A Very Levet Christmas (Guardians of Eternity)

He’d retreated from the world, allowing only a few trusted servants to approach.

Only decades later would Damon discover that his father had been tampering with dark magic in an effort to keep his powers.

“A king who drove us away from his lair and nearly destroyed his pack,” he muttered.

His mother once again slammed her fist against the side of his head. Damon flinched. Despite her tiny size, Rosina was as strong as any pure-blood Were.

“You know nothing of what he suffered,” she rasped. “He was constantly tormented by his rivals. Especially by Salvatore. The treacherous Were’s powers were clearly a threat to your father.”

Damon ignored the blood that ran down the side of his head. “Because Salvatore was the true heir. It was never the Weres’ tradition to pass the crown from father to son.”

The madness in her dark eyes drowned out the glow of Rosina’s wolf. Damon wasn’t certain his mother could even sense her animal. Probably a good thing. It was no doubt rabid.

“Shut your mouth,” she snarled. “Never say that again. Do you hear me?”

Damon grimaced. Foam was beginning to form at the edges of his mother’s mouth, the flecks of blood more pronounced than just a few weeks before.

“Yes.”

“I have sacrificed everything for you.”

A sour taste filled his mouth. It was a blatant manipulation, but that didn’t make it any less effective.

“I know that, Mother.”

“Then you will become the man I have trained you to be.” With a jerky motion, his mother reached into the pocket of her ragged dress, pulling out a finely crafted gold medallion that was hung on a leather strap. The ancient artifact had once belonged to his father and was reputedly imbued with a potent magic, although his mother had never been able to unlock its power. “A man fit to wear your father’s symbol of authority.”

“I . . .” He blew out a resigned sigh as his mother tied the leather strap around his neck, allowing the medallion to fall against his chest. Rosina had decided that her son was destined to be king. Nothing he said was going to change her mind. “Yes, Mother.”

The madness began to recede from her dark eyes, the heat in the room easing. “You are a good boy, Damon.” She patted his cheek. “You will make a powerful king.”

Damon gave a resigned nod of his head. “If you say.”

Rosina began to shuffle back toward her chair. She would spend the rest of the night staring at the empty fireplace, no doubt recalling the days when she was queen and her husband had managed to disguise his perverted connection to a demon lord who’d nearly destroyed the Weres.

“Soon, my love, we will have back all that was taken from us,” she muttered, her words becoming slurred.

Feeling as if he were smothering, Damon turned toward the door. “I have to gather wood for the fire.”

He didn’t know if his mother heard him, and at that moment he didn’t care. He had to get out of the cabin before his frustrated wolf broke its leash and took control.

Stepping out of the cabin he glanced around the stark Siberian landscape. After his father had shunned them, Rosina had fled to this location. She’d been smart enough at the time to understand that Briggs, Mackenzie’s son by a previous queen, might have decided that tossing them out wasn’t enough. The crazy bastard might have actually commanded their deaths.

Barely paying attention to the thin line of trees that circled the cabin and the rough ground that was covered by tufts of grass, Damon moved toward the pile of logs he’d cut earlier in the week. Then, grabbing an ax, he began the methodical process of cutting the stack into a neat pile of firewood.

He’d been working less than half an hour when he caught the unmistakable scent of Were.

Clutching the ax, he turned to search the moonlit landscape. His breath caught as a tiny shadow moved between the trees, the tantalizing scent of chamomile teasing at his senses.

Stepping into the clearing, the young female Were flashed a teasing smile. “Surprise.”

“Gia.” Damon dropped the ax, as always struck by the sheer beauty of the woman. Long, blue-black hair that fell in a smooth curtain down her back. A pale, oval face. And dark, oblong eyes that shimmered with a love for life that Damon found addictive. The first time he’d seen her, she’d been in her wolf form. He’d caught her trespassing on their land, and he’d tried to run her off. Instead she’d shifted into her human form and laughingly thrown a snowball that had hit him on the tip of his sensitive nose. His heart had been lost in that second. “What are you doing out here?”

She continued forward, only halting when she was close enough to place her hands flat on his chest.

“Hoping to see you before you went to bed.”

Damon trembled, lust jolting through him at the light touch. He’d desired this female for so long. Now it’d grown to a savage, ruthless ache that was impossible to ignore.