Charlotte slapped Misha’s hand with the wooden spoon she so bravely wielded, laughing as she scolded the man, “you’ll get plenty of cookies after dinner.”
“Oh, come on, love, you made so many,” the man laughed back, wrapping his arms around her waist as he drew her close to him. Letting his face nuzzle into the mane of her hair, lips brush the back of her neck, feeling how she leaned back into his chest. She rolled her eyes, knowing he was about to turn up the charm, and his hands rested on her hips as he whispered in his seductive tone, “I mean, as talented, beautiful, perfect, everything really that you are, how couldn’t I want to try some? Everything you’ve ever done is absolute perfection, you know that.”
“Not going to work on me,” the woman said even as she slid around to face him, kissing along Misha’s jaw as her fingers gently played with the buttons of his shirt. He chuckled, sweeping her off the ground and sitting her on the edge of the table as she warned him through her giggles, “Dinner’s supposed to be in fifteen minutes, we do not have time for this.”
“Fox’s horrible with time on her own, and she has two kids with her, she’ll never remember to come back in time,” Misha answered, kissing along the crook of Charlotte’s neck and extracting a few half-held noises while she hid her face against him, “and Alfred’s never been on time in his life. We have at least a half hour before anyone’s here.”
Charlotte laughed, a newfound confidence behind it while her fingers playing with the man’s hair as she muttered, “when you put it that way…”
“Bedroom?” he asked, smirking as he held up the cookie he’d taken while kissing her and took a bite.
The woman laughed, taking the rest from her boyfriend as she scolded, “stealing cookies on Christmas Eve, you’re getting punished for that,” before she took the last bite.
“Oh, punished? I liked the sound of that,” Misha countered, picking the woman up as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and legs about his waist, “what do you think, community service? I can think of a few ways to put my hours in.”
“Well, you better get started with them” the woman purred in the way he loved, kissing him before a clearing throat from the doorway pulled them apart.
Fox leaned against the door frame, a small smirk across her lips and arms folded as she asked, “do you need me to stall everyone outside another half hour? I’m not even going to blame you if you want it, everyone’s having fun anyway.”
“No,” Misha laughed awkwardly and “you think you could?” Charlotte asked, which quickly became, “well maybe…” from Misha and “nevermind, bad idea?” from Charlotte, and a final agreement of “bad idea.”
“You know, I can believe Misha acting like a teenager, but I’m impressed by you,” Fox admitted, gesturing to Charlotte as Misha slowly sat her back back on her two feet and the woman brushed out her skirt; once more hiding her face against Misha.
“Well, your brother certainly makes me feel young again,” the woman admitted giggling, sounding rather proud of herself there.
“You know I’m sad to say I’m starting to understand what my brother sees in you, and I think a big portion of it is himself,” Fox finally burst out laughing, covering her mouth as she walked over and stole a cookie of her own, avoiding a slap of Charlotte’s spoon as she announced, “Alfred and I got here like five minutes ago, you know he was bringing presents?”
“Well, he usually brings something for Timmy, and he mentioned he’d find something for Gevaudan,” Misha admitted, almost dreading to know as he asked, “what did he get them?”
“He got Timmy a play set the kid seemed awfully excited about, and got Gevaudan something called a ‘ballistic knife’ he said was for self defense,” Fox listed off, nodding slowly at the explanation before admitting, “I think it’s illegal.”
“It’s very much illegal,” Misha agreed, knowing he’d need to talk to her about that before she got in trouble with someone.
Charlotte kissed the man’s cheek, making sure to squeeze his ass a moment even as she told him, “I’ll go get Alfred’s present from upstairs. You mind carving the turkey? If everyone’s here, and it’s probably set long enough for us to not keep them waiting.”
“My pleasure,” Misha purred, and he kissed her forehead as she walked past him and down the hall.
Misha watched after the woman until she turned out of view, and Fox rolled her eyes as she walked up and grabbed a napkin. Misha only getting to look at her in confusion for only a moment, before Fox licked the napkin and started wiping at her brother’s face, not caring as he tried to pull away and she complained, “you’ve got lipstick and chocolate all over your face, stop fighting me.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to clean it off for me.”
“I will tie you down, don’t forget you being a werewolf never stopped me from coming out on top,” the woman muttered, and Misha remained still as he let her finish cleaning his face. The napkin tossed aside, and a roll of her eyes, Fox had the audacity to complain, “you’re a pushover, you know that? Someone tells you to do something twice and you just do it no question.”
“I like to feel like I’m doing something right, you know that,” Misha chuckled, his sister rolling her eyes even as Alfred came in with a confident smirk.
Leaning against the wall, the man shook his head and complained, “Christ, you’re not going to believe some of the shit I deal with for you, Peter.”
“Like getting illegal knives for a sixteen year old?” the younger man asked, laughing with a shake of his head, “what made you think that one was a good idea?”
“Look, knives are safer than pepper spray when you’re nervous, and a ballistic knife still has a little range for short as she is,” Alfred said with a laugh of his own, walking over as he stole a cookie for himself, “she’s out there testing it on a wood board now, having some good old fun. Hey, I even made her promise not to let the boy get a turn. Responsible, right?”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“I’ll go stop her getting in trouble,” Fox sighed, patting Misha on the shoulder as his sister left the room.
Alfred watched the woman leave, perhaps staring a little too hard at her with his small smirk, and shaking his head told his apprentice, “I could get used to her being around. It’s nice to have one of your family that comes with a view around here.”
“Don’t,” Misha said, a little anger in the tone that surprised Alfred even as the younger man left it at that. Alfred raised his hands defensively in his laugh, and Misha didn’t let that just stand as a joke as he continued, “the last person I want as a brother in law is you, and I’m pretty sure you’re not her type.”
“Hey, I’ll respect the request, but yeah, like I was saying, you wouldn’t believe some of the bullshit I deal with. The Lady got back to me yesterday about you requesting to tell Charlotte the big secret, and you know what she says?” the man asked through a mouthful of cookie.
“Please don’t tell me she denied it,” Misha muttered, almost horrified by the idea she would. They’d only been together a year, but he didn’t want to hide himself any longer than he needed.
“No, said I must have gotten the fucking name wrong, because her people fucked up the background check,” Alfred answered, seeming to not notice as Charlotte came up beside him, carrying a small package. She looked confused, and Misha was trying to think of a safe way to stop the conversation when Alfred continued, “tried to say Charlotte Collins was Mark’s first wife, that she died a decade ago. She kept going on and on about how stupid I was, how I must have meant Jackson Collins, said she was the second wife and all that, like I hadn’t been meeting this woman for years now.”
Misha shook his head in disbelief, ready to say something when Charlotte dropped the present she was holding. Her face contorting like she’d been wracked with pain, she muttered something and backed herself against a wall even as Misha quickly rushed over to her.
“Hey, you okay, love?” Misha asked, resting a hand on her shoulder, the woman muttering and shaking her head violently, “I’m here, it’s okay, just focus on my-”
“I’m not dead,” she said, the words finally coming through clearly, her voice shaking, her eyes wide. Misha tilted his head in confusion, and she continued, “I can’t be dead, he didn’t, he couldn’t do that, I’m not dead.”
“What’s wrong?” Misha asked, his throat feeling dry, chest heavy, as he wondered what to do in this situation. She might have eaten something, got hurt, had something happen, and he couldn’t take that chance. Furrowing his brow as he tried to tell her, “how about you sit down for a second, I can-”
Hands gripped the man’s throat, faster than he could process the movement, and he was lifted from the ground with surprising ease as a gurgle escaped his throat. The skin burned, boiled, twisted under the touch, and his vision blurred as he twisted his body in the air. Alfred yelled something, Misha clawed at the arms gripping him as they slowly turned to ice against skin, and croaked out Charlotte’s name in a desperate plead.
The grip broke, Misha fell to his side on the wooden floor, Alfred crashed to the ground with the woman, and a moment later was on his back. Her hands around his throat, Charlotte straddled his lap, sobbing as she repeated that same mantra on repeat.
Misha let out a choking cough, twisted his face in disgust, felt the flesh of his neck that was almost a jelly under callused fingers. Forcing himself to his feet to run over, trying pulling the woman off his mentor, tried clawing her away, and couldn’t even get her to budge.
Alfred growled, fur growing along his flesh, teeth turning to fangs as he let out a pained whine, the woman's hands only seeming to dig deeper into his flesh. Misha panted, his mind racing as his mentor croaked out, “Peter, my ankle.”
His body moving even before his mind processed what it was doing Misha dropped down, desperately pawing at Alfred’s ankle, pulling the revolver out there and aiming it. Tears filled Misha’s eyes, my aim shook, he panted desperate for breath, and he couldn’t even pull the hammer back.
“Peter,” Alfred begged, forcing his full weight into the woman’s grip, groaning he tried to obviously only transform a limited few muscles
Misha couldn’t move.
“Peter, shoot her.”
Tears crept down his face, his muscles shaking trying to move even as his mind screamed to do so.
“Peter, plea-”
Charlotte forced her hands down hard, pushing through Alfred’s flesh like dough as Alfred let out a twisted noise. Something that might have been a growl escaped his lips, and he took a final lunge forward. There was a sickening crunch, two thumps as blood poured along the floor quickly turning to a yellow sludge and Alfred’s head rolled lifelessly away, his cold blue eyes looking up to Misha with the twitching desperation still burnt on it as the flesh turned as the blood.
Charlotte rose to her feet crying, her hands shaking, covered in blood that was flaking off her like shouldn’t have been possible, all the while shaking her head and sobbing. All the while she muttered that same mantra on repeat, “I’m not dead, I can’t be dead, he didn’t, he couldn’t do that, I can’t be dead.”
Misha still held the revolver on her, and she looked up at him with doe-eyed desperation as she stumbled forward. All fear in Misha melting away as he almost forgot Alfred was there, that she’d killed someone, until he was right in front of her it sunk in just how she looked.
She was pale, paler than dead, her eyes white, seeming to one second be there as a solid state and the next be a translucent hologram.
Misha lowered the gun, stepping towards her as his hand gently reached out for her cheek, shaking like rabbit all the while begging himself to not run.
Something pushed past him, a form crashed into the woman, weakly crying, “mommy!”
A scream escaped Misha’s throat, and Charlotte lunged forward, Timmy pulled back, and the woman gripped the child’s arm just as it was about to escape.
The child screamed.
the flesh bubbled in the grip.
Misha raised the revolver once more and fired once.
Charlotte fell to the ground and Misha dropped the revolver as he scooped Timmy off the floor and held him to his chest. She flickered, the wound was gone, and she started rising to her feet as Fox barged in and screamed, “What happened?!”
“Get Gevaudan in the car!” Misha yelled his response, running with Timmy as they crashed outside.
They ran, the man stumbled and nearly fell before someone helped keep him up, and he carried Timmy to the passenger seat of Fox’s car. Not bothering with seat belts or laying him down as he gripped the crying child in his arms while fought to escape. Fox screamed something about Charlotte, and Misha told her to drive as the woman came stumbling out of the home with blood stained hands and tear stained cheeks.
Fox sped off, and Misha tried to comfort the screaming child in his lap, each word letting out a thin hissing noise alongside it.
Gevaudan was crying, the girl shaking her head as she muttered, “Misha your neck. It looks wrong.”
The implications of that setting in alongside the hissing of his breath, Misha fumbled for the phone in his pocket, tossing it to his younger sister as he croaked out, “Call Elizabeth. She’s Witchy Woman in the contacts, tell her we’re going to the Covenant, it’s closer. We need her, The Lady, Martin, all of them. No, soon as you get Elizabeth, get Martin too, under All Star.”
Fox was crying as she drove, speeding down the road as she reached a hand out to hold his own and she muttered, “Misha you’re turning blue.”
“I’m a werewolf,” he croaked, like it wasn’t a concern the wound wasn’t healing, that a lack of oxygen wouldn’t kill him in a couple hours, “do you remember where the Covenant is? You’ve been right?”
She answered something, Misha wasn’t sure what even as he nodded and closed his eyes, feeling the world fall away.
