A Changeling for All Seasons
by Kate Douglas and Kate Hill and Sahara Kelly and Judy Mays and Shelby Morgen and Angela Knight and Willa Okati and Marteeka Karland and Lacey Savage
Changeling Press
eBook ISBN: 987-1-60521-009-4
Print ISBN: 978-1-59596-280-5
Ten unforgettable erotic tales to warm your nights and keep you in holiday spirits all year long!
Angela Knight – A Vampire Christmas
Sahara Kelly – A Christmas Pageant
Judy Mays – Jingle Balls
Marteeka Karland – Sealed With A Kiss
Kate Douglas – My Valentine
Shelby Morgen – Changeling
Willa Okati – Elven Enchantment
Kate Hill – Jolene’s Pooka
Lacey Savage – Chemistry to Burn
Shelby Morgen – Troll Under The Bridge
Filled with the unexpected, A Changeling For All Seasons offers something to savor for every palate. From humorous to magical, from Christmas to St. Patrick’s Day to the 4th of July, these stories are alight with unbridled lust, sensuous passion, and hot, hot sex, guaranteed to entangle your senses and leave you breathless.
Chapter One:
My Valentine by Kate Douglas
North Dakota, 1918
Ginny took one last, nervous glance at the northern sky and slapped the old cow on the butt. She watched the scrawny beast trot out through the open gate with a sense of the inevitable. The chickens had already gone to roost in the small tangle of willows near the creek and the horse had been dead so long she didn’t even give his skinny carcass, still lying somewhere in the back forty, a second thought.
As she turned to head back to the house, though, Ginny paused a moment to think long and hard on what she was about to do. Her gaze fell on the two graves near the old oak. One, still fresh, she would always think of with loathing, the other, dug a year ago, she thought of with a sweet pain that never left her heart.
Soon, my precious babe. I’ll be with you soon, God willing.
The good Lord didn’t look kindly on someone ending their own life, but with any luck, Ginny hoped He might make an allowance for her. And if not… well, she’d done all she could to make a go of it out here on the bitter plains of North Dakota.
She’d almost celebrated when Richard died of the influenza last week. She was free, now. Free to join her sweet baby boy, free to leave this world that had brought her nothing but misery.
Oh, Joel…
Richard hadn’t wanted her to name the babe, the perfect child she’d held close to her heart and her aching breasts for such a brief time. Her husband’s anger still burned in Ginny’s memory. He’d blamed the woman who bore him a dead son, cursed her, then wrenched the lifeless little body out of her arms, wrapped it in a bloodstained blanket, and buried Joel in a hastily dug hole near the oak.
Ginny had named him Joel after a little friend she’d had in a time long ago, that almost fantasy time before her parents had died, before her uncle had bartered her to Richard Matson.
Traded for an almost-new shotgun and a beat-up mare. That was the extent of her worth. There’d not be much value at all, now. Now that Ginny Matson was all used up.
A gust of icy wind lifted the hem of her threadbare skirt. Stinging drops of rain cut through her thin shawl and she glanced skyward once more. The temperature would drop quickly now. By morning, this gray and brown landscape would be covered with ice, frozen solid. It might be mid-February, but temperatures plummeting below zero were typical for this Godforsaken land.
Ginny opened the door and took one last look at the barren log and sod cabin Richard had called their home. She’d done her best. She’d tried so hard, even after Joel’s little body was in the ground, even when Richard had beaten her half to death. She’d tried, but it hadn’t mattered.
Nothing mattered. Nothing at all.
She stepped inside, went directly to the wooden cupboard near the dry sink. Took down a beautifully carved ivory box that had once belonged to her father and withdrew a small, lacy card.
Tears filled her eyes, but she willed them away. No, this was not a day for tears. That day had been exactly one year ago, February 14, 1917, the day her precious Joel was born.
The same day he died without ever seeing the sunrise, much less the beautiful little card she’d made for him. Ginny stroked the finely woven lace surrounding a paper heart, a precious scrap of fabric she’d saved from her mother’s wedding gown… all she had left of her mother’s.
The only gift Ginny’d made for her son.
Carefully, she set the card on the small wooden table in the center of the one room cabin and propped it there, against the stub of a candle.
Be My Valentine. Ginny stroked the letters she’d drawn so carefully during the long, slow hours of labor, and smiled. Today, God willing, she’d see her baby boy again.
Wrapping her thin shawl around her shoulders, Ginny walked slowly outside, closed the cabin door behind her, and sat down on the front step to face the blizzard.
* * *
One minute he’d been enjoying the sweet song of angels and a bit of celestial cheer, the next he was slogging through a freezing blizzard on the back of a shivering white stallion.
Val glanced skyward and shook his head. What he’d really like to do was shake his fist at the Boss, but he figured He wouldn’t take that sort of thing lightly.
Especially now. Not if what Val suspected had actually happened.
Be careful what you wish for…
He’d wished for love, for the chance to understand and experience the emotion, the passion and the physical, sensual side of love. Val never dreamed it would actually happen.
For whatever reason, his Lord had seen fit to release him from his vows. Val accepted the knowledge with a soul-deep certainty that left him feeling strangely empty. To have existed so long with a finite set of rules — now to have those rules changed without warning or preparation.
He sent a silent word of thanks skyward, careful to hide whatever misgivings he felt.
Why now? Now, when he was finally getting used to the lifestyle, the perfect weather, the sameness of days, always clear and warm, the sense of “otherworldliness” one felt when no longer attached to a temporal existence.
An icy blast hit him. Val shivered and hunched his shoulders against the wind. Couldn’t get more temporal than this. Val hadn’t been cold since, oh, around the third century. There was that icy dungeon just before Claudius had him put to death. Water running down the walls, cold blasts of wind through a metal grating. Not a particularly pleasant spot to spend his final days, though he didn’t actually remember dying.
Waking up surrounded by angels… now that was memorable.
Angels who were a lot warmer than he was about now. Val glanced skyward and shivered again, almost missing the camaraderie, the fellowship and friendships he’d found over the millennia.
Powerful winds blew ice crystals horizontal to the ground. If it weren’t so blasted cold, he might appreciate the beauty, the power of a storm like this, but whatever clothing he was wearing, though it was definitely better than a linen tunic, wasn’t sufficient to keep him warm.
Val glanced down at his legs, covered in rough blue britches. The fabric was stiff, like the cloth used for sails on fishing boats. His coat was more familiar, made of some type of hide with fur around the collar. Wool gloves protected his hands, leather boots covered his feet and lower legs. A woolen scarf wrapped over and around his oddly shaped, wide-brimmed hat. It appeared to serve the double purpose of holding the hat down on his head and the blowing snow out of his collar.
Whatever the purpose, it wasn’t enough to keep him warm, and from the look of the storm in the fading light of afternoon, he’d better find shelter, and fast.
He gave the horse his lead, figuring at least one of them would know which way to go. Val certainly didn’t have a clue. He had no idea when this was, much less where. At least he had some idea of why, though the details weren’t clear.
A blast of icy air practically lifted him off the saddle. He clamped his knees down tight and leaned close against the beast’s neck.
A few moments later, the horse snorted and jerked to a stop. Val raised his head. A small building with a porch across the front stood directly in front of him, barely visible through the swirling snow. White drifts blocked the door, but at least the cabin would offer shelter.
Slowly, stiffly, Val crawled off the horse. Grabbing the halter, he led the animal around behind the cabin in search of shelter. He found a small lean-to, pulled the saddle off the large beast and led him into a protected stall out of the wind. From the musty odor, this had obviously been home quite recently to at least a cow or two.
Val couldn’t find any grain, but he did find a few flakes of hay. It wasn’t much, but should keep the horse happy for now. Val broke the ice on the water trough. The stallion snorted, as if just being out of the frigid blast of wind had raised his spirits.
Val spotted a heavy striped blanket neatly folded over a sawhorse, grabbed it, and covered the horse’s back. The animal turned his head and whinnied, as if in appreciation.
Rubbing his hands together, Val walked once more into the howling blizzard and around to the front porch. The cabin appeared empty, cold and dark without fire or light, but with any luck he might find enough dry wood inside to start a fire. Then and only then would there be a chance to figure out what he’d been sent back for. Freeing a man of his vows, returning him to the mortal plane… neither was an act lightly taken.
Pondering the potential challenges facing him, Val headed up the stairs to the front door.
He almost fell over the woman’s body. Buried in drifted snow, she slumped against the porch railing, as cold and still as an ice sculpture. Her hands were frozen, clasped around a thin shawl that barely covered her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her dark hair stiff with sleet.
Heart suddenly heavy in his chest, Val carefully lifted the woman in his arms and carried her inside the tiny cabin. He couldn’t tell if she still lived, saw no sign of pulse or breath, but finally he understood.
This fragile being was the reason he’d been yanked back to life.
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New Release: 03 December 2010