His lips moved down my neck, biting at my skin. My spine bowed as his mouth came around my nipple, his tongue flicking it.
“Oh god.” My nails raked down his back, lost in the pleasure. He moved to the other, triggering the same response. I pulsed with hungry desire. Wet, I was frantic to feel him. My hands yanked at the tie holding up his pants. The moment they loosened, I was shoving at them with my hands and feet, pushing them over his hips. My fingers slipped down, wrapping around him. Holy massive stocking.
“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting against my hand, his teeth tearing into his bottom lip like he couldn’t help himself. Now I was really curious how long it had been. How many other women had touched him, experienced the feel of him since her death?
The thought coiled jealousy in my gut, my hand moving up and down his hot flesh. Mine. The thought sparked at the back on my mind. I wanted him inside, sliding in and out of me, claiming. My muscles trembled with desire. I needed him so bad it hurt.
Deep down, I knew this was a line we shouldn’t cross, for so many reasons. Even if his wife was no longer alive, it didn’t mean she wasn’t in the picture. How could she not be? He lost her in such a horrible way. How could you ever move on from that? Be happy with someone else? He’d possibly be in love with her forever. Her memory. No one could compete with that.
I was probably no more than a warm body to him. An outlet for his basic desire. Nothing more. But I would never recover from him. He would compare every woman to Belle, and I would always compare every man to him.
This should have stopped me, but it didn’t. The thought of never feeling his touch or experiencing how his mouth felt on mine scared me more.
His fingers worked my drawstring, tugging the knot lose. I lifted my hips as he slid them down my thighs.
“Alice,” he hissed, his gaze roaming over my naked body, his palm flattening into my lower stomach and slowly moving down, his finger sliding through me.
A cry broke from my mouth, my head tipping back into the pillow, the flames of the fire reflecting off my skin as I opened myself wider for him, burning hotter than the flames.
“There are so many things I want to do to you,” he rumbled, his thumb rolling over me, my hips responding to his stroke, needing more. “You don’t know how much I want to fuck you.”
“Please. Do them.” My voice begged, no longer caring who was in the house. “Please.” I saw a moment of hesitation in his eyes, probably considering the others in the small cabin, but it vanished when I added. “I need you inside me. Fucking me.”
His eyes flared, the irises turning dark with hunger, his chest vibrated with a growl, moving over me, his erection slipping over me, the friction digging my nails into his skin.
“Alice,” he whispered in my ear, his teeth scraping down my neck, sliding through me again.
“Now. Please.” I breathed hoarsely, my legs squeezing his hips with desperation, the feel of him rubbing against my entrance.
Bang.
A thud rattled the door on its hinges, making me yelp in fear. Was that the wind? Scrooge scrambled off me, standing up, his back curved in defense.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The door jangled again, the bangs sounding weaker than before. I bolted up into a crouched position, pulling the blanket up to me as I stared fearfully at the door.
“That’s not the wind,” I muttered.
“No. It’s not.” Scrooge’s gaze was locked on the door, as though he were hoping to see through the wood.
Who would be at the door? Did the Queen’s soldiers find us? Blitzen track us down?
“What the fuck?” Hare’s voice shot from the loft, twisting my head. He stepped up to the railing, rubbing his eyes. Another crash hit. “Shit.” His regard tore away from the door and down to us, his eyes widening, taking us in. I clutched the blanket tighter around me.
“Seriously?” He shook his head. “Now you decided to let her lick your peppermint stick?”
“Shut up, Hare.” Scrooge pulled his pants back up.
“Where was my invite to the sexy naked party? At least you could have invited me since I was practically in the same room.”
Scrooge glowered up at Hare before his attention went back to the entrance.
“Let me say, it’s about time. But really… I was right up here. That’s the rule.”
“That isn’t a rule.”
He flung out his arms. “Well, it should be.”
“Not the time, Hare,” Scrooge growled, inching closer to the door. The door had no viewing window or peek hole. I tugged on my own pants under the blanket, pulling on my tank so fast it was inside out and backward.
Hare bounded down the stairs, grabbing the empty mead bottle off the table, holding it like a club.
“Alice.” A tendril of a man’s voice murmured to me with desperation from the other side, tugging something in my gut. As if an invisible web strung between me and the visitor, I rose to my feet, hearing the call of a siren.
Hare’s and Scrooge’s heads jerked to me, their lids narrowing.
“Ms. Liddell?” Their warning came out low, but I couldn’t stop, stepping past the two guys. To the voice.
A loud clatter hit the doorframe, the sound of something sliding against the wood like claws. “Al-ice…”
“Wake, Nick,” Scrooge ordered Hare.
“No need.” Santa’s voice boomed behind us, turning us around. He stood naked, not even a robe this time, holding a shotgun, his beard thankfully covering most him as before.
Please don’t turn around. Being mooned by Santa Claus would be another item added to the list for my therapist.
“San-ta…” I could have sworn I heard the person on the other side breathe. If it were the soldiers, they would break down the door or call us outside. The gremlins would attack. Whoever was outside knew me. Knew Santa was here.
Curious and curiouser.
My feet moved me toward the door, my gut telling me to go… to follow the call.
“Alice!” Scrooge barked, reaching for my wrist. “What are you doing?”
Ignoring him, I grabbed the handle and twisted it, the door squeaking open. A body collapsed over the threshold the moment I opened it, making me jump back with a cry. “Oh my god!” My hand went to my mouth as I stared at the figure in horror.
Bloody, broken, and beaten so badly you could hardly recognize it had a face. His soft brown eyes peeked at me through swollen lids, and a pained smile parted his shredded mouth, red liquid coating his teeth.
“Alice, I found you,” he slurred, his lashes closing.
He lay at my feet; my toes soaked with his blood.
But he was alive.
“Rudolph…”
Chapter 26
“Shit. Rudy.” Scrooge darted to his friend, squatting next to him, his regard scouring over the pulp of a man. “Rudy?” He tapped at his face, trying to wake him.
Hare moved around me to other side, lowering his long ears over Rudolph’s mangled, bloody chest. We waited a few beats, Hare’s ears twitching around. Listening. His head bolted up. “Shit, Scrooge, he’s got a punctured lung. He’s barely holding on.”
Scrooge reacted without hesitation, his arms digging underneath the reindeer’s limp body, grunting while he heaved up the huge deer man. Rudy’s head fell back, dangling over Scrooge’s arm, his splintered antlers digging into Scrooge’s leg.
“Boil some water, locate thread and needle if you can, and linen,” he ordered Hare, his eyes coming to mine. “Get the mead. All of it.”
“What?” Nick jerked at Scrooge’s words, fear claiming his features. “All the mead? What will we survive on?”
“All of it, Ms. Liddell.” Scrooge shoved past the large bearded man and bolted down the hallway.
“What the hell are you doing? That’s my room!” Nick bellowed after him, rushing down the passage. “You’ve already made yourself a nuisance here.” Scrooge curved sharply into Nick’s room, ignoring him. “No! I said no! That’s mine.
My room. My house! Don’t you dare…” Nick’s anger reddened his cheeks, his feet stomping into the room, still yelling at Scrooge.
In that moment I realized Scrooge had been right. Santa Claus was dead. The icon of children all over the world called by different names but loved and adored just the same was not here.
Santa Claus was kind, joyous, selfless, generous, loving. Nick was greedy, rude, and hard-hearted. The Queen had won. She broke the one thing left in this world still pure and beautiful.
I ran into the kitchen along with Hare, directing my feet for the cabinet where I saw Scrooge get the other bottles of mead. The clatter of pots hit the stove as Hare lit the stove, turning the burners all the way to high.
Hare muttered to himself, moving around the kitchen. “I can’t believe he’s alive.”
“What?” I grabbed a chair, dragging it to the high cupboard, reaching for a few bottles stuffed far in back.
“Reindeer games.” He tugged open a drawer, finding cheesecloth linens stuffed in one. He tossed the few he found on the table, rummaging through more cabinets. “They are to the death. He shouldn’t be alive.”
“Maybe Blitzen thought he was dead.” I jumped down off the chair, my arms holding four bottles.
“To the death…” Hare rotated his face, his profile peering at me, his expression sending a chill down my back. “The defeated are treated similar to trophies, as in, Rudy’s head would be hanging on the Queen’s wall. She already has two there. He would be a prize. A huge defeat to our side.”
“What?” My jaw dropped, the bottles slipping between my damp palms.
“Whoa! Precious cargo.” Hare snatched two of them from me.
“What do you mean the Queen has two?” My heart pattered against my ribs, knowing what he meant.
“Dancer and Prancer.” Hare set the bottles on the table, turning back around to check on the boiling pots.
“Dancer and Prancer are dead?”
Hare dragged the chair I used to reach the bottles over to the stove, hopping onto it. He didn’t respond, but I didn’t need him to.
“All the reindeer except Blitzen stayed faithful to Santa in the hope he was still somewhere in that man.” Hare motioned down the hallway. “But Blitzen went after Dancer and Prancer specifically. Hunted them down like they were monsters. Made an example out of them.”
“Why?” I gulped.
Hare cast a glance over his shoulder, sadness twitching his whiskers. “They were lovers.”
I blinked.
“Before the Queen, we had no rules when it came to that kind of stuff. Santa believed in all love. Love was beautiful. Pure. In any form. Hate and prejudice were ugly. Evil. This place was based on joy and love for all, though Blitzen was always making comments and bullying them for their relationship. He took advantage of the Queen’s leadership, making her see how it was wrong. Vile. They deserved to be treated like beasts. Killed and hung as trophies.”
“Oh god.” A bottle dug into my stomach, my knuckles aching, gripping the necks with my anguish.
“Any excuse to kill off Santa believers, she happily let Blitzen go ahead with his plan.” Hare stared down into the bubbling water. “Those two were good guys. Always happy and wanting to see the best in people.”
“You were good friends with them?”
Hare shrugged. “We all used to be friends here once upon a time. But it was long ago. Humanity’s darkness has descended onto us. Changed us.” He twisted off the flaming burner, allowing the purified water to cool down. “Earth-bounders! You love your hate, intolerance, and prejudice more than you care about people or anything in it.”
I wanted to refute this claim, defend my home, but he was right. Ugliness seemed to grow like weeds, strangling out empathy and kindness. If it didn’t affect them, they didn’t care.
“Hare! Ms. Liddell!” Scrooge bellowed from down the hallway. “What the hell is taking so long?”
Swiping up the cloths, I reclaimed all the bottles and tore down to Nick’s room, stepping into the dim chamber. Nick paced on one side of the room, agitated, running his hand over his long snowy hair and beard, muttering to himself. Seeing his bare ass compelled me to twist my head to the figure in the bed, cringing. A single light on the bedside table lighted the room. Scrooge had stripped back the comforter and freed Rudy from the shreds of clothes sticking to his injuries.
Jagged wounds, blood, and exposed tissue covered almost every inch of his flesh, but his nakedness still propelled me back with surprise.
“Christmas feast,” I muttered.
O-kay… so every male grew healthy here… very healthy. Rudy wasn’t circumcised, but Scrooge was. I knew it firsthand… no pun intended. It did seem more an Earth-human thing to do, not a reindeer in Winterland.
“Ms. Liddell?” Scrooge held out his palm, an eyebrow curving up, snapping my attention back up to him. My cheeks reddened with my obviousness.
“Yes. Sorry.” I cleared my throat, handing him the bottles and towels. He placed them on the nightstand, opening one of the jugs.
“Trickle a little down his throat, slow enough not to choke him.” Scrooge handed me back the opened bottle. “We will need to fill the bathtub with the rest. He will have to soak in it after I address his wounds.”
“No. No. Fuck. No!” Nick stomped his foot, but we ignored him like we would a petulant child. “That’s the last of it.”
I nodded at Scrooge, jumping on my duty. I was surprised with all the commotion, Dum and Pen had yet to venture out of the room across the hall. They must have been tired.
Scrooge dampened a towel with alcohol, cleaning Rudy’s abrasions.
“Purified water.” Hare bounded into the room, spilling some of the liquid over the sides.
“Thanks. Discover any needle and thread?”
“No. I searched everywhere.” Hare turned to Nick. “You gonna be any help here or you going to stand there like a rotten gumdrop?”
“Help? You came into my home and brought this with you. I was quite happy without you. You are all trespassers. Not wanted. I will not help any of you.”
“Hey!” Scrooge barked so loud, I jolted back. His expression was twisted with disgust and rage, and his eyes were set on Nick. “Shut the fuck up or get out. Rudolph has been nothing, I mean nothing, but faithful to you. A friend. One you do not deserve,” Scrooge snarled. “Did you forget what those are? Lost all ability to think of anything but yourself?”
“How dare you…” Nick huffed. I swore he grew in height as he puffed out his chest in indignation.
“You think you are the only one who suffered by her hand?” Rage slipped the sexy, smooth man back under the surface, the beast rising. “You think you’re the only one she stripped down to nothing, took everything from? Look around you. You’re not.” His nose flared. “The difference between you and us is you let her win. You gave up… hiding behind this asshole because it’s easier, while people are still out fighting and dying in your name. You do not deserve their adoration.” Scrooge drew in air. “Now get the hell out of this room before I lose my temper.”
This was him not losing his temper? What was Scrooge like when he really lost it?
Nick glared for a few moments before he stomped out of the room, grumbling and flailing his arms about.
“Shit, man… that was a risk. The man is completely bonkers. Could have turned out like last time.” Hare let out a long breath.
“Yeah. I know,” Scrooge replied, his attention back on Rudy. “I refrained from kicking the shit out of him this time.”
“Improvement.” Hare snorted. “Though I think putting a bullet in your ass kind of gave him the win last time.”
Scrooge’s nose wrinkled up. “Go fill the tub, Hare.”
“Gladly.” He grabbed the bottles.
“Don’t you drink it either.”
“Damn, you really are a tight ass.” Hare hopped for the bathroom, leaving us alone with our patient.
“Nick shot you?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah.” Scrooge frowned, working gently over Rudy’s chest. “We had a little difference in opinion last time we saw each other.”
“A little?” I snorted.
Scrooge ripped a cloth, soaking it in hot water, and handed me the other half. Wordlessly, both of us cleaned off the dried blood and dirt around his lesions the best we could. My teeth dug deeper into my lip, trying not to gag or vomit at the exposed veins, tissue, bone, and torn flesh.
Every breath wheezed from Rudolph as his one lung tried to work for two.
“He needs to be operated on. His wounds won’t matter. He’s not going to survive with one lung. He’s probably bleeding internally also.” I was no doctor, but it was clear he was holding on to life by a hair.
“Things work differently here. We don’t have hospitals as you Earth-bounders do.”
“What do you have?” I picked up the bottle of mead, smearing it over Rudy’s lips and below his nostrils.
“This.” Scrooge took the bottle of mead out of my hand, taking a swig, his shoulders relaxing. “Magical properties.”
“It will patch up his insides?” I knew it had helped Dee, but Rudy’s wounds seemed far more extreme.
“He has to soak in it, let it absorb into his skin and bloodstream.” He handed me back the bottle, which I took a sip from, easing my bundled nerves. This was not how I thought this night would go.
Scrooge stared at me as if he could hear my thoughts before picking the deer man up again, heading for the bathroom, Rudolph lifelessly hanging from his arms, as Dee had earlier.
“If it doesn’t work?”
“Then he dies.”
Dipping a towel in the liquid I brushed it over Rudy’s temple, his face still swollen and severely battered, but the mead was already improving it a bit. Color returned to his cheeks, the open gashes trying to close. I couldn’t say the same for his internal injuries. He struggled to breathe, wheezing and whistling with the effort.
DESCENDING INTO MADNESS Page 20
