Page 9 of A Bear Ski Instructor Christmas (Holiday Shifters of Frost Mountain)

A Kiss in the Dark

Michael heard the scream moments before he spotted the children. He’d been heading toward the village’s entrance with his skis tucked under one arm, wondering if he should spend some more time in the workshop after his skiing exercise, when the sound pierced the air and nearly caused him to drop his equipment. A few seconds later, two children burst into view, giggling as they rushed toward the village’s entrance.

“Katie!” he exclaimed. “Sadie!”

The children did not indicate that they’d heard him. They rushed past the low fence, hopped on the skis like snowboards, and shot down the hill.

“No!”

Michael burst into a sprint, his heart in his throat. They must have nicked the skis from the workshop while no one was looking. Katie and Sadie had never been skiing before. If they got hurt…

No, he told himself, dismissing the thought from his mind.

Nothing was going to happen to them, not if he could do something about it.

He rushed past the fence, hurriedly putting on his skis like there was a pack of hungry wolves hot on his tail and tore downhill after the two children. It took him a moment to spot them—twin dots in the distance, growing larger in his field of vision as he neared them. He couldn’t see their faces, but he knew enough to guess just how terrified Katie and Sadie must be right now. They’d taken the skis to have some fun without anyone’s permission and had realized too late what a terrible idea that was.

It’s not too late.

In a heartbeat, he caught up to both girls, who had begun screaming their heads off, their arms flailing as they hurtled toward the foot of the hill. Thinking quickly, Michael grabbed them around the waist, pulling them close, and dug his skis into the ground.

The result was a sudden jerk. Michael went sailing through the air, Katie and Sadie clutched against his chest. He hit the ground, rolling several feet through the snow before coming to a halt. A ringing filled his ears, fading gradually as he rolled over onto his back and let go of the children.

Katie and Sadie burst into tears. Fearing the worst, Michael jerked into a sitting position and examined both girls as thoroughly as he could, with his heart pounding against his eardrums. They seemed fine, though frightened half to death and bawling their eyes out.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, brushing a tear from Katie’s cheek. “You’re okay.”

“We’re sorry!” Sadie cried, her nose already running. “We just wanted to try out the skis.”

“I know,” Michael told her. “It’s okay. What matters is that you two are safe now.”

At the top of the hill, villagers had gathered, pointing at the scene below and talking among themselves. A few men had already begun their careful descent, making their way toward Michael and the children.

Katie nodded, sniffling. “Is Santa still going to come this Christmas?”

He frowned. What on earth was she talking about? “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, sweetie.”

“We…we’ve been naughty.” She sniffled again. “Santa knows when we’ve been naughty.”

Michael fought the urge to let out a belly laugh that might have set off an avalanche. She settled for a light chuckle. “Katie, I don’t think Santa is mad at you. He’ll come to visit this Christmas, I promise.

I should know—I’m him.

“Now, there’s no need to cry anymore. Come on, let’s get back to the village.”

They all got up, and he picked up the skis just as a couple of villagers reached them. Nodding thankfully in his direction, they took hold of the sobbing girls and led them back uphill, Michael following closely behind. He reached the top of the hill just in time to see Katie and Sadie rush, still sobbing, toward a squat, blonde woman who looked just as agitated. A few of the villagers clapped him on the back, thanking him for being quick to the rescue.

“That was amazing,” said a familiar voice to his right as he headed back into the village. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything like that before.”

He turned slowly. Sure enough, standing barely three feet away, gazing at him in awe, was Rachel. His eyes rose from her silver necklace to her face. As always, she was a sight to behold, drawing every last breath from his lungs with a bat of her eyelashes.

Wait, no. That wasn’t quite it. He did feel out of breath for a brief moment, as though he could drop, unconscious, onto the snow. And in that moment, an image flashed through his mind like a lightning bolt. A slender woman in a black sequined dress sitting across a table from him. Delicate hands clutching a fork and knife. Before he could fixate on the thought, it was gone, hovering just on the tip of his consciousness, out of his reach.

What in the world just happened?

“Are you okay?” Rachel blinked at him, those beautiful eyes of hers filled with concern. “You seemed a little…gone for a second there.”

“I’m fine,” he told her, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “Just needed to catch my breath.”

She smiled, causing his heartbeat to speed up. “You did a good job down there. Those kids are lucky you were around to save them.”

Michael’s mouth went dry. He stared at her, unsure how to respond, but soon managed a thank you and excused himself, heading into the village and straight for his workshop. His mind struggled to make sense of everything that had just happened, from the girls nearly hurting themselves on the skis to the image that had just appeared to him.

Had that been…a memory?

Whatever it was, he would figure it out.

But there would be no more skiing today.

***

Michael spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in the workshop, toiling even after Andrew had gone home. Between polishing new skis and fixing some furniture a few villagers had brought to him a couple of days earlier, the noise inside his head should have quieted down by now. Instead, the thoughts raged on, burdening him by the second.

He brought his hammer down, driving a crooked nail into the leg of a small chair. The chair was crudely designed. In fact, it was more of a stool. Frost Mountain didn’t have all the resources needed to craft a perfect chair, but Michael always did his best with whatever he could lay his hands on. Working with wood was one of the few things that kept him relatively balanced since he found himself on this harsh mountain. Another was skiing. But Michael didn’t feel like skiing tonight.

His thoughts continued to race, and he dropped the hammer with a sigh. Skiing or not, he could do with some movement. For a moment, Michael contemplated taking a stroll through the village, but then another idea surfaced in his mind.

Before he could stop himself, he marched out of the workshop, heading through the snow under the moonlit sky. The streets of Melinor were almost empty, although he bumped into a couple of villagers he recognized as he made his way toward the entrance.

The fence appeared in his line of sight before long. Michael had always been amazed at how low it was. On a mountain as dangerous as this, it seemed only sensible to erect a much higher, impenetrable fence around the village, but Reba had told him once that Melinor hadn’t witnessed any external dangers in so long that a higher fence was unnecessary.

At least he could slip out without drawing too much attention.

The wooden entrance gate was shut. Michael leaped over it, landing with a soft thud in the snow. The terrain before him was clear enough even at night—a large, white path heading straight downhill through the dense woods. Out here, he could barely hear a thing, not creatures lurking in the snow or tree leaves rustling in the wind. The night was dead silent and cold, perfect for what he had in mind.

Maybe he should have brought his skis along.

He heard a faint crunch just then. Michael whirled about, eyes widening. Was someone following him? He squinted. There was no one in sight.

I must be hearing things. He shook his head. I really do need to go back there.

The image from earlier flashed through his mind again, fading before he could grasp it. Michael shook his head. The only memories he had of Rachel were from her time on Frost Mountain. Nothing before. So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that the vision he’d seen earlier had something to do with her? A woman in a black sequined dress. He hadn’t seen a face, but that wasn’t enough to dismiss it, was it?

It was why he’d come out here. What better way to fix himself than to retrace his steps? He’d lost his memory when he’d knocked his head on that rock the day he arrived on Frost Mountain. It only made sense that he should return to that spot and try to remember whatever else he could. He hadn’t been back there since, but he was pretty sure he knew the spot.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Here goes.”

Without another moment’s hesitation, he made his way carefully down the hill. Within minutes, he’d veered off the path, trudging through the silent woods.

It wasn’t long before he decided he should probably try to blend in more with his environment. Michael came to a stop in the middle of the woods and quickly divested himself of his clothing, setting everything in the snow at the foot of a nearby tree. Unable to shake the feeling that icy fingers were creeping along his naked body, he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath as he concentrated.

It had been a while since he’d last shifted, but the experience was as interesting as always. His bones grew longer and thicker, and black claws extended from his fingertips. He fell forward, landing on all fours in the snow as his spine stretched, bones crunching with every second. His face elongated into a snout, large teeth filling his mouth, and his ears slid up the sides of his head. Finally, fur sprouted from his skin, spreading all over his massive body.

His vision was much clearer now, his sense of smell keener. A grizzly bear didn’t exactly blend in with the snowy mountain as well as a polar bear might, but at least he wasn’t as cold anymore, not to mention it made traveling through the woods a lot easier.

Snatching up his clothes in his maw, Michael bounded through the woods, narrowly avoiding slamming into the trees as he headed further down the mountain.

He knew he’d arrived at his destination seconds before he saw it. The air was slightly warmer, not to mention he could hear the steady trickle of a nearby stream. The lake had to be nearby. He pushed forward, slowing as he reached the edge of the trees. Sure enough, just clear of the trees, its gleaming surface almost completely still, was a lake. Ten feet away from Michael sat a snow-covered boulder twice his size.

Michael dropped the clothes and shifted back to human form, tugging on his trousers, keeping his gaze on the rock. Ignoring his shirt and coat, he stepped toward it, fingers outstretched. The rock’s surface was cool to the touch, almost electrifying.

It took him a moment to realize he was holding his breath. He exhaled softly, feeling somewhat foolish. What was he expecting, exactly? That touching the rock would somehow cause his lost memories to come rushing back?

Was that so far-fetched? Michael didn’t have a degree in psychiatry, but wasn’t it true that objects and people could trigger memories?

But nothing came forth anyway.

His gaze dropped to the snow at his feet. He’d woken up right on this very spot three years ago to find Reba and Andrew standing over him. They’d been scouting the area, he learned later and had stumbled upon him, a strange man wearing skis and a Santa suit. They’d brought him into the village where Elena tended to him until he'd recovered his memory.

Well, most of it. If he’d recovered it all, he wouldn’t be standing out here so late at night, trying to piece together the fragments of his vision. He needed to remember but wasn’t sure why it meant so much to him. He’d been content with the memories he had before Rachel came along. Even now, as far as he was concerned, she was just some beautiful new woman who’d stumbled into his life. Was it because her presence and the things she knew about him made him suddenly aware of a void in the corner of his mind that he was now determined to fill?

No, it was because Rachel was worth remembering, he decided. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want to remember someone as amazing as she was? The thought of those brilliant eyes and the sensuous curve of her lips were enough to make him wonder what experiences they’d shared. He had to remember her somehow because he didn’t just want to believe that they’d been together at some point; he wanted to know it without a doubt.

He returned his gaze to the rock, half-expecting something to happen. Anything at all.

But nothing did.

With a sigh, he took a step back. Coming out here had been a waste of time. No matter how hard he tried, getting those memories back seemed impossible. They’d been gone for three years. What were the odds that they’d suddenly return now?

“Face it, Michael,” he told himself. “You’re as likely to get those memories back as you are to leave Frost Mountain.”

“Who are you talking to?” said a voice behind him.

He whirled about with a gasp, prepared to fight whoever had snuck up on him, and froze with his fist upraised. Standing at the edge of the woods, staring at him with a frown on her face, was a woman. In the moonlight, he could just make out her rugged features.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Elena replied swiftly. “Taking off in the middle of the night? You’ve never done that before. I was taking a walk through the village and saw you hop over the fence.”

“I knew there was someone following me when I left the village.” He stifled a curse, letting out a sigh instead. “Look, I just came out here to stretch a bit.”

She lifted an eyebrow, which told him she didn’t believe him one bit. “You’re a long way from the village. Isn’t this where my mother found you when you first got here?”

Michael nodded slowly. No point in lying to her. “I was hoping I’d remember something. Turns out there’s more to me than I remember.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard lately.” She rolled her eyes. “Any success getting your memory back?”

He shook his head.

She stepped toward him, her eyes locked on his. “Don’t look so downcast, Michael. Your memories don’t make you any different. You’re still the same handsome man I tended to three years ago.” She flashed him a smile. “Give it time. Who knows? You’ll probably recover them in a few more years. For now, though…there’s nothing to worry about.”

She came to a stop merely inches away from him and reached up to cup his cheek. Her fingers were cool against his skin. “I don’t get many opportunities to be alone with you, you know.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve been….occupied.”

“You aren’t now, though.”

And with that, she rose on her tiptoes, bringing her lips toward his. His eyes widened, and Michael jerked backward, nearly slamming into the rock. Elena stumbled but quickly regained her balance, looking both surprised and hurt.

“What…?” she breathed.

“I’m sorry, Elena,” he told her, snatching up his shirt and coat and quickly throwing them on. “I just—”

“This is about her, isn’t it?” A look of annoyance suddenly appeared in her eyes. “That…new elf.”

Her name is Rachel, he almost blurted. Instead, he said, “She’s the reason I came out here. She clearly knows me, and I’d like to remember whatever I can.”

“Well, have fun trying.”

And with a scoff, Elena turned and marched off into the woods.