A Siberian Werewolf Christmas Read Free

this effect on him?
What was it that made him forget the pain that constantly pounded
in his head when he looked at her?
    They finally arrived at the main
entrance, and Slava led Maggie outside. A black Mercedes 4x4 waited
by the curb. Zhora jumped out and took possession of the cart.
Slava kept Maggie’s hand in his and opened the door to the back
seat so she could climb in. She scooted over, and Slava climbed in
beside her.
    Zhenya turned to the back, a smile on
his face. Slava leaned forward, blocking Zhenya’s view. His lip
curled, and a low growl rumbled from his throat. He didn’t want the
other men looking at Maggie.
    Zhenya frowned and glanced at his
brother when he climbed into the front passenger seat. They both
looked at Slava, and then shrugged their shoulders before facing
forward. Zhenya put the car in gear and headed for the side of the
airport that housed the private jets.
    Slava sat back. Why was he reacting
this way? He reached over Maggie’s lap to secure the seatbelt for
her. With dark circles under her eyes, she looked exhausted. He had
been so taken with her beauty he’d failed to see the signs of her
fatigue before this.
    “It should only be about fifteen
minutes before we arrive at the jet. Once on board, you can rest,”
he said.
     
    §
     
    Maggie groaned and dragged her eyelids
open as the car pulled in front of the gangway leading to the small
Cessna jet. The two men in the front seat jumped out and started to
unload her suitcases. Slava leaned across her and undid her
seatbelt before opening his door and sliding out. He quickly walked
around to her side of the car, opened the door, reached in, and
gripped her arm.
    “You don’t have to treat me like an
invalid. I’m tired, not crippled.” Maggie pulled her arm free and
climbed out of the car, irritation coloring her tone.
    “Forgive me. I mean no disrespect.
Don’t American men help their women from a vehicle?” Slava asked,
sounding confused.
    “Yes, except perhaps not so
forcefully.” Maggie decided to give the guy a break. His
manhandling might be nothing more than a difference in culture. She
was tired, perhaps she was over-reacting.
    She led the way up the stairs to the
plane’s door and peeked inside. She’d never been on a private jet
before. Leather swivel seats sat next to a table attached to the
wall. Across the aisle was a light gold couch, and next to that sat
a bar with a cabinet over the top. Through the glass doors, Maggie
made out bottles of alcohol and crystal glasses.
    “Please enter,” Slava said from behind
her. “Take any seat you like.”
    Maggie walked down the aisle and
removed her white, ankle-length, down coat before sitting on the
far side of the couch. She held the coat on her lap, not knowing
where it might be stowed. Besides, if it got cold, she would want
to cover up with something.
    Slava stood near the door, watching
her. Once she was seated, he made his way into the cockpit. Maggie
could hear the murmur of voices as he talked to the
pilot.
    The two men from the front of the car
walked in laughing. Maggie hadn’t been able to make them out
clearly and only caught a sense of large males with dark hair. From
their faces it was apparent they were twins. Both possessed
twinkling blue eyes. Although, where Slava’s brown hair was light
with highlights of gold, theirs was coffee-colored.
    As they noticed her sitting on the
couch, they both playfully rushed forward, pushing on each other,
trying to be first. The winner of the race wore a huge triumphant
grin and bowed low in front of her before reaching for her hand and
bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. Maggie’s cheeks
flushed.
    “Welcome to Russia, beautiful Maggie,
friend to Violet,” he said, still holding her hand, his eyes
twinkling. “I am Zhora, and I am at your service.”
    “Thank you.” Maggie pulled her hand
gently from his. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
    The other brother pushed forward. “I
am Zhenya.” He bowed and