Christmas After Dark: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Abigail Owen

  Luckily for her, he was never, ever going to tell her that. When you lived a life characterized by a bad reputation that you absolutely deserved, you knew better than to think your darkness had a chance at finding love with someone so wholly of the light.

  But in spite of everything, he'd wanted her near him. By the time he’d finally let her know that he was awake, he’d come up with a plan. And his first words had been Come to Atlantis with me.

  She'd sat there in the chair beside the bed, shock on her lovely face, those gorgeous copper eyes wide and slightly unfocused. He forgot sometimes that she was blind because she was so completely in command of herself and the space in her studio. Even on the few occasions that they’d ventured out to local restaurants together, she'd been capable and perfectly independent. He realized it was ridiculous to think she might be otherwise. The loss of one sense didn't mean the loss of all, or the diminishing of intelligence. And clearly, she’d found ways to compensate for that loss.

  So he’d asked again. “Will you come to Atlantis with me?”

  She’d taken a deep breath and said yes, surprising them both.

  While he’d cleaned up and gotten dressed, he’d heard a flurry of activity going on out in her studio. Lyric's friend Meredith had come by and packed up Lyric's paints for her in a very precise order, and also took the cat home with her for the holidays.

  Holidays. This was something new for him, too. Atlantis would be celebrating its first Christmas, thanks to King Conlan’s human, Christian wife. There’d been a frenzy of decorating and baking going on when Dare had last left port, but he’d ignored it because it was annoying. Someone was always getting in his way or underfoot, even his brother Liam, who generally operated on the same isolationist policy toward family that Dare had. Suddenly Liam was cornering him and inviting him to “family" meals with his new wife, Jaime.

  He’d avoided them as much as possible and was relieved, in a slightly guilty way, that Liam and Jaime would be traveling out of Atlantis for the next week or so. The last thing he needed was to overwhelm Lyric with his family, when he knew that she could never become part of it. She deserved better than him and his screwed-up relatives.

  All of this went through his head in seconds. He turned toward Lyric and saw that she’d put her bag down on the ground and was reaching out to touch the flowering bush nearest her. It sported huge masses of yellow and purple blooms, and he'd never seen a similar plant outside of Atlantis.

  "Oh, Dare, this scent. The scent of these flowers is the most amazing thing I've ever smelled. I feel like I could almost see them just from the way they smell and feel.” She ran her fingers over the delicate petals, and he immediately had a very ungentlemanly thought about how and where he'd like her fingers to be touching his anatomy. He grinned at the thought of how she would blush if he voiced the thought.

  "The gardens are the jewel of the palace,” he told her, touching her arm lightly so she could place where he was. He was learning the value of small actions such as this for her. "They were first designed and planted more than eleven thousand years ago, before Atlantis was forced to sink beneath the seas to escape invaders."

  Lyric was the jewel of the garden. In a bright red sweater that wrapped around her in ways he shouldn’t be thinking about and snug black pants, she shone like one of her own paintings against the backdrop of the flowers. He took a long, slow, steadying breath against the urge to pull her into his arms right there in the middle of the path.

  "Is it a large garden? I'd love to walk through all of it." Her eyes closed in what looked like bliss as she walked slowly from flower to flower, touching them all.

  "It's enormous. We will certainly walk through as much of it as you like, but perhaps first we should find you a place to stay."

  She turned her head to face him. "I'm not—I'm not staying with you?"

  Her voice came out small and hesitant, with perhaps a touch of hurt underlying her words. He hated himself for putting it there, for causing the shadow to cross her face, but the unfortunate truth was that he didn't have any quarters to take her to. When he was in port, he always stayed on his ship, and she wouldn’t be comfortable there.

  He fumbled about for a way to explain. "Well. About that—"

  "Dare! I'm so glad you're safe." The voice was one he very rarely heard but recognized instantly. He suppressed a groan and the simultaneous instinct to flee, and turned to the newcomer.

  He bowed. "Your Highness."

  The queen of Atlantis didn’t look especially royal at the moment. Her long, red-gold waves of hair were tied up and back from her face, and she wore a simple white shirt and blue jeans. Old, battered red running shoes completed the outfit. She looked more like one of the palace gardeners than a ruler. Better yet, she gave off the impression that she was much more comfortable like this than she’d been when he’d seen her in gowns and jewels at formal occasions. He liked her for it.

  Next to him, Lyric stiffened, but then offered a nervous smile in Queen Riley’s direction.

  "I'm sorry. I have no idea how to curtsy," she blurted out.

  The queen laughed, her bright blue eyes sparkling, and Dare liked her even better for that.

  "Please. No ‘Your Highness,’ no bowing, no curtsying. It wasn't that long ago I was a social worker in Seattle. I certainly don't intend to put on fancy airs just because I happened to move to a new neighborhood."

  Riley took Lyric's hands in hers and smiled at her, probably not realizing that Lyric couldn’t see it.

  "That's some zip code change," Lyric said wryly. “It's very nice to meet you. I’m Lyric Fielding."

  Riley squeezed Lyric's hands and then released them and stepped back, her eyes widening. "You're not—but you must be. Lyric Fielding is an unusual name. I can't believe there are two of you. Lyric Fielding, the artist?"

  Lyric smiled shyly, and then nodded. "I guess I am. I haven't heard of any other Lyric Fielding, so yeah, that's me."

  Dare looked back and forth between them. "You know her work?"

  "I do," Queen Riley said happily, leading Lyric with a gentle touch on the back of one elbow toward the fountain. "We can sit here if you have a moment."

  The two women sat on the broad rim of the fountain, and the splashing of the water made a musical counterpoint to the sounds of their voices.

  "I’ve loved your work for years," the queen was telling Lyric. “I saw two small seascapes in an exhibition at the Seattle Museum of Art four years ago or so, and I've been following you ever since, hoping I could afford a painting one day. There's not much in the media about you, though."

  Lyric bent her head so her face was turned toward her hands instead of toward Queen Riley. "Thank you. I—that's very nice of you. I've had requests for interviews and articles, but they weren't really things I wanted to follow up on. They ... they always seem to want to focus on the wrong thing, as far as I was concerned. And you don’t have to buy a painting. Please allow me to offer you one as a gift."

  Riley’s mouth dropped open. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—oh, no. That’s a lovely gesture, but I wasn’t hinting for a gift. I’ll tell my husband I’ve finally decided what I want for Christmas.”

  Lyric shook her head. “Please, allow me to—"

  “No, really. You have no idea how happy he’ll be. He tried watching American TV and decided I wanted a set of steak knives or life insurance. He has no idea what life insurance is, of course, but he said ‘if such venerable old men are offering it, it must be of value.’”

  Lyric laughed, but Dare had no idea why. King Conlan’s reasoning was sound.

  “Okay, then,” Lyric said, still flashing her brilliant smile. “But only to save you from steak knives.”

  Riley laughed, but then grimaced. "Oh, and believe me, I completely understand about the interviews. The media requests I've gotten since Atlantis came back up from under the sea and decided to participate in world affairs have mostly been downright bizarre.. You would not believe the things people as
k me."

  The queen sat up straight, peered interestedly at Dare and Lyric, and began to speak in a weirdly falsetto voice. "Do you and the king have sex underwater? Does he have gills?"

  Lyric burst out laughing and so did Dare, surprising even himself. It had been a long while since he heard himself laugh, at least while sober or in his right mind. He wasn't sure what he’d done last night in the grip of the fever, but it must've been interesting, considering the way Lyric’s cheeks had turned pink this morning every time he’d even touched her hand.

  "Dare, are Liam and his new wife here?” The queen turned toward him. “Jaime was incredibly helpful at Halloween. She planned the most amazing party, and everything was absolutely perfect."

  Dare studied the queen's too-innocent face, wondering if he’d heard the faintest undertone of suggestion that Queen Riley actually knew all about the chaos and mishaps that had gone on behind the scenes on Halloween. Thieves had tried to steal the crown jewels and might've gotten away with it if his new sister-in-law hadn’t been so quick-thinking. Liam probably had something to do with it too.

  Mr. Perfect.

  But Dare looked at Lyric, and the thought of the brother to whom he could never measure up didn’t sting as much as it usually did. So Liam had perfection, and respect, and a new wife.

  Dare had Lyric.

  He realized Queen Riley was watching him expectantly. Oh, right. Jaime.

  "I like her a lot," he admitted to the queen. "She's smart and funny and keeps Liam on his toes, which is certainly something he needs to knock a little bit of that arrogant pomposity out of him. She called him a fruit ninja."

  Lyric laughed and then tilted her face up toward him. "I would've liked to have met him, but you said he was gone?"

  "Yes, he and Jaime went to some village called Chicago to pack up her belongings and bring them back here."

  Lyric and the queen started laughing, and he narrowed his eyes. "What did I say? Why is that funny?"

  "Some village called Chicago," the queen said to Lyric, her eyes sparkling.

  "I wonder what the Cubs fans would think about that," Lyric said, still laughing a little.

  Riley stood and touched her on the shoulder.

  "I'm delighted to meet you, Lyric. I'd love to talk some more, but I need to go see what my son is up to. Probably terrorizing his nanny. And no—I can't believe I have a nanny, either." She smiled ruefully. "It's another Cinderella moment. But anyway, I'd love to offer you rooms in the palace, if you're staying for a while. I have a beautiful place in mind, and you could use the adjacent room for a studio. There’s a gorgeous balcony, and the light is magnificent—"

  The queen abruptly stopped speaking, a horrified expression coming over her face. "I'm sorry. I imagine the light doesn't matter. Oh, wow, this is horribly awkward, so I'm just going to apologize for being a buffoon and leave it at that and hope you forgive me."

  Lyric stood, too, and smiled in the queen’s direction. "You have no idea how refreshing it is to have you acknowledge the awkwardness. People say stuff all the time, like 'Do you see what I mean?’ and 'Will you look at that?' and then they get horribly awkward and weird, and it's ridiculous. They’re figures of speech, and of course I know that. I've been blind since I was ten, and I'm not overly sensitive about things like that anymore."

  Dare reached out almost without realizing it and took Lyric’s hand. Her lips parted in surprise, but she squeezed his fingers in reassurance—whether for him or for herself, he couldn't tell.

  Riley’s large eyes considered Dare thoughtfully, and he suddenly and unpleasantly remembered that she was aknasha’an—an emotional empath. She could probably sense everything he was feeling, which meant he was five kinds of fool for not even trying to guard his emotions from her.

  She smiled at him suddenly, eyes sparkling, and he wondered how the king and the high priest—former high priest—could stand to be involved with empaths. There’d never be any secrets.

  The queen delicately cleared her throat. “The rooms?”

  "That is very kind of you, Your Highness," Dare said. "I stay on my ship, of course, but I would much rather that Lyric had more comfortable accommodations."

  “That would be lovely. Thank you so much,” Lyric said, sounding as excited as a child. “I can’t believe I’m going to stay in the palace.”

  "I still haven’t gotten used to it,” the queen admitted. “Perfect. I'll have someone show you to the rooms I have in mind and make sure they're set up for company and for you to paint, if you like. If you wouldn't mind, I'd love to stop by and talk to you about your painting sometime. If that's okay."

  Lyric’s smile was like a burst of sunshine spreading across her face. It was as if she were glowing—actually glowing—with happiness. Even the curls on her head suddenly looked bouncier. A hard, cold knot that had crouched inside Dare's chest for a very long time cracked open just a little, and he swallowed hard.

  "Thank you so much, Your, um—"

  "Riley," the queen said firmly. "Just Riley, please."

  "Thank you so much, Riley,” Lyric said. “I happily accept, and I would love for you to come by and talk to me about painting. I promise not to ask anything about gills or underwater sex, kings or otherwise."

  Riley laughed. "We can talk about villages. Like Chicago."

  She darted a glance at Dare, who was still bewildered by why a village named Chicago was funny, but he enjoyed watching Lyric smile too much to complain about it.

  With a quick goodbye, the queen was gone, heading toward the palace and the little prince.

  Lyric leaned over and trailed her fingers in the water for a few moments and then turned toward him. "I realize that I never asked you about brothers and sisters. It seems strange, considering we've known each other for so long—but on the other hand, we haven't known each other long at all. It hasn't really been six years, just maybe a total of thirty or so days during the six years that we saw each other." Lyric shoved her waves of chestnut curls out of her face after a tendril of breeze brushed by. The sun burnished her hair with glints of gold and copper, and suddenly he yearned to run his fingers through her curls. He took a step toward her, not even a little sure of what he was going to do next, but then she spoke again.

  "Is it only Liam? Liam and you?”

  "Actually, no. We have another brother. Flynn. But we haven't seen him in a few years. The last I heard, he was caught up with a bad gang of dragon shifters. Real lowlifes."

  Her eyebrows drew together. "There are dragon shifters? Wow. I had no idea."

  He put her hand on his arm, picked up the bags, and started walking with her toward the palace. By now, the queen would have someone ready to show them to Lyric's rooms.

  "Yes, there are dragon shifters,” he said. “There are all sorts of different shifters. I once heard about a koala shifter who kept falling asleep on the job until he finally switched to the night shift. And I'm actually friends with— or at least acquaintances with—a pretty badass tiger shifter who lives down in your neck of the woods."

  She walked beside him, unhesitant but cautious about where she placed her steps. He slowed, cursing himself for a fool because he’d started out at his normal, long-striding pace. She didn't know this place like she knew her own neighborhood back in St. Augustine. He had to be more careful with her.

  She wasn't fragile; he knew that. But she was precious to him and, like all precious things, must be treated with care.

  A nasty voice in his mind reminded him that fragile things didn’t fare very well in the hands of pirates. He blocked the voice and its message firmly into a steel compartment in the back of his brain, labeled ‘things to think about later.’”

  "I'm so glad your ship and crew are safe," she said, changing the subject. "If you want to go check on them once we find my room, of course you should. I am fine on my own, you know."

  "I know you are. You run your own business. You have your own studio. You are in complete control of your own life, and I
admire the hell out of you for it." He put every bit of sincerity he felt into his voice, since she couldn't see it in his face. "But I would like to go see my ship and talk to my crew, so if—"

  Dare. I have more news.

  The guard’s voice in his mind sounded hesitant, and Dare lost patience with that quickly.

  What is it? Tell me now, man.

  It's your ship. It's… it's no longer your ship. Poseidon has decreed that you're not to step even one foot on board.

  He froze and then reached again for the armband that was no longer on his arm.

  "Apparently my ship is no longer my ship,” he told Lyric carefully, trying not to let his anger leak into his voice. “I need to find out what’s going on, and I really, really need to find out about Seranth. I haven't been able to sense her since I came through the portal into your house without my armband."

  Lyric touched his cheek. "I'm sure she's okay. She is a sea spirit, after all. You said she's existed for thousands of years. I doubt a little storm—or even a huge storm—could harm her. But please go find out."

  They reached one of the many doors to the palace, where one of the people who worked there stood smiling at Lyric. "Welcome to Atlantis, Ms. Fielding. I'm Fergus, and Queen Riley has asked me to show you to your rooms. If you’ll come this way?"

  "May I place my hand on your arm?" Lyric asked calmly, with no hesitation, and Fergus, in return, didn't blink or hesitate.

  "Of course." He stepped closer and held out his arm. “Just at your left," he told her.

  “Go,” Lyric urged Dare. “I’m almost as anxious as you are to hear. Find me when you get back.”

  "I will. I'll be back soon."

  "Take your time, I look forward to walking through my first real palace. I feel like a princess already," Lyric said, smiling at both men.

  Fergus looked as bowled over by the force of the smile as Dare felt. And Fergus was seventy years old if he was a day. That smile of hers charmed everyone.