“That was nice of him,” Wanda said and her expression said that she, too, was surprised.

  “No, it wasn’t,” I answered as I recognized his plan. Wanda frowned up at me, revealing her confusion. “He knew I had no interest in procuring a gift for him so he gifted me this… libation in order to appear to be the bigger person.”

  The arsehole.

  Wanda inhaled deeply and then shook her head. “Clearly, there’s no hope for you, Rowe.”

  But, I was too busy unwrapping the other marvels in my pile to pay much attention to whatever disparaging comment she was paying me.

  “Oh, lovely!” I said as I looked down at Poppy’s gift, which was a bundle of new potions to try on my dental patients. Poppy’s tranquility potions had been incredibly effective at calming the anxious children who entered my practice, but Poppy had also mentioned she was experimenting with even stronger and more medicinal potions on my behalf. This batch appeared to be variants of tranquility or happiness potions with analgesic properties.

  Looking up, I sought the popular gypsy out among the crowd and, waving to her, flashed her a grateful smile when I caught her eye. She beamed. That was Poppy, so easily pleased. I supposed I could see why the barbarian was still pining for her. She was softer than Wanda, but no less desirable for it.

  Henner’s gift was something that made little sense to me—something with tubes and bolts and a windup crank.

  “What in the world is that?” Wanda asked.

  “I am certain no one aside from Henner knows,” I answered as I set the contraption aside and imagined I might coincidentally misplace it with someone else’s pile of goodies after the party festivities were finished for the night.

  Next, I unwrapped Marty’s gift which was a pair of Isotoner gloves, because I had complained of my hands growing quite cold while I was in my repose in the coffin in the back of the hearse. People are often under the belief that vampires can’t feel temperatures, but such is just guff.

  “Ah, how thoughtful of the mortal.”

  Louisa’s gifts included a homemade quilt that was quite loud—the reds, greens and golds seemed to be competing for the title of ‘Most Offensive Color’. Clearly, Louisa did not know me well, for if she had, she would know my favorite color was gray. Also included with the quilt was a tin of fudge, and the recipe to go with it. I found both quite odd, considering I was unable to eat anything and couldn’t recall the last time I had baked.

  “Perhaps this gift was meant for someone else,” I said in confusion.

  “Read the card,” Wanda responded.

  The card Louisa had attached heartily implied that I should gift Wanda the fudge, and the recipe was intended as a means to bake more once Wanda depleted her first stock. The cheeky note included a line about the ‘way to a woman’s heart being paved with chocolate’.

  “So… why’d she waste perfectly good fudge on you?” Wanda asked, peering over my shoulder to the open tin in my hands.

  I hid a smile and shrugged. “It’s for you, my love.”

  “Me?” she questioned with a frown. “Why didn’t she just give it to me herself?”

  I shook my head. “I do not deign to understand the ways of women.”

  Wanda answered my shrug with one of her own and plucked a piece of fudge from the tin. Plopping it into her mouth, she chewed thoughtfully before releasing an appreciative moan. The sort of moan that would give a man ideas. Ideas that were no good to have.

  “This is good.”

  I passed the tin to her, concealing another smile as I quickly peeled the recipe off the lid, imagining it might come in handy later. It did appear that Wanda was quite impressed with the chocolate goodies… hmm, another weapon in my arsenal…

  That only left Wanda’s gift, which still sat at my feet.

  Chapter Five

  Reaching for Wanda’s gift, I peeled back the gold wrapping paper to discover a white box underneath. She tensed beside me as I lifted the lid and peered inside. A neatly folded green brocade vest was the first item to catch my eye. It was well-cut, and something akin to what I would have worn to one of Rupert’s pretentious vampire balls. Just beneath the vest was a starched white dress shirt, and a small jewelry box tucked beneath that.

  I flipped the lid of the velvet jewelry box, not allowing myself to hope for something sentimental, like a promise or wedding ring. Witches didn’t approve of marriage as an institution, and I had heard Wanda go on about that exact subject at length—about rings being a ‘mark of ownership’, the whole act not unlike ‘branding cattle’. No, the gift within would not be a ring and though I tried to seal my disappointment, a bit seeped out.

  Instead, I found a pair of cufflinks. The firelight caught a pair of small emeralds in their gold setting and the jewels sparkled in the low light. And I was thrilled. Thrilled with the personal nature of Wanda’s gift—thrilled that she had created something with only me in mind, for it was clear Wanda had sewn the vest and shirt for me, herself, as proven by the ‘Wanda’s Witchery’ tag sewn at both necks.

  “What a… thoughtful gift,” I whispered, truly surprised. “Are they enchanted?”

  Wanda stared very pointedly at the libation clutched in her hand, refusing to look at me, even when I ran a thumb across the back of her hand. She did shiver, and I thought I saw spots of color form high on her cheeks.

  “No enchantments,” she answered, speaking to the beverage rather than to me. “I just… I just have… well, I’ve noticed green seems to compliment your eyes, and I figured if you were planning on petitioning that bastard, Rupert, again for leniency, you ought to look good doing it.” She nodded, as if convincing herself such was the true nature of her gift.

  I chuckled lightly. “Unfortunately, I am quite certain Rupert will not offer us further leniency. He is all out of clemency, I’ve no doubt.” And as to that subject, well, it was simply a matter of time until Rupert did come for us. Of course, as head of the Pacific Northwestern line of vampires, Rupert had to follow the rules as outlined by the Hollow. It was that red tape that I was counting on—bureaucracy that would hopefully continue to protect us until we could reverse this blood bond business, something which might be resolved sooner than we’d previously assumed.

  “Well, regardless, it’s still my ass on the line, same as yours, so if you think about it, this Yule gift is… well, it’s a completely selfish gesture, and nothing to get a swelled head about.”

  I gave her a sharp-toothed grin. “Thank you, my dearest. It’s the nicest gift I’ve ever received.”

  She made a soft growling sound in the back of her throat, and the sound was more intriguing than it should have been.

  “Just… don’t get used to it.”

  “I would never.”

  There was a moment of silence and during said silence, Wanda downed the remnants of her glass. Then she looked at me. “What did you get for me?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” I answered as I fished through her pile of gifts and, finding mine, handed it to her.

  She squinted at me before her long, nimble fingers made quick work of the red bow and equally red wrapping paper. A velvet box lay beneath, larger than the one that contained the cufflinks she’d given me. At the discovery of the box, her spine went ramrod straight, muscles tensing as though she were about to throw herself off the arm of the chair.

  She looked up at me then, and she was breathing fast. “This had better not be a ring.”

  I snorted. “As if you’d say yes, if it were.” I shook my head. “No, sweetling, though it’s not a symbol of my intense affection for you, it is equally valuable.” I paused a moment or more. “I believe it may be the answer to our current problem.” Her eyes widened momentarily and there was hope within their depths. “Well, go on then. Open it.”

  She muttered darkly, but did as I asked, easing the lid open. A necklace lay inside, nestled in a bed of white silk. The chain was made of 24 K gold, and a single, mostly colorless two carat taaffeite gem had been arranged in an elegant drop pendant. Aside from diamond, taaffeite was the most expensive gem available, and this one had set me back upwards of $70,000. If it worked as promised, it would be worth every penny.

  And regarding that exact subject, I was no warlock, true, but I could feel the enchantment on the stone even from where I sat. It made me inch away from the box, just as intended.

  Wanda waved a hand over the necklace as she studied it with narrowed and curious eyes, fingers skimming lightly over the air as if there were a physical barrier between herself and the necklace.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said with a frown as she continued to inspect it. “But there’s a repulsion charm on it.” She looked up at me then, in slight confusion. “A powerful one, but I don’t seem to be affected by it, which is strange because I know it’s there.”

  I nodded. It was exactly as I’d intended it to be. Very good. “The witch who enchanted it ensured it was only meant to repel one person.” I cleared my throat. “Me.”

  Wanda immediately sat up straight, finally giving me full eye contact. Her expression was uncharacteristically soft. She shook her head.

  “Why would you hire someone to enchant this… against you?”

  I could have sworn she sounded disappointed, and some part of me wished to run a victory lap.

  She cared. She really cared.

  “I told you my… need for you was growing stronger by the day, getting worse,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Thus, the necklace is a… an insurance policy.”

  “An insurance policy?”

  I nodded. “It should stop me dead in my tracks if I went for your throat, thus allowing you time to escape or to hex me. What’s more, the necklace also includes a charm that ensures it can only be removed by the person who first puts it on, so I wouldn’t be able to rip it off you in a fit of madness.”

  I was proud of myself because I had thought of all hypothetical situations which might find me threatening Wanda’s safety. At least, I hoped I’d thought of them all.

  “You can control the level of repulsion as well,” I continued.

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “You simply speak to the level you wish the necklace to display and your wish is its command.”

  “Low repulsion level,” she responded as she looked down at it. Though it didn’t outwardly react, she nodded as she looked up at me. “It worked.”

  “I can feel the drop as well.”

  Wanda lifted the necklace from the silk and inspected it. When the pendant was within a few inches of her throat, the previously clear gem began to bleed to a rich ruby.

  “The gem will change colors, depending on your clothing ensemble,” I informed her. She sucked in a breath and turned it over in her fingers with an odd sort of reverence in her eyes.

  “So it will always match my outfits.”

  I nodded. “I am well aware of how fashion conscious you are.”

  She grew quiet for a moment or two as she continued to admire the stone. Then she looked up at me.

  “This protects my neck, but you could still go for my wrists,” she pointed out.

  I shook my head. “When at its highest, the repulsion charm is enough to dissuade me from existing anywhere near you… even down the block I would feel it,” I started, doing my best to ignore the charm which was, even now, causing the hair on my body to stand up in alarm.

  She leaned in and planted a soft, almost chaste kiss on my lips.

  “You thought of everything,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  I leaned in, erasing the remaining space between us, and murmured against her lips. “Anything for you, dearest. Merry Christmas, Wanda.”

  “Blessed Yule, Lorcan.”

  ***

  After Wanda had placed the necklace around her neck and the last of the gifts were distributed and everyone had drunk their fill of alcoholic libations, most of the partygoers made their excuses and left. Those more serious revelers (perhaps a handful of them) settled in around the massive fireplace of the drawing room (massive as in the walls of the fire box were large enough to accommodate a six-foot man) to relax and converse. I could barely keep track of the conversation, too preoccupied with drinking in Wanda’s heavenly beauty.

  The necklace seemed to have given Wanda a new sense of security where I was concerned, because she was now settled comfortably on my lap, shortly after the gift-giving portion of the evening had finished. There she’d remained for the last hour and a half.

  Though she was seated upon my lap and I reveled in the feel of her, I couldn’t help the sense of disgust that continued to plague me, riding up my back and causing my fight-or-flight reflexes to stand at attention. The spell upon the necklace was working like... well... a charm.

  Regardless, feeling her shapely rump upon my lap was beyond distracting—I could scarce see straight, let alone keep tabs on the various conversations existing around me. No, all I could think about was her. She was a warm, welcome weight, soft in all the right places, though not as fulsome as she’d once been. Time, stress, and the new half-vampire metabolism she’d acquired from my blood had kept her from gaining an ounce since her move to the Hollow. In truth, she’d actually shed weight. I knew this new shape bothered her, because she preferred a more voluptuous body, but no matter what shape she took, to me she would always be the most sultry, beautiful, awe-inspiring and stunning creature I’d ever seen.

  As much as I would have liked to press a kiss to the nape of her neck, instinctual revulsion gripped me every time I moved closer to her in order to try. With the spell pressing against my will, I’d have sooner bitten the brutish sasquatch than the woman upon my lap.

  Speaking of the beast, he was currently moping on the opposite side of the room, watching the festivities though not partaking of them. I was more than certain he had noticed the recent… closeness between Poppy and my employee, Martin the human. Though Poppy did her best to display no outward affection or anything that might point to a difference in her friendship with the mortal, Marty was quite literally hanging all over her. And through the course of the evening and the more libations of which he partook, he now appeared more like her jacket than her date.

  But, that was none of my concern. If Poppy wanted to carry on with mortals, who was I to advise her otherwise? And though I felt mildly disheartened for the brute (that was probably another reason he’d gifted me the beer—to play upon my sympathies, blast him!), I was more interested in the woman upon my lap. Though I did have to admit—part of me wanted to run, owing to that spell that was now vibrating off her.

  “Dearest, can you tone the repulsion down just a bit more? I quite feel like I’m going to vomit, which would be a feat considering I’m incapable.”

  She laughed. “Lowest repulsion level,” she said in a soft voice, and the feeling to flee lessened considerably.

  “Ah, much better. Thank you.”

  She nodded, and I contented myself with a hand at the small of her back, idly tracing the curvature of her spine and stroking abstract patterns into her skin. If my touch bothered her, she didn’t show it. A moment later, though, she stood up and exited the room. I assumed she had to answer the call of nature, but when she returned, she carried with her a misshapen log. I wasn’t quite sure why, as we had plenty of firewood for the fire.

  I threw back the dregs of my blood-Chata number ten with a scowl. The sasquatch had already told me I was cut off when I’d requested this one, the bastard. Couldn’t a man get properly rat-arsed during a holiday party, for feck’s sake?

  Wanda walked up to the front of the room and smiled at everyone in order to obtain their attention.

  “A Yule log!” someone yelled out.

  Wanda nodded. “As you all are probably aware, the Yule log was considered a gift from the goddess and the burning of it brought comfort to our ancestors long ago. During the depths of midwinter, the log provided the only source of light and heat.” She placed the log upon the grate and the flames lapped it up in earnest. Wanda looked back at those assembled before her and continued. “Tradition states that we light the Yule log tonight, and leave it in the grate until Twelfth Night.”

  “Why do we do that?” Finn asked.

  “Because doing so brings good fortune in the coming year,” Wanda answered, giving him a sweet smile that suddenly made me jealous of the little chap. “The charred remains of the log were long thought to possess special powers, including protecting the house and all those within it, especially from lightning and fires.”

  “And have you any proof?” I asked, even as I doubted whether doing so was such a good idea. I just… I suddenly yearned for her attention, for her focus, for her eyes to take me in such as mine were taking her in. Of course, I was also quite blighted by alcohol at this point.

  “Proof?” Wanda shot me a poisonous glare, and I instantly realized my mistake—she believed in all this tripe, even if I didn’t. “It’s a tradition, Rowe.”

  “Ah,” I answered as I thought to further explain my less than agreeable comment, for the last thing I desired was her anger or offense at my silly comment. “The only tradition I had as a lad was getting completely pissed.”

  “Pissed?” Finn repeated as Poppy gave me a discouraging glance, even shaking her head.

  “He means ‘drunk’,” she explained to the young child.

  I nodded. “That was my father’s tradition, aye—getting blootered every day, and it landed him in an early grave.” Even though I hadn’t brought to memory thoughts of my father or my youth in a very long time, they suddenly revisited me as if they had occurred only yesterday, not over two hundred years ago and in visiting me, they infuriated me just as my father had all those centuries ago. Anger, the likes of which I hadn’t felt in a very long time, suddenly surged within me, fueled by the alcohol in my blood.

  “I say feck tradition!” I called out as I stood up and, looking down, noticed my glass was empty. Blast!

  “Lorcan,” Wanda said in a low and warning tone.

  I shook my head. “Feck traditions and the goddess and the whole lot of it! It’s all just a bunch of flim-flam!”