Marine Under the Mistletoe (Always a Marine) Read online

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Marine Under the Mistletoe

  Copyright © 2013 by Heather Long

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-623-6

  Cover art by Mina Carter

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

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  www.decadentpublishing.com

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  Also by Heather Long

  Always a Marine Books

  Once Her Man, Always her Man

  Retreat Hell! She Just Got Here

  Tell it to the Marine

  Proud to Serve Her

  Her Marine

  No Regrets, No Surrender

  The Marine Cowboy

  The Two and the Proud

  A Marine and A Gentleman

  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

  Combat Barbie

  What Part of Marine Don’t You Understand

  A Marine Affair

  Marine Ever After

  Marine in the Wind

  Marine with Benefits

  A Marine of Plenty

  A Candle for a Marine

  Welcome Letter

  I never planned to write “military romance.” I didn’t wake up one morning and think, huh, I should write military heroes and the men and women who love them. In fact, it was the last thing on my mind until I wrote about Luke Dexter, a retired Marine, in Once Her Man, Always Her Man. He left the woman he loved when he enlisted because at eighteen he didn’t figure on surviving. He was a young man going to war to defend his country—and he grew up to become a man, a Marine, and an officer.

  The level of honor I discovered in this one hero, drove me to explore others. We’re a country that has been at war for over a decade. We’ve an entire generation who has known nothing but this activity and who have seen their fathers, brothers, sons, sisters, daughters, and wives serve overseas in hot zones.

  Keeping It Real

  As romantic as military heroes are, I like to keep it real. Most of the heroes I wrote at first were retired or no longer on active duty. But for those still on active duty—they don’t have control over everything they do because they have to be on call 24/7 even when they’re on leave.

  They can’t always commit to a lifetime because their lives aren’t their own. At the end of Her Marine, Brody had to go because his leave was only for a couple of weeks. He enjoyed his time with Shannon and you know that he and Shannon are in touch, but he can’t just “quit” and stay with her for a happily ever after.

  They Don’t Get To Pick

  Applying for jobs or assignments in the military can take time and dedication and clearance. So when you get an assignment you’ve wanted, you can’t just change things overnight because you met someone. The same is true for the potential military spouse—they have to be ready to pick up and move when their spouse gets orders.

  The best part of this series is putting a human face on these people who are dedicated to our country and give up what so many of us expect as essential freedoms. I respect and admire those who love them for the sacrifices they have to make as well. At the end of the day, our military and their families are heroes because they go to the places no one wants to be and they do it, knowing they might not return.

  The friendships forged, the class walls that collapse, the fact that in the military you aren’t a race, or an economic status or a region—you’re Marines—battle buddies, comrades, companions, and their relationships are forged through your shared experiences.

  They are the few and the proud…

  Every hero or heroine I write inspires me. The Always a Marine series fills me with an inexplicable hope—because it’s these men and women who protect my way of life.

  Semper Fi

  Heather

  A Note from the Author

  The mission of the U. S. Marine Corps Reserve Toys for Tots Program is to collect new, unwrapped toys during October, November, and December each year and distribute those toys as Christmas gifts to less fortunate children in the community in which the campaign is conducted. The primary goal of Toys for Tots is to deliver, through a new toy at Christmas, a message of hope to these youngsters that will assist them in becoming responsible, productive, patriotic citizens.

  This holiday collection of the Always a Marine series is dedicated to Toys for Tots and the men and women of the United States Marine Corps Reserve who dedicate their time, their efforts, and their funds to delivering this message of hope. A portion of the proceeds from each of these books will be donated to Toys for Tots to continue that mission. Semper Fi.

  http://www.toysfortots.org

  ~Dedication~

  To hope. Blessed Be.

  Marine Under the Mistletoe

  Always a Marine Book 19

  By

  Heather Long

  Chapter One

  Aaron Fields’ naked ass was not the sight Kaiden imagined greeting him at the end of the two-mile-long trek up to the secluded Lake House.

  “Well, well, well…G.I. Joe came home.” Aaron’s drawled greeting came with a broad smile and he pulled the front door wider, spilling near-tropical warmth out into the chilly December evening.

  “So it would seem, and Malibu Ken is missing his tan.” The banter, familiar and yet alien in the same breath, twisted the need to greet an old friend with the desire to withdraw to more neutral territory. Refusing to run, he caught Aaron’s outstretched hand and gripped it firmly.

  “I’d offer a hug.” Despite the humor in his tone, Aaron’s gaze held a measure of caution.

  “I don’t want to touch your junk.” The men had agreed on that issue years before, and Aaron released him to back up and admit him into the house.

  Parked at the edge of the lake, sheltered by trees and protected by an extensive privacy fence at the extreme edges of the property lines, Lake House, sounded far more cottage than it actually was—a twenty-one-bedroom estate house occupying nearly one hundred and fifty acres of prime, forested waterfront property. It defined exclusive and, once past the main gates, skyclad—bare-ass naked—was acceptable to the residen
ts.

  At last count, their coven consisted of over thirty active members and their families. The greater Sabbats always brought in old friends, guests, and the occasional curious seeker.

  “Your mom and dad aren’t due until tomorrow.” Aaron gestured to the stairs. The main hall was empty, save for the two of them, but sounds echoed from above. “But you have your old room. We always keep it empty for you.”

  “Ten years is a lot of holidays to not use the space.” The token gesture however, fit everything he remembered about his coven. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being a stranger entering an exotic world. A stampede of feet descending jerked his attention upward as three pre-teen boys raced down, pushing, shoving, and laughing.

  The blissful ignorance of freedom in their still high-pitched voices aroused protectiveness in him that he’d thought long abandoned. The first boy to notice him slammed to a halt at the last step, teetering when the pair behind him collided with his back. “Whoa—you’re Sergeant Nelson.”

  Bemused by the kid’s wide eyes and raw curiosity, Kaiden nodded once. “You can just call me Kaiden. At least here.” He traveled in his familiar MARPATS, but he’d take them off as soon as he made it upstairs to change. Shed them for civilian clothes and all the responsibilities and expectations that accompanied them. There, he wasn’t a Marine—he was Kaiden, a son, a priest, and a friend. Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.

  “Do you have a gun?” The youngest of the three pushed his way to the front and swept his gaze over Kaiden as though searching for the aforementioned weapon.

  “No.” He’d never bring a weapon there. It flew in the face of what few moral fibers he had left.

  “Jensen.” Aaron folded his arms. “Is that how we greet anyone?”

  “No, sir.” Jensen shrugged. “But Sergeant Nelson isn’t anyone—he’s a Marine.”

  “Yeah, and he’s been to a real war. I bet he kicked some Al Qaeda butt!” This from the kid who’d stopped first. His red hair and freckled face reminded Kaiden of another, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint whom. Odd to think these boys had been two- and three-years-old respectively when he’d last seen them. He hadn’t paid that much attention to kids back then, not when he’d been so full of piss and vinegar himself.

  “Did you, Sergeant? Were you with the men who got Bin Laden?” Not willing to be left out, the third kid shoved up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his friends.

  “No, stupid,” Jensen said, obviously attempting to sound wise and informed. “The guys that got Bin Laden were SEALS. The sergeant is a Marine. He doesn’t do what the SEALS do.”

  “Yes, he does.” The first kid elbowed Jensen. “Marines are badass—”

  “Boys!” Aaron clapped his hands. “Manners.”

  “But did you do it, Sergeant? Were you there?”

  “Parker. Jensen. Spence.” Lifting, clear, and authoritative, the feminine voice silenced the boys in a way Aaron hadn’t managed. Backlit perfectly at the top of the stairs stood an auburn-haired woman dressed in a body-hugging sheath of a dress. “Aaron told you that was enough a few moments ago. And you didn’t listen. What have we told you about respecting our guests and Circle members when they arrive?”

  Only his training kept Kaiden from laughing out loud at the crestfallen expressions all three boys wore. Old enough to appreciate the woman’s beauty and too young to be more than tongue-tied around her, not a single one could lift his gaze to meet hers. Instead, they shuffled their feet and kept their heads down.

  “That’s what I thought.” She smiled and, even from ten feet away, the promise of sunshine warmed him. “Apologize and excuse yourselves. I think you’ll find that the circle hasn’t been raked nor has the area scoured for any leftover debris. You will work on that this evening and tomorrow morning.”

  Aaron didn’t bother to hide his amusement and let out a faint snicker at the boys’ predicament.

  “You can have Aaron inspect it when you’re done.” She tacked the last on as an afterthought because, while Aaron watched the boys, she watched Aaron and seemed to take note of his amusement at their discomfort. Disapproval echoed in the look she gave him.

  He grunted but didn’t complain. The boys cleared out without further warning and the goddess in the pale-gray silk dress descended the stairs slowly. He didn’t get a glimpse of her feet, but the way the long skirt swirled around her gave her the effect of floating.

  “Aaron?”

  He parroted her tone. “Rowan?”

  The man’s nudity hadn’t bothered Kaiden when he’d arrived, not really. He hadn’t been gone so long he didn’t remember the comfort most others had in their skin—hell, a comfort he’d once shared. But when Rowan achieved the last step, Kaiden fought the desire to strip off his jacket and throw it at the other man.

  Realization dawned across Aaron’s chastised expression. “Oh. My apologies, you two haven’t met…I forgot. Rowan Harper—this is Lorraine and Henry’s son, Kaiden. Kaiden, Rowan Harper—she joined Blue Circle a few years after you enlisted, give or take.”

  “Merry meet, Kaiden.” She smiled, walked straight to him, and brushed her lips to his—the contact a violent shock to his system and he blinked once, going completely still. “It’s truly lovely to have you with us this year.”

  It took his mind what seemed like a full minute to catch up. “Hello.” The word came out strained and harsh, but either she gave him a free pass as they were strangers or she didn’t notice it. Aaron, on the other hand, did and shot an odd look in his direction.

  Rowan gestured toward the stairs. “Shall I take you to your room? I put fresh sheets on the bed and fixed it up when your parents told me you had confirmed coming this year.”

  He knew exactly where it was, but his manners finally kicked awake. “Please.” Following her up the stairs, he glanced back at Aaron once, aware of his amused gaze. Kaiden didn’t care for the sensation of being watched. He’s a friendly. They’re all friendlies. This is home.

  The mental litany didn’t ease the tension winding him up. At the curve in the stairs, she paused to wait for him, and Kaiden picked up the pace. He might be fucked up, but that didn’t mean he had to be rude.

  “Sorry, it was a long flight.” Mentally groaning at the obviousness of the comment, he sucked in a deep breath, determined to do better, and inhaled a fruity, deeply feminine, deliciously sensual scent that sent a shiver of awareness through him and his blood plummeted to southern regions.

  “Undoubtedly, but you’re home now.” She started climbing again, lifting her skirt with one hand. “I meant what I said downstairs—I am very happy to welcome you home this year. Your mother speaks of you often.”

  “She’ll be annoyed with me.” The effort to make casual conversation came out rough and jagged. “I got an earlier flight and thought I could avoid anything too elaborate when I arrived.”

  “Ahh.” She hesitated and her teeth clenched together in a smile-grimace.

  “It’s okay.” He held a hand up, palm out. “I know my parents. They’ve planned something special—especially since I haven’t been home for so long. They can still have it all happen, and I get some time to be here before it starts.”

  “I could talk to them, if you like.” It was a kind—if tempting—offer.

  “Thank you, but the last place you need to put yourself is between my parents and me.” The sentence came out far tougher than he’d intended. Exhaling a hard breath, he concentrated on sanding down his attitude. “And by that, I mean I haven’t been the poster child for good son. They’re entitled to react in a way that makes them happy.”

  They’d arrived at his door and he found the silence almost as unnerving as the house itself. He’d picked out this room years ago because it was farthest from the others, nestled off a quiet hall that had a storage closet and attic access.

  “Rowan, please ignore me. I apparently haven’t been around real people in a while.”

  “Oh?” Her too-innocent eyes glitt
ered under the glow from the single lamp illuminating the hall. “And what mythical people have you been spending time with?”

  A rusty laugh worked its way loose. “I deserved that.”

  “You did, but only a very little.” She twisted the knob and opened the door, before sweeping out of his way. “Take a shower, unpack—make yourself comfortable. The kitchen is fully stocked and we’re eating buffet-style every night except for the Yule feast. So come down whenever you like.”

  She turned and walked away, and he frowned. He didn’t actually want her to go. “Rowan?”

  Pausing, she swung around to look back. “Yes?”

  He grasped for the first thing he could think of. “How many are here?”

  “Only about a half dozen or so. The boys came out with Aaron and Melissa.” That’s right, Aaron was married. Odd how he’d forgotten that. As if she’d read his mind, she added, “Jensen is his nephew.”

  “I would have thought more were here.”

  “Some of us came out early to ready the house and stock food. But it’s only Wednesday, and a lot can’t get out of work before Friday. So everyone will be here by Saturday.”

  Setting his bag down inside the room, he leaned against the doorframe. “You didn’t have to work?”

  “The perk of accumulating vacation time that will vanish magically at the turn of the physical year. I had to use it or lose it. Why don’t you get settled and come down. I can go change and then give you the dollar tour, help you acclimate to any changes we’ve made.”

  The correct answer was no, but he didn’t say that. He didn’t say that at all. “Sounds good.” Straightening, he stopped when she took a step forward.

  “You remember the rules of skyclad, yes?”