Naughty Elf: Xavier (Santa’s Naughty Elf Mates)
1. Xavier
Chapter one
Xavier
M y fingers idly flip the Polaroid back and forth. Tomorrow is Christmas, and this is probably the only time I’ll be able to do this until next season. Screw it. What’s the harm?
After jotting my cell phone number on the back of the photo and verifying the omega’s name, I place it in the glitter-covered box with their gift. At the last minute, I add a sparkling red bow to the top.
Who knows? Maybe this one will be my fated mate. I make my way out of my office and stop by the mailing room. Frostberry smiles and twirls her purple hair as I enter the room and pass her the gift. “Make sure this one gets special treatment.” I wink.
A blush spreads across her cheeks, and she nods eagerly before popping out of the room. Lucky little elf. Some of us have the ability to wink from one place to another. Unfortunately, I don’t have that skill.
Feeling optimistic for the first time this week, I head to the break room for a much-needed coffee break. I’m too busy dolling up my sugary beverage to notice someone else walk into the breakroom.
“Seriously? What the hell is this?” The latest magazine of Elf’s Weekly is haphazardly tossed on the counter next to me. I take a sip from my peppermint mocha and savor the taste before placing the mug down. Resting my hip on the counter, I pick up the gossip rag and scoff at the cover.
‘Sexiest Elf Alive! Red-Hot: in and out of Santa’s Village.’
I give Jacks—short for Apple Jacks—a sly smirk. “Why? You interested in seeing if the rumors are true?” I joke, even though Jacks knows how much this type of attention irritates me. As one of the few elves with Fae blood at the North Pole, I’m constantly in the spotlight, something I find uncomfortable.
My best friend rolls his eyes and shudders.
Even though I take a lot of pride in my appearance, I find it frustrating that it’s the only thing people seem to see, that and my money. My looks and bank account are not the defining factors of who I am. Never mind that I’m a strong alpha and a hard worker. Never mind that I started from the bottom in the North Pole, taking on odd jobs until I was promoted to a decent position at the toy shop. From there, I worked my way up the ranks, eventually becoming the lead elf.
Now, I’m in charge of Santa 42’s entire toy department.
It’s a huge responsibility, and I’m good at my job. But it also means that I’m working around the clock. While lots of elves work all year long, I tend to work even harder. Some might ask how hard it really is to work in Santa’s Village. Well, let me tell you, it’s no cakewalk. I have lots of jobs: overseeing toy production, analyzing current trends against supply and demand, and becoming well-versed while staying informed about the production of all types of toys. Shifts longer than ten hours have been common this year.
Which means my social life is quite lacking.
I’m the type of alpha who likes to work hard and play hard. And I’ve always been the take-no-shit type of Alpha. So, even though I would love nothing more than to find my fated mate, I’m just not around enough omegas to make it happen.
Clearly, my fated mate isn’t at the North Pole—trust me, I’ve looked. And clearly, I don’t have time to meet omegas at some bar, or on any dating apps.
Instead, I have to get creative. There’s no harm if I leave a random omega my phone number attached to a selfie in one of their Christmas presents. Right? I mean, I always pick sweet, single omegas from the Nice List. And if they happen to call me, then it saves us both some time. It might not be foolproof, but how else does Santa expect me to date when I’m working so hard?
If my soulmate never shows up, at least I can make one lucky omega happy with a night of spoiling. Everyone deserves to feel cherished, after all.
Plus, the only omega currently in my life is my omega papa, and he’s the main reason I work so damn hard. He’s my biggest motivation and my constant cheerleader. He always has been ever since my alpha father left us. I’m determined to be there for Papa, just like he was for me.
Jacks pulls the magazine away from me and starts flipping through the pages. “Did you freaking pose for these photos?” He shows me the photo in question. I’m propped against my oak desk in my office, similar to the way I’m leaning against the counter right now, and I’m sucking on the tip of a candy cane. The way my shirt is rolled up and my muscular arms strain against the fabric makes the photo look suggestive.
But the thing that makes this photo even more sensual than it’s meant to be, is the way my smile lines crinkle around my chocolate brown eyes. Or maybe it’s the way my eyes seem to sparkle, almost as if I’m up to no good. In this photo, I look more Fae than anything.
“No, I didn’t pose for it.” I chuckle. “Cocoa just happened to tell a joke, and I just happened to laugh while eating a candy cane. Sue me.”
“Of course you didn’t pose. Only you can look this damn good without even trying.” He tosses the magazine back on the counter.
My lips twitch. “Don’t go fishing for compliments, Jacks. You know you’re a good-looking elf.”
Jacks is an alpha, like me. It’s one of the many reasons we get along. Working around so many omegas can be tough, especially when they’re after us for all the wrong reasons. It’s in our nature as elves to want to settle down and find a mate, and both of us want that, but we are both holding out for our fated.
I never want to treat an omega like my alpha father treated my Papa.
Suddenly, Santa’s cheerful, booming voice could be heard. Only, he doesn’t sound so cheery. “Where’s Xavier? Xavier!”
My wide eyes meet Jacks’. He claps me on the back. “Oh, that doesn’t sound so good. Much luck, dear friend.” With that, Jacks magically pops out of the room, leaving me completely alone.
Santa 42 walks into the break room. I smile, making my way towards him. Santa 42 is known for his love of cupcakes. Skip the cookies and bake him some cupcakes with extra frosting on top, and he’s one happy Santa.
My heart pounds when I see his lips tipped down.
“Is everything okay, Sant—” I snap my mouth shut and feel the blood drain from my face when I see him holding the sparkling green gift box with the red bow.
Santa’s eyes follow my gaze, and his frown deepens. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly we are both in his office with Santa already sitting behind his big desk. “Take a seat, Xavier, my boy.”
He doesn’t look or sound angry. Just… disappointed. Somehow that’s worse. I, Xavier Wyvern, have disappointed one of the happiest, friendliest people in the world.
“Would you care to tell me what I’d find if I opened this gift box?”
I swallow hard and shake my head. Put me in front of a boardroom of high-powered businessmen or drop me in a room filled with happy, hyper elves, and I can do just about anything. But have me make eye contact with an upset Santa, and apparently, that’s my kryptonite.
He sighs. “Will I find a selfie of you in this box?”
My eyes snap up to his and my face heats. “How did you—how did you know?”
Santa chuckles softly. “My boy, there isn’t much you can sneak past me. There’s a reason our magic is able to conjure up things like Naughty and Nice lists. You aren’t sending any nudes to any of these omegas, are you?”
I gasp, outraged. “Of course not, Santa. I wouldn’t do that to some poor unexpecting omega. That’s just gross. It’s another reason I avoid all those dating apps.”
“And yet you send omegas selfies while on the clock?”
Embarrassment floods me. “I’m sorry. It sounds so stupid now, but I just wanted to find my fated mate. I know deep down my mate isn’t here at the North Pole. But I love my job. How else am I supposed to meet anyone when stuck in the office for ten to twelve hours?” As soon as the words escape, I want to take them back. I sound like a petulant child.
Santa’s face softens. “It’s why I usually let it slide.”
My mouth falls open, but he continues.
“Unfortunately, I can’t ignore it anymore. This gift you tried to have sent out? The label says it’s for a… Dominic Star. A married omega.”
I startle, standing up so abruptly that my chair topples to the ground. I bend over and pick it up. “I only pick single omegas. I would never send a married omega a courting gift.”
“They got married last week.”
“Last week?” I crumple back into the chair like a puppet with his strings cut. I didn’t have time to print out an updated report on the omega. I didn’t think a week would make a difference.
“My hands are tied. You know I have to punish you, right? I’m sorry, Xavier, but you’re fired. This means you can no longer work in the North Pole.”
My heart falls. He can’t do this. What about my Papa? Who is going to help him? I glance up, expecting to see fury on Santa’s face, but instead, he’s—
“Wait, are you smiling, sir?”
Santa’s smile grows, and he taps his nose. His cheeks are red and blotchy, much like the cheerful Santa I’ve grown used to. “Don’t think I didn’t spot you in front of the Santa Lounge the other day.”
Excitement buzzes through me at the implication. Last week I was searching for Santa 42 because I needed to confirm a few things from this year’s production reports when I saw my boss talking with several other Santas. What I overheard stopped me dead in my tracks. For years, there have been rumors that the Santas use their magic to punish naughty elves by turning them into elf figurines.
Recently, other rumors started to surface, saying that all the elves that have been punished, have been able to escape the curse by finding their fated mates. Turns out, these aren’t rumors. And even though the Santas can’t keep naughty elves here at the North Pole, each Santa promises to place the figurine in a spot where their fated mate can find them.
It sounded more like a gift rather than a punishment. If all the Santas had their way, then they would treat it as a gift. Unfortunately, their magic demands a price.
“I’m giving you a year to find and woo your mate. If you aren’t mated by Christmas next year, then you will be turned into a figurine forever.” Santa lifts his hand, I assume to do his magic woo-woo and sparkles or whatnot, but I stand again.
“Please, take care of my Papa, sir. He’s all alone in the world.”
Santa drops his hand, and he gives me a soft smile. “You’re a good son, Xavier. You’ve been sending him enough money to keep him happy for the rest of his life. But don’t worry, I’ll tell him you’re safe.”
My shoulders relax as the tension drains out of me.
Magic swirls around my body, and the world grows around me. I topple over, grateful I didn’t break. I’m lying sideways in front of a small handheld mirror on Santa 42’s desk. Well, damn, I look pretty freaking good for a plastic figurine.
“Now,” Santa’s cheerful voice booms around me like thunder. “Go woo your mate. Bring him home to meet your Papa. And don’t forget, you have till next Christmas. Good luck, Xavier. I’m rooting for you.”