighed in relief when he heard the familiar voice on the other side.

“Lorent?”

He opened the door. “Hi, Karen.”

She was average height and build, but the black hair that framed her pixie face provided a perfect setting for her ocean blue eyes. She had always been nice to him, and although she wasn’t all that much older than he was, he thought of her as a mother figure. She had no qualms about pointing out his shortcomings and wrongdoings, yet she’d not do it in a degrading manner.

No, she’d do it in a way that told him she cared, that she only wanted to help him become a better man. He appreciated that trait in her, most of the time.

Until he’d come to Sanctuary, no one had cared for him. No one had been kind to him or considered his feelings. Both he and his feelings had been no more than dispensable objects that could be thrown away at a whim.

He’d gotten good at telling when that whim was coming, too, and would cut his losses and move on to the next temporary craphole he’d live in until he’d worn out his welcome and had to move on again. There had been long stretches of time when he’d stayed on his own, but when push came to shove, he’d favor dealing with the rogues. Being around anyone had been better than being alone—which was strange considering his aversion to crowds.

“We’re having a campfire tonight at about eight. You’ll be there, right?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

His own emotions were conflicted; while he felt uncomfortable around others—although he had worked on getting better about that—he still yearned to be a part of a family, a real family who cared about him, whom he cared about, who was normal. And even though it had taken him a while to admit it to himself, he’d come to care about the people at Sanctuary.

So yes, technically Sanctuary had been forced upon him, but he chose to remain because he was finally somewhere he was accepted, a place with others of his kind, others of his kind who treated him with respect, dignity, and love. He never thought to be in such a place, and he had no plans of leaving anytime soon. He’d gone through the reformation program, and was now duly reformed and able to leave if he wanted. But he chose the second option he’d been given: a home, security, and love for as long as he desired.

“Good. If you don’t mind, come a bit early and help set up the chairs?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.” What else did he have to do?

Karen smiled and gave him a sisterly pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Yeah, now that he thought about it, she was more like a big sister than a mother. He’d give his life for her, for all of his family here at Sanctuary, without a thought. They’d given him a second chance, and he would never make them regret it. He’d try his damndest to be the man they all expected him to be, the man he strived to be one day. He just hoped when he screwed up, he didn’t do it in epic proportions, and he would screw up here and there as he’d done on other occasions.

Those screwups had been valuable lessons. No matter how much he’d messed up, like the time he nearly burned down the learning center when attempting to do some minor electrical work, the others had been there to guide him. Those at Sanctuary never condemned him, but instead helped him understand what he’d done wrong. Hell, he hadn’t even minded the times Brent or Anthony or Knox or one of the others had razzed him over his missteps. He’d been told time and again that everyone makes mistakes, but in the past, mistakes had been costly. In the past, mistakes had gotten him beaten or in some instances nearly killed.

He shuddered. He’d taken his lessons seriously, and the ancients had taught him to fight well. The next time someone decided he’d be an easy target, they’d get a surprise, possibly a deadly surprise. For once in his life, he could proudly say that he was on the good side, the right side, the side with a cause, and if a pompous-assed rogue attempted to lay a finger on him again, the fucker would be pulling back a nub.

He walked to the bathroom, stripped off his clothes, and stepped under the hot spray of the shower. If muscles could sigh, his would do so now as the warmth soothed the knots from his earlier workout. After he’d dried and dressed, he stepped outside of the cabin, into the unseasonably warm afternoon.

He made his way down the main path in the opposite direction of where the others were probably still hanging lights, and hadn’t gone far when he saw a familiar SUV heading down the lane. Knox and Rose.

He’d grown to like and respect Knox, and although it had taken time, he and Rose had developed a friendship as well. He still felt guilty about what he’d done to her, even though she’d assured him on more than one occasion that it was in the past and to let bygones be bygones. But that’s where the problem lay, the past, the one thing that proved elusive time and again where his own forgiveness was concerned.

He’d not met one of the lycans’ mates who wasn’t beautiful in her own unique way. Rindy was gorgeous, petite, and fiercely protective of Brent. The two could practically start a fire with the intensity with which they looked at one another. Karen was earthy, intelligent, compassionate, and when she touched Anthony, it was with a gentle kindness that could make any man jealous.

Janine was curvy, funny, and baked like an angel. Raze was one lucky son of a bitch because she could cook as well. Sherry, Janine’s sister, was cute, spunky, and loved Piers with an enviable passion. And Rose was simply gorgeous in every elegant way one could be beautiful, although the woman had a mean streak. He’d learned that firsthand, hadn’t he? He rubbed at the bridge of his nose again, remembering the crunch of cartilage as it had broken under her fist of fury, and smiled at the memory.

While he could appreciate all of the women, none of them sparked any sexual desire in him, only love that one would feel for family. He considered all of the men his brothers and was confident they all had each other’s backs.

As he walked toward the approaching SUV, it came to a halt on the hard, dirt-packed road. He was only a few feet from the vehicle when Knox stepped out of the driver’s side. Shortly after, the passenger door opened, and Rose got out. She smiled and waved at him.

He started over to them to see if they needed help with anything, but froze in his tracks when the back door opened and a tiny girl with spiky pink hair hopped out. Her scent washed over him, but it didn’t elicit the same friendly feelings from him that the others’ did. Her scent enveloped him in warm honey, his body grew tingly, and his cock jumped in interest.

A sudden and overwhelming urge to scoop her up and take her back to his cabin nearly drove all hint of common sense from his brain. He’d even taken a few steps toward her to do just that before he realized what he’d been doing and abruptly halted. Confusion washed through him a split second before full realization and understanding stabbed him as sharply as a double-edged sword. She had the main scent, but she had another scent as well. She was his mate.

He turned and practically ran back into the woods, fully realizing that Knox and Rose would view his actions suspiciously. After all, what normal person would do a one-eighty and flee from friends with no obvious provocation?