A Very Merry Hexmas: A Woolven Secret Christmas Novella (The Woolven Secret)

by Saranna Dewylde

  “The guilt tears me up, Eleanor. It has for centuries. I thought getting it off my chest would make it easier, but it hasn’t. I failed to protect you. I wasn’t strong enough.”

  The knot untwisted itself. “You don’t want a female you have to protect. You want one who can lead your armies by your side. You’re a fucking goblin.”

  He nodded. “But often we don’t get to choose who our true mates are.”

  “So you resigned yourself to having a weak mate because she was a witch?”

  “Not weak.” He shook his head. “But different. Your society and culture is much different than ours.”

  “What would you have done if I was happy with Cedric?”

  “Let you be happy. I’m no saint, I’ve had lovers.” He shook his head.

  “Of course you have. Otherwise, that would be really sad.” She teased him, trying to lighten the tone. She fiddled with the cuff around her wrist that he’d placed there.

  She should hate it.

  But she didn’t.

  After further inspection, she realized he’d made it for her. Not as something to do to her, even though he’d tamped down her magick, but she knew in his culture, it was something honorable.

  He just didn’t want to be turned into a living pile of feces. Really, could she blame him? Smart won over bravado any day.

  “I will try to find a way to remove it. I should’ve gone about that much differently.”

  “I don’t hate it.” She settled into her seat. “Maybe I’ll just wear it for now. We’ll see how things go.” But she had a feeling that she’d be wearing it forever. “It’s really lovely metal work.”

  “I’m sure you know that I wrought that with my own hands.”

  “I do.” She ran her fingers absently over the warm metal, enjoying the way the pattern felt beneath her fingers.

  His shoulders were square and his back straight, and there was pride on his face. “The restaurant I’m taking you to is goblin owned. So you can choose your set of spices. Goblin, or mortal.”

  “You’ve got quite a few tricks up your sleeve, don’t you?”

  “Perhaps.” He turned to look at her when they pulled in to the restaurant. “Would you like that?”

  Eleanor wasn’t sure what she was about to agree too. She had no idea where they actually were. There were no restaurants near Aphelion within sixty miles. He knew magick—old goblin magick.

  “I wanted to ask what kind of tricks, but that’s not the point of the exercise is it?”

  “No, it’s not.” He met her gaze squarely and frissions of pleasure erupted low in her belly from the intensity.

  The point of the exercise, she knew, was to trust herself into his keeping. A small show of faith. “Be warned, goblin king, for every trick you have for me, I may just have one for you.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Chapter 4

  Eleanor could admit she might just be in a bit over her head.

  She didn’t even want to eat the delicious smelling food that had been brought to their table. She just wanted her hot goblin king to bend her over the table and take her right there.

  The incongruity of that thought being in her head was—no… maybe it has always been there. She just hadn’t been willing to see it.

  He said she was his mate. So she’d be genetically programmed to want him this way. That’s how it worked, even cross-species.

  She didn’t want him to know how much power he had over her, so she tried all the various plates of food that were placed in front of her, trying to ignore the burning rush between her thighs.

  He leaned over to her, his breath hot on her neck. “I don’t know how you can sit there and just ignore the burn between us. I can’t.” He slid his hand up her thigh, fingers stopping at the edge of her dress, waiting for permission.

  She turned her face toward his, casting a mint spell on them both. She didn’t want to taste anything but him in this moment.

  As soon as he tasted the mint, he smiled, baring his teeth to her, which she’d suddenly found mightily attractive.

  Desire coiled tightly inside of her, a cobra ready to strike.

  He pushed his other hand through her hair and drew her ever closer. His lips hovered over hers for a long moment, building the expectation of the kiss. She wet her lips and they were already bee-stung in anticipation.

  Enoch didn’t slam his mouth into hers, they didn’t crash together like two great titans. It was soft, and tentative. It was giving instead of taking.

  It was unlike any kiss she’d ever felt before.

  She always thought she wanted a man to pull her hair, to kiss her hard. But Enoch didn’t have to prove his strength or his prowess to her. So they were simply free to enjoy the sensations they wrought in each other.

  Eleanor sighed and melted into the kiss, into him.

  The pergola they’d been nestled into changed so that the table was gone and all that remained were the pillows and gauzy curtains.

  For a moment, even as much as she wanted him, she was feeling a little bit contrary. Eleanor had a stubborn heart. She pulled on her crone face and expected his ardor to cool at least a few degrees.

  It did not.

  She pulled back from him, just to make sure that he could see what he was kissing.

  “Do you want me to stop?” He cupped her cheek.

  “Do you?” She studied him. He still looked at her with the same intense desire as he had before. She almost had the urge to check to make sure she’d actually pulled on her crone face.

  “No. This face is still you, Eleanor. This mating thing is the long haul. It’s forever.” He kissed her again, tenderly. “I don’t care what your face looks like.”

  “What about my tits. They’re saggy,” she teased.

  He cupped her. “Don’t care.” Then he paused, seeming to weigh them in his hands. “They’re bigger. I don’t mind it at all.”

  She smacked at his shoulder. “You’re a dirty, dirty goblin.”

  “Yes, yes I am.” He buried his face in her neck and nipped at the tender skin there.

  She moaned, sliding back into her maiden form, loving the sensitivity of her younger body under his expert hands.

  He pulled her into his lap so that she straddled him and he cupped her bare ass.

  “You’re a wicked, wicked witch, aren’t you?”

  “But you love it.”

  “I do.” He said, squeezing her and pulling her down hard against the ridge of his erection.

  He trailed kisses down to her throat, nuzzling at her neck, asking if she’d take his bite.

  Eleanor knew she could say no, but she was his whether he bit her or not, she knew that. There was a vulnerability now for both of them. Her, with the pain that was sure to come with his teeth scarring her flesh and him, asking for what was his by right. If she were a goblin, he wouldn’t have to ask.

  If she turned him down, and his people knew it, they’d think he wasn’t a strong leader. They’d defy him and he’d have to fight for his throne all over again.

  She pushed her hands through his hair and pulled him closer to her throat.

  “Are you sure, Eleanor? This can’t be undone.”

  “No, but I think we both know I’m already yours.”

  “Thank the gods,” he groaned and kissed at her neck again, flicking the already sensitive skin with his tongue until she could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

  His teeth pierced her flesh, and even though it was agonizing, there was a release there too that was more than sexual. It was as if all of the pieces of her, of her life, that had been rubbing together just out of alignment finally clicked into place.

  She cried out as the sensations rioted through her, and he held her in his strong arms until she could breathe again.

  “Oh, witch. Just wait until I have you all to myself. The ways I’m going to make you scream.” He licked at the bite and she shivered, another shockwave of bliss echoing through her.
“You’re mine forever. I’m going to spend days between your thighs.”

  She used to her magick to remove his slacks, she might have sent the to a hell dimension, she wasn’t sure. The main thing she was concerned about was showing him that this wasn’t going to be a one-sided arrangement. She could give as well as she took.

  “Yeah, you better hope you can stand forever.” She took him deep inside of her and when she sank all the way down, he held her there, his eyes closed.

  “Gods, but you’re sweet.”

  She’d never been told that before. Sweet wasn’t a word usually applied to Eleanor Westwood. But then again, the goblin kind was known to be a twisted sort. She liked that about him.

  Eleanor shifted, rolling her hips and he arched up to meet her.

  “Best be careful, or we’ll end up starting our family before you’re ready.”

  A flash of knowing came to her then. A flash of something she’d seen and was supposed to forget.

  “Ten,” she whispered.

  His eyes flew open. “Ten what?”

  “Witch goblins.” She smiled, pleased at the play of emotion she saw on his face. “Fate wants us to start now.”

  “Not sure that’s what I signed up for.”

  “Too late.” She kissed him and worked her magick and her body in tandem to take him to the highest peaks of pleasure.

  After the shuddering quakes of bliss had washed over them both, he held her close, as if she were a treasure more valuable than gold.

  “My goblin queen,” he whispered.

  Sudden awareness prickled up her back and she sat up straight, allowing her senses to open. “Is about to go to war.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Something’s happened to Noah, the Woolven Heir.”

  He used his own magick to replace his slacks and the restaurant was gone, and they were in the car, speeding back through space and time to Aphelion.

  She used her magick to locate him and found he’d somehow wandered past her wards. She could hear Drew, Blake, and the rest of the pack searching for him.

  Eleanor didn’t wait to see if Enoch had her back, she didn’t speak to him about it. All she could do was get to Noah.

  Her power surged and when she found him, her rage split the atmosphere with thunder and lightning.

  A pack of blood sucking leeches surrounded the boy, the vampires all baring their fangs at him. One held him up high with one hand, a noose around his neck with the other. Noah was growling and roaring as loud as his tiny lungs would let him, but a child was no match for these ancient killers.

  They had some sort of demonic amulet that protected them from her magick.

  For the first time, it occurred to her that she might not be enough to save her charge.

  “What do you want?” She schooled her voice to one authority and hid all of her fear.

  “Ah, it’s Westwood. Not so formidable now that you can’t use your magick against us,” the biggest one laughed as he spoke.

  “There are other things besides magick. You didn’t answer my question. What do you want?”

  “Kumarin sends his regards.”

  Evgeni Kumarin was a vampire leader who’d screwed Blake over and Blake in turn had revealed his lair’s hiding place to a secret government agency whose job it was to investigate and explore supernatural creatures and happenings.

  “Fuck Kumarin and his regards,” Eleanor responded, in a pleasant tone.

  That was when the bastard dropped Noah.

  Everything inside of her screamed and she launched herself into the group of vampires to catch him. They snarled and bit, tearing at her limbs, ripping into her flesh. But she didn’t care. She’d do anything to save Noah, not just because he was her charge, but because she loved him.

  They would’ve torn a mortal apart—her witch flesh was only a little stronger.

  That was when Enoch stepped forward, his veneer of humanity gone, and the ferocity of what he was like a volcano erupting with furious lava. They could all feel the incinerating heat of his rage.

  The ground began to shake and tremble and his armies began to crawl up from the bowels of the earth—pale, slavering things, mindless except for the directive imparted to them by their king, by her mate.

  He’d given them a terrible hunger for vampire flesh.

  She held Noah close and he clung to her, even as he growled and snarled at the vampires. He’d be a great Alpha some day, if he lived that long.

  His own tiny ferocity broke her heart and filled it too.

  When the first goblin leapt, that’s when they realized what Enoch had done and that they’d spend their last minutes screaming.

  The big one begged, “Leave me alive. Leave someone to tell Kumarin what he’s dealing with.” His voice was higher pitched, panicked.

  “Kumarin will know when I save this memory in glass and send it back to him with what’s left of your bones,” Eleanor answered him.

  Enoch looked at her, his red eyes burning with fire. “As my queen wishes.”

  He knew exactly what to say, that it would be recorded in the memory so all would know that the Woolven Pack, and the Woolven heir was protected by the goblin king. That the Woolven witch was his queen, and there’d be no swaying him. Nothing that any of them could offer to turn his allegiance from them.

  It was good.

  She turned Noah’s face away from the carnage, but he wanted to watch. He was his human self again.

  “No, I need to watch. I will learn to crush my enemies and those who would hurt my pack.” His voice was so small, but it echoed with an Alpha’s strength.

  “That’s a good boy.” She smoothed his hair back from his face.

  She made sure to watch every second of the annihilation. She was, after all, recording it for posterity with her magick.

  When the goblins had done their work and sank back down into the loamy earth, she said to Enoch, “I need to take him back to his father and uncles. If they see you before I have a chance to explain…”

  “I understand. I’ll wait for you.”

  She kissed his cheek. “You are more than I ever thought I could have, Enoch.”

  “Ah, witch. Even the dark things get a happy ever after.”

  She laughed.

  Noah looked up at him. “You love my Westwood?”

  Enoch laughed. “I suppose I do.”

  “Good. Then you have my permission to marry her. But you must take good care of her. She is strong, but she is still a female. We must protect them.”

  Eleanor tried not to snort. His heart was in the right place. She had another flash of something she’d seen when she looked to the future and realized that this moment was when she would see it anyway. That’s why these moments were coming back to her.

  Little Noah would marry their daughter.

  She looked at Enoch, realizing that their child had already started growing inside of her. “I hope you remember this and are as kind to him in the future.”

  Enoch cocked his head to the side, seeming to understand. “He is fierce and strong. It will be good.”

  She carried Noah back toward Aphelion, putting out a magickal call to all the present Woolvens to meet her inside. Steps would have to be taken to protect Noah until he was old enough to protect himself. He wouldn’t be able to go to Academy. Not for a while.

  But they would figure it out. Especially with a powerful ally like the goblin nation.

  Chapter 5

  Eleanor Westwood, goblin queen, and wicked witch extraordinaire stood in the goblin castle by her king on Christmas Eve.

  She wore a crown of onyx and bones, and a dress of green velvet that matched her eyes.

  Enoch had chosen it for her.

  Instead of a glass slipper, her shoes had been carved from the bones of ancient enemies. Another woman might’ve found it abhorrent, but they were so smooth, so finely made, that all she felt was lovely.

  Being a wicked witch did indeed have its advantages.

>   The goblin people had already heard about her adventures in divorce and rather than fearing her, they admired her for what she’d done. They accepted her as one of their own.

  For that alone, she was pleased to make it snow.

  And for the look of utter adoration on her mate’s face. Like she was something magickal herself.

  The ballroom was filled with goblin nobility and dignitaries, and she stood on the arm of the most amazing male she’d ever known.

  “You are the brightest jewel in my crown, Eleanor.”

  She whispered the words of magick that turned the great goblin hall into a winter wonderland.

  Holly and ivy wound its way around everything that would hold still, the scent of pine and fir trees filled the space, frosted with that certain bite of an oncoming chill. Hot buttered rum steamed from newly conjured mugs around the room, as did roasted ducklings, cranberries, and potatoes with duck gravy. A myriad of unending sweets, like sugarplums, candied orange peels, and peppermint brownies spread themselves on the banquet tables. Boughs of mistletoe manifested across the ballroom, and fairy lights danced around the ceiling.

  Then, for her finale, she made it snow.

  Big, fat, beautifully crafted and intricate flakes fell like cerulean glitter all around the room, dissipating into nothing before they touched the ground.

  The room clapped and cheered, goblins and dignitaries making merry.

  There was a joy in Eleanor Westwood’s heart that hadn’t been there before. A certain peace, something she’d never thought to have for herself.

  She thought that it was only damsels in distress and princesses that got to feel this way. But it was for wicked witches, too.

  Even though she was now a queen, she was still a very wicked witch.

  The cuff on her wrist warmed, and the locking mechanism clinked open, sending it clattering to the floor, which caused the populace to break into another round of cheers.

  It meant she was theirs.

  She felt bereft at the loss of the cuff. He’d made it for her, he thought about her as he’d hammered out the metal with his own hands.

  But like everything else, he’d thought of this, too.