“Mmm,” he hummed the word against her mouth.
She dug her fingers into his hair so she could keep him close and taste him back.
One of his hands dropped to her lower back, pressing her against him. It wasn’t enough. None of it was enough. She tipped onto her toes to deepen their kissing. If he stopped, she’d die—she was sure of it.
She forgot everything—where they were, who they were, and even why it might not be a good idea. All she knew was the caress of tongue against tongue, the friction of lips, and the heat of his breath against her wet lips.
Then there was giggling behind Zeit, and she pulled back enough to see one of the little kids, who’d been fascinated with her hot bodyguard, staring at them with a wide grin.
“Blond hair? Little male mortal?” Zeit asked, staring at her mouth.
“I would have called him a boy, but yes…”
“During the caroling, I told him I’d help him get a candy cane off the tree. Apparently the higher ones taste better.”
She tilted her head and fought a smile.
He flicked a glance at the mistletoe as he loosened his arms. “We’re not done, though.”
“We are for in public.” She felt indecent already. And she wanted to feel more indecent. That wasn’t good—especially since it felt so good.
He hopped onto the step she was on, reached up, grabbed the mistletoe and pocketed it.
Over the crowd, she saw Mrs. Cowper grinning wide enough to make her face break as she watched them. Great. Their first kiss had spectators, and she was fairly certain she’d attacked him. It was the touch of his lips against her hand—who knew that was such an erogenous zone? Evidently all those nerve endings lit on fire when they came in contact with Zeit’s mouth.
Zeit spun and picked up the boy, tossing him in the air, before carrying him. For how ill-at-ease he was with adults, he seemed fine with kids.
She stood there, watching them, spinning foolish ideas. And any fantasies of a future with him were foolish. He was immortal. She wasn’t. How long could it last before either she got killed or he lost interest—and then she got killed? He was a child with a shiny new toy.
Just as he’d helped the boy grab a candy cane from really high up, Santa called Zeit’s name. It startled him so much, Zeit forgot he had the boy in his hands and held him up long enough for the kid to swipe another two candy canes. Zeit set the child down when Santa gestured him forward.
When her giant of a bodyguard stood towering over the round man in the suit, Santa placed a small red box in his hand. “Merry Christmas, Zeit!”
Zeit smiled, nodded, and then turned away. His eyes met hers over the crowd, and he held up the box with a quizzical look. He shook it near his ear as he walked her way. “What is it?” he asked as he reached her.
“Hopefully not something fragile,” she said as he shook it again—harder.
“Why don’t you get one?” he asked, looking from his box to her. She could tell he felt like he should share, but he didn’t want to.
Hannah shrugged. “I’ve been naughty this year.” Also, they seemed to be going in alphabetical order and Lyons came after Geist, but she liked the way his eyes lit up when she said the word “naughty.”
He even stopped shaking the crap out of his gift… for a second… then, he went right back to examining it and shaking it. “I’ve never got one of these.”
“You mean from here or at all?”
“A gift. I’ve never gotten one. We don’t do that. It’s a mortal thing.”
She fought the impulse to hug him. Maybe being immortal wasn’t as great as it might seem—other than you could stop time and save lives and live forever.
Still, no gifts.
“Hannah!” Santa called.
And Zeit grinned and pulled his gift closer to his chest. She could see the “Yay! I don’t have to share!” in his eyes.
She waited until she’d walked past him to roll her eyes. No wonder he liked kids… they might be his peers.
After she’d thanked Santa for the gift, Mrs. Cowper gestured for her attention. “We’re doing stockings this year too.” Pointing at the fireplace where her husband was hanging stockings on long clotheslines on either side of the fireplace, she asked, “I was wondering if you knew what Mr. Geist might want from Santa?”
She was half-way tempted to say “loafers” but his comment on hell freezing over might be literal. Who knew when you were dealing with an immortal?
“He seems to like mistletoe, but I think he’ll be happy with just about anything.”
“I noticed I’ll need to replace some of my mistletoe,” she said, grinning.
“Whatever is in his box… do you know if it’s fragile?”
He was back to shaking it. If it was fragile, it was in pieces.
“Ohhhh no,” Mrs. Cowper said. “Santa doesn’t trust any of you not to shake it. He learned that many, many years ago with some glass snowflake ornaments. Your Mr. Geist seems like a charming young man. It’ll be nice to have someone else around to spend time with.”
Plus, it was nice that he’d be keeping her alive, but having someone for other things could be good too.
“Will the gift store be open later?” Why hadn’t she brought a random gift or two just in case she recognized someone from last year? She should have. And now she had nothing to give Zeit—and he needed to be given gifts.
“No, it’s closed for the night, but Santa is always willing to bring things to your door.”
Even with his sweats on, he wore boots. She wouldn’t dare on loafers, but… “Do you think Santa could find slippers in his size?”
“Absolutely.”
“And a chocolate orange?” Somehow, she knew he’d like sweet things.
Mrs. Cowper nodded and then mimicked zipping her lips closed.
Hannah grinned and walked back toward where Zeit was sitting on the steps. All around them, everyone had opened their gifts. His was on his lap, wrapped, and he was still shaking it every so often.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked, sitting down.
“But then it’ll be open, and it’ll be over. And I’ll know.”
“So, you’re not going to open it?” Odd. But, then again, if he’d only ever received one gift, in however long he’d been alive, maybe it wasn’t so odd. Maybe after a few more gifts tomorrow, he’d enjoy having the gift, not just the anticipation.
“I don’t know. Maybe someday.”
“Do you want to see what mine is?”
“Yes.”
She tore off the silver wrapping paper and opened the box. “A bath bomb and soap.” She leaned in and inhaled. “Mmm. They smell like gingerbread and vanilla.”
Zeit leaned over and sniffed the bath bomb. “It smells good. What is a bath bomb?”
“It fizzes in the bath and leaves the water scented. Usually, it has stuff in it to make your skin softer.”
“You’ll smell like gingerbread after you use that?” His grin would have put him on the naughty list if it wasn’t already too late.
Her cheeks were probably bright pink. Kissing him this soon was more forward than she’d ever been. She’d need to set some major boundaries. If she wasn’t careful, he’d be gone—with her heart—and then she’d get hit by a snow plow. Clearing her throat, she said, “Yep. They’re fun, and my room has a big jetted tub I can use it in.”
Zeit lifted his box and smelled it. “I don’t think that’s what I have.”
No, she doubted it. It looked like all the men had received pocketknives and a tin of mixed nuts which was the source of all the rattling sounds that so fascinated Zeit.
“Are we staying for milk and cookies?”
“Sure,” he said, shaking his box again.
“Hey, look, Mr. Cowper put your stocking up.” She pointed to where a bright red stocking had “Zeit” written in glitter on the top. Then, hers went up right beside his, and she suspected that was on purpose. Their rooms might even be next to each other
on purpose.
Zeit stared at the stocking. “I’ve only ever worn socks.”
“Well, after tomorrow, you can have mine too, so you’ll have a set to wear.”
He laughed, and the sound made her both giddy and sad all at once. Falling for a guy who wasn’t even human—so totally doomed.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was nearing midnight and, while he didn’t need sleep, he could if he wanted to—typically. Not tonight. He turned his head to stare at the gift on the side table beside the bed. Time holders walked in and out of mortals’ lives. There for one minute and gone the next. It had always seemed to be a satisfying existence. No ties. They could do whatever pleased them. He’d thought he was happy. Now, he wasn’t sure what he’d been, but he felt a gnawing disquiet that he’d never be happy again—not as he had been.
A knock thumped against the wall as Hannah moved something in her room.
She was still up too.
Pushing out of bed, he briefly considered pulling a t-shirt on, but sweatpants were already more than he usually wore. At the adjoining door, he knocked softly and unlocked the door on his side.
There was an abrupt silence followed by the pad of feet to the door. “What do you want?”
What did he want? Well, obviously, her, but she’d been putting distance between them since they’d kissed. “I can’t sleep.”
The lock snicked open, and she looked through the gap. Her lips were curved in a smile he wanted to taste. “They have a way of describing that. They say, ‘You’re like a kid at Christmas.’”
“Kids can’t sleep at Christmas?”
Her gaze had strayed down his chest, but her eyes jerked back up to meet his. “No, they’re too excited.”
“I’m not excited.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Well, a little.” There was a stocking with his name on it hanging over the lodge’s fireplace. He assumed it would contain something come morning. At the very least, he’d now have a stocking with his name on it—which was more than he’d brought with him. “I’ve never had anything that belonged to me, let alone something with my name on it.”
Pushing her door farther open, she leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed. She was still wearing the flannel pajamas with ladybugs all over them she’d been wearing earlier. “Well, hopefully you’ve behaved or you’ll get a lump of coal with your name on it too.”
He grinned. No one had ever made him smile this much. His odds of being able to walk away from her, let alone take her life were dwindling. “Sometimes, things are their own reward, and the coal might be worth it.”
“Yeah, I thought that. I took a coal hit a couple years ago, but I ended up with a lot more New Year’s resolutions.”
He watched her face. Was she kidding? She smiled most of the time so it was hard to tell when she wasn’t serious.
“What did you want?” she asked. Her cheeks were a little pinker as if his perusal was making her uncomfortable, but she hadn’t stopped smiling.
He shrugged. “I heard that you were up and wanted to talk.”
“It’s a Wonderful Life just started playing for the hundredth time. I haven’t seen it this year.”
“Is that a movie?”
Hannah’s eyes widened, and she reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him into her room. “You’ve never experienced Christmas if you haven’t sat through it—like it or not.”
“There’s a chance I won’t like it? I don’t do things I don’t like.”
Turning, she narrowed her eyes. “Wow, that’s a pretty comfy gig you’ve got there. Mortals have to suffer through things they don’t like all the time.” She backed up, tugging him by his hand. When she bumped against the bed, she glanced at the quilt-covered king and bit her lower lip.
He knew what she was thinking. “Speaking of things I like…” He watched the flush as it rose from the V-neck pajama top, up her slender neck, and across her face’s delicate bone structure. His focus stopped on her mouth—that amazing mouth.
She dropped his hand and jabbed him in the chest with her finger. “No, you’ll get your immortal tail kicked back to your room if you try anything. Especially with Jimmy Stewart on… that’s just gross.”
Huh. He’d get to spend time with Hannah, but it might not be spent doing something he’d enjoy. The only other option seemed to be going back to his room—alone. “Okay.”
“You’ll behave?”
He shrugged. He’d try anything once… maybe.
Hannah hopped up on the bed and scooted back toward the pillows at the headboard. She watched him warily the whole time. “Maybe you should put a t-shirt on.”
“Is that so I’ll behave or so you’ll behave?” He crawled across the bed.
Shaking her head, Hannah licked her lips. “In a week, you’ll be tired of me, and you’ll have moved on to someone more interesting. I’m not going to be a casualty to that.”
Frowning, Zeit sat back on his heels. “I’ve been keeping you safe for a year now, and I haven’t grown tired of you in that time.”
“Yeah, but technically, I only met you earlier today.”
True.
“I have no proof that you won’t be bored of me in a week and go back to only doing things that are easy.”
“Well, in a week…” He swallowed. Oh hell. His chest was doing that aching thing again. In a week, she’d be dead. Her use of the word casualty might be ominously correct. Getting her out of his system seemed not only unlikely, but using her that way when there was a chance she wouldn’t be around after New Year’s… There was a spike of something not unlike dread in his heart, possibly with shades of what mortals called “guilt” making it ache worse.
This wasn’t his fault. He’d saved her life a year ago. He’d saved her thirty-nine times since then. He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from reaching up and rubbing at his chest again. If mortals felt this frequently, no wonder their hearts gave out.
“In a week… what?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He flipped away from her and slid back against the headboard beside her. “We’ll watch this movie I might not like. Maybe it’ll help me sleep.” If he could sleep, he’d have a few hours without the sinking realization his beautiful mortal might take a part of him with her.
Two hours later, he picked up the remote and turned off the TV which was about to start replaying the movie. He couldn’t sit through that again. Not because it was bad, though it was as dramatic as he’d come to expect of mortal entertainment.
He wiped a hand down his face. For the first time, he was exhausted. He felt the drag of the last two hours on his life—every mortal second weighed him down.
“Mmm,” Hannah said, rubbing her body against his side. She’d fallen asleep shortly after it started, and the distance between them had vanished. He’d put his arm around her as she’d pressed her delicate frame up to his and put her head on his chest. Her right hand was tickling his lower ribs as the pads of her fingers brushed his skin each time he breathed.
They were on top of the bedcovers, but he dragged a blanket at the foot of the bed over her.
It was just as well she’d fallen asleep. That movie had left him gutted. His heart, his stomach, his whole body ached.
Who would miss Hannah if he took her life on New Year’s Eve? Her friend, her coworkers, the dozens of people each day she walked by and smiled—whether they realized it or not. The mortal world would be a much poorer place with the absence of the five-foot-one brunette who was warming up his right side—the beautiful mortal whose breath across his chest was doing maddening things to his libido.
However, if he dropped from existence tomorrow, the only ones who might take notice and grieve would be the mortals he’d met today at this lodge. Father Time had many sons—so many that his absence wouldn’t impact the hands of Time and Fate. He might mourn Zeit, but immortals didn’t embrace emotions as thoroughly as mortals. If one of his brothers disappeared, Zeit would find it… interes
ting.
When he’d taken the lifetimes of mortals every New Year’s Eve, he’d done so believing each was worth the same as another. The sacrifice of one on behalf of the fortunes of so many others was a reasonable trade-off. Hannah had been the first mortal to stay his hand.
A year ago, he couldn’t have said why he hadn’t killed her, but now he could.
She’d seemed lost and alone as she stood there counting down the time, apart from everyone around her. She wasn’t wasting time, but she wasn’t using it—she was waiting—waiting for someone, some event, something. He’d felt like a thief to steal a life yet unlived, rather than the savior of others he’d always believed himself to be.
Yet, here he was stealing her life, these mortal minutes, by commanding her attention, stealing time he didn’t deserve with her. She belonged with another mortal. She needed someone who would see how precious time was with her and would never leave her alone on New Year’s Eve—someone who valued each day spent with her. He was stealing that person’s place. She deserved better—so much more than someone who’d planned to get her out of his system in time to kill her.
No, it was over.
There was no way he’d take her life. He wasn’t planning on ever taking another life. He’d spend the rest of her days keeping her alive. She deserved to live.
The minutes ticked by as he lay there, watching the fire in the gas fireplace. His thoughts gnawed at him, and he considered freezing time, but he’d still have these thoughts, these mortal thoughts of loss and fear. Eventually, the sun lightened the sky—its reflection off the snow shimmered, making it look pure and magical.
Magical.
He sighed.
The rise and fall of his chest made Hannah stir, and her nails clenched into his side—something it was best to ignore. He really didn’t deserve even the day he’d stolen with her. If only he’d stayed in the shadows…
“Mmm.” She lifted her head and tried to focus her eyes on his face. Then, a smile inched across her mouth. “Merry Christmas.”
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