Chapter 23
The trip up Lookout Mountain gave them little sneak peeks of the view they’d see from Rock City, and Willow was excited to see the lights. She’d been a few times at night around Christmas, but it’d been years, and she was looking forward to seeing the fantasy world with her men.
She’d asked if she could wear jeans tonight, since it was thirty-seven degrees on the mountain, but she was in a denim skirt with her thick, insulated crotchless leggings, boots, and her sparkly red sweater.
She didn’t need a coat, but the humans would think it odd if she didn’t, so she had a lightweight one.
And no, jeans hadn’t been necessary, and Kenny had called her on it when she’d asked.
She was riding in the back of the SUV with Boone, his hand on her thigh, her hand resting on his, their fingers intertwined, and the men were telling her a little about what to expect during full-moon runs.
Basically, she’d be on her own once the wolves all changed and ran into the forest, and then would help with breakfast the next morning when hundreds of hungry wolves returned from a night on four legs.
They’d make breakfast casseroles ahead of time, so she’d only need to cycle them in and out of the oven, and other human and shifter mates would come help. There was a set routine, and she’d learn how things work so she could eventually take charge.
When they reached the top, she smiled at Silas when he opened her door, then gasped when he pinched her left nipple through the sweater.
The lights were already a little like a fantasy before they even made it in, and they cut up and joked while they waited in line.
And then came the entrance, wrapped in light and shimmering, glowing archways of gold and white that stretched into the trees like something out of a dream.
“Oh, wow,” Boone said. “Ya’ll weren’t kidding when you said there are millions of lights.”
He stood in the Grand Corridor of Lights and turned in a slow circle. Every tree had been lit, doves made of lights hanging overhead, a tunnel of lights to walk through, and a woodland path that curved through it all like a fairy tale.
She held Boone’s hand and pointed out all the little magical details you might not notice if you were looking at the big picture. They rounded a corner and she heard the hint of Christmas music, and she gave a happy sigh.
“It’s even prettier than I remembered, Sirs.”
“I’m pretty sure they’ve added more lights since the last time I did this,” Silas said. “Something about cold weather and lights that makes Christmas seem closer.”
They walked through the boulders, over bridges that felt as if they should have trolls under them, through little alcoves, all lit in a fantasy world.
In the Magic Forest, larger-than-life mushrooms lit from within, glowing deer and fairy-tale animals peeking out from between branches. Trees lit in neon colors stood among others still dusted in white, and the effect was surreal — like someone had cast a spell on the woods.
Willow stopped to admire a fox made of twisted vine and white light, nestled beneath a tree wrapped in indigo.
Boone stopped, turned in a circle again and said, “I’d have loved this as a kid.”
“You can love it now,” Willow told him. “It isn’t like I can give you permission, right, Sir? You have to give it to yourself.”
He looked at her, surprised, then gave her a slow, warm smile.
“And I love this part more as an adult than I did as a kid,” she told him. “It feels ancient and strange and safe, all at once, Sir.”
Boone nodded. “Feels like the magic of myths. Of childhood fantasies.”
They kept walking, winding through the frosted paths, the trail climbing gently higher until they reached the swinging bridge, lit with flickering icicle lights along the ropes, and the rope rails were just low enough to be thrilling.
Willow grinned and stepped onto the bridge as the group in front of them stepped off. It swayed under her boots, and she speedwalked out far enough she could have fun making it move. When her men didn’t join her, she turned and saw them standing at the edge.
And she remembered wolves aren’t a fan of heights. They like keeping their feet on solid ground.
She grinned at them. “Who needs me to hold your hand, Sirs?”
She swayed gently, pressure on one boot, then the other.
Kenny stepped onto it, walking as steady as he could, and said, “I’m thinking we make you swing in our own special way once we get you home, so just keep it up, little girl.
” He couldn’t call her fucktoy or his other favorite names for her where people might hear, but he got his point across with little girl.
She stilled, considering, and then smiled and made it sway some more. A gust of wind lifted her hair and moved her skirt, and she looked around: black rocks below, trees dusted in glittering lights, and stars overhead in a clear winter sky.
And then a line of people came up behind her men, and she turned and made her way off the swing, so she didn’t hold them up.
When Silas caught up to her, he put his mouth at her ear and said, “Hung by your ankles, swinging back and forth, one of us flogging your cunt from the front, the other from the back, catching you at both outside arcs.”
“Yeah, and I’ll be in the middle flogging her ass at the bottom of the arc,” Kenny said, his voice low. “We’ll see who likes to swing then.”
Willow couldn’t help her smile. If they were pissed, it would’ve been canes. Floggers would be a fun scene for her and everyone knew it.
They made it to an area with tons of penguins, and she thought they might have to drag Silas away. They were adorable, sure, but Silas kept pointing to them and laughing, commenting on silly details. It was bizarre and perfectly adorable.
More trails, more lights, more teasing and cutting up, and they made it to Lover’s Leap.
The overlook spread out wide and open, the rail lined in garland and lights.
Willow moved to the edge and found a few landmarks — the Tennessee River, the Aquarium, the interstate.
And all around them, the valley stretched, streets with moving cars, people living their lives.
She looked back to downtown Chattanooga, off to her left, glowing like its own little fantasy in lights.
Boone came up beside her, his eyes on the hills. “It’s clearer than I expected.”
“The moon’s close to full,” Kenny said, stepping up behind them. “Everything feels sharper.”
Willow took a deep breath, leaned over the railing, and felt cold on the bare portion of her ass, reminding her she belonged to these men, and her heart went all fluttery and warm. Three wolves at her back, a valley below her feet, and the sky above. It was Christmas, and it was perfect.
The foursome pointed out landmarks to each other, a few constellations, and then headed toward the building and, she hoped, hot apple cider. If not, she was sure they’d have hot chocolate, but she was hoping for cider.
They walked into the North Pole Village and the colors shifted, everything bathed in soft whites and icy blues, with snowflake lights projected onto solid surfaces, elves danced in lights around the path, and there was even a real Santa for the kids to talk to.
And hot apple cider. She took a sip and closed her eyes.
Cinnamon and apple, steam curling up into the chill.
And then, just because, she ate a funnel cake, and after she fed half of hers to Boone, she got another.
Silas ate them with her, but Kenny just eyed the two of them like they’d lost their mind.
She was pretty sure Boone only ate part of her first one because he wanted to lick her fingers while she fed him.
They made their way through Yule Town, clusters of gingerbread cottages glowing from within, icing-white lights tracing every roof. Overhead, gumdrop-shaped bulbs shifted from pink to gold to green. A reindeer made of woven wire and light flickered gently as it turned its head toward them.
“Okay, this is almost too cute,” Silas said, staring at a light-up penguin riding a candy cane.
Willow grinned and nudged him with her hip. “Almost, Sir.”
Giant candy canes lined the walk, and overhead, strings of color-shifting bulbs twinkled like sugarplums. Children darted around them in bright hats and mittens, and the scent of cinnamon drifted on the air.
Silas made Willow pose in front of one of the gingerbread cottages, and she asked them to do a four-person selfie in front of a line of nutcracker soldiers.
Later, Kenny had her pose in front of six-foot-tall sweets and teased that it was so they could remember her at her most wholesome, surrounded by sweets.
“I’m always wholesome, Sir.”
He leaned in and said, “Sure you are, in your crotchless leggings, wearing a collar and four cuffs, and me with a leash in my pocket. Just in case.”
She had to work hard not to roll her eyes.
That damned leash. Technically, it was a clothesline thing that rolled into itself, for travelers to use in hotel rooms, but it was compact enough he could keep it on him all the time, and he enjoyed clipping it to her collar or a wrist cuff when she least expected it.
But he wasn’t likely to pull it out here, so she blew him a kiss and kept walking.
They strolled through slowly, taking it all in, watching the other families, the excitement of the kids.
Boone pulled her in and tucked her hand through the crook of his arm, and she leaned into him.
“This is magical for more reasons than the lights. Being with the three of you, where I can be myself. Where I can enjoy this and share it with all of you. It feels like we’re all making memories.
Magical.” She blew out a breath and added, “Sirs.”
Boone kissed her temple. “That’s how I feel, too, little hawk.”