Bewitched Before Christmas (Daughters of the Morrigan Book 4)

by Nina Croft

  Heat flowed through her like molten lava.

  Was he right? Was it just her and Lachlan together for eternity?

  She wanted him. She hadn’t realized she could want something this much. Way more than a puppy.

  But that wasn’t what made her put down her glass and get to her feet, drop the duvet so she stood only inches from him in nothing but her underwear. It was that sad look she’d caught in his eyes. And the sudden urge to give him a memory of Christmas to wipe away the earlier pain.

  She was totally out of her depth. He was centuries older than her. She was, in fact, way too young. But maybe that’s what he needed. He’d never had the chance to be young. He’d lost his whole family by the time he was eight. He’d lost everything else on the battlefield when he was barely older than she was now. Her chest ached when she thought about everything he had been through, everything he had lost.

  “Just you and me,” she murmured and took a step closer, rested her palm on his cool chest. “I just showed you the worst Christmas you ever had.” Another step closer so they were almost touching, and her nostrils filled with the cool musky scent of him. “Let me make it up to you. What do you want for Christmas, Lachlan? Anything. Anything you desire.”

  He stared down at her, hands at his side. “Not fair,” he murmured.

  “I’m a witch. I never said I would be fair.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lachlan was lost. Totally lost.

  He wasn’t sure when he’d relinquished control of the situation. Maybe when she’d stood up and dropped the duvet, and she was all but naked. Perfection in miniature, all sexy curves and black underwear. Or maybe when she’d listed all the reasons why he was wrong for her, while staring out of those hungry silver eyes. Witch’s eyes.

  Or perhaps when she’d looked so sad as he’d regaled her with his miserable crappy childhood. Like she really cared. Or she pitied him—even that didn’t matter now.

  Perhaps he’d never stood a chance.

  He remembered the first moment he’d set eyes on her. And he’d known he was in big trouble, because she reached something deep inside him. Something he’d locked away so long ago it was almost forgotten.

  Now, the reasons didn’t matter. Maybe this was the end of the world. And they were all the other had. And right now, she was enough. More than enough. Everything he had ever dreamed about, before even his dreams were snatched away.

  Vampires didn’t sleep, they died, and they never dreamed.

  He reached out and cupped her cheek, her skin was silky soft under his touch. “Anything I desire?”

  Did she realize what she was offering? Because he desired everything. Every last atom, every drop of her blood, every tingle of desire. His. Only his.

  He tilted her face up to his, lowered his head and took her lips. She tasted of warm wine, and desire, and a sweetness he’d never encountered before. He held himself in check, because she was young and this was going to happen—she’d offered herself to him, and she wouldn’t stop him now. But more than anything he needed this to be good for her. He wasn’t totally altruistic. If she ever found her Mr. Normal, she would remember this night.

  He sank to his knees, gripped his hands at her waist and pressed his lips to the soft curve of her belly. She had a tattoo above her right hip. A raven in flight. As he stroked his tongue over the lines, he gently pushed her back so she sprawled onto the sofa behind her. He moved quickly, spreading her thighs, nipping the mound beneath her black lace panties. It wasn’t enough, and he ripped them from her, then sat back on his heels.

  She was beautiful. Black curls and dark red lips glistening with desire. She wanted him, and that was the last piece needed to fuel his own desire.

  He glanced up the line of her body. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted. A pulse throbbed in her throat and his gums ached.

  Lowering his head, his fangs grazed her upper thighs, the spot where the blood pulsed close to the surface. He could make her come with just a tiny sip. But another time. Instead, he kissed her gently, felt her tense beneath him. His hands gripped her hips as his tongue snaked out to taste her, teasing between her pouting lips. Stroking her, drinking in the sweetness. As he pushed his tongue inside, she went totally still. He stroked up toward the little bundle of swollen nerves, circling it so her hips jerked and pushed up against him. He touched her lightly with the tip of his tongue and she moaned.

  He was so hard now he thought he would burst, but he held himself in check, stroking his tongue over her, sucking the small bud into his mouth and biting gently. Her spine arched, and she pulsed against him. He kissed her again, held her hips as she came so sweetly for him.

  His turn.

  He rose to his feet, pulled his T-shirt over his head. Kicked off his boots. His hands went to his waist, then his gaze dropped, she was watching him out of hungry eyes. His movements slowed, and he flicked open the button on his jeans and deliberately lowered the zipper. Her gaze dropped, and she watched as he pushed his jeans down over his thighs, and then off, to stand before her naked.

  He fisted his cock as he took a step toward her. He wanted this to last, but knew it was unlikely. He had an idea this was her first time. It was none of his business, except he needed to slow things down.

  He could see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, still beneath the black bra. He reached behind her, unfastened the clasp and peeled the material away, baring her breasts. They were small, but full, the nipples tight, dark red peaks. He trailed a finger over them, and her skin puckered. Lowering his head, he took one in his mouth then suckled. She tasted so good, and his dick twitched and jerked.

  He needed her. Now. He needed to be inside her. She shifted so she lay stretched out on the sofa, then raised her arms to him. He sank down onto her, holding his weight on his elbows. He was big and she was small.

  As he lowered himself, her thighs opened for him. He pushed inside, and her legs wrapped around him. For a moment, he lay, his face pressed against her throat, breathing in the sweet scent of her. His fangs ached, but he ignored the sensation.

  Slowly, he pulled out and her legs tightened around him, drawing him back.

  He ground his hips against her, rubbing circles, and she moaned in his ear.

  Out and then in, the exquisite sensations building inside him. In his balls, his dick. He raised himself up so he could stare down into her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, eyes dazed.

  “Don’t stop.”

  He had no intention of stopping.

  Cupping her face, he held her gaze as he increased his speed. She was moving with him. He ground against her and saw the moment she came apart for him. Her eyes widening, her spine arching, her mouth parting in surprise.

  And he released the last of his control.

  He pushed into her hard and fast, closing his eyes and concentrating on the sensations that flooded his body.

  Nothing had ever felt like this. And then he was flying. The pleasure ran through his cock, through his body, bathing him in fire. He hadn’t realized how cold he had been.

  On and on. He’d think it was over, then she twitched her hips, tightened her thighs, and he was coming again.

  Finally, he collapsed, burying his head against her breasts.

  A hand stroked his hair, and he closed his eyes.

  “Happy Christmas,” she murmured.

  Chapter Ten

  He was heavy.

  Had he passed out? Was he asleep? Did vampires sleep? Didn’t they just die? Ugh.

  She had a dead body on top of her.

  She shoved hard, and he groaned, then rolled off, and she managed to scramble out from under him. She was naked and sticky and more Ugh.

  Except it had been magical.

  She grabbed the duvet from the floor and wrapped it around herself, then sat on the chair opposite and studied him.

  She could feel herself softening again. How did he do that? She hardened her heart. It was no good sitting here, thinking sappy though
ts about happily ever after. She wasn’t sure such a thing existed. And she was convinced Lachlan didn’t believe in love. And if he did, he’d made it very clear that she was everything he did not want in a woman. Except for sex.

  Needy!

  She sniffed.

  She was so not needy. Well, maybe she was a little bit needy, but she did not need him. He was, in fact, everything she did not need.

  But she had wanted him. Desperately. Just once, before he found a way to rid himself of her entirely. She blamed it on the vision of them kissing under the mistletoe. It had fixated her brain on the very thing it should have warned her about.

  And there was no point in going all soppy and pretending she’d given herself as some sort of Christmas present.

  Besides, it wasn’t Christmas.

  And maybe it never would be.

  How long had it been since she’d stopped the world? Hours. Midnight would have passed, and it should be Christmas day. But it wasn’t, because she had used the Earth magic and stopped the world. If Christmas never came, then that would be down to her. Because she had no clue how to start it up again. Santa Claus was probably frozen in time, stuck forever, halfway down someone’s chimney.

  That was sad.

  She needed something to wear. Lachlan had dropped her clothes in a pile where he had stripped her. She shuffled over. They were still damp—he was so undomesticated. So was she; another reason they would never suit. One person per couple had to be housebroken. She picked them up, shook them out and lay them on the back of the chair to dry before putting another log on the fire.

  He was still lying, unmoving on the sofa. Naked and beautiful, like a marble statue. Though he wasn’t perfect; he had scars. A slash across his chest. A puckered hole in his shoulder. Had they been made before he was changed? He’d had such a hard life. She remembered the little boy from the vision. Too thin and terrified, yet trying to pretend he wasn’t so his sisters wouldn’t be scared. Providing for his family when he was only eight. She sniffed again.

  She’d had too much wine; it was making her emotional.

  She shuffled out of the room into a hallway. An open door at one end led to the kitchen. She went the other way and peered into a bedroom. The duvet was missing. A big dark wood wardrobe stood against the far wall, and she opened it. Men’s clothes. A big man. She selected a black shirt. It felt like silk, and she dropped the duvet and pulled it on. It reached to her knees. She buttoned it up. Next, she went to the kitchen. She stared out of the window, but nothing moved. Red and silver lights twinkled on the trees lining the path from the wooden gate. She’d been in no position to notice when Lachlan had brought her in here. They were pretty.

  Who lived here? A man obviously. A big man who liked Christmas decorations and good red wine. Maybe, if the world ever started again, she should introduce herself.

  In the kitchen, she turned on the coffee maker. Found bread and peanut butter and made herself a sandwich, then wandered back into the sitting room. She came to a halt. He was awake. Standing by the window, peering out, he’d pulled on his jeans but was otherwise naked. He cast her a wary glance.

  She swallowed. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to ask you to marry me or anything.”

  He raked his hair back from his face. “Good.” But he didn’t sound happy. His gaze dropped down over her, lingering on her breasts under the thin silk and her nipples tightened. Again.

  She hurried across, sat down and pulled the shirt over her knees. Took another bite and chewed while Lachlan paced the room, all half-naked pent-up energy. A…sulky expression on his face.

  “How old were you when you were…changed?” she asked.

  He stopped and turned to look at her. Hands shoved in his pockets. “Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “So not much older than me.” And everyone knew boys matured slower than girls. “That explains why you’re so emotionally stunted.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It does?”

  “Well, vampires don’t age after they’re changed. I mean you could still pass for twenty-two. Maybe you don’t mature emotionally either.”

  “I’m emotionally mature.”

  She snorted, but didn’t answer, just let a small smile play across her lips.

  His mouth tightened, then he shook his head. He sat down opposite her, stretched out his long legs. “So tell me about this spell you cast. How long will it last?”

  “I have no clue. I told you—I’m not supposed to do magic yet. I’m not supposed to even know spells. It just sort of…popped out.”

  “Which means you have no idea how to reverse it?”

  “None whatsoever.” She sighed. “On the bright side, you don’t have to worry about me trailing around after you like a love-sick witch.”

  A smile flickered across his face. She had an idea he liked the thought. “Why is that?”

  “Because there’s a good chance that my life is forfeit.”

  “What?”

  “The Earth magic always has a price. Something this big…usually a life. Maybe sometime, I’ll tell you the story of how my sister Gina became a vampire.”

  He jumped to his feet. “Who will kill you? How?”

  “I’ll probably be expected to sacrifice myself. Restore the balance.” Maybe that’s what she needed to do now. Maybe that was what would bring the world and Christmas back into being. But she didn’t want to die. And she certainly didn’t want to kill herself. Though she would find the strength if she had to because—as Regan always said—they had great power and great responsibilities.

  “Don’t you dare kill yourself.”

  Aw, he sounded as though he cared. Maybe now was not the time to suggest that Lachlan’s life might also be forfeit. She put down the rest of her sandwich, no longer hungry. Had she dragged Lachlan down with her? Saved his life, only to have him die as a consequence. Except he was already dead. Her head hurt.

  He paced the room, casting her an occasional dark glance. He clearly wasn’t happy. But then he was supposed to protect her—Darius would no doubt be pissed. He’d failed.

  Finally, he came to a halt in front of her, hands thrust in his pockets. He was so big. His shoulders broad, the muscles of his arms bulging. But with not an ounce of fat, his belly lean, almost concave. Her gaze skimmed over the bulge in his pants, down to is bare feet, long narrow toes. Finally, she traced the route back up and found him watching her out of half-closed eyes.

  “I’m hungry,” he growled.

  “Oh.” She shifted on the chair as heat spread through her, settling low down in her body. She pressed her thighs together. “There’s peanut butter in the kitchen. It’s good.”

  He gave a slow smile, then leaned down. Not touching her anywhere, just resting his hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. “I don’t want peanut butter.”

  She could feel his cool breath shivering against her hot skin. Her whole body was on fire. “Hey, if this is because you think I’m going to die and so won’t get the chance to be clingy. It’s not a done deal. One more orgasm, and I could get very clingy. I’m needy remember.”

  “Right now, so am I.”

  He lowered his head, kissed the side of her throat, and she sensed it down to her toes. A warm wetness flooded between her thighs, and he breathed in deeply as though he could smell her desire. So not cool. His tongue licked her skin, a slow stroke across her pulse point, and she was suddenly conscious of her blood thumping in her veins. The thud of her heart.

  This could never go anywhere, but did that matter?

  The world had stopped, her life was likely forfeit. It wouldn’t matter if he walked away, it might even make things easier. Her head tipped back to give him access and he gave a low chuckle.

  He scooped her up in his arms. But as they tightened around her, she felt that faint flickering, like something tapping at her brain. Her vision dimmed, and the present faded to nothing…

  Chapter Eleven
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br />   Christmas Future…

  It was happening again. Lachlan tightened his arms around her as the room faded around them. His vision darkened, and he closed his eyes, expecting to be dragged back to that earlier time, the stone room, his mother and sisters, the cold that seeped into his bones, the hunger gnawing at his belly. Instead…

  The castle. But there were decorations, a huge tree with a star on top that brushed the ceiling of the great hall. Candles twinkled and colored streamers festooned the walls. A Yule log burned in the open hearth. The sound of laughter and talking filled the room.

  What was happening?

  He didn’t know these people. Except, there was Darius across the room, with a blond woman he didn’t recognize. And then Lola stepped into sight. His mind scrambled to make sense of what he was seeing.

  Could this be the future?

  She’d survived. And something inside him relaxed. He’d been trying not to think about what she had said. That her life would be forfeit. He would not allow that to happen. But this was magic. He was out of his depth, and he had to save her but he had no clue how.

  Yet here she was. And this certainly wasn’t the past so it must be going to happen.

  A lightness filled him. He hardly recognized the emotion—but that was happening a lot lately.

  Hope.

  Hope for the future.

  Lola was looking straight at him, smiling, her expression radiant. Then she caught sight of something behind him and her expression faltered.

  He turned slowly, then shock held him immobile. A man stood in the doorway. Tall, dressed in black, with black hair pulled back in a ponytail, stubble shadowing his cheeks, a scar ran down the left side of his face, through his eyebrow, across his cheekbone, to his upper lip, tugging it into a permanent sneer.