Alpha's Revenge (Shifter Ops 3)

I whirl to face him, but my boots hit a patch of ice. I go flying, only to end up in a dramatic tango pose in Rafe arms.

“Got you.” He kisses my forehead.

“My high heeled boots strike again,” I mutter.

“You wear those boots all you want, princess,” he murmurs as he sets me carefully back on my feet. “I’ll be at your side to catch you if you fall.”

Little does he know that's why I wore these boots in the first place.

“This way.” He takes my hand and leads me across the street to a side lane that's for pedestrians only.

“Oh no.” I tug on his hand. “I don't want to go that way.” It'll take me right past The Chocolatier. I can’t bear to see my shop closed up, windows dark during the holiday shopping rush.

“Adele,” he says gently, swinging me to face him and cupping my cheeks in his rough hands. “Do you trust me?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

But I hold my breath as we head up the alley. I could close my eyes, but I’m already leaning on Rafe’s arm. When he tugs me to face the shop, my trepidation turns to wonder.

My little shop is glowing, lights from within spilling over the banks of snow. The path to the front stoop is shoveled, and the landlord's notice is down from the door. The windows are polished and gleaming. It looks ready to accept customers, even though there's no one inside

“What is this?” I swallow because if the landlord already got someone new in the building, I'm not ready to face it.

“This is your Christmas present,” Rafe says.

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”

“The Chocolatier is ready for business. The guys all pitched in and brought over your stuff from the landlord’s storage. Sadie and Charlie told me where everything needed to go, and they helped clean up.”

“But, what about the landlord? The back rent?”

“All clear.”

“Rafe, did you pay it?”

“Didn’t have to. I talked to the landlord. You'll find I can be very persuasive.”

My knees wobble, and he catches my hips, steadying me. “Merry Christmas, princess.”

“Rafe, it's too much.” I don’t care what he’s saying, there’s no way my landlord forgave all that back rent. Rafe must’ve paid something, and if he did, I'm going to be beholden to him.

“Adele, you work hard. I could watch you work all hours to gain back what your biz partner stole from you, or I could make it right. And I don’t want you working all hours. Less time for me.” He shrugs. “And I want all the time with you I can get.”

“It’s too much.” I shake my head.

“Not even a fraction of what you’ve given me. So, princess, are you going to accept my gift?”

I bite my lip. Mémère would be the first to tell me I don't need a man to be successful, but if she met Rafe, she would approve of him right away. “You’ve got yourself a good one,” she’d tell me and wink.

“I'll pay you back,'' I say.

Rafe presses a finger to my lips. “We'll work it out,” he says. He presents me with a shiny gold key. “New locks on every door.” He dangles it in front of me, and I slowly hold out a hand.

“I’ll take it on one condition. You’ve got to tell me what you told the landlord to get him to let me open up again.”

He shakes his head with a sigh, but his cheek curves. “Fine. I bought the building.”

“What?” I shriek so loud, snow falls from one of the lamp posts. “Oh my God. Rafe, I can’t believe you.”

“No?” He shrugs. “I’d do anything for you.”

I throw myself at him. At the last second, my boots skid, but it doesn’t matter because Rafe catches me.

He’ll always catch me.

The snow starts falling as we share a rom com movie worthy kiss. It’s the darkest day of the year, but the darkness makes the stars shine brighter. They twinkle like my mémère’s diamonds, and I know she’s smiling down on me.

Rafe

Christmas Day never meant much to me. Shifters don’t really celebrate it, except to fit in with humans. After our parents were gone, we didn't celebrate anything. There was no reason, plus I was too busy keeping Lance and myself safe and alive.

Adele brings all that to me. The joy. The light.

And I know we're going to have some good arguments when she realizes I'm not going to charge her rent. And another argument when she finds out how many of her dark chocolate caramels Channing consumed when he was moving her stuff. You’d think that werewolves would be allergic to chocolate but not him.

“Has anyone heard from Tabitha?” Charlie asks, walking in from the kitchen with a pile of cookies for the coffee table. She sets them down and shakes her phone. “I keep trying to get her on the phone, but it’s going straight to voicemail.”