No matter what, she nodded to herself as the cold bite of wind stung her skin through her normally very comfortable faux fur jacket.
She’d forgotten the weather was carefully controlled inside the village by Santa’s magic. If she wasn’t careful she was going to freeze her snickerdoodles right off!
Oh well, she shrugged and wrapped her scarf tightly around her neck. There was no turning back now.
She had until midnight on Christmas Eve, approximately one day, to show proof of her claim to the big man himself, or it was bye-bye Candy for another hundred years in the plane of reality where the North Pole existed for the Elves and other Christmas creatures.
There was no guarantee that she would find her mate now or later. None at all. Hope was all she had. That and Granny Elf’s predictions!
This was her shot, and she wasn’t going to throw it away!
“He’ll be there,” she vowed before putting her goggles on and strapping her backpack tight around her waist.
“I’ll find my mate. I just know it.”
Chapter 2
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jennifer Dylluan scrubbed her face with her hands, and yes, she might’ve screamed aloud while doing so.
“Medjed!” She yelled.
Medjed, her voice still echoed through the halls. It was, of course, the name of the most recent bane of her existence, and that was saying something considering she was the liaison for the Wyvern Protection Unit, and those four were always a headache.
But nothing and no one could top the menace that was the ancient Egyptian Warrior for the House of Osiris, Lord of the Underworld, and God of the Dead, Medjed.
Debates over whether he was a demon or a minor god ran rampant in the secret government office where she worked, but Jennifer couldn’t care less.
All she knew was that she couldn’t go on like this. Not when her other assignments were currently demanding her attention, and one Wyvern brother in particular was giving her fits.
The Great-horned Owl inside of her growled unhappily as she stared at the pile of paperwork she now had to deal with because of him.
Speak of the devil, she thought as the scent of spicy cinnamon wafted into the room followed by the now familiar sand cloud that gave way to the impressive form of the man himself. His hieroglyph was the topic of some amusement as it was shaped rather like a, well, like a dildo with eyes and feet. It was the shape of the thing, long and conical in form that was so funny.
That and the fact that the man was apparently sporting a spectacular package. Not that she was interested, though she had to admit every time she saw it, which was more often than not, she was taken aback. Like now.
“For the love of fuck, put on some damned clothes!” she snapped trying her best not to stare at the currently flaccid and yet still enormous phallus that hung between the man’s thighs.
And this was why his hieroglyph resembled a fucking dildo, she thought rudely.
“Sorry, great amoula, I was in the divine washing basin you call a bath tub,” he explained and with a wave of his hand he was clothed in a very short, royal blue, velour robe.
“Geez, I told you a million times, Medjed, we wear clothes here,” she grumbled and shuffled through paperwork.
“Yes, you have said. What can I help with today, amoula?” He smiled, calling her the Egyptian word for owl which she actually thought sounded pretty.
If only he were using it in a sentence where he was saying goodbye. Like for good. She wanted to groan aloud and bang her head on the desk. What was she going to do with this maniac?
“Help? You want to help?”
“Of course-”
“Is that what you did when you conjured a sandstorm to swallow a local fast food dive when the owner refused to cook the deer you brought him?” She grumbled.
“It was a fresh kill and I did not desire to imbibe the frozen fat filled mystery meat he called a pa-tee,” he explained as if this was perfectly reasonable.
“I see, and were you helping when you kidnapped a woman on her wedding day and took her to a hotel in Atlantic City where you then engaged in sexual activities for three days before either of you came up for air?”
“The woman did not wish to be married. She confessed it to me the night before at her bach-elore-ette party. I merely did as she asked and showed her true physical pleasure before she tied herself to the short and stout dentist she was binding herself to for eternity. Three days was her decision, I could’ve stayed in bed for weeks living on nothing but the taste of her pleasure,” he grinned wickedly and Jennifer had to stifle another groan.
The man was maddening. Though, truthfully if she were free, that is, if her heart not belonged to another, perhaps she’d take him up on that challenge.
Sad chirp.
A week of no strings sex sounded great, but her inner beast refused to entertain even the notion. Her heart was already taken, even if the man in question was unawares.
No, don’t go there, she scolded herself and went back to the task at hand. Medjed.
“So, have we cleared everything up? I wish to go back to my tub and to finish watching the moving pictures Kimberley Wessex has shown me on the Hall-march channel. She called them holly-day moo-vees, I believe. I find this San Ta Claws devil very interesting,” he nodded and went to wave his hand.
“No,” she yelled stopping him in his tracks, “I have a new assignment for you.”
“Yes,” he said expectantly.
“But first, why do you think Santa is a devil?” She asked allowing her curiosity to get the better of her.
“He is a burglar and a madman. Who else would spy on innocents and threaten them with naughty lists and coal? Is it the San Ta Claws I am to track and destroy?” He asked almost gleefully.
“No! God no,” she said, “but speaking of the North Pole, do you own a coat?” She smirked.
Less than twenty-four hours later Medjed found himself wandering through the Arctic. The wind howled ferociously as he expertly drove a small, sturdy sleigh pulled by a pack of well-trained dogs called Huskies over many long frozen miles of open wild terrain.
He was tracking some unusual activity for the secret government office he worked for ever since he’d been freed from an unfortunately clever confinement spell that an ancient Witch had subjected him to and bound him to a scroll up until just a few months ago.
Of course, this position was not as glamorous as being the Sword of Osiris himself, but Egyptian gods did not have the clout these days as the American government it would seem.
Besides, his old boss had left him to rot. Suspended for thousands of years in the hated papyrus until the lovely Carolina Moore, now Wessex, had come along and freed him.
Of course, he’d mistakenly thought the beautiful female was his mate. Alas, she was fated to be with another worthy, though lesser male.
He snorted at the description, Medjed did in fact admire the Wyvern Shifter and his three brothers greatly. In truth, they had become his surrogate family in the earthly realm.
Medjed found that their own adoptive father, Arthur Wessex, was indeed a fine man, and after he had helped heal the man of the cancer that had plagued him, they had welcomed him even more assuredly with open arms into their small, but strong family circle.
And yet, he still felt as if there was some void inside of him. He was anxious to help his new family and friends, but he seemed to constantly fumble. The world in the twenty-first century was remarkably different than it had been when his kind had been feared, worshipped, and respected amongst the humans.