Christmas After Dark: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Abigail Owen

  She frowned. “So he can finish what he started? Do you have a death wish?”

  “No. So I can say I’m sorry.”

  “For what? It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I should have said no to Darius. I chose eternal life and turned my back on the one man who loved me. My only family.”

  “You thought he was dead.”

  She might as well not have spoken for all the notice he took. “I chose to survive. I should have refused.”

  “Except then you would have been dead as well. And no good to him at all.”

  He threw her an annoyed glance. “You need to reverse the spell.”

  “And I told you, I don’t know how. I don’t know how I did this. So how am I supposed to know how to make it go away.” And right now, that wasn’t a bad thing. The way Lachlan was behaving, he’d just stand there while the other guy chopped off his head. He needed to snap out of this funk and get a grip. For all she knew, they were stuck together for eternity. And this new, humble Lachlan was not an improvement. She wanted cocky, sexy Lachlan back. Even moody, scary Lachlan was better than this.

  Suddenly she was tired and cold.

  She left him standing, staring broodingly at his ‘brother’ and walked out of the circle of wolves. Perching on a boulder, she hugged her arms around her knees, trying to keep warm.

  She wanted to go home; except they were probably all frozen in time as well. And even if they weren’t, no one at home wanted her.

  And now, likely, no one ever would.

  She’d be alone for eternity.

  Lachlan stared at the man in front of him. Seeing the similarities and the changes. Gabe had always been the lighter of the two of them. The joker. Lachlan had been the serious one.

  Now he looked hard, harsh lines furrowed his face. How had he lived over the centuries? Had he been in Scotland all this time? Living in the cottage, with the memories.

  When had he found out that Lachlan was alive?

  Had he been happy? If he had, then the feeling hadn’t lasted.

  Now he wanted him dead.

  He turned around, felt a flash of panic as he realized Lola was no longer beside him. Then he caught sight of her, perched on the boulder, wrapped in his long leather coat. She looked small and cute and sexy as hell. But her expression was sad.

  This wasn’t her fault. She’d cast her spell to save his life and not thought of the cost. And from what she had said, that cost would be high. He’d been right all along—he needed to keep his distance, because the moment he got close to anyone, they died.

  Except Gabe. Obviously he hadn’t died.

  He ran a hand through his hair, then with one last look at his brother—he wasn’t going anywhere—he crossed the space between them and halted in front of Lola, unsure what to say. He wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure what for. Just something to take the sadness from her face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I brought you to this. Your life is forfeit. Because of me.”

  “I’m not dead yet.”

  He ignored the comment, because he was on a roll now. “Everyone I care about dies —you’re clearly not going to be any different. And it will be my fault. Just like I killed my family. Pride. I wanted to be the big man. Get them Christmas dinner. I probably alerted the redcoats and they came looking. My fault. And Gabe died protecting me.”

  “He isn’t dead either,” she said, hugging the coat tighter around herself.

  Might as well be. “And I shouldn’t have touched you. I was supposed to protect you.”

  She peered up at him, eyes narrowed. “No, probably you should have kept your hands and your teeth to yourself. But don’t worry about it. If we’re going to start bemoaning our lives, then it’s my turn. Everyone leaves me.” She sniffed.

  “I grew up knowing I was different. Alone. My sisters did their best, but Regan was never what you might call maternal. All I wanted was something of my own who would love me unconditionally. I begged Regan for a puppy for Christmas. Every year. But Regan said her Hell hounds would eat it. Maybe she knew the puppy would run away. God, I’m pathetic.” She lifted her chin and stared him in the face. “Anyway, my point is, I don't expect you to be any different. You were right. I am needy. But I think I’ve learned my lesson now. And you know what? I don’t need you. In fact, you’re the last person I could ever need. Which means you’re off the hook.”

  She jumped to her feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not sure. But away from here. Maybe this”—she waved a hand at the frozen bodies— “isn’t everywhere. Perhaps I might find someone alive—or even better a cell signal—if I walk long enough.”

  She started walking. He cast a last look at Gabe. Should he stay? In case he awoke. But Lola was disappearing down the road, his coat dragging in the snow. “Lola!”

  She didn’t stop or even slow her pace. And he hurried after her. Then something in the sky caught his attention. A movement where everything had been so still.

  He stopped in his tracks. What in hell? “Is that…?”

  Not happening.

  “Lola,” he said. “Stop. It’s Father fucking Christmas.”

  13

  Lola had decided to ignore him.

  But really, that sort of comment was impossible to ignore.

  She stared up at the sky and then stopped moving, her mouth dropping open. High above them, a sleigh was racing across the night sky. Pulled by some very strange looking horses—they had eight legs—it was heading directly toward them. The jingling of bells filled the air. Soon she could make out two people, sitting side by side, and behind them a pile of brightly colored presents.

  Father Christmas.

  She glanced at Lachlan. He looked back and shrugged. “This seems a little…surreal.”

  Had the world woken up? But the werewolves were still frozen in place. She backed up so she was close enough to touch Lachlan. Then stood staring up at the sky as the sleigh drew near, and she got a clearer view of the two occupants.

  The man had long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and a black velvet patch covering his left eye. He looked nothing like a traditional plump, genial Father Christmas. But the sleigh, the presents…

  She turned her attention to the woman beside him. And went still, her mind blank. Then she edged a little closer to Lachlan.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I think it’s my mother.”

  “You think?”

  “I told you—she dumped me on my sister when I was a few days old, and I haven’t seen her since. But…” She had seen images of her mother. And Regan had described her. She was pretty sure that the woman sitting in the sleigh next to Father Christmas was her mother.

  Had she come to ensure that Lola paid the price for using the Earth magic. Had she come to extract that price? And bummed a lift with Father Christmas to get here. “Definitely surreal.”

  “Didn’t you say your ma was a goddess.”

  “Yeah. War and pestilence.” She took a deep breath. “Come meet my mom.”

  The sleigh was landing now, tossing up a cloud of powdery snow, the four horses stamping and snorting white mist into the cold air.

  Lola held herself very still as the woman climbed down from the sleigh. She was tall, slender, with long black hair threaded with crow’s feathers, and silver eyes rimmed with charcoal. Her skin was smooth and olive-toned, her face marked with curling runes radiating out from the corners of her eyes, and she wore a band studded with rubies around her upper arm.

  “I can see the resemblance,” Lachlan murmured.

  And she snorted.

  Her mother was beautiful and terrifying. Not little and cute. She strolled toward them, her gaze flicking between her and Lachlan. She was half a foot taller than Lola—what had her father been—a dwarf?

  “Daughter.”

  “Mother.” She took a deep breath. Her heart hammering, because really while she’d accepted it, she didn’t want to die. She had things to
do. But she forced the question out. “Is my life forfeit?”

  “For what?”

  She waved a hand toward the frozen werewolves and Lachlan’s frozen brother. “I stopped the world.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t?”

  “No. I did. I saw a vision. And while I may not have played a huge part in your life…” Lola must have made some sort of expression of disbelief, because her eyes narrowed. “Be thankful I didn’t try. Your sister did a much better job than I could ever do. Anyway, while I may have remained on the periphery of your life, I do try to be there when I’m needed. And clearly, in this instance, I was needed.” She turned her attention to Lachlan and pursed her lips. “The vampire was supposed to protect you. And he was doing a crap job.”

  “He was…distracted.”

  “So I stepped in. Think of it as a Christmas present.”

  “Well, that will be a first,” she muttered.

  “Can you reverse it?” Lachlan asked from beside her.

  Her mother’s stare turned cold. Her gaze drifted down over the half-naked vampire, then back to Lola. Did her focus settle on the bite marks that were still visible on her throat? Lola resisted the urge to lift her hand, cover them up. “My daughters have the strangest taste in…men. I’m not sure where that comes from. Though I suppose he is pretty.” She shrugged. “Come along. Our ride doesn’t have all night. He has presents to deliver. Let me take you to your sisters. Your family are waiting for you at the castle.”

  Her family—that made her feel warm and fuzzy. They hadn’t forgotten her or abandoned her.

  Their ‘ride’ was leaning back in his seat, boots up on the front of the sleigh, smoking a cigarette, watching them out of his single eye.

  She sidled closer to her mother. “Is he really Father Christmas?” she asked. “He doesn’t look quite…what I expected.”

  Her mother smiled. “He used to be known as Odin, and he led the Wild Hunt across the skies at Yuletide, doling out presents to the deserving, and death to others. Then mankind decided to give him a revamp. It never quite took. But we’ve been friends a long time.”

  Lola had a horrible thought. Though he didn’t look particularly short. “Good friends?”

  “Not that good.”

  “I’m staying,” Lachlan said.

  Lola turned to look at him. He had a closed off expression, his mouth a firm line. She didn’t want to leave him here. Not with a brother who hated him and had a big sword.

  “Please Lachlan, come with us. Or I’ll stay. But don’t leave me. Everyone leaves me.” She didn’t care if she did sound needy. “Please. I lied. I do need you.”

  He stared straight ahead. “You should go. You don’t need me. Your family is waiting for you. There’s nothing for you here and I’m quite capable of looking after myself. I’ve been doing it for three hundred years.”

  He was right. And without her to look out for, she was sure he was more than a match for a pack of werewolves. But all the same, she had to swallow down the urge to beg. Because he was right. She’d known all along that Lachlan would never give her what she needed. That’s why she’d been so shocked when she’d kissed him under the mistletoe in some unknown future that was never going to happen. Why she’d been determined to get away. Because it could never work. She couldn’t make him care. The last hours had been nothing but time out. And now it was time to get back to real life. And her family were waiting—and they did care for her. Suddenly she had an overwhelming urge for her big sister, Regan, to hug her tight.

  For a moment, she stood, unable to move, then she gave herself a shake. She searched the ground and found Lachlan’s pistols where he’d dropped them in the snow. Picking them up, she went back to where he stood and pressed them into his hands.

  “Don’t you dare die.”

  Then turning her back on him, she walked away.

  Lola climbed into the back of the sleigh, and her mother got in beside her and patted her arm. “You did well. There are other men out there. Best not to get too attached. The secret is that you must be the one to walk away. Or in this case…fly away.”

  The crack of a whip sounded in the silent, snow muffled night, and they rose into the air, bells tinkling.

  And then they were flying.

  Below her, Lachlan grew smaller and smaller until finally he disappeared from sight.

  14

  Lachlan forced himself to stare straight ahead. Not to watch her go, because then he might beg her to stay.

  She would if he asked, because she was that sort of person. Loyal. And sweet. And good. Too good for him. He clamped his lips closed to stop himself from calling after her.

  She wasn’t going to die. And no matter what she’d said—she didn’t need him. He was the kiss of fucking death. She was better off without him. But his chest ached. Christ, for nearly three hundred years, he’d avoided all emotion, now he was drowning.

  Somewhere way off in the distance, he heard the chiming of bells from the village. The world was reawakening.

  Christmas was coming.

  Time to say happy fucking Christmas to his long lost brother.

  He took up position in front of Gabe but out of the sword’s range, raised the pistols.

  A blue eye flickered. A tic jumped in his cheek. Then the sword was swinging in its downward arc. But Lachlan was too far away, and the stroke missed him by a foot.

  He shot into the snow at Gabe’s feet, making his brother jump back. Gabe stopped. Frowned. Looked around him. Reached up and touched his face. “What the hell?”

  Lachlan stood, ignoring the growls and howls and whimpers that surrounded them, pistols aimed at the center of Gabe’s chest. “Hello, Gabriel. Good to see you after all these years.”

  The arm with the sword dropped to his side. His gaze searched the area. “How? What?” He shook his head. “Where’s the wee lassie?”

  “Gone.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And where the fuck are your clothes?”

  “Gone.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  “You can ask me that?” he growled. “You were going to kill me. With my own da’s sword. You know how fucked-up that is?”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic. I wasn’t going to kill you, just give you a little cut. For old time’s sake.”

  The wolves were creeping closer.

  “Call off your dogs,” Lachlan snapped. “This is between you and me.”

  “Really? You think you can take me?”

  “Hell, I know I can. I always could.” And right in that moment, he wanted to try. He wanted to punch something. Break something. He’d sent her away. She’d asked him to go with her. Just about begged him. She could have been his. If he wasn’t so much of a coward.

  Gabe shouted a word into the night and the wolves fell back, giving them space.

  Lachlan tossed the guns down onto the snow and closed the space between them. He didn’t need guns. Gabe stood his ground, one eyebrow raised. A supercilious expression on his face.

  “Tell me one thing,” Lachlan said. “Why?”

  Gabe’s expression hardened. “You left me. Left me for the wolves to feed on. I was dying. My guts fucking hanging out. And I saw you. You got up and you walked away and you didn’t look back.”

  “I’d just been turned into a fucking vampire. I wasn’t feeling myself at the time. I came looking for you as soon as I could.”

  Gabe shrugged. Asshole. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. To wipe away the memory of that hurt, disappointed expression. He was good at disappointing people.

  But where the hell had Gabe been all these years? One thing was for sure—he hadn’t come looking for Lachlan.

  Lachlan drew back his fist and punched him on the nose.

  A very satisfying crunch. He punched him again, putting all his strength behind it, and Gabe flew back through the air, landing in a drift of snow. All around him the wolves howled. But no one moved. And Lachlan hurled himself after
the other man. He landed on his chest and got in a couple of very enjoyable punches before Gabe pushed his knees between them and heaved Lachlan so he was thrown backward. He slammed into a tree, and the breath left him in a whoosh.

  He straightened. Gabe was back on his feet. Lachlan rolled his shoulders to ease the tension, then holding the other man’s gaze, he raised his hand to his face and licked the blood from his knuckles.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” Gabe said and charged.

  Lachlan roared, lowered his head, and they met in the middle. His forehead rammed into Gabe’s rock hard stomach driving them both backwards. Gabe’s arms wrapped around him but Lachlan wriggled free and lashed out with his foot, swiping Gabe’s legs from under him and they both crashed to the ground. And then they were rolling, first he was on top and he rained down punches, then somehow their positions were reversed, and Gabe’s fists were slamming into his face.

  His nose broke and his vision blurred. The sharp scent of blood filled the air and his fangs elongated.

  Gabe was incredibly strong. They were well matched. But Gabe was clearly finding it hard to get a grip on his blood-slick skin. Lachlan grabbed a hand in his brother’s jacket and shoved him away.

  They both leaped to their feet.

  Lachlan shook his head and blood sprayed onto the snow.

  Then Gabe charged again, and they grappled. Once or twice, he knew he could have done serious damage with his fangs but something held him back. Finally, Gabe made one last wildly out-of-control punch in Lachlan’s direction and missed, but the momentum drove him to the ground, taking Lachlan with him.

  “Enough,” Gabe muttered.

  Lachlan lay in the snow, staring up at the sky, the flakes landing on his upturned face. Gabe lay beside him, breathing heavily.

  She was gone. He’d done the right thing.

  But everything hurt. Including his heart.

  “Shit,” Gabe muttered. “I think you’ve broken every one of my ribs.”

  “Good.”

  “And my nose.”

  “Stop being a pussy. You always were a whiny little bastard.”