Page 46 of Mistletoe and Mayday
“Worst. Dance. Ever.” The familiar snark steadies me like a compass finding north.
We take our first step forward in unison. Then another. The alpha mirrors our movement, maintaining exact distance. The snow betrays each step with a sound that seems deafening in the tension-charged air.
A branch snaps to our left. Another crack from the right. My stomach plummets. Fuck. They’ve surrounded us.
“Four wolves,” she breathes against my neck, her exhale warm against my skin. “Like four of your ex-girlfriends coming after you.”
“Is now really the time?”
The wolves are spreading out in a classic pack hunting formation. The kind that ends with their prey surrounded and panicked.
“I joke when I’m terrified. Sue me.” Her fingers grip my coat like it’s the only solid thing in her universe.
Each lupine step pushes us where they want—block us from safety, from shelter, from survival. My hand tightens around the axe handle, its weight pathetically inadequate against four evolved killers.
Bailey trembles against me. Or perhaps those are my own tremors, our bodies pressed so tightly together that the boundaries blur.
“Sebastian?” Her voice sounds small, stripped of its usual confident rambling.
“Hmm?” My eyes track the alpha, cataloging micro-movements that might telegraph the attack.
“Remember when I said your tree decorating was subpar? I lied. It was actually really sweet. Just wanted you to know.”
My fingers readjust on the axe handle, feeling every groove in the wood grain.
“Don’t get sentimental on me now,” I say, forcing lightness into my tone. “We’re going to be fine. I didn’t carry you through a snowstorm just to let some overgrown dogs ruin Christmas.”
“Not being sentimental,” she mutters. “Just stating facts. Your pine cone angel was kind of cute.”
“Bailey.”
“And the way you arranged those twigs into a star?—”
“We’re going to be okay,” I tighten my grip. “Save the compliments for when you’re criticizing my survival skills later.”
“Promise?” Her voice breaks on the single word.
“Promise. Now stop being nice to me. It’s unsettling.”
The wolves edge closer. Options narrow. A decision crystallizes.
“You need to get to the cabin.” My voice drops lower. “I’ll create a distraction.”
“Right, because leaving you to fight wolves alone is totally happening.” A branch snaps behind me—not from wolves this time. “I have a weapon, too. See? We’re practically the A-Team.”
“Bailey, for once in your life, please just?—”
“If you say listen, I will hityouwith this branch instead of the wolves.” Her voice quavers but carries steel underneath. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“The logical move?—”
“Is to stick together.” Her body presses against my back, the branch raised beside me. “Besides, what kind of story would this make if I abandoned you? ‘Oh hey, Mom, Merry Christmas. I left a guy to die because he told me to.’ Yeah, no.”
The alpha’s ears swivel forward at our voices. My fingers tighten around the axe handle.
“This isn’t a story, Bailey. This is?—”
“Life or death, yeah, got it. Still not leaving.” The branch trembles, but her voice holds. “So what’s the actual plan, Mr. Survival Expert? Because these guys look hungry, and I don’t want to be Christmas dinner.”
