PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF

  KATIE MacALISTER

  Memoirs of a Dragon Hunter

  “Bursting with the author’s trademark zany humor and spicy romance . . . this quick tale will delight paranormal romance fans.”—Publishers Weekly

  Sparks Fly

  “Balanced by a well-organized plot and MacAlister’s trademark humor.”—Publishers Weekly

  It’s All Greek to Me

  “A fun and sexy read.”—The Season for Romance

  “A wonderful lighthearted romantic romp as a kick-butt American Amazon and a hunky Greek find love. Filled with humor, fans will laugh with the zaniness of Harry meets Yacky.”—Midwest Book Review

  Much Ado About Vampires

  “A humorous take on the dark and demonic.”—USA Today

  “Once again this author has done a wonderful job. I was sucked into the world of Dark Ones right from the start and was taken on a fantastic ride. This book is full of witty dialogue and great romance, making it one that should not be missed.”—Fresh Fiction

  The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons

  “Had me laughing out loud. . . . This book is full of humor and romance, keeping the reader entertained all the way through . . . a wondrous story full of magic. . . . I cannot wait to see what happens next in the lives of the dragons.”—Fresh Fiction

  YOU SLEIGH ME

  A Novella of the Otherworld

  Katie MacAlister

  Copyright © 2022 by Katie MacAlister

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

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

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Cover by Croco Designs

  Formatting by Racing Pigeon Productions

  http://katiemacalister.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Stella’s Notes

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  Note to Readers

  About Katie

  Stella Pendleton Notes

  Date: 23 December

  Location: Ontario

  Significant individuals encountered:

  Drake Vireo, wyvern of green dragons. Handsome as the day is long, but too interested in his mate to be any fun.

  Aisling Grey, mate of above. Also a demon lord and Guardian. How did she end up that way? Inquiring minds want to know.

  Effrijim, demon in Newfoundland dog form. Annoying. Might be troublesome in the future.

  Gabriel Tauhou, wyvern of silver dragons. Also handsome, with bonus dimples.

  May Northcott, mate of Gabriel. Tetchy. Is a doppelganger. I never did trust those.

  Kostya Fekete, wyvern of black dragons. Argumentative and prone to sulks. Handsome, though. What is it about the dragons? Do they all look like models? Are there any ugly ones?

  Baltic (no last name mentioned), wyvern of light dragons. Son of demigod dragon progenitor. Watchful. Intense. Broods well, though. Wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Don’t trust him farther than I could swing a behemoth, though.

  Ysolde, mate of Baltic. Sassy and irreverent. Caught her looking at me oddly a few times.

  Brom, son of Ysolde. Typical male of young years, introspective and wholly self-absorbed.

  Christian Dante, Dark One. Head of Moravian Council. Distracted by the presence of dragons, and defensive of his Beloved.

  Allie, Beloved of Christian. Fairly easygoing. Not overly astute, I think. Very, very wrong about some things.

  Finch Dante, Dark One. Quiet and apparently bound up in his own problems.

  Karma Marx, poltergeist. Works for Akashic League. Doesn’t appear to be very aware about beings in the Otherworld.

  Adam Dirgesinger, poltergeist. Also works for Akashic League and some mortal police force. Apparently romantically bound to Karma. Quiet, but watchful.

  Pixie O’Hara, poltergeist. Teenager. Enough said.

  HOUR ONE

  Aisling

  “You can bite my shiny pink tinsel-covered ass.”

  “Jim!” I spun around to apologize to the red dragon who had helped unload the last of our luggage, but given the rate the snow was falling, he’d already leaped into the car and was speeding off as quickly as he could.

  “What?” my furry demon in dog form asked, blinking in surprise.

  I grabbed it by its festive red collar, and leaned down to say in a voice that I hope dripped with threat, “That is not only not a nice thing to say to the driver just because he turned on the car radio, but the very fact that you are speaking out in the open where mortals can hear you is way out of line. If you can’t keep your lips zipped until we get on the plane, then I’ll be happy to command you to silence.”

  “István started it,” Jim said, its eyes wide with feigned innocence. “He’s trying to make me lose Whamageddon by paying everyone to turn on radios around me, and hiding my headphones so I have to hear the music.”

  “István?” A shape hove up next to me in the flurry of snow, resolving itself into that of a woman slightly shorter than me, with brown, shoulder-length hair cut in a bob, and a pair of glasses that was quickly spotted with melting snow. Stella Pendleton had met us about an hour ago, when we picked her up at a train station.

  “István is one of Drake’s bodyguards,” I told her. “He left early this morning to go on a holiday vacation with his girlfriend. Which is well and fine, except Pal—that’s Drake’s other bodyguard—is in England with my mentor Nora, who is his significant other, which leaves us stuck with the mountain of luggage that Drake deems necessary for an emergency three-day visit to Canada. What on earth is Whamageddon?”

  “Sheesh,” Jim said, moseying past me, “I would hate to be so old that I was downright clueless.”

  “You are more than a thousand years older than me, buster,” I said, but remembered in time where we were, and cut short my lecture. I glanced around to make sure no one else heard us. Luckily, with the crappy weather, the small airport in what Jim had referred to as the armpit of Ontario had limited the number of holiday travelers, and the drop-off zone was empty of everyone but us.

  “Yeah, yeah. Hey, the 2000s called and want your brain back,” Jim answered, strolling over to sniff a snow-covered cement planter.

  “You can’t possibly need to pee again,” I told it, taking the last of our luggage, Drake having carried in the other pieces a few minutes ago. “You watered five different planters already.”

  “Just checkin’ it for good smells,” Jim said, stomping its way over to the entrance.

  “I know all about Whamageddon.” Stella walked alongside me toward the entrance doors, all perky young Guardian filled with enthusiasm for her new apprenticeship. And lucky, lucky me, I was her mentor. “It’s a game where you try to go from December first to the twenty-fourth without hearing the song ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!”

  “And István is cheating by trying to make me hear the song.” Jim entered the airport, pausing to shake all the snow off its coat. “Bet he paid off that red dragon who drove us here.”

  “I’m sure István’s not cheating. Do you have everything, Stella?” I asked, wheeling my bag as we entered after Jim and took a left toward the lounge set aside for those travelers who had their own private jets.

  “Yes, I travel light, and I didn’t want to check luggage on the flight over,” Stella said, patting the duffel bag slung across her back. “And of course, I had my furniture sent to your London address.”

  I wanted badly to ask how much furniture she was bringing for the six months she would be shadowing me, Guardian-wise, but decided that was a subject to broach once we were back home. “I’m just sorry you had to go to the expense of flying all this way only to have to turn around immediately.”

  She shrugged. “It was only a few hours. I would have liked to see the other dragons, but it’s still exciting to see Mr. Drake. And your children are green dragons, yes?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly, eyeing her as we approached the private lounge. Although I’d been acquainted with Stella for only an hour, I’d already determined she had a passionate interest in dragons that made me feel a bit itchy. “They’re staying with my uncle right now. He’s not a dragon.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding slightly disappointed, although she cheered up a few seconds later. “Still, dragon children will be interesting to see.”

  “You don’t know the spawn,” Jim said, shaking its shaggy black head. “Ash, István hid my noise-canceling headphones before he left. He wants me to hear the song. If you were a real demon lord, you’d banish him to the Akasha.”

  “I am a real demon lord, and I am not getting into this with you right now,” I answered, giving another paranoid glance around us, but the main lounge was almost empty, probably twenty people in v
arious states of airport ennui slumped in the plastic orange chairs. Added to the general sense of isolation and emptiness was the fact that half the small airport was off-limits, since it was under construction to add new runways and a new terminal. “I have enough on my plate keeping Drake from going ballistic.”

  Jim waited at the door to the private-jet customer lounge, silent until one of the lounge crew, zipping up a parka with one hand while clutching a pair of snowshoes with the other, hurried past us with a worried expression. “What else is new? Drake’s always going drama llama over something lately.”

  “That’s because there’s a lot of crap going down right now, what with the trouble between the weyr and ouroboros tribes, not to mention having been away from the kids for three days. You know how he gets when we’re away from them.”

  Jim nodded. “He thinks they’re going to forget him. Like they could do that. He calls them all the time.”

  “He’s just a devoted father,” I said, sighing with relief when we entered the private lounge and I saw Drake stacking the luggage he’d hauled in a few minutes before. He was obviously about to return to help me when we entered, and instead gave me a nod before striding over to the reception desk that sat in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the jet hangars.

  “Aisling,” Jim said with a cock of its furry black eyebrow. “Dude made the nanny hold up the phone last night so he could watch the kids sleeping.”

  I made a little face, admitting, “Yeah, all right, that was a bit much, but there’s nothing wrong with being a protective, caring parent concerned with our kids’ welfare. Besides, no sane parent wants to be away from their kids so close to Christmas. He is a bit angsty about that, too.”

  “I’ve heard dragons are very intense in their emotions,” Stella said, studying me as if I were a particularly interesting insect she had pinned to a board.

  “Creepy is the word you’re looking for,” Jim said, then spun around, its nose in the air. “Oooh, snackies!”

  “Don’t you dare eat anything until I make sure it’s OK for us to do so,” I warned it as it hustled forward, aware that there was only one attendant in the lounge, on the phone, while in front of him, Drake was clearly chewing him out. “Shit.”

  “Merde,” Jim automatically corrected. We watched as Drake gesticulated wildly. Although the dragon of my dreams possessed a passionate nature that literally left scorch marks on untreated furniture and structures, normally he kept his emotions in check when in public.

  “I better go see what’s got him riled up,” I said, pointing to a spot in front of a deep leather armchair. “Sit there, and do not get on the chairs or couches. Yes, that’s an order.”

  “Yes, Your Grinchy Majesty,” Jim murmured, managing to make a sarcastic bow while plopping itself down next to the bags I’d dropped.

  “I think I’ll just type up my notes on my tablet,” Stella said, sitting next to Jim.

  I paused, glancing back at her. “You have notes already? We haven’t talked about anything Guardian yet.”

  She gave me a toothy smile. “I like to document everything. It makes me feel like my brain is tidy if I take notes.”

  “Er ... all right. Jim, stop trying to remove your bib. I don’t want to have to pay the airport to clean up because you are extra drooly.”

  “Shouldn’t have had that vet clean my teeth yesterday,” it answered, sucking its teeth with an obnoxious noise. “They feel different.”

  “If you would let me brush your teeth like a reasonable demon, then I wouldn’t have had to rush you to the vet to remove that dried piece of turkey jerky stuck in your molars.”

  “You’re not a dentist,” Jim said, making another tooth-sucking noise. “Like I trust you to poke around my teeth with toothpicks? Nuh-uh. And I told you that if you find a toothpaste that doesn’t taste like mud, then I’ll consider letting you brush my choppers.”

  “I don’t have time for this argument now,” I told it. “Just sit there and be good.”

  “Pfft. Like I can be anything but that?” It looked over at Stella, who was tapping industriously on her tablet. “Hey, did I ever tell you what I did to get kicked out of Abaddon?”

  “Trouble in paradise?” I asked Drake a few seconds later. I glanced at my watch. “It’s nothing to do with the children, is it? It’s only been two hours since I checked in with Uncle Damian, and he said the kids were just heading to bed after having a Star Wars marathon.”

  “The children are fine,” Drake answered, glaring at the man in front of us. The poor guy looked like he was about twenty, and wore the uniform of the concierge service that dealt with the high-end customers zooming in and out of this admittedly rural part of Canada—evidently the fishing here was deemed world-class—but was now visibly wilting under Drake’s imposing presence. “What is not fine is the fact that Matteo was correct that our flight plan has not been approved. If we wait much longer, the storm will be upon us.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Vireo,” the attendant said with a bob of his pronounced Adam’s apple. “But your pilot was told that the Area Control Centre has grounded planes in our vicinity due to the storm. It’s due to pass in a few hours, but until we get the all clear, the NAV is not approving flight plans originating from this airport. I believe your plane’s crew has already been moved to the airport hotel.”

  Drake’s bright green eyes narrowed on the man. “Then they can return, and the authorities must grant our flight plan. It is imperative that we leave immediately. We have children in our home in London awaiting our arrival.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, there’s nothing we can do.” The attendant gestured toward the window. Snow was falling fast and furious, which wouldn’t have been worrisome in itself except it was starting to take on a horizontal aspect, a sign that a full-fledged blizzard was about to descend upon us. “No planes are allowed in or out of the Averas Airport at this time. If you like, I can try to book a room for your party at the airport hotel, although since the flight crews and almost all of the commercial passengers have been shuttled over there already, I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “And there’s nowhere else we could go?” I asked, putting a hand on Drake’s arm, since I could feel his dragon fire rising at his obvious frustration with the situation.

  “I’m afraid not,” the attendant said, glancing worriedly at Drake. “Naturally, you are welcome to all the amenities here at the Averas FBO. We pride ourselves on our five-star service—although currently there is only me in the lounge, and I will be leaving in five minutes to go to the hotel—but I’m authorized to give you every comfort we can provide before I leave. We have a variety of free snacks and beverages on the far wall where your dog is, on-site security ... although I think they’ve gone to the hotel, too ... a climate-controlled hangar for your plane, and of course the best customer service in Ontario.”

  The young man tried to offer a confident smile, but it came out worried and unsure.

  Drake wasn’t having any of it. “That is not good enough. We need to leave now. You will inform the air traffic controllers that they are to make an exception for our plane. I will take responsibility for the safety of our travel.”

  “I don’t know, sweetie,” I said, squeezing his arm. “If it’s that dangerous out, maybe we shouldn’t fly.”

  “The children are expecting us,” he told me, his gorgeous face working with suppressed annoyance and anger. “It is almost Christmas Eve, and we told them we would be home then.”

  “I know, and I don’t want to miss the fun any more than you do, but I’d rather get there in one piece. In the big picture of things, it won’t matter if we’re a few hours late.”

  Drake didn’t like that, but I knew he wasn’t about to do anything rash. “Very well,” he said. “We will take three rooms at the hotel.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—” The concierge bit back his protest at the look Drake shot him, and picked up the phone, murmuring, “I’ll see if there’re any rooms left.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” I said to no one in particular as I wandered back to the couch where Stella was tucking away her tablet.

  “About the snow?” She looked out the window. “It does look like it’s getting windy. Could we get to the Ottawa portal shop?”