Alphas for the Holidays Read online

The air became colder, a slight breeze that smelled of the outdoors. The yellow glow of light morphed into the blue tint of moonlight. She crawled from the tunnel and out of a snow-covered mound of earth. A forest stretched around her. The dense overgrowth blocked all but tiny dancing spots of light.

  “You made it.” The male voice was punctuated by the slam of wood on wood.

  Maura gasped and spun around in time to see a figure locking the tunnel shut so she couldn’t go back. She backed away from him, dragging her bare feet in the snow. Forest litter poked her arch and she stumbled.

  The man turned to her. He wore a dark cloak and breathed hard as if he’d run a long way. Dark eyes were familiar, but a fleeting familiar, a face in the crowd, a passenger on a bus. She couldn’t place him. A thin scar formed over his left temple, the wound long healed.

  “You are early.” He smiled, a charming look meant to draw her in, but she didn’t trust that smile.

  “Who are you? What do you want? Why did you lock me in that room?” Maura lifted her hand to keep the stranger back. “Don’t come near me!”

  “My name is Jack. I—”

  “Jack Taylor?” Was that his house? The childhood home of his wife? The idea of him being married struck her hard and she found she didn’t like it. Though, there was no logical reason as to why she should be jealous.

  “Oh, so it was the journal this time.” Jack seemed disappointed by the revelation.

  “Were you watching me?” Maura eyed him cautiously. “Is this some kind of sick-o game?”

  “Game,” he repeated sadly. “Oh, how I wish.”

  Maura’s breathing deepened.

  “You’re going to run, aren’t y—”

  Maura didn’t wait for him to finish. She bolted from the now locked tunnel. Though snow blanketed the ground, it didn’t feel as thick as her first run, nor was it as cold. Perhaps she had lost permanent feeling in her feet. She darted through the trees, torn between the easier path for speed and the thicker brush for stealth.

  Slowly the snow cleared, as if she ran through the winter season, and she erupted from the dense trees into a valley. Warmth surrounded her—not the artificial warmth of radiant heat fighting back winter, but the sunlight warmth of spring. Tiny gasps greeted her as butterflies leapt into the air.

  “Maura!” Jack yelled behind her.

  The butterflies swooped forward in formation like tiny planes. She tried to dart past them, but they re-angled and blocked her escape.

  “Maura, stop,” Jack said, catching up to her.

  For some reason she was compelled to obey. Fear filled her but it wasn’t fear of him. In fact, she wanted to turn around and stay with him.

  “What is going on?” she demanded, looking at the dark winter forest, and then the bright spring valley. “Where am I?”

  “Go,” Jack ordered the butterflies. They instantly broke formation and fluttered around the flowers as if nothing had happened.

  “What did you give me?” She was too scared to move. “I’m hallucinating. None of this is real. It’s some kind of fever induced dream.”

  “We did not expect you back so soon. You are on the wrong path again.” He pushed back his cloak to reveal a white tunic shirt and tighter black leather pants with cross laces up the side. Who dressed like that? Shakespearian performers?

  Maura stared a little too long at his hips and became momentarily distracted by strong thighs and a tapered waist. Under different circumstances… “None of this makes sense. I have to run. I don’t know why, I just need to run.”

  Spring felt safe. She wanted to stay but an outside force told her to run.

  “There is still time to start over,” Jack said. “Close your eyes and remember. You can find the right path. You have to find it.”

  Maura found herself obeying as she closed her eyes.

  “Go back to the beginning and do it again,” he urged.

  “I want to stay here with you. I don’t want to go,” she said, desperation filling her. And it was true. It was nice here in spring. The gentleness of his voice calmed her. The look of him drew her in and she wanted to touch him, be with him.

  “I know, but you have to try again. Go back to the beginning. You remember it, don’t you? Snowflakes on Christmas Eve. They’re magical, aren’t they? Tiny perfect ice kingdom—”

  “Perfect ice kingdoms doomed to melt,” Maura finished.

  “I never understood that.” He chuckled.

  “I was a little drunk,” she whispered. “I was talking nonsense.”

  She had been admiring the fat flakes falling against her coat, not paying attention as she tipsily weaved her way from the Christmas Eve party toward her car. A lawn gnome poked out from the snow. The shoveled sidewalk had cracks in the old slabs. Dread and fear filled her with such intensity. Gasping, she fought the memory and violently shook her head. “No!”

  When she opened her eyes, Jack stood closer than before. His hand hovered by her cheek. He didn’t touch her, but the expression in his eyes said he wanted to. The yearning inside him was palpable and raw. Firm lips pressed together a little too harshly. Eyes narrowed in concentration as if holding back tears. He said, “Go back. You’ll find it.”

  “I don’t know what I’m looking for.” Part of her wanted to obey the strange request, even though it didn’t make sense. Go where? To the tunnel? To the doorless room? The fear came back as she thought of running in the snow. She didn’t want to go back into the snow. It was warm here. Safe. Danger lurked in the snow.

  She wanted to stay here. Forever.

  It didn’t make sense.

  Her body told her to run.

  “Stay away from me,” she ordered, fighting the confusion. Jack’s mouth had been on the verge of kissing her. She felt the heat of his breath on her cheek. Desperation shone in his eye.

  “Remember,” he whispered. “Everlastingly.”

  Chapter 4

  Maura felt the pull of winter down to the deepest levels of her soul. The warmth felt so nice against her skin and yet she still had the urge to run into the dark forest. It wasn’t something she wanted to do, but something she was compelled by outside forces to do.

  “You look tired,” Jack said. “Maybe close your eyes and rest.”

  Maura’s lids became momentarily heavy. She was tired. How could she not be after all she’d been through? Swaying on her feet, she mumbled, “I think I have a fever. I’m seeing things. I can’t concentrate. None of this is real.”

  The back of his hand touched her forehead lightly. “Maybe you’re remembering.”

  “What am I supposed to remember?”

  “I can’t tell you,” he said. “I tried once. It didn’t end well. It has to be this way.”

  “But we just met. I don’t know you.” She swayed again. His fingers felt familiar against her skin. The caress stirred a deep longing inside of her and it became hard to concentrate.

  “Sure you do.” His lips brushed hers softly. “Everlastingly.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?” She didn’t pull away from his kiss. Nothing about this night made sense, but at least his touch didn’t feel treacherous. Being next to him was the safest she’d felt all night. “Who are you, Jack?”

  Instead of answering, he kissed her again. Or perhaps that was his answer—a gentle kiss.

  Maura didn’t move, just let it happen. Exhaustion made her limbs heavy. Her feet stung, a cold contrast to his touch. His fingers slid over her cheek and neck to cup her face. She felt him shake violently.

  “Maura, please, find it,” he whispered against her mouth. “I don’t know how much time there is left. I fear all we have are these stolen moments.”

  Her lips moved along his and she didn’t want to think about anything else. She pressed against his warmth, sensing that he might let her go soon. Needing to feel something other than cold, she desperately held him tighter. The firm press of his body molded against her. His desire was evident in the lift of his arousal, in the fevered explo
ration of his hands.

  When she touched him, her hands knew how he liked to be caressed. Maura did not know this man, she was sure of it, but her body responded as if it remembered the taste of his mouth and the lines of his chest. Her finger remembered the indent of his spine under his shirt.

  She wished he would just tell her what was happening. He clearly knew the answer. What was she supposed to remember? Why the doorless room and tunnel? Why such a place between seasons existed? How could he be laying her down in a spring-filled valley next to the wintery forest?

  The soft petals of the field cushioned her. Maura refused to open her eyes, scared if she did she’d be trapped barefoot in the snow again. If this was her dying hallucination, then she wanted to take it. She hooked her thumbs into his waistline and pushed. With a little of his help, she managed to free his erection. The rest of his clothing seemed to melt from his skin to reveal the hot flesh beneath.

  Emotion poured out of him in tiny bursts, pulsating into her nerve endings as if his desire for her was a tangible thing to be passed between them. The sound of his moan begged her for more. When he pulled up her skirt to tenderly grab her ass, she didn’t fight it. This is what she wanted, an end to the torturous ache in her skin, to the uncertainty of her mind. Nothing made sense in this world but Jack.

  Jack pulled at the bodice of her gown to expose a breast. His lips left hers only to find hold over an aching nipple. He tugged at her hose and she heard them rip open. The eagerness of his desire was in that very action, as if he couldn’t wait to undress her fully. Seconds later his hips borrowed between her thighs.

  They made love on the valley floor, bodies entwined, gentle but desperate. There was no hesitation as he entered her and in that second she knew him, and the feelings he stirred within her were familiar. Though she wanted the moment to last forever—as she tried to filter the pleasure of his lovemaking from the tease of her memories—their climax built to such a pitch that they had no choice but to fall over the edge. He stiffened over her and his breath caught.

  Maura gasped and finally opened her eyes. A tear slid over her cheek. “Jack? It’s you. I remember. Everlastingly.” The cold came back with a fierceness, starting at her prickling feet. The pain of it would not be denied as the threat of death pulled her into its heartless arms.

  “Listen to me, Maura. The magic is waning. You must break the loop or we lose—”

  “Oh, no, I feel it. No, no, no, not yet. Jack, not yet. Just one more minute.”

  “Remember me,” he whispered as his body faded from above hers. Tears stained his cheeks in his desperation. “Remember Jack. Everlas—”

  Chapter 5

  Maura pressed her face to the glass window of the doorless room, trying to see through the falling snow. Someone had dug into the large yard, clearing the white away so that mud poked through to spell out the words, “Remember Jack Everlas”.

  The words were facing her window, as if they had been left for her to find. But who was Jack Everlas and why was she to remember him?

  If someone wrote that on the lawn and it was still visible in the snow storm, then they had to be nearby. Perhaps below in the house? The room was high off the ground so maybe this was an attic and she just wasn’t finding the right latch to get out. Taking the skeleton key off the wall, she used it to scrape at the window sill. It had been painted shut and it took a little effort to break the seal.

  When she managed to push it open wide enough to crawl out, she hooked her feet onto the lattice and tried to close it once more, so the heat would not escape. The lantern from within the room cast light onto the snow. She made her way down the side of the house and then jogged to the porch. Peeking in the window, she tried to see if anyone was home. The house was dark.

  Maura tried the knob. The door was unlocked so she let herself in. “Hello?”

  No answer came beyond the flickering glow of Christmas lights on an otherwise bare tree. It actually looked sad, alone and musty, a half-hearted attempt at decorating for the holidays.

  “My name is Maura. You helped me. I know it’s silly, but I couldn’t find a way out of the attic room so I climbed down.”

  Still, no answer.

  It didn’t look as if anyone lived here. The furniture was old and had been undisturbed for decades. Maybe the tree lights were the only ones that worked. It would explain why they were on, but no others. Just to be sure, she tried the light switch. Nothing happened. At least the house was warm. That was something.

  Tracks formed a trail down the dusty hallway. Someone had been here recently. She followed them cautiously. Glancing, she saw a clean swipe in the dust on an old picture frame that revealed a handsome face. The eyes were kind. Perhaps the owner of the farm in his boyhood days? She lightly touched the scar on his temple, wondering where she had seen him before.

  “I wish men like you still existed,” she whispered. “The dating pool is a sad thing these day—” A strong sensation filled her and stopped her words. What was she forgetting? Who was she forgetting?

  The tracks led upstairs, probably to where they’d carried her to the doorless room. Maybe the note in the snow was their way of letting her know they’d be back. If they went for help it was possible their tracks leading away were lost in the snow, unlike the deep grooves they’d carved for their message. The old pickup outside hardly looked like it would run.

  Instead of going upstairs, she explored the main level of the home. Most of the rooms were empty except for a few odd pieces of abandoned furniture. The kitchen had antique tins in the cupboard that read “Jackrabbit Tobacco” and “Jack-o-Lantern Pie Filling”. A newspaper clipping with yellowed tape that no longer stuck to anything lay on the floor. It was a picture of an abandoned car alongside the road with the headline, “Mysterious Disappearance of Two Locals”. The fragile paper crumbled to dust when she tried to lift it up to read the article.

  Long ago someone had pasted colorful butterflies, now dulled with dust, onto a small door. Maura peeked within, only to find old wooden steps leading to a cellar. She felt around on the wall and found an old push button light switch. The lights flickered when she turned them on.

  “Hello?” she called. No one answered, not that she expected them to.

  Maura did not like the general feel of basements on a good day. Telling herself she’d just take a quick look, she tested each step to make sure it would hold her weight. Old limestone block foundation leaned inward and hard dirt made for an uneven floor. Cobwebs hung in dirty strings, abandoned by their spider makers. The lights flickered violently, threatening to go out. She began to retreat, only to stop when she saw a small chest on the floor beneath the stairs. It was tucked away and easy to miss.

  The closer Maura moved to retrieve the chest, the faster the lights flickered. She grabbed it and darted for the stairs. The lights went out completely and she was left stumbling her way back to the kitchen. Finding a seat on the old couch near the blinking tree lights, she placed the chest on her knees and dusted it off. The word “Everlastingly” was carved on the top.

  A howl sounded outside and she jumped, dropping the chest to look out of the window. She pressed her face to the glass. The snowfall had begun to fill in Jack’s name.

  “Remember Jack,” she whispered. A lost thought nagged at her brain. Who was Jack?

  Maura turned to the chest. Pictures had spilled onto the floor like hidden memories—her memories. A Christmas Eve party in the dress she now wore, smiling and raising a glass of champagne. What was a picture from earlier in the night doing in an old box in an abandoned house?

  Her hands shook as she reached for it. Tinsel sprinkled her hair in the photo, and she was smiling. Something small had sunk down into her glass, but she couldn’t make it out. Shaking, she kneeled to the floor. The images didn’t make sense. They were out of order—her car keys in her hand, her coat sleeve with fat snowflakes, tracks in the snow, a blurry face, a cracked stone, a creepy yard gnome.

  And then blood—red
crimson staining the ground, a destroyed snow angel, a lost shoe.

  These were her memories, but she couldn’t put them into order or context. She grabbed the chest, tempted to shove them all back inside as if they didn’t exist. A dull ache formed behind her eye. Tree lights blinked over her photo’s smiling face, an image that seemed to say, “Begin here”, and so she did.

  Chapter 6

  “Maura, a toast,” a man said, the distant voice echoing through her mind. “I met you a year ago when you quite literally fell into my arms and gave me third degree burns with your ridiculously large coffee. But even as my face blistered, I knew I couldn’t go to the emergency room until I got your number.”

  Maura gave a small laugh. Her lips moved, as they had when that picture was taken, and she answered, “At most I stained your shirt.” The picture changed, as if the camera panned down her purple satin dress. “I only gave you my number because you made me feel guilty.”

  Laughter sounded, the tipsy happiness of a party. The ghostly echo seemed to come from within the farmhouse, from a room she couldn’t see. She slowly pushed up from the floor and sat on the couch.

  The man continued, “Would you be quiet. This is my proposal.”

  Maura made a weak noise. Proposal?

  “I had a lot of clever things lined up to say to you,” he had said, “a lot of reasons why you should say yes, why we’re perfect, but the truth is, when I look at you I forget everything logical. So, Maura Caroline O’Brian, say you’ll marry me and make me everlastingly yours.”

  “Yes, Jack, yes,” Maura told the memory. Jack’s blurry photographic face came into focus. She remembered his smile and how happy she was whenever he walked into a room. She remembered their first fight, first kiss, and first date. So many tiny moments that created a relationship. She remembered what it felt like to be held, how her nerves would jump with awareness when he touched her. Whenever he was gone overnight on a work trip, she longed for him terribly. The desire to hold him seemed to choke her even now. From that first moment, she’d known he was her forever.