Christmas After Dark: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Abigail Owen

  She took a deep breath, letting the new smells and sensations wash over her again. This was what love had brought her—what had started years ago, almost to the day.

  Michael leaped into the air and landed close to the couple, splashing them both.

  Cassie laughed, releasing Alec's paw and turning over. "All right, all right. Let's go."

  They swam off without a look back—but Cassie knew she'd return, to the house. Then she'd go back to the river, when it was time. And so would Michael, and his children after that.

  Because they were now of the land and of the water and that was a link they'd never break.

  The End

  About the Author

  Sheryl Nantus

  Sheryl Nantus is an award-winning romance writer published by Entangled, St. Martin's Press, and Harlequin's Carina Press.

  When she's not writing about hunky heroes, she is sipping tea, playing board games and writing haiku.

  A total fangirl at heart, she met her husband through an online fan-fiction community and currently lives in Pennsylvania.

  http://www.sherylnantus.com

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  Series by Sheryl Nantus

  Delta Force Brotherhood

  Odin’s Bastards

  Filthy & Rich (anthology)

  Wild Cards & Iron Horses

  Blaze of Glory

  Hooded Pleasures

  Blood of the Pride

  Tales from the Edge

  Game On

  Betting On Both

  NEWEST RELEASE

  Warrior in Love (Odin’s Bastards #3) - June 2019

  Bewitch You a Merry Christmas

  Stay a Spell

  Juliette Cross

  BEWITCH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

  With a Christmas curse to break and a Karaoke party to plan, all Evie really wants is time with her werewolf boyfriend. Private time. All-night-in-his-arms time. But as hex-breaker of the Savoie Sisters coven, the most powerful in New Orleans, she needs to take care of business and family favors first. After that, Mateo Cruz and his broody, sexy self is all hers.

  1

  ~EVIE~

  “You want me to do what now?”

  I stared at the thirtyish man in his well-starched shirt and fancy tie swallowing up the two-top with his muscular frame. He pointed to his nose.

  “I look like fucking Rudolph!”

  He really did. His nose was puffy as if he had a cold, but much ruddier than someone with a sniffle. And it had a nice sheen on the bulbous tip like a glossy bowling ball. A shame, that. Because he’d be very good looking if it weren’t for his ridiculously red and swollen nose.

  “It could just be a bad cold. Why do you think this is a curse?” I asked calmly, flicking my gaze to my sister Violet. She stood behind the bar near us, chin in both hands, elbows on the counter, her Poinsettia-red dyed hair falling around her pale face, watching us with unabashed delight.

  It was always my first step to be skeptical when someone came in, swearing they had a curse put on them. Only about twenty-five percent of the complainants who come to me actually had a witch’s hex put on them.

  “That’s not all,” he blustered.

  He glanced around then jumped up and stomped over to the Christmas tree next to our small stage for live entertainment. He grabbed an ornament off the tree, then huffed back over to me. Thankfully, it was four o’clock, our daytime lull for customers. However, a man reading his paper and drinking a Witch’s Brew longneck did pause to watch the angry guy plucking something off our Christmas tree before storming back across the room.

  Mr. Romano sat back down, the chair creaking beneath his weight. He was over six feet tall with a thick build. But I didn’t get any menacing vibes from him. They were all directed at the witch he claimed put the hex on him who lived in the other half of the duplex building he rented.

  He slapped the ornament on the table. It was a metal angel with a skirt made into a bell. He pointed at the offending ornament, squinting his eyes like it was a snake ready to strike.

  “Ring that bell,” he commanded gruffly.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Ring it.”

  Arching a brow at his aggressiveness, I lifted the obviously offensive angel ornament and gave it a little tinkling ring. His scowling face suddenly transformed into a comical doll-like expression then he said in a girly voice, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.”

  Violet burst into cackling laughter behind me. I ignored her, staring as Mr. Romano’s expression hardened back into the deep scowl he’d been wearing since he stepped into the Cauldron ten minutes ago. I reached for the bell again.

  “Please don’t do it,” he begged, pressing his lips together into a grim line. “Every time I hear a bell, I’m compelled to say that damn line from that old black and white Gary Cooper Christmas movie.

  I looked over at Violet. “Gary Cooper Christmas movie?”

  My sister rolled her eyes. “He means Jimmy Stewart. That’s a line from It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  Okay, now I had to admit that this was looking like a curse.

  “Please ring it again,” pleaded Violet, barely smothering her wicked glee.

  I shot her a warning glare then returned my attention to Mr. Romano. “Is there anything else?”

  He scratched his jaw where his day-old scruff was morphing into a beard. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional hair growth or if this curse just had him so off-balanced, he’d given up on regular hygiene. He was dressed impeccably, but the rest of him looked awful.

  He mumbled something I didn’t quite hear.

  “What was that?”

  “Wish me a Merry you-know-what.” He gave a flourish of his fingers for me to fill in the blank.

  Before I could even open my mouth, Violet belted out, “Merry Christmas!”

  Mr. Romano slammed a fast on the table, his brows slanted into an angry V, then growled dramatically, “Bah humbug!”

  Violet fell into a fit of laughter, drawing our bartender JJ’s attention, from where he was at the other end of the bar, talking to his one lone customer. Actually, the well-dressed gentleman was leaning in, gaze riveted on JJ. Looked like more than talking was going on. Good for JJ. He had been in a dating dry spell and needed to venture out there again. Maybe it was just because I was crazy happy and in love, but I wanted everyone to find themselves a Mateo. Not my Mateo, mind you, but their own version of my amazing, gorgeous, sexy-as-hell, werewolf boyfriend.

  Violet choked on her own spit as she cackled, drawing me back to the present. Poor Mr. Romano looked appropriately humiliated. The sizzling charge in the air tingled along my skin, telling me that magic simmered in the room. I didn’t need to even “check” to see if this was a curse, but I figured I’d better go through the motions anyway. It would look more legit if he saw me behaving a little more woo-woo, like a witch who knew what she was doing. Besides, I needed a simple job as my first one after the last doozy. The only good thing about the last one was that it dropped Mateo into my lap.

  “Hold out your hand, Mr. Romano.”

  He held out one of his giant paws, well-manicured, but broad with a thick, silver ring around his index finger. I took hold of his and closed my eyes. Within a millisecond, the electric charge of magic sizzled straight through my hand and shot up my arm, giving me a little shiver. I suppressed the smile, because the witch behind the hex was a benevolent one. Tracings of her personality mingled with the magic, telling me all I needed to know. As if I wasn’t sure of it already, this hex was the hexer’s idea of a joke. Still, he was hiring me to break it, and I would. First things first.

  “Oh, I see,” I said, pursing my brow, putting on a grave face.

  “What?” he asked eagerly. “What do you see?”

  Opening my eyes, I let go of his hand and straightened my posture. “You’re right. Definitely a curse. However, I’ll need to come to your duplex to break it.”

  He ground out a curse under his bre
ath, balling his meaty hand into a fist. “Why not now?”

  “I need to be where you were when the hex was placed on you.”

  Totally a lie. It didn’t matter at all. I just needed to meet the witch responsible, face-to-face.

  He grumbled something under his breath. I swear, if this guy had any of his own magic reeking from him, I’d think he was a werewolf with all the snarling noises he was making.

  “I’ve got a meeting uptown in an hour, then a business dinner.” He pushed both hands through his hair, leaning back and linking his fingers behind his neck, his brown-eyed gaze focused on the ceiling. “I don’t think I can make it through without incident,” he said more to himself.

  Damn, this guy really was suffering. “What time is your next meeting over?”

  Gaze leveling on me with a heavy exhale, he mumbled, “Four thirty. I should already be on my way.”

  “And your dinner?”

  “Eight. In Metairie.”

  “No problem.” I glanced at Violet who was still completely riveted to my little business transaction. “I’ll meet you at your place at six-thirty, break the curse, and be gone within half an hour. Plenty of time for you to get to your business dinner.”

  “You can do it that quick?”

  This curse would take me about thirty seconds to unlock and release. But I didn’t tell him that. I needed some time to find out what this was really all about and keep it from happening again. His little Christmas hex was created with benign magic. But if I didn’t get to the bottom of why she hexed him in the first place, it could escalate to something more sinister if she was a vindictive kind of person.

  That was one thing no one realized about a hex-breaker’s job. Removing the hex was only one part. I had to get to the root of why it had been put on the hexee in the first place. I was sort of a problem-solver or conflict mediator to make sure both parties were at peace with each other by the time it was said and done.

  My sisters and I, the Savoie Sisters as our coven was known, played the part of law enforcers and peace-keepers among the supernaturals of New Orleans. We each held a unique magical gift to tackle different problems among our fellow witches, the vampires, the werewolves, and the elusive grim reapers. Actually, we’d never had to intervene with any grim that I’d ever known. But that wasn’t unusual. They kept to themselves and kept out of trouble. The vampires tended to attract trouble, but their beauty and magnetism wasn’t their fault. The werewolves tended to have huge blowouts of violence that was quaffed quickly or they stayed off the radar entirely. Like my darling Mateo. Until he was completely and totally on my radar.

  Surprisingly, it was the other witches who seemed to cause the most mischief. Like whoever had put this hex on Marcus Romano. So I had to intervene and do more than remove the hex. I’d confront her and make sure all was well and that this wasn’t going to escalate into some sort of turf war between the witch and her dominant, overbearing neighbor. Because with the way he was trying to control our short meeting, when he should at least attempt to be placating since he needed my help, told me a lot about Mr. Romano. He was a man used to getting what he wanted and accustomed to stomping over others to get it.

  “Fine, fine,” he grumbled, pulling out a business card and scribbling an address on the back. Then he stuck out his giant paw for me to shake. “I’ll see you at six. On the dot.” He arched a commanding brow at me, his voice going gruff. I wanted to laugh at his attempt to intimidate me, if that’s what this was. He didn’t know I’d wrestled with the most dominant alpha of them all and won—Mateo’s wolf. Actually, that was what his wolf called himself. Alpha. He had a voice of his own inside Mateo’s head. If his self-appointed name didn’t fit him like a glove, it would be laughable. But there was little about Mateo’s wolf that made me laugh. Moan? Melt? Shiver? Scream his name? Yeah. But not laugh.

  “On the dot.” I shook Mr. Romano’s hand. “I’m curious. How’d you know to come to me?”

  Few humans knew that supernaturals lived amongst them, that magic was real. Those who did know pretended they didn’t, because who would believe them, right?

  He stood from the table. “I’ve done some business with Ruben Dubois.”

  “Ahh.” I nodded.

  That was all the explanation needed. If he’d done business with the head of the vampire coven in New Orleans, then he probably knew a great deal about our kind.

  Without another glance at me or Violet, he strode out of the Cauldron, banging the door open as he left. Mateo brushed past him, frowning over his shoulder. I stepped over and leaned on the bar, arms crossed, watching my man come closer. His shoulder-length hair was pulled back away from his face, one wayward piece loose over an eye. He’d told me he’d be working on his latest commission in his studio most of the day. Those well-worn jeans, ripped at the knee, made my mouth water. I was sure he had one of those threadbare T-shirts on underneath his black hoodie. I wanted to go pull off his hoodie to find out.

  “I’m going with you to that guy’s place,” said Violet on my left behind me.

  “The hell you are.”

  Scoffing like she was insulted, she said, “Why not?”

  Leveling her with my are-you-kidding-me look, I rolled my eyes and turned back to Mateo, who’d caught sight of me, his tilted smile and roving gaze heating my skin and making my pulse flutter in my chest. I wondered how long it would take for the newness of our relationship to wear off, for my heart to not trip every time he stepped into the room. I hoped never.

  “Well, you’re not going alone.” Violet pulled a rag from behind the bar and swiped it over the wooden counter. “That guy could get violent. He had that look about him.”

  “What guy?” asked Mateo, now in front of me, hands sliding around my waist, his mouth dipping to brush a sweet kiss over mine.

  “That behemoth who just left,” answered Violet. “Mateo, don’t let her go alone.”

  His mouth worked mine open, his tongue taking a slick glide inside. One of his hands pressed at the small of my back, the other wrapped around my ponytail and tugged so he could have better access to my mouth. I clutched onto his hoodie, moaning as I sank against his six-and-a-half foot frame. He was built leaner than Mr. Romano, but he was packed with sinuous muscle. And inside him lived a nearly nine-foot werewolf if I ever needed him. This was my safe place. My heaven on earth. My Christmas wish come true.

  He broke our kiss. I chased his mouth, still hungry, but he gripped my ponytail tighter. “Why would you go to that guy’s place?”

  Fisting tighter on his hoodie for balance, I lifted onto my tiptoes and nipped his jaw. “I have to break his hex and meet his neighbor.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he offered, his voice dipping into a husky region.

  Flattening my feet, I glanced up to see a flash of gold roll over his eyes. Alpha wasn’t happy about me going to some guy’s place. I pressed a finger into the divot of his chin.

  “Of course you’re going with me.”

  He grinned back in reply, both of us just staring like the lovestruck dummies we were.

  Violet rounded the bar to bus a two-top. “You do know we have customers, right?”

  Not pulling my attention from Mateo, I slid my hands up his chest to lock around his neck. “One is flirting with JJ, and the other is buried in his newspaper.”

  “Still,” she passed by us, carrying three beer mugs in each hand, “it’s rude.”

  Sighing, I pulled out of Mateo’s arms, glancing at my watch. “I’m off shift in thirty minutes, then just need to go take a quick shower.”

  He tugged on the bottom of my T-shirt, his index finger sliding over the skin of my belly. “New T-shirt?”

  Looking down like I could forget my latest novelty shirt, I read the caption below Deadpool in a Santa suit: Sit on my lap. I’ll make your wish come true.

  “I’m getting in the Christmas spirit.”

  “I see that.” He slid the back of his index finger along my skin above the edge of my j
eans, sending a pleasant chill down my spine. Goosebumps tingled on my skin. When he looked up from where his hand glided under my shirt, his eyes flared more gold than brown. “When do I get you to myself, Evie?”

  Shivering at the roughness in his voice, I replied a little breathlessly, “Soon. I have to get a shower and go break that hex first.”

  He leaned down and bit my earlobe, then licked away the sting. “I’m going crazy over here.”

  “Evie!” I jumped back out of Mateo’s arms like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I glanced down at the bulge in his jeans, kind of wishing I’d had my hand in the cookie jar.

  “Yeah?” I circled to the sound of my sister Isadora hurrying into the bar.

  Her blond waves streamed loosely around the shoulders of her pale green peasant blouse. She scurried through the tables, her flowy, cream-and-crimson skirt swishing, desperation in her bright green eyes. Isadora was my only sister with the same green eyes as my own.

  “Hey, Mateo,” she said in rush before turning back to me, her arms full with a box of paper and ribbons pouring out the top. “Please tell me you can help me with these decorations. I wanted to make little paper books for the tabletops for Clara to go with the teacups. And everyone else has other party tasks to do.”

  “It’s my party, too. What do I get?” Violet joined our circle, both hands on hips, looking totally put out.

  Isadora flipped her hair back out of her eyes, but it always slid forward again. “Livvy is taking care of yours, of course.”

  “Oh, okay. Good.” Violet heaved a little sigh of relief and nodded her approval. “Livvy will make sure it’s not too glittery.” Then she continued on past the bar and into the kitchen.