How Heathcliff Stole Christmas: A Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries novella

by Steffanie Holmes

  My miracle.

  Our kisses deepened as we tossed away our clothes. I wanted to fall into him, to become part of the miracle of his body. Quoth’s fingers trailed down my spine, sending a delicious shiver through my body that had nothing to do with that poxy draft blowing through the attic.

  Quoth trailed kisses along my neck, over my collarbone, touching the spot on my clavicle that made me shudder with desire. I reached between his legs and grabbed his cock, stroking it between my fingers. His shoulders tightened and a small sigh escaped his lips.

  “Well, well, it looks like our little birdie’s stocking is hung.”

  Quoth tore away from me. He scrambled against the wall, his eyes wide as saucers and a scattering of black feathers poking through his cheeks. I whirled around, too wrapped up in the moment to think to be ashamed of my nakedness.

  Morrie leaned against the doorframe, a dark smile playing across his lips. “If you keep swinging on Quoth’s North Pole like that, you’ll be going on Santa’s naughty list.”

  I threw my shirt at him. “You’re not funny.”

  “I am hilarious. Mind if I join you?”

  I wanted to protest, to say that tonight should be all about Quoth, but Morrie was already climbing into bed on the other side of me. He tipped my head toward him and claimed my mouth in a hot, needy kiss. It was all I could do not to swoon right there.

  James Moriarty had a way of crushing my will with his sexiness. By Isis, the guy knew how to make a woman’s body sing, and he pulled out all his tricks – he wanted to stay, and he was determined to earn his place in Quoth’s bed.

  “Where’s Heathcliff?” I murmured. I didn’t think it was fair he should miss out.

  “He’s gone over to the pub to drown his Christmas-induced sorrows.” Morrie cupped my cheek to claim my lips. “Although Ishtar knows why he’d do that since it’s quiz night tonight.”

  That did seem odd. The Rose & Wimple quiz night would have the whole town crowded into the pub, yelling out answers and trash-talking the other teams and spreading Christmas cheer. It seemed like the last place Heathcliff would want to go. But then Quoth pressed his lips to that spot on my clavicle again and I forgot all about quiz night.

  Morrie’s tongue danced across mine as Quoth ran the tips of his fingers over my skin, raising trails of goosebumps he kissed into submission. I sank back into Quoth’s arms with a sigh as Morrie drew away before closing his lips around my nipple.

  I gasped in pleasure as Morrie swirled his tongue around it before scraping his teeth over the sensitive bud. A jolt of desire shot through my body. I gripped Morrie’s arm as he bent his head to the other nipple, while Quoth’s fingers trailed between my legs.

  “Lie back, gorgeous,” Morrie whispered. “Tonight, Quoth and I will have you walking in an orgasm wonderland.”

  If you insist. As I settled back on the pillows, a whoosh of cold air blasted over us. I yelped in surprise. That bloody draft!

  Quoth pulled the blankets over us, wrapping his arms around my body. Warmth flooded my limbs – from his body heat but also from our closeness, from what we shared now, here, tonight. Quoth’s dark eyes swam with love and reverence as he bent his head between my legs.

  His tongue dived for my clit, making slow circles that sent me wild. Morrie pinched my nipple between his fingers and flicked his tongue over my lips, smiling that cheeky grin of his as he promised so much more to come.

  Heat rose inside me, spreading along my veins until I sizzled with fire and need. Quoth pushed a finger into me as he pressed his tongue against me. Morrie scraped my nipple with his teeth once more, and the heat inside me bubbled over.

  My body rocked as an orgasm rippled through me, languid like the ebb of a river dancing over wind-tossed pebbles.

  When I rose through the river, Quoth bent over me, a perfect smile grazing his lips. I reached out and gripped his arm, dragging him on top of me and wrapping my legs around him. Quoth let out a whimper as he entered me, a sound so tender and beautiful it broke my heart. His breath warmed my earlobe. Morrie’s tongue entwined in mine as he lent his body heat to our embrace.

  Quoth’s strokes were languid too – he breathed slowly, his gaze falling on mine, his fingers twining in my hair. He opened me like a flower in spring, those eyes and that heart breaking apart the winter ice that had settled on my mind ever since my diagnosis.

  We fell into each other – his eyes swallowing those dark parts of me and leaving me with only the light of his love. A second orgasm built inside me, and this one rose like a wild animal and slammed into me, knocking me back against the pillows as my body yielded to Quoth’s. He came at the same time, his lip trembling as he rocked against me in deferential bliss.

  “Looks like Santa Claus isn’t the only one coming to town,” Morrie whispered in my ear.

  I shoved Morrie. He fell back against the pillows, his hands folded behind his head and that cheeky smirk on his lips. Quoth rolled aside. I climbed onto Morrie and thrust myself down on his cock, moaning a little as my body stretched and shifted to accommodate his girth.

  I mashed my mouth against Morrie’s, mostly so he’d shut the fuck up.

  Morrie groaned as I slammed my pelvis down on him. Tonight, Quoth had my heart, but Morrie held a part of me, too. He drew out something wild and powerful inside me. My last name wasn’t Wilde for nothing, and with Morrie, I’d never felt more free, or more bold. The two of them watched me with admiration as I took what I wanted.

  I loved this. Being with my three boyfriends made me feel powerful, invincible. It didn’t matter that I was going blind. Who cares? I’d rock it, just like I was rocking Morrie’s world right now.

  “You’re smiling.” Morrie’s nails dug into my hips as he thrust up to meet me. “Does it make you happy, jingling my bells?”

  “Maybe.” I smiled even wider as I ground against him. Morrie’s jaw clenched. His muscles stiffened. I reached behind him, slipping my hand between his legs and scraping my nail down that sensitive stretch of skin between his balls and anus.

  “Deck the balls…” I whisper-sung in his ear. Morrie burst out laughing as he came, sending a spasm through his body and causing him to break down into a coughing fit.

  We collapsed together, laughing and hugging, pressing our bodies close as another blast of cold air scoured the room. Quoth nuzzled into my shoulder, resting his ear on my chest. Morrie wrapped his arms around both of us, his lips brushing the top of my head. Somewhere downstairs, the building creaked in protest.

  The bells at the front door tinkled. That must be Heathcliff, home from the pub. I wonder if he drank himself into a better mood…

  Beside me, Morrie grabbed his phone from Quoth’s nightstand and started scrolling and tapping. I craned my neck to see what he was doing, but he angled his phone away.

  “No peeking. I’m planning a Christmas surprise the likes of which you’ve never encountered before.”

  “But you already got me an amazing Christmas present. Those cassette tapes—”

  “Oh, those are for you to enjoy now. At top volume. While Heathcliff is nearby.” Morrie grinned, kissing my cheek. “Call it a pre-Christmas Christmas gift. I’ve come up with something even better for the big event.”

  I flopped back onto the pillow and groaned. Great. Now not only did I have to come up with three epic Christmas gifts, but I had to sort pre-Christmas Christmas gifts, too?

  When I opened my eyes again, grey light streamed through the window, casting a square across the narrow bed. I slid out from under Morrie’s arm and crept to the window, watching tiny flecks of white tumble through the air.

  Snow!

  We’d already had a snowfall earlier in the week, but Heathcliff had me doing stocktake in the storage room and I missed it. Well, I wasn’t going to miss this one. I stuck my head out the window and breathed in the crisp, wintery scent. Snowflakes dotted my face, collecting in my hair and—

  “Who let that draft in?” Morrie muttered, tugging the cove
rs over his naked arse cheeks.

  I jumped on the bed, jolting the two of them awake. Quoth tried to drag me down under the covers again, but I wasn’t having it.

  “It’s snowing!” I poked Morrie’s ribs. “Let’s make snow angels. Let’s build a snowman and dress him up like a hipster. Oooh, we need to have a snowball fight…”

  “Or… here’s an idea.” Morrie held up one finger. “You could come back to bed and Quoth and I will make your sleigh bells ring.”

  I yanked the pillow from under his head and thumped him with it. “Get up. That’s an order. Heathcliff! I don’t care how hungover you are, it’s time to wake up!”

  I untangled myself from Morrie and Quoth and scrambled for my clothes. I hopped across the floor, dragging my fleece leggings over my arse and pulling on Quoth’s Blood Lust hoodie over my own for extra warmth. Morrie lunged for me again, but I slipped past him and barreled down the steep attic steps.

  “Heathcliff, get up! It’s snowing! We’re going to have a snowball fight, and I demand that you join us. You can work out some of that pent-up Christmas aggression with—yeeeeow!”

  My foot landed on a silvery bauble at the bottom of the stairs. My ankle rolled out from under me.

  CRASH. I went down in a heap. My knee smashed into Heathcliff’s door.

  “Owie,” I moaned, clutching my knee. Grimalkin poked her head around the corner of the living room.

  “Meow?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, leaning against the wall as I rolled up the hem of my leggings to inspect the bruise already blossoming across my knee.

  “Mina, are you okay?” Footsteps clattered down the stairs. Quoth dropped down beside me, his eyes wide. Behind him, Heathcliff’s door swung open. A shaft of light pooled across the hallway rug, only to be obscured a moment later by a heavy shadow. Heathcliff loomed over me, wearing the same clothes and coat he had on yesterday, his wild hair rumpled and a pillow crease on his cheek. He narrowed his eyes at the bauble in my hand.

  “What’s that doing up here?” he demanded. “We agreed – no Christmas decorations in the flat.”

  “I didn’t bring it up here.” I flipped the bauble over, noticing my mother’s Bedazzled Bethlehem tag stuck to the back. “This is one of the decorations from the tree. It might’ve got snagged on our clothing last night. Look – there’s a bit of black fur stuck under the string.” I held up the bauble against the trim on Heathcliff’s rumpled coat, noticing as I did the strong aroma of beer.

  “True,” Heathcliff grumbled. “I think I did crash into that bloody tree last night. Mystery solved. Now, I have a date with my morning whisky and—”

  I yanked him toward the stairs. “Come on, Mopey McGee. We’re having a snowball fight whether you like it or not.”

  Morrie and Quoth slipped down the stairs behind him, blocking Heathcliff in.

  “Meow!” Grimalkin leaped onto Heathcliff’s shoulder, digging her claws in and shooting him an adorable look. Heathcliff sighed, but he shuffled down the stairs after me.

  The perfect winter day. I crossed the landing and started down the main staircase, tugging on my woolen hat and gloves. Maybe we could get hot chocolate from the bakery afterward. And invite Mrs. Ellis and Jonie to join us. I bet snow will wipe that scowl off her face…

  I stopped short, my breath catching in my throat.

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  How…

  The towering Christmas tree and all the presents were gone.

  Chapter Three

  My whole body froze as the shock washed over me. How could the tree just be missing? It was here last night when I closed up the shop. I’d even left the Christmas lights on so anyone walking past on their way to the pub would see twinkling through the window and feel happy.

  No way could the tree be gone. It took three people just to move it. It wasn’t the sort of thing someone could just sneak out of the shop in their handbag.

  But missing it was, along with all the gifts. All that remained now was a couple of broken baubles and a ring of pine needles on the rug.

  No. This can’t be happening.

  “Ow. Why’d you put the brakes on, Sir Sourpuss?” Morrie grumbled as Heathcliff drew up sharply behind me and swore.

  “Mina, what’s wrong?” Quoth called from the top of the stairs.

  I gulped. Cleared my throat. Found my voice. “The tree is gone.”

  A flurry of wings and Morrie’s yelps echoed from the staircase behind me. A moment later a black raven soared down the stairwell and settled in the center of the empty rug. It paced up and down, pecking at the scattered needles. I’d never seen a bird look so despondent.

  Quoth materialized again, all naked alabaster skin and sadness. He slumped on his knees, picking at the needles. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “Good riddance,” Heathcliff growled, settling himself into his chair. “That thing was a nuisance, and a health and safety hazard.”

  Quoth turned his face away. He didn’t want Heathcliff to see how upset he was. I couldn’t blame him. This charity was important to Quoth, not to mention the fact that half the village had already donated presents we’d somehow allowed to be stolen. Heathcliff was being callous for no good reason.

  I grabbed Heathcliff’s arm. “Get up.”

  “Why? You don’t still want a snowball fight—”

  “Now.” I dragged Heathcliff outside. The bells tinkled as we stood on the stoop. I noticed Earl Larson, one of the local homeless population who Heathcliff had befriended, sleeping under the window ledge. He stirred when he saw us, but then his tiny black kitten mewed, and he snuggled back down to keep her warm.

  I glared at Heathcliff. “I know you have a bug up your arse about Christmas, but you need to cool off. This is serious. You’re upsetting Quoth.”

  “He’ll get over it.” Heathcliff tried to twist out of my grasp.

  “The one who needs to get over it is you. Leaving aside the fact that we’ve now got nothing to give to the charity, someone broke into the shop last night. Isn’t that something you should be concerned about?”

  “Shite.” Heathcliff’s features collapsed. For the first time ever, he looked afraid. Before I could stop him, he bolted back inside.

  I followed him as he barged past Morrie and rushed over to the desk. His eyes darted frantically as he started pulling open the drawers, muttering under his breath.

  “Heathcliff, what is it?”

  “It’s… it’s here!” Heathcliff slammed the bottom drawer shut before I could look inside. He brandished a bottle of whisky.

  “What’s that?”

  “I won it in the quiz last night. It’s my Christmas treat to myself.” Heathcliff uncapped the lid and held the bottle out to me. “The only way I can deal with the constant stream of jolly people traipsing through this place. At least the thieves didn’t take anything of real value.”

  With an explosion of feathers, Quoth transformed into his raven form. He swooped into the next room, croaking corvid obscenities at the top of his lungs.

  I glared at Heathcliff. “I can’t believe you. You know what this tree meant to Quoth, but all you care about is your sodding alcohol. You really are behaving like a Christmas Grinch—”

  The shop bell tinkled, cutting me off mid-tirade. Heathcliff’s mouth set in a firm line as we stared each other down in stony silence. A moment later, DS Wilson appeared in the doorway, a tentative smile on her face and a wrapped gift in her hands. We hadn’t always had the best relationship, what with her constantly being called to investigate murders at the shop. But she was nice enough, and she was also passionate about helping animals – she volunteered at the local cat sanctuary in her spare time.

  “Hi, Mina, Heathcliff, James. I just came to leave a present for the charity tree. I think it’s really wonderful what you’re doing—hey, where’s the tree?” DS Wilson glanced around the room, her eyes narrowing on Heathcliff and I. “It was here yesterday. I saw it from the street coming
back from quiz night.”

  “Someone stole it!” I crouched down, squinting at the empty space where the tree had been, hoping to come across a clue. “Can you call Inspector Haynes? I know Jo’s visiting her family, but we need a SOCO team over here to do a full sweep of the area. There’s got to be some clues…”

  “Ms. Wilde, you’re not a detective.” DS Wilson switched into cop mode. “You’re not even a police officer, so please don’t give me orders. Inspector Hayes is away in the Lake District for the holidays. Even if he were here, I wouldn’t call him because he works homicide.” DS Wilson pulled out her phone and started texting. “I’ll try to pull in Inspector Drudge, not that it’s even necessary. This is an open-and-shut case.”

  “It is?” Morrie leaned forward, his criminal mind tickled with the possibilities. “Let me guess, you have a serial tree robber working in the area? Perhaps an ex-forestry worker who lost his job when they turned that section of King’s Copse wood into the Christmas tree farm…”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” DS Wilson put her hands on her hips and glared at Heathcliff. “Mr. Earnshaw has been sniping all over the village about the holiday season and the presence of the charity tree in this shop. Only yesterday, he yelled at a room full of customers and visitors that he hated the tree and Christmas.”

  “How do you know that?” I didn’t remember DS Wilson being in the shop at the time, and I hated to see her accuse Heathcliff again.

  “It was all anyone could talk about at the pub,” DS Wilson glared at Heathcliff. “Which was where you were last night, drinking yourself into a rage. No one would have you on their quiz team because they were so disgusted by your remarks. Then you ran off with your prize before we’d even had the chance to take your picture in the novelty Santa hat – a town tradition that dates back to the Victorian era! Richard said you wouldn’t be allowed at any more quiz nights – that’s how much you’ve offended everyone in the village, you… you Christmas Grinch!”