Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

NICHOLAS

“ W hat do you mean, we can’t leave tonight?”

The innkeepers were not my parents, nor were they any sort of authority figures in my life to dictate what I could or could not do. Yet somehow they were telling me that Holly and I could not leave that night as planned. The only reason we had stopped back at the bed-and-breakfast was because we left the car there while we browsed the marketplace, only a few blocks from the place. It made no sense to drive there.

Mae and Harold, the owners of the Yule House, dressed in new obnoxious holiday sweaters tonight, looked alarmed at my anger and glanced at Holly for reassurance. Holly did not disappoint.

“I’m sure Nick didn’t mean to be so abrupt. Could explain what you mean about not leaving? We have to get home for the holidays. I’m sure you understand.” Holly laid a hand on my forearm, and I gave them a pained grin.

Judging by their widening eyes, I failed to reassure them. Harold swallowed, the blood pounding harder in his veins, which I could sense easily. “There’s a big snowstorm moving in, fueled by lake effect snow from the Great Lakes. We’re expecting a few feet of snow and whiteout conditions.”

Mae leaned forward. “We were actually very worried about you, thinking you had already left and would be trapped on the highway. It’s too dangerous to drive anywhere right now.”

Harold nodded. “The state police have asked everyone to stay where they are at least through the night, but most likely through the next couple of days until they can clear the roads.”

An icy chill gripped my heart. I wasn’t worried about the time. I had a few days before Yule, December twenty-first. Plenty of time to get home. And I didn’t think the hitmen on Holly’s trail could catch us, since they wouldn’t be able to move through the snow either. But I would need to feed soon. And the mating instinct was growing, forcing me to the one woman I needed to avoid, the one woman who had been clear she wanted nothing to do with me in that respect.

Holly glanced at me worriedly. “Where will we stay? I’m sure every place is booked up.”

“Do you have a stable we could use?” Judging by the flat look everyone gave me, the joke was not a hit.

“We actually have your room still reserved for you. When I saw the weather report, I made sure to keep it for you, hoping you hadn’t left yet.”

Holly hugged the older woman. “Thank you so much. That was very kind, wasn’t it, Nick?”

I smiled, a much kinder one this time, I hoped. “Yes, thank you for thinking of us. Is there anything we can do to help you prepare?”

Mae eyed me speculatively. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind, Harold could use a hand bringing in some more wood for the stove. In case we lose power, it would be nice to have enough wood for the fire. And I can get started on the baking for tomorrow. I expect we’ll have people here for more than breakfast.”

“Would you like some help? I’ve been dying to bake some Christmas cookies, and I know how busy you are with preparations.”

Mae seized Holly’s hands. “I would be delighted. I haven’t had time to do tomorrow’s baking and would love the help.”

Harold clapped his hands. “We all have our orders. Do you need help with your bags from the car?”

I shook my head. “I’ll bring them in now, then help with the wood. Point me in the direction of the woodpile.”

I watched Holly follow Mae down the hall to the kitchen, both women cheerfully chatting away. Harold shook his head. “They’ll be lost in there for hours. I have a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch we can share when we’re done. Avoid the women and any additional chores they have for us. I swear, that woman can invent the most bizarre tasks for me.”

I followed him outside, splitting up to grab our things from the car. A few hours later, flakes were falling heavier as we finished stacking wood in the lean-to next to the back door. Harold took off his leather gloves and wiped his forehead.

“Glad we’re done with that, and much faster with your help. I don’t think you’re even winded. I’m much too old for this.”

I had heard the way his blood rushed through his veins and did my best to ensure the older man didn’t have to take the majority of the loads. I feared his heart wasn’t healthy enough for the strain. I ruled him out as a possible blood source, something I had considered briefly since we would be working privately for a while, and I could easily mesmerize the older man and give him time to recover. But it would weaken him too much. I needed to look elsewhere.

I had an inn full of options. Sadly, my body only wanted one person.

We walked into the kitchen, and the smell of cinnamon scones filled the space, along with the underlying scent of Holly, the unique blend of vanilla and sugar cookies that I’d come to associate with her. My blood rushed south, and I hardened instantly. My gums ached as my fangs wanted to descend. I suspected my eyes were turning red, but I couldn’t leave without being rude. I faced the large picture window to watch the snow coming down heavily outside.

Holly stepped up next to me, tilting up her face to look outside. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I looked down at her, at the smile that curved her lips and the way her eyes shone in the kitchen light. “Yes, it is.” She blushed, and I took her hand. “Take a walk with me.”

“It’s freezing outside,” Mae protested.

“We won’t be out there long,” I said, without taking my eyes off Holly.

Her eyes sparkled. “I’d love to.”

Mae sighed. “Well, if you insist, don’t go far. Let me get you some gear so you don’t get frostbite.”

Holly

I don’t know what had come over Nick, but a romantic walk in the snow was my catnip. I always loved the first snowfall and had been dying to go outside, but Mae had needed my help, and I missed baking. But we were done, and I was far from tired.

I bundled up in the hat, scarf, gloves, and my coat, feeling more like the Michelin Man than a human, and followed Nick outside. He was barely dressed for the weather, a scarf around his neck and a pair of gloves on, but that was it. He didn’t seem affected by the weather, so I wasn’t going to ask.

We walked beyond the house, and everything was so quiet, the hush of a night during a snowfall. A few inches had already fallen, and the way the snow was coming down, it would accumulate quickly. I was glad we had stayed and didn’t risk the drive. It was almost midnight now, and the sky was so bright from the snow on the ground and the light reflecting from it. It was so quiet that I swore you could hear the snow falling, gently settling on the drifts around us. It felt like we were alone, in a snow globe, with flakes dancing around us and no one else around.

I lifted my face to the sky, closing my eyes, and let the snow fall on me, gathering on my eyes, hair, and skin.

“You love winter.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Nick. “I love a nighttime snowfall. It’s so peaceful and quiet, like we’re the only people who exist. I can forget everything else—all the bad things, everything that’s sad—and just be.”

He cocked his head as if trying to understand what I meant. Then he nodded. “There are so many people everywhere, always. I suppose snow drives them inside so you can be out here, alone and at peace.”

“Exactly. Everyone stays inside, which can be fun too, but it’s so clean and fresh. Look at the snow. It’s white, pure, not dirty or damaged by shoveling or sand or anything. It’s a fresh start. It’s beautiful. You lived in New England. You must have experienced snow up there.”

He looked thoughtful. “I don’t really remember. It’s been so long. Snow was just another season for us. We were an isolated community, and snow reinforced that. Since I left, I’ve traveled a lot, and some areas didn’t have any snow. But I never saw it like this.”

I lifted my head again, sticking my tongue out to catch some snowflakes on my tongue. “It’s clean, fresh, new. Try it.”

Before I could react, he pulled me close and kissed me. His lips were hard against mine, demanding a response, and I eagerly complied, opening my mouth just a little, and he took advantage. His tongue swept inside, cool and insistent, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the snow falling around us.

Nick's hands gripped my waist, and despite the thick wool of my winter coat, I could feel the strength in his fingers. The knowledge that he could crush me without any effort made my heart race faster, but I wasn't afraid. Not anymore. Not of him. He had shown me his protective side, and I knew that I never had to fear him.

Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes as I tilted my head back, letting him deepen the kiss. His mouth was cooler than a human's would be, but the longer we kissed, the warmer it became, as if my heat was seeping into him. The thought made me press closer, wanting to share more of that warmth.

The snow fell silently around us, muffling all sound except my ragged breathing and the soft growl that rumbled in Nick's chest. The white flakes caught in his dark hair, creating a stunning contrast that made him look otherworldly in the dim light spilling from the bed-and-breakfast's windows. Each crystalline flake that landed on his pale skin refused to melt, as if recognizing him as one of their own—beautiful, cold, eternal.

His right hand slid up my back to tangle in my hair, and he used the grip to angle my head exactly how he wanted it. The possessive gesture sent heat pooling in my belly, and I clutched at his shoulders, my fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his coat. The kiss turned harder, more desperate, and I felt the careful control he usually maintained start to slip.

When his lips left mine to trail down my neck, I gasped. The midnight air was sharp in my lungs, and each exhale formed little clouds between us. I knew what he wanted—what we both wanted—and tilted my head to the side in silent invitation. His chest rumbled again, and I felt the scrape of fangs against my throat, not breaking the skin, but promising what could come.

“Holly,” he whispered against my pulse point, his voice rough with need. The sound of my name on his lips made me shiver again. “We should stop.”

“I don't want to stop,” I breathed, sliding one hand up to the nape of his neck, holding him against my throat. The snow was coming down harder now, creating a white curtain around us, as if we were in our own private world. “I trust you, Nick.”

He shuddered against me, placing one last, lingering kiss on my neck before raising his head to look at me. His eyes had gone from their usual gray to a brilliant silver, pupils blown wide with desire. Snowflakes clung to his long eyelashes, and I reached up to brush them away with trembling fingers.

“You shouldn't trust me,” he said, leaning into my touch. “I’m not safe.”

“Maybe I don't want safe,” I replied, letting my fingers trail down his cheek. His skin was cool and smooth as marble, but I knew the fire that burned beneath that controlled exterior. I'd seen glimpses of it, and I wanted more. “Maybe I just want you.”

He shuddered under my fingers and rested his forehead against mine. “We should go inside. It’s too cold for you out here.”

I refused to move, and he looked at me, one eyebrow arched. “Only if continue where we left off.”

He sighed. “Holly…”

I pressed my fingers to his lips. “I know what I’m asking for. I want you, Nick, and I’m tired of not having what I want. Please.”

As if the word broke through all his reservations, he swept me up into his arms and strode to the inn as if he couldn’t wait another second.