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A Vampire's Christmas Carol

A Vampire’s Christmas Carol(11)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Ben’s jaw locked, but he withdrew from her body. A long, slow glide that had her tensing. And, when he was gone, she missed the hard feel of his flesh within her. How many times had she longed for him? How many times had she called out for him in the middle of the night?

He settled his body next to hers. Simone started to rise from the bed, but his hand flew out, and his arm settled over her stomach. “You’re not leaving me again.”

Yes, she was. Sooner than he realized.

Her gaze darted around the small cabin. “Why don’t you have a Christmas tree?” She’d always loved Christmas trees. Their delicious pine scent. The way their lights twinkled. The homemade ornaments perched all over the limbs of the trees.

Perfect.

Her mom and dad had made sure she added new ornaments to their tree each year. When they’d…when they’d had their accident, a Christmas tree had been strapped to the top of their car. They’d just cut that tree at a local farm. They’d been so happy.

That happiness had ended with the scream of metal. Her parents had died instantly, Simone hadn’t passed so easily. Her car door had cut into her side, slicing so deeply. Firemen had painstakingly worked to free her from the vehicle. They’d kept telling Simone that she was going to be all right.

She’d known they were lying.

“You convinced me to put up that tree in New York,” Ben recalled as his hold tightened on her. “You said the tree would make everything better.”

Simone swallowed as she tried to push the painful memories from her mind. “Your apartment was so…cold.” Professionally decorated with everything in exactly the right place. Too perfect. Too sterile. “I thought the tree would give the place—”

“Warmth?” Ben bit out. “Life?”

She gave a slow nod.

“No, baby, you did that. You brought the life. Without you, there wasn’t anything left to celebrate.” He ran his tongue over his fangs. “Especially when I became this.”

“The fangs don’t make you a monster.”

His eyes narrowed.

“You should put up a tree,” she whispered. “It will remind you of the way things were. When your parents were alive. When you were younger. Happier. When you believed that—”

“A fat, old guy in a red suit was going to make my world better?”

Her lips pressed together. Simone shook her head. “No, when you believed that there was more than just darkness to this world.”

His hold slackened, and she slid from his grip. Simone found her clothes and dressed as quickly as she could. He watched her from the bed. Big, muscled, sexy…and dangerous. So very dangerous to her.

He didn’t know what she was risking for him. Simone planned for him to never find out. “I’m your second visitor.”

One dark brow hitched up.

“That means I show you the present.”

“The only present I care about…it involves you coming back into this bed with me.” He sat up, his jaw locking. “Once wasn’t enough. A million f**king times with you won’t be enough.”

Her gaze fell to the floor. “We can’t. Not now.” The minutes were ticking past too quickly. Her shoulders squared. “Time is running out. Get dressed. We have to go.”

He rose slowly. Had he missed the whole “time is running out” part? He dressed, never taking his eyes from her, then Ben stalked toward Simone. She exhaled on a relieved breath. “I move fast,” she told him. Simone figured he needed the warning. Her wings spread behind her. “So just hold on to me. You can even close your eyes, if you want. When you open them, we’ll be at our first stop.”

“Screw that,” he said as his fingers closed around her and he pulled her against him. “I want you to stay right—”

Her wings flapped. She locked her hands on him and shot into the air, nearly ramming into the roof of the cabin. Her hold jerked Ben up with her.

“Shit,” Ben muttered. “Shit.”

Simone almost smiled. Then she flew them right through the nearest window and out into the night.

***

Ben’s feet slammed into the ground and he nearly fell to his knees as his stomach finally left his throat and returned to its normal position. “What was that?”

Simone pushed back her long, blonde hair and grinned at him. “Angel speed.” Her dark eyes seemed to shine.

He never wanted to experience angel speed again.

“It’s how we can get to so many places in moments.” She snapped her fingers together. “Just like that.”

No, he thought it was more like the speed of light. Ben heaved out a breath as he straightened. The last thing he wanted was to look weak in front of Simone.

Simone. Her sweet, vanilla scent filled his nose. He could still taste her on his lips. She was real. Not some desperate dream. And he’d had plenty of desperate dreams about her over the years.

She wouldn’t tell him where she’d been. But he would find out. It was only a matter of time. He’d find out all of her secrets, and then Ben would never let her go again.

Her wings were gone now as she approached the cell—an actual prison cell. She’d flown into an open window in the prison. They shouldn’t have fit through that window, but she’d worked some kind of magic and—bam—they’d gotten inside. Ben didn’t know why Simone had brought him to that dim prison but—

“I’m innocent!” A man yelled. Ben saw the guy’s bloody fists curl around the prison bars. “You’ve got to believe me! I didn’t hurt anyone!”

Ben took a few fast steps forward. He knew that voice.

“Don’t worry,” Simone said softly. “He can’t see us or hear us.”

The he in question—the man behind the prison bars—was Miles Gavin. Ben’s lips peeled away from his fangs as a snarl built in his throat.

“It’s an angel trick,” Simone added. Her fingers slid over Ben’s arm, as if she were trying to soothe him. “Angels usually move on the astral plane, and that’s why humans don’t see us.”

The astral plane? That bit of info actually succeeded in temporarily pulling his gaze away from Miles.

Simone licked her lips. “I was granted…special permission so that my magic would cover you, too. We’re in the astral plane right now—that’s how we managed to fit through the window. Space and time distort here.”

Well, at least that was one mystery solved. Or semi-solved. He still didn’t understand half of the shit that was happening.

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