I eyed her suspiciously. I wouldn’t have put it past her. Well, in the past anyway… today though… Wanda had worried she’d been growing soft from the moment she’d moved to Haven Hollow and she was right—her heart had softened considerably but, if anything, it only made her even more wonderful.

  “It’s getting worse,” I admitted.

  “How so?”

  “Because I think about you constantly,” I answered in jest, but there was nothing but truth behind the sentiment. “I constantly must remind myself of all the reasons it’s a terrible idea to come into your shop, drag you into the back room, and have my wicked way with you.”

  She swallowed hard, and her heart started to race again.

  Make my wish come true, I sang to myself.

  “Tell me what you’d do if you… ahem, if you… dragged me to my back room.”

  “Everything I’ve wanted to do to you from the moment you moved to Haven Hollow.”

  “Come now, Lorcan, that’s not very descriptive.”

  It was my turn to swallow hard. “I can’t be descriptive, my dear, or we both won’t like the outcome.” I paused and watched an expression of disappointment settle over her features.

  “I shouldn’t have… provoked you,” she offered on a soft exhale.

  “Regardless, I believe I might have found a way to put a stop to this bloodlust craze.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And do I get to be in on the secret?”

  I spun her once and winked at her, all the while doing my best not to notice the exquisite scent she was giving off. “You’re going to have to wait until you’ve opened my Christmas gift, dear. And my birthday gift after that.”

  She frowned at me. “Birthday gift? In case you didn’t notice, this is a Yule party, not a birthday party.”

  I nodded. “I’m aware.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’m also well aware that my favorite witch’s birthday falls on the twenty-first of December, the same day as the start of Yule… today.”

  “You keep all that to yourself, Rowe.” She gave me a shove. After Roy’s rib-creaking blows earlier, Wanda’s attempt felt like being batted by a satin pillow.

  “And why are you attempting to hide your birthday, dearest?”

  “Because I want this party to be about Yule and not about me.”

  “How very unwitchlike of you.”

  She glowered at me. Ah, to be in familiar territory again.

  “Promise you won’t mention a word about my birthday.”

  “Really, my love, there is nothing to be ashamed of regarding turning one-hundred-forty-one. As I understand, one’s one-hundred-forties are akin to one’s one-hundred-twenties.”

  “Lorcan…”

  I chuckled and made a motion of sealing my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Swear on it. Everyone knows you’re a blabbermouth.”

  “Dearest!” I cried, feigning insult. “How can you talk about your boyfriend in such a way?”

  She was about to lambaste me with some witty spray of words, but the words caught in her throat as she frowned up at me.

  “You’re not my… my boyfriend.”

  “Am I not?”

  She shook her head. “You know as well as I do that we’re not a couple.”

  I shrugged. “We’re dating.”

  “By necessity,” she answered, nodding. “So you don’t rip my throat out.”

  “You genuinely like me, find me amusing, funny even, and you’re beyond attracted to me,” I answered, drawing her a little closer. She shivered, and I knew it wasn’t from the slight draft.

  “Your ego knows no bounds.”

  “That’s not a denial.”

  “You’re insufferable.”

  I gave her a cheeky grin. “Neither is that.”

  “Lorcan…”

  “Deep down, you know you’re fond of me.”

  “Deep down as in… somewhere in the earth’s core or further south, around the pits of hell, I might possibly think you’re okay. Handy, since that’s exactly where you crawled out of.”

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” I chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

  She scowled up at me. “Only because the vampire doth talk too much.”

  I shrugged. “Perhaps such is true, but the fact still stands…”

  “What fact?”

  I smiled at her in that way that seemed to drive her irritation up a notch or two. “The fact that five songs have now passed even though you only promised me one.”

  And, luckily, none of them were Mariah Carey’s.

  Chapter Four

  It was quite fortuitous that I had purchased most of the available real estate in the Hollow prior to Wanda’s arrival. It meant I now had many unoccupied homes that could host supernatural gatherings such as this one.

  Even in a Hollow bespelled to confuse mortals, one could only press one’s luck so far. Certain monsters, such as vampires, incubi, succubae, and various shifter species, could pass for humans well enough, true, but more often than not, monsters had to hide in the shadows. Fifi’s new realty office was attempting to target exotics, those types of monsters who would never be able to pass as anything approaching human. Such creatures were the majority of our population, and there was something of a schism between the haves and have nots in our supernatural community. Hats off to Fifi, who was attempting to repair the rift, one home at a time.

  As I mentioned before, this little shindig was birthed from the generously imaginative mind of Wanda who, once being impregnated with the kernel of the idea, had pestered me (rather relentlessly, I might add) into seeing this spectacle through.

  Yes, my dear witch had certainly shed her previously selfish cast in the year she had lived in Haven Hollow. It had taken quite severe digging on Poppy’s part, but the gypsy had unearthed Wanda’s heart. Not that my prickly paramour would ever admit such was a good thing (which it most certainly was).

  If any mundane had parted the curtains and peered inside the ballroom window, they would have witnessed a scene pulled from a fantasy novel. Small, winged faeries settled on the Queen Anne chandelier, and still more kicked their dangling little legs impatiently from the rafters. The entire assembly underneath was under the constant barrage of iridescent faerie dust, as if we were in the midst of a particularly luminous snowstorm.

  A huge, shaggy Grimm warmed his fur near the fireplace while Ivan, Fifi’s dragon-shifter employee, occasionally spat out a tongue of flame to kindle the dying flames. A pair of dwarves eagerly discussed their plans for the abandoned mining shaft Fifi had recently sold them, while a frail-looking dryad munched happily on a plate full of compost just behind them.

  I threw back the last of my drink, keeping tabs on Poppy and Finn, who weaved in between the creatures with arms full of wrapped presents. Among them would be a gift I’d gone to great lengths to procure for Wanda. This gift was a general Christmas present and not the gift I’d secured for her birthday. I would wait to bequeath that one upon her later, when it was just the two of us. As regards the Christmas gift, though, a fuzzy, hopeful part of me (probably brought on by my eighth blood-Chata) wondered if Wanda had gotten anything for me. Most likely not, but it was still a nice thought.

  The wingback creaked as Wanda lowered herself down beside me, leaning her quite shapely rump upon the arm of the chair. I jerked a little in surprise. She’d disappeared shortly after our fifth dance ended, and I hadn’t expected to see her for the rest of the evening, as she was quite busy playing hostess. As to my surprise at her proximity—Wanda’s upbringing hadn’t been what one would term ‘warm’, so any display of closeness tended to leave her uncomfortable.

  “Sweetling,” I greeted with a nod, noting the slur in my voice with less concern than I probably ought to. Yes, it was possible for vampires to become inebriated—something I had done quite often before Wanda had moved to the Hollow. And a few times since. “What brings you to my armchair?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t read into it, Rowe. I know you’re planning on gifting me a present, and I wanted to make sure I was close enough to hex you if it’s something perverse.”

  I pulled a face and clutched my poor undead heart in mock affront. “Would I present you with something perverse, dearest?”

  “Without hesitation.”

  “You wound me!”

  She frowned, but her lips curled up at the ends which hinted to her amusement. “Just to prove by example, how many wisecracks have you made about seeing me in my bra?”

  “To be fair, dearest, you do take off your brassiere in my company quite frequently.”

  “Only because the spell calls for it,” she insisted, and I could practically hear her molars disintegrating under the onslaught of her upset. She’d have to see me about those sooner or later because a grinding guard would most certainly be called for soon. Hmm, I would have to add it to the ever-growing list of comforts for this lovely lady mine.

  “The spell calls for it?” I repeated, fully aware of her meaning but just trying to give her more reason to remain seated so near me.

  “Yes, the spell calls for it,” she insisted, rolling her eyes at my apparent forgetfulness. Little did she know that where she was concerned, I never forgot one itty-bitty detail.

  “We need skin-to-skin contact for the spell to work as you know.”

  “Ah,” I nodded. “I do recall that now.”

  “So… the near naked stuff is only… for the spell. Nothing more.”

  I shrugged. “As long as that explanation allows you to sleep well at night, my dear.”

  Wanda settled a little closer to me with a light laugh that admitted she was fibbing as much as I already knew she was. The slit in her awe-inspiring dress crept all the way up to her hip, and with the way she was seated, a tantalizing amount of skin was now on display. If I’d been an artistic sort, I might have committed the flawless curve of her calf and upper thigh to canvas. Alas, art had never been my creative outlet. Truth be told, I was more driven by the written word.

  A moment later, I was quite startled from my amorous preoccupation with Wanda’s leg, when Poppy and Finn approached, each bearing a stack of wrapped boxes.

  “We have gifts for you both,” Poppy announced.

  She motioned for Finn to drop the pile of gifts he was carrying in front of me as she did the same with Wanda’s. The latter’s stack was larger than mine, of course, but I was astonished to have received anything at all and quite heart-warmed, I had to admit.

  “There are gifts for me?” I asked, still a bit flummoxed to learn such might be the case, though I didn’t want to get my hopes up if there had been a mistake. If such really was the case, though, then this was the first Christmas on record that I could remember having received anything at all.

  “Sure there’re presents for you,” Finn answered, giving me an expression that said I was quite bonkers. “It’s Christmas.”

  “Yule,” Wanda corrected him with a reproachful smile.

  “I still don’t get the difference,” the boy answered, shaking his head. I wasn’t fond of children, in general, as I found their conversation to be quite banal and pre-occupied with insignificant subjects such as toys, for example. But, Finn was a precocious boy, and I believed his conversation would most likely age like a fine wine.

  “Yule precedes Christmas,” Poppy started.

  “It’s more than that,” Wanda nearly interrupted and faced the child with the expression of a teacher about to give a lengthy lecture. “Yule is a festival of the celebration of Winter.”

  “That’s why it happens in December?” Finn asked.

  Wanda nodded. “That’s why it eventually became associated with Christmas, even though it predates Christmas by centuries. Have you never heard of the Wild Hunt?” Finn shook his head and Wanda gave his mother an expression that said she was disappointed with the child’s schooling. Poppy simply shrugged as Wanda continued. “The Wild Hunt is a ghostly procession in the winter sky.”

  “That doesn’t sound very Christmassy,” Finn answered, scrunching up his pert little nose. “Sounds more like Halloween.”

  “Quite the opposite,” Wanda continued. “During the celebration of winter, the goddess opens the doors between this world and the next. She welcomes in our ancestors who have gone before us, those undead beings who, once again, are allowed to walk the earth. And we celebrate them with feasting, drinking, and spending time with our friends.”

  Finn continued to frown before he shrugged as he turned to face me. “Well, either way, we have presents for you, Lorcan.”

  “And how delighted I am to hear as much!” I said as I clapped my hands together and wondered if this was how Ebenezer Scrooge felt at the end of the classic Dickens tale. The more I thought about it, the more Finn struck me as quite a good substitute for poor Tiny Tim. I wondered if perhaps Poppy would allow me to dress him in period rags to further complete the image in my head.

  “Well, here you go, Lorcan,” Poppy said, passing off the wobbling tower with a Hallmark-card smile.

  “And who has bestowed upon me these lovely gifts?”

  “Well, there’s one from Finn and me, one from Roy—”

  “The beast gifted me a present?” I asked, in obvious shock, until I further contemplated the subject and decided whatever the brute had to give me, I doubted I’d want. It was probably something along the lines of a rawhide bone or a chew toy.

  “He did,” Poppy answered quickly. “There’s also one from Marty.”

  I nodded, for this gift made more sense. “Ah, I am his employer.”

  “There’s one from Wanda.”

  I looked at her in plain shock. “You thought to gift me a present?”

  “Don’t get all emotional—I gave everyone in our group a gift. This is Yule, after all.”

  I continued to smile. “Well, I appreciate not being left out.”

  “There’s one from Betanya,” Poppy continued rather hurriedly. She was, no doubt, in a hurry to play the part of St. Nick to our other guests. The gift from Betanya was another one that didn’t strike me as necessarily surprising, considering I had saved the witch when she was in quite a bad way.

  “Very good,” I said and made a motion for Poppy to continue.

  “There’s something from Henner and two gifts from Louisa.”

  “Two?” I asked, not meaning for my voice to rise in pitch, but such was exactly what occurred.

  Poppy nodded. “I think she’s grateful you gave her a bargain when her two eldest needed braces.” Then she breathed in deeply and shook her head. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be to feed, clothe, and take care of six kids. I’ve got my hands full with one.”

  I nodded, but I had to admit my mind wasn’t occupied with Louisa and her brood of puppies. Instead, I couldn’t quite steer my thoughts away from the gift from my beloved. A pleasant warmth spread over my chest, but I did my damndest to hide my smile. Wanda would probably hex it off my face.

  “I admit, I am still quite bewildered to know you thought of me this holiday season, Lady Macbeth,” I said as I faced the woman in question.

  “Lady Macbeth?” Finn repeated, frowning as Poppy snickered behind him, hiding her laugh behind a well-intended hand.

  “Quite right, Tiny Finn, my boy.”

  “Tiny Finn?” the boy in question asked as he glanced up at his mother, who simply shrugged.

  I, meanwhile, returned to his earlier question. “Lady Macbeth is perhaps most remembered for persuading her husband to murder some poor sot whose name escapes me now. And as to why I compared her to Wanda? Because Lady Macbeth is manipulative, ambitious and quite ruthless, not unlike our Blood Witch.” I smiled broadly.

  Finn looked up at Wanda with wide eyes. “Have you ever murdered someone, Wanda?”

  The woman in question looked right at me then, her eyes narrowing. “No, but the night’s still young.”

  I bit back another smile when she faux elbowed me in the ribs and then nodded toward the pile of shiny, wrapped gifts at my feet.

  “Open your presents, fangface.”

  I nodded as there was nothing I wanted to do more at that very moment than open my presents, with the exception of the beast’s. “Shall I open yours first, or save it to increase the titillation factor?”

  Wanda’s fingers curled into the arm of the leather wingback chair, squeezing the upholstery until her knuckles went white. I swore there was something faintly murderous in the gorgeous depths of her eyes.

  “And on that note, we’ve got to get going,” Poppy announced. “We’ve got lots of gifts left to distribute and I’m not in the mood to explain the meaning of—”

  “Mom, what’s ‘titillation’ mean?”

  Poppy frowned at me. “Exactly.”

  “We understand, my dear,” I answered for Wanda and myself.

  “Merry Christmas, er Yule, Wanda,” Finn said with a little smile as he then turned to me and the smile grew. “And you too, Fangface.” Then he erupted into a fit of giggles and I reconsidered casting him as Tiny Tim.

  Wanda, meanwhile, trailed off into breathless little titters and I thought idly of pulling her under the mistletoe to staunch that flow of giggles. There were more interesting things we could be doing with our mouths than mocking one another. But in that direction lay fatalities, so I contented myself with ripping into the first gift on the pile.

  The first turned out to be from that odious troll of a giant, and contrary to my supposition, the gift was not of the chew toy variety. Instead, it was a bottle of handcrafted beer from Big Foot Brews, a distillery owned and operated by the sasquatches who lived in the mountain range nearest the Hollow. The brand was sought after—not only owing to the complexity of flavor, but also due to its scarcity. Sasquatches tended to keep to themselves, trading only with others of their kind, and otherwise generally avoiding everyone else.

  “Hmm,” I said as I cocked my head to the side and battled with my feelings towards the brute.