All Chapters of THE ALPHA'S NAUGHTY LITTLE CHRISTMAS GIFT.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

December in Louisiana is supposed to smell like cinnamon and pine. Supposed to feel like warmth curling around your shoulders, laughter spilling from porches strung with lights that blink red and green against the evening sky. Supposed to sound like carols drifting through neighborhoods where families gather, where love still means something.A season built for warmth had become a month she’d learned to survive instead of celebrate.Mystic Valley smells like dust and dying things.Ivy Dalton drags her suitcase, the navy blue one with the broken wheel that squeaks like a wounded animal across cracked asphalt that stretches endlessly before her. The sun beats down with cruelty that makes you wonder if God's paying attention. Her left heel snapped twenty minutes ago. Maybe thirty. Time loses meaning when every step sends pain shooting up your calf, when the limp becomes your new rhythm.Click-drag. Click-drag. Click-drag.Sweat pools beneath her collar. Her cream blouse, the one she'd ir

The cottage door clicks shut behind her, and Ivy stands there, staring at the bare walls like they've personally offended her. The place smells like dust and old wood. One room. A sagging couch. A bed that's seen better decades. But it's shelter. And beggars can't be choosers.She drops onto the couch, and that's when it hits her."No. No, no, no—" Her hands fly to her sides, patting down pockets that hold nothing. Her suitcase. Her suitcase. Still sitting at that cursed Moonstone Inn with every piece of clothing she owns, her chargers, her toiletries, everything."Dammit!" She slams her fist into the couch cushion. Dust explodes into the air. "Are you kidding me right now?"The frustration burns through her chest. She needs those clothes. Needs to change out of this outfit that's been plastered to her skin since Louisiana. Needs her phone charger so she can let her family know she's not dead in a ditch somewhere.She forces herself up, does a quick sweep of the cottage. Kitchen area

Ivy surfaces from darkness like someone clawing her way out of a frozen lake. A sharp inhale slices through her chest. Her heartbeat slams against her ribs, fast and frantic. Ceiling beams waver above her. Massive king-size bed beneath her, dark oak dresser against the far wall, leather armchair by a stone fireplace that's seen decades of use. Everything is masculine. No clutter. No softness. Just clean lines and the faint scent of cedar and wildness. This is the Alpha's territory. Somewhere she shouldn't be but doesn't know that. This isn’t her motel. This isn’t anywhere she knows. Her pulse spikes, panic burning like lightning under her skin. The last thing she remembers is teeth, snarls and her palms erupting in blue fire and then darkness swallowing her whole. A shadow shifts. Ivy jerks upright, breath stuttering. He leans over her, too close, too still, sunlight sliding behind him and catching the edges of his hair in gold. His presence fills the room the way a storm

He has tried to bury that memory but with Jackson mentioning it, he remembers. The night Kai unintentionally challenged his father against his plan to wipe out a whole weak pack simply because he deemed them unworthy. When the pack's defender tried to fight him, his power exploded, nearly killing the defender and two others who tried to intervene.His father, Alpha of the prestigious Beacon Hill Pack, ruler of one of the oldest wolf bloodlines in North America. He looked at him with disgust instead of pride, and made his judgment without hesitation. He mercilessly sent Kai into exile."We built this," We built this,’ Jackson says, voice breaking. "Mystic Valley. You took a scattered pack of rogues and rejects and turned them into something that rivals the great packs. You've expanded our territory, and earned respect from wolves who wouldn't have spit on you a decade ago."Kai stays still, but something tightens in the line of his shoulders."The elders at Beacon Hill is finally list

“Mom, I’m fine.” The words scrape out of Ivy, barely holding back the pressure behind her eyes.“Honey.” Her mother’s voice cracks through the phone speaker. “You know we love you. We’ll always support whatever you need, but you don’t have to run—”“I’m not running.” Ivy’s throat closes around the lie. “I just needed a vacation. Time to clear my head.”She hears her parents talking over each other at the other end, words tangled and frantic, before her father’s voice finally fills the receiver.“Couldn’t you have picked literally anywhere else? Paris? Bali? Hell, even Cleveland would’ve been better than Mystic Valley.”Ivy presses her palm against her forehead. “What’s wrong with Mystic Valley?”“Everything,” her mother cuts in. “Sweetheart, pack your bags. We’ll wire money for a flight tonight. Go to the Maldives. Our treat.”Ivy wishes she could have chosen somewhere else. The memory of glowing eyes and fangs surfaces. It doesn't make sense to her. But worries her is what almost hap