by Liana Brooks
“And... I’m not?”
“You said you were a Reaper, so I thought you were. A real one. Like me.” He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the edge of the table. “I need death to survive.”
“Everything does.”
“Yeah, but most people can get nutrients from eating dead plants or dead animals. I need the emotions of death. The grief. The loss. The fear.” He folded his arms. “It’s a biological thing. In our early teens, we stop getting enough nutrients from regular food. We starve, or we find a way to feed on death. We work as butchers, exterminators, or in the medical field. My mom was an ER surgeon for years until they forced her to retire early. Then she died. Fast.”
I scooted a little closer.
Seth curled in on himself even more. “She was used to the pain and trauma of the ER. The fear and death. Without it, she withered. Wasted away in only a few months. Her liver and kidneys shut down. No amount of food could feed her, and we didn’t have a diagnosis that would get her into a nursing home. She wasn’t quite sixty.”
“I’m sorry.”
A weak smile crossed his face. “My dad survived on aging things, stealing the life of objects. He taught me. But, plastics and all the new stuff isn’t really filling. Horror films... Horror films worked. It’s the same emotions and fears in the audience. The deaths feel real. It’s
like eating a tofu burger when you want a steak, but it gets the job done.”
“All right.” I nodded. “So you’re a vegan Reaper?”
Finally he looked up at me. “I thought... When you said you were the Grim Reaper of Chicago, I thought you were like me. I thought it was safe to be in love with you.”
“It is.”
Seth shook his head. “I could hurt you.”
“So could anyone.”
“Merri—”
I put my hand on his knee. “Humans are predators. All of us. Anyone you meet has the ability to kill you. And our bodies have serious design flaws. We can die during childbirth. Do you know how many other mammals have the maternal mortality rates our species does? Not many. Honestly, I don’t think any other mammal has the same incident rate. Pregnancy doesn’t regularly kill elephants. But that’s a risk that happens.”
Seth’s eyes were wide with terror.
Probably not a very convincing speech. “Sorry, my parents are historians. I grew up hearing all the ways human bodies could fail. All the creative ways humans can hurt each other. Your need for a chaser of horror movies after dinner is really not an issue.”
“You saw me—”
“I saw you defend yourself from someone who tried to kill me three times.”
Seth went rigid as his eyes went wide. “Three?”
“I did the math,” I said with a shrug. “He tried to hit me with his car after I fired Dulcie Waterhouse. Windy City Security did computer work for Oretega and Dulcie was on the take. So Yerke was already running scared. Then he came to the gym. It was baby oil, he spilled it on purpose hoping I’d fall, crack my head, and at least be off the job, if not dead. And then he broke into my apartment with plans to hurt me. When he couldn’t get me, he went after you.”
With a quick glance, Seth assured himself I was unharmed. “You seem calm.”
“Death threats are part of my job description.”
“You’re an accountant,” Seth said in exasperation.
I shrugged and patted his knee. “Math is scary.”
Closing his eyes, Seth leaned his head back on the couch. “This conversation is off script.”
“What were you expecting?” I didn’t bother hiding my amusement.
“I don’t know. I had this whole noble speech about how you’d be safer with someone else, and this idea of seeing you again in a year, happy and married to some normal person.”
It took effort, but I managed to turn my laugh into a choked cough as my cheeks turned red.
Dark eyes slitted open to glare at me. “It was very heroic.”
“I’m sure it was,” I said soothingly. “Any normal girl would have fallen for it, too. The curse of a forbidden romance. Long, hungry looks across some public venue. The sound of your heart breaking as you read the wedding announcement in some gossip column online. I’m sure you had the whole tragedy staged in your mind.”
He shifted, curiosity overtaking his features. “Can you really see yourself taking a Reaper home for the holidays?”
I leaned closer, giving Seth an excellent view of my ample assets straining at the buttons of my bodice. “My parents are currently dressed as seventeenth-century pirates and lecturing on the medicine of the era. It’s bloody. It’s gruesome. If you went, you’d probably gain ten pounds from the dinners alone. Nothing you can say will shock my family.”
To his credit, I think Seth got most of that. His eyes only dipped to my cleavage a couple of times. His pupils had widened in appreciation and the pulse in his neck had sped up a little, but that could have been fear of a family dinner. A totally normal reaction to the threat of a Kriesmas holiday.
“You said you brought dinner?” Standing up, I smoothed my skirt down, almost sad I hadn’t worn something interesting underneath to lift the hem a little.
“Yeah.” Seth’s gaze caressed my legs, glided up my body, and met mine with a confident smirk.
I raised an eyebrow in challenge. If he wanted to have a sexy staring contest, I was more than willing to play. “Hungry?”
“Not for salad.”
It turns out, I was wearing the perfect outfit to steal Seth’s heart, the one with the missing top button...
Seth smiled as he kissed me, conquering me, seducing me, taking over my world so completely that my only thoughts were of him.
The only thing I craved was his skin against mine.
The only thing I wanted was his whispered confessions of love.
The only thing I needed was him beside me, always.
All the wants I’d pushed away, all the emotions I’d locked under my armor, all the secret desires I’d kept hidden were out now. Seth had stolen them from me with whispers and kisses. He’d destroyed every fear with soft words and softer touches.
There was no going back from this.
I’d built walls around myself once, cut myself off from every kind of love and relationship as I tried to protect myself. But I couldn’t do it again.
Seth nuzzled my hair. “I can hear you thinking. What’s wrong?”
I wanted to lie and say it was nothing. Or distract him with a kiss. But I couldn’t bring myself to smile and lie.
“Merri,” Seth whispered in my ear. “Why aren’t you happy?”
“I am.” I caressed his arm, trying to memorize the feel of his touch, the weight of his body against mine. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you.”
He kissed my cheek, my nose, my lips, feather-light touches that made me feel like I was glowing. “You won’t lose me. I’m hard to miss.”
I laughed despite my fears. “I’m very easy to miss. And not very loveable.”
Seth kissed me again, drinking me in. “You’re perfect. Exquisite. Unforgettable. Unsurpassable.” He pulled me closer. “Addicting, possibly. And so, so easy to love. I’ve known you a week and already you’re all I think about. I held up a decision about a location shoot because it would take me out of town for a few weeks and I wanted to check with you first. Sunday night I scribbled out a rough draft of a horror movie with a redhead and I might have to give it to Ellen because it has way more kissing than Slasher’s movies do.
“I want to synch calendars with you, which sounds like the most unromantic thing a man could say, but I want to. I want to know when I can see you again. When I can kiss you again. When I can hear your voice.” He stroked my cheek. “I wanted to talk to you all week.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“My phone...” Seth ran a hand through his hair and looked embarrassed. “Um, so, I did take it with me when I went to the warehouse. And I dropped it—”
“Outside in
the rain?”
“In the rain,” he confirmed with a nod. “It’s been in rice for days, but I think I’m going to have to give up and get a new one.”
“I thought you were avoiding me. And then I had the Oretega accounts, and a trial, and...” So many other things.
“We both have busy lives,” he said. “That’s not going to change.”
“I’ve never tried to fit a relationship into my work schedule.”
“Neither have I,” Seth said as his hand found mine, “but we’re smart. We can make it work.”
I pressed my lips together as tears threatened to fall. “Really?”
“You stole my shirt. You stole my time. You stole my heart.” Seth’s hungry gaze met mine. “What do you think about killing our reps as perpetually single people and making this official?”
Taking a deep breath, I squinted my eyes in mock suspicion. “I dunno, are you really ready to tangle with the Grim Reaper of Chicago? Are you okay with a girlfriend who gets death threats every week? I’m cute, but I’m not nice. I like math, and I can’t sit still through movies, and I—I—”
“You’re perfect.” Seth kissed me again and I forgot all my excuses.
Six Months Later:
Mid-October
A strong gust of wind blew across the balcony, bringing a flurry of orange leaves that railed against the glass like souls begging for entrée. The Windy City was once again living up to its name. I hung our Halloween costumes on the door to the guest bedroom. A tight, black dress with ruby-red embellishments for my Hades costume, and gray-and-lilac harem pants and crop top with ribbons for Seth’s Persephone. The silk flower crown was already sitting on his dresser.
Seth made a very menacing Persephone.
My case work for the day was sitting on the low table in the living room, a mess of math and printed copies of the relevant company rules that had been broken. Maple View Pharmaceuticals was getting a new CFO.
An autumn storm grumbled over the lake front as I changed from the bright yellow A-line with red hibiscus flowers to a pair of loose, black lounge pants and a Slasher t-shirt that fell off my shoulders. I traded my Victory Rolls for a sloppy bun and wiped off the last of my fire-red lipstick.
The woman who stared back in the mirror, the one without the candy-colored armor, looked dangerous. The broken, ignored little girl was gone. The fake girl from the videos was nowhere to be seen. I’d used my armor as a cocoon and had emerged, transformed into something new.
“Merri?” Seth’s voice came from the front entryway.
“In here.” I walked out of the bedroom to see Seth juggling two bags of groceries and a slim DVD case in his hand with a suspiciously cheesy fake cover. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Dinner and the final cut of the Cozy Christmas special.”
I took a bag from him and the case. “Why do you have a copy?”
“Because you and Ellen both yelled at me for not watching Cozy’s movies?” He hung his keys on the hook by the fridge and put the food on the counter. “Want to watch?”
“Sure.”
An hour later, we were sprawled out across the living room, me laying on the couch with my feet kicking the air, Seth sitting beside the couch chatting as he took notes.
On screen, Laurie Moore stood in paint-splattered jeans and t-shirt, making a wish on a shooting star as it broke into three pieces. A new image came up with the words, ‘Who do you choose?’
Seth grinned up at me. “Ready for this?”
“Hmmm... almost.” I kicked forward so I could drape my hands over his shoulders. “It’s hard to pick a favorite.”
“All you have to do is pick the hero she gets a happily ever after with for the rest of her life.”
“Uh-huh.” I reached past Seth to the small black box I’d hidden under the couch days ago.
Seth touched my other hand. “Who do you want to spend the rest of your life with?”
“You?” I flipped the box lid up, revealing the silver wedding band with intricate obsidian scrollwork we’d seen at Oretega back in April.
I’m fairly certain Seth stopped breathing.
I kissed his cheek. “What do you think? A lifetime of Kriesmas dinners, two sisters-in-law for the price of one, and I never have to say Merry Christmas outside of December for the rest of my life.”
Seth’s eyes went wider.
“Will you marry me?”
He clicked the TV remote and the screen changed to show Seth, larger than life, smiling at us.
On screen he got down on one knee. “Merri Kriesmas, you stole my time, my soul, and my heart. I’d like to give you my last name. Will you marry me?”
The real Seth sat tight-lipped, staring straight ahead like he’d seen the ruin of all things.
I hugged his shoulders. “Are you mad I beat you to asking, or happy that I asked, or anxious because you aren’t sure what to do next?”
“Yes.”
“Yes to which question?”
“Yes to all of them.”
I giggled and slipped the ring on his left hand. “I love you.”
“Merri Kriesmas, I love you too.[36]”
Acknowledgments
As always, there are people I need to thank for getting this book finished and into your hands.
To my ever-patient husband, thank you for “talking about my books with me” even though we both know you are going to sit there, smiling quietly while I ramble for an hour. You have solved many a plot problem by simply being there. I love you.
To my dear children who have to deal with the fact that mommy’s brain might be in the wrong galaxy, and who are frequently consulted on what dresses my characters should wear, thank you for your patience, advice, and your willingness to suggest everything from gruesome murder ideas to facts about mythology.
To my beta readers, crit partners, and friends... I tried to keep it short!!!
As always, thank you to my readers from all over the globe and internet, including my Patreon crew: Amy Johnson, Glinda Harrison, Jackie Bach, John Morgan, Morgan Kegan, Tímea Knoll, Gwen Iacona, Clare Williams, Tonya Cannariato, and Bishop O’Connell.
Special thanks to Bishop O’Connell, fellow author and wordsmith, who graciously allowed me to use him as a character in this series. Bishop’s fans will recognize a few names in the Oretega scene. If you’d like to learn more about Bishop and his books you can find him on the web at https://aquietpint.com/ and on Twitter at @BishopMOConnell.
Thank you, dear reader, for reading this book.
Love,
Liana
About The Author
LIANA BROOKS loves spending her winter holidays surrounded by white sandy beaches, good books, and good company. She currently lives in South Carolina where the beaches are open all year, and fondly remembers her younger years when she went to Miami to read The Odyssey on South Beach.
She loves beaches, but never really learned how to party.
When not surrounded by books, Liana spends her time hiking, playing near the river, and keeping up with her busy family.
Liana is known for her space operas, including the Fleet of Malik, a series of connected sci-fi romances about rebuilding after a decades long war; the enemies-to-lovers superhero series, Heroes and Villains; and the Time and Shadows time travel murder mysteries.
You can find out more about Liana at her website, www.lianabrooks.com.
Read more by LIana Brooks
Who needs kisses when you could have a werewolf?
Available from all major retailers.
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A WEREWOLF
There was mistletoe over my desk. Honest to goodness mistletoe hanging over the remains of my Halloween festivities. The Great Pumpkin was now overshadowed by a hemiparasitic shrub.
When I’d left for a conference two hours ago, my desk had been a bastion against the winter holidays. A snow-free island in an otherwise elegantly decorated office suite dedicated to art.
The gallery’s front
foyer with the dark wood paneling and over-stuffed pine-green tub chairs was now displaying glass-and-metal snowflakes in dazzling designs.
The main negotiating room, with the long table suitable for a fleet of lawyers, had a festive Seasons Greetings banner with pine trees and bright red birds signed by various Miami athletes.
The hall had garlands, multi-colored lights, and occasionally holiday music blaring out of incautiously opened offices.
But this?
This monstrous greenery was not supposed to touch my space.
Elegant Miami’s main art gallery across the MacArthur Causeway was a glittering gem of holiday art. But over here, at the offices on Miami Beach that had been selected specifically to be near my boss’s favorite house, things were toned down. This was where Elegant Miami hid the nitty gritty details of business. It was the safe space for the sales people that spent all day on the phone with overseas clients; it was the home base of the style teams who went and decorated Miami palaces with carefully curated art from around the world; it was a soulless sovereignty of the contracts office where Maureen and I made sure every jot and tittle were in place.
Tittle was one of my coworker’s favorite words. It means the dot over a lower case I or J, but it sounds funny. Stuck in an L-shaped, linoleum-floored concrete bunker with two high windows that looked at the neighboring building a foot away and that always smelled of nail polish and mildew, we took our fun where we could find it.
But I drew the line at plastic Naughty Santa window clings blocking the little sunlight available. Being held hostage by forced holiday cheer was not part of my paycheck.
“Happy holidays, Del!” Maureen jumped out from behind my desk wearing a bright blue sweater with silver bells, dancing elves, and snowflakes. The bell at the end of her bright pink Santa hat with pole dancing elves jingled as she stilled.
I stared, carefully counting to ten in every language I could remember, willing the other half the contracts team to vanish. It wasn’t enough. Maureen and her seasonal cheer remained where they were.
