Chapter One
Morgan
“Shannon, I’m sorry.”
“Saying you’re sorry doesn’t help, Morgan; we always do Christmas together. Since freshman year. It’s our tradition.” I can hear her frustration over the phone. And disappointment. As though that wasn’t bad enough, she adds, “My parents are going to be really upset you’re bailing, and I don’t even want to tell my brothers.”
“I’m not bailing, Shan, things are just crazy up here and I’m worried I’ll get behind if I leave.”
“Even for a few days? What kind of program are you in, anyway? This sounds nuts.”
A woman bangs into me with her shopping bag. Another elbows me with her umbrella. “Sorry!” I call, unable to stop the southern manners ingrained since birth. Like every other time I apologized for something I didn’t do, my words are met with a scowl of annoyance. Sometimes I hate northerners. “Merry freaking Christmas,” I mutter.
“I’m just…I had everything planned. The tree lighting downtown. Cookie baking. Christmas song karaoke down at The Tavern. You know, like always.”
My heart pangs as she describes all our traditions. Shannon and her family really stepped in after my parents died, but I know I can’t leave the city. Not now. If I give an inch, the Morrigan will wreak havoc on the city. The light changes and I cross the street. The Nead is two blocks away. Now if I can only get there without running into one of those bell-ringing Salvation Army Santas that are on every corner. Not because I don’t like to donate, I do, every one I pass, but I’m seconds from bursting into tears and I don’t want Santa or anyone else to see me cry.
“This is about your roommates, isn’t it? Your five boyfriends?”
“No!” I shout loud enough to garner a look from someone passing by. “No. It’s the school work and the travel and I’ve had writer’s block lately and I’m just so far behind that I’m afraid any deviation of routine will screw me up for good. I just can’t afford to take off the next five days. I’m barely holding on by a thread here.” I stop near the house and lower my voice. “Things are so crazy that even though I have five incredibly sexy boyfriends, I haven’t had a moment alone with them in weeks.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.” Things have been weird around The Nead. Tensions are a little high. My balance is particularly off with the lack of sex, and the guardians feel it as well. Shannon is quiet on the other end of the phone and I know she’s not going to argue anymore. I climb the steps to The Nead and stand outside the front door despite the fact it’s freezing outside.
“I promise we’ll get together soon. Okay? I seriously want you to come up for a visit. Maybe once it’s not so cold, because girl, it’s awful. I want a warm, sunny Christmas like home!”
“I’m not happy about this,” she reiterates.
“Me either.” I’m sick of the Morrigan controlling what I do in my life. Christmas break is just another thing she’s ruined. What good is it being part goddess if you aren’t in control? “I’ll call you on Christmas Eve, okay?”
“We’ll be going to the midnight service.”
“I know. I’ll call before you go.”
I hear her sniff. “Promise?”
“Yep. Tell your parents I’m sorry and that I miss them.”
“I will.”
The massive wood door opens and Davis stands just inside, offering his hand to take my bag. I give it over and say, “Love you,” into the phone.
“Love you, too.”
I step into the warm house and Davis takes my coat off my shoulders. “I’ll deliver this bag to your room. You should probably head straight in for dinner. It’s five past seven.”
I check my phone for the time and groan. How did it get so late? If I could get out of this dinner, I would. I’m not sure I’m going to make it through without blubbering like a baby. Davis looks at me kindly and reaches in his pocket. He hands me a fresh, white handkerchief.
“Thank you,” I squeak, trying not to completely lose it. “Can you tell the others I’ll be there in a minute? I just need to stop and freshen up a little.”
“Yes, ma’am. Take your time.”
There’s a bathroom off the main hall and I slip in. I take a minute to blow my nose and splash water on my face. I’m drying off when there’s a knock on the door.
“Just a minute,” I call.
“Morgan, you okay?” It’s Sam. I should have known one of them would come and check when Davis said I would be late.
“I’m fine.” I open the door and find my Guardian looking handsome as ever. Dark blue button-down shirt. Slim jeans. His hair is knotted at the back of his head and his green eyes are narrowed in concern. I lean over and give him a kiss, tasting wine on his lips.
“You don’t look okay,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “I mean, you look beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but I can tell something’s wrong. Spill.”
I lean into his hug, feeling safety and comfort. He smells warm and like the fresh scent of clean laundry. I want to snuggle up with him by the fire and forget about dinner and Christmas and tradition. That thought brings another wave of tears—this one I can’t hold back.
“Come on, babe,” he says, walking me slowly to the dining room. Dylan stands at the door, his face pale with worry as I walk by. His eyes dart to the others, who stop their conversation abruptly when they see me.
“Darling, what’s going on?” Damien says, pushing past Clinton and Bunny. He takes my hands. “Another attack? The Morrigan?”
“No. Nothing like that.” I take a deep breath and will back the tears. “I’m being emotional and dramatic. It’s not a big deal.”
“You being upset is always a big deal,” Clinton says, his gray eyes full of intensity. “You’re the balance in this house. What can we do to help?”
I slip out of Sam’s arms and head to my seat at the table. Dylan leaves his spot at the door and moves to his seat across from me. When everyone takes their place and Sue delivers the first course of our meal I say, “I’d planned on going home for the holidays. To Shannon’s house. Her parents have hosted me since we met freshman year and always treated me like one of the family. Shannon has three ridiculous brothers and they have a bunch of silly traditions and I’m just feeling a little sad about missing out.”
“Do you want to go? One of us can escort you if you’re concerned about the Morrigan,” Dylan says. The others nod their agreement but his panicked expression betrays him. He probably would take me down there but it’s still not a good idea.
“No. I’m staying here. It’s not the right time to travel—for a variety of reasons.” I dab my eyes on my cloth napkin and try to compose myself as the courses change. The main dish is a savory beef stew. I swallow a spoonful and the warmth settles my nerves. “It’s not like there aren’t a million Christmas things to do up here, right? It’s New York! You’ve got the Rockettes and Rockefeller Center and the parade.”
The guys look at one another across the table and nod. Sam speaks slowly, “Sure, Christmas is a very big deal.”
“Good, then I’ll just do what you guys normally do.” I shrug, feeling a little calmer already. “That’s sort of been my thing, you know? Being flexible and trying some new things. Now I can see what you guys normally do for the holidays.”
Dylan opens his mouth to speak but Damien cuts in. “Great idea, babe. We’ll make it a Christmas you won’t forget.”
Chapter Two
Dylan
Morgan, exhausted from her emotional breakdown, went directly to her suite following dinner. The other guardians and I gathered in the library to discuss what had happened over dinner.
“Well, Damien,” I say, topping off the fifth glass of bourbon on the bar before passing them around, “thanks for throwing us all under the bus.”
“Or the sleigh, as the case may be,” replies Clinton, who has already downed his drink and is pouring another. “Why the hell did you agree to including Morgan in our traditional Christmas celebrations? What traditions?”
“We’re old-school pagans, for fuck’s sake,” I add. “Other than some greenery and a Yule log, what kind of traditions are we supposed to share? Did you plan on bringing back the winter sacrifice? I have a feeling that will not go over well.”
“I don’t know,” Damien says. “I panicked. She looked so sad.”
“She really did,” Sam agrees. “I think you did the right thing.”
“Of course you do,” Clinton growls, sitting on the nearest leather chair. He props his feet on the coffee table. “Because you love all the lovey-dovey, wooing Morgan shit. Some of us are better in a fight than seducing a woman.”
Bunny nods from behind his glass. I roll my eyes. “Stop pretending like you don’t have her eating out of your hand, Bun. All you have to do is make her an amazing painting and she’ll swoon. And you,” I glance at Clinton. “She basically rips your pants off if you play the cello.”
“This isn’t about swooning or seducing,” Bunny says. “It’s about making Morgan feel at home. Which means we may have to make a few sacrifices to accomplish that.”
“Exactly,” Damien adds. “Santa and sleigh rides and all that bullshit.”
I roll my eyes. “You better not let her hear you say that.”
“Seriously though, how hard can it be?” Bunny asks. He looks at Sam, who nods. “She just wants a little reminder of home. Christmas traditions are pretty standard, they’re all over the city.”
I grimace and drain my glass. “Okay. Fine. How do we want to do this?”
The room is quiet as each guardian tries to come up with something. Sam’s eyes light up. “So there’s that famous song, you know the one with the twelve days or whatever?”
“’The Twelve Days of Christmas,’” Clinton says. “That one is very popular. I’ve seen it at the symphony.”
Sam smiles. “We’ve only got a few days left, but, what if we each take one and spoil Morgan a little?”
“So the five days of Christmas?” Damien asks. “And then what?”
“On Christmas Day we can celebrate together, the way a real family would. I’m sure Sue can prepare a traditional dinner.”
Bunny chimes in. “I like it. She’s been through so much this year, it seems like it could be a nice distraction.”
It’s not a bad idea and it will allow each of us some alone time with Morgan. The gods know we could all use a release as much as her. I look at Clinton, the only holdout. “You game for this, brother?”
He sighs. He may be a grump but he has a soft spot for the Queen. “Yeah, let’s do this.”
Chapter Three
Morgan
I wake to hammering in the hallway and groan, not ready to face the day. Sure, I’d told the Guardians I’d be happy to share the holidays with them, but I saw the looks exchanged. They were clueless about how to celebrate a modern Christmas. Knowing them, they’ll probably think going to the fights would count as getting into the holiday spirit.
I roll over and curse whoever is banging outside my door. Sleeping through the next five days may be the best gift I could give myself. The hammering stops, briefly, but then there’s a loud clatter. I hop out of the bed, stomping down the hall in my flannel, penguin pajamas. The floors are cold and I curse the fact I’m not wearing socks. I’m still not used to this kind of weather. I’m shouting before I even get the door all the way open. “Some of us are still trying to sleep!”
Davis, poor, sweet, kind Davis, is halfway up a swaying ladder in the middle of the hallway with a hammer in his hand.
“Davis? What are you doing? Be careful!” I race over to steady the ladder. Perched on top is a ball of greenery.
He steps up the ladder and hangs it from a hook in the center of the high ceiling. Carefully, he comes down. “Thank you for the assistance, Miss Morgan.”
“What’s so important that you risked your life to get it up there?” I ask. Davis moves the ladder and collects his tools. It’s then that I realize what it is. “Mistletoe?”
“’Tis the season.”
I catch a strong scent in the air and inhale. “And is that evergreen?” He nods toward the railing. Down in the center of the foyer below is the top of a massive, undecorated tree. “You got a tree?”
“Three.”
“Three trees?”
“It’s a big house, Miss.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a red envelope. “Oh, this is for you.”
“Thank you.” I take the envelope and watch as he picks the ladder up with ease and carries it downstairs. Davis isn’t exactly old, but he’s not exactly young, either. He’s one of the mysteries of The Nead I hope to crack one day. I head back to my room, suddenly aware that I’m still dressed in pajamas and probably have a major case of bed-head. Closing the door, I then open the envelope, taking care not to tear it. Inside is a note.
Your Five Days of Christmas begins this afternoon. Be ready at 4 p.m. Wear something warm. —Damien
“Five Days of what?” I ask out loud, flipping the card over to see if I missed anything. The back is blank. Seems like the Guardians decided to up their holiday game. I can’t wait to see what they have planned.
*
After a full day of writing in my room, I’m ready and waiting in warm boots, a thick wool sweater, and a heavy coat when there’s a knock at my door. I’ve got gloves and a hat stashed in a bag because I don’t know how warm is too warm. This Southern girl gets a chill the minute it goes below seventy. At last check, it’s in the forties. I’m going to need gloves.
“Hey,” I say, flinging open the door. Damien, handsome in his leather jacket and a tight, black skull-cap, stands on the other side. “Please tell me we’re not going on a bike ride. I’ll freeze.”
“Nah,” he says, reaching for me. He kisses me full on the lips like a thirsty man drinks a glass of water. “I’ve got something a little more seasonal planned.”
“I can’t wait to see what you’ve got up your sleeve.”
We link hands and head down the hallway. He stops abruptly and yanks me close. I crash into his chest, startled. Damien looks to the ceiling, glances at the hanging mistletoe and raises an eyebrow. “Who’s idea what this?”
“Davis hung it up this morning.”
“Did he now?” Damien isn’t known for his patience so it’s only a moment before he wets his bottom lip and kisses me a second time. His mouth is strong, his tongue skilled. He tastes like cinnamon and my belly goes weak as he drags it out.
I’m panting by the time we part and I ask, “You sure you want to leave the house because, you know, I’m good with staying in.”
“As much as I’d like to lie around all afternoon naked with you, that’s not gonna happen. We’ve got some memories to make.”
He kisses me again but this time it doesn’t go as far and we’re down the two flights of stairs in the main foyer. The tree takes up most of the room, places where a large marble table usually sits. The fresh pine scent fills my nostrils and reminds me of the tree at Shannon’s house—although hers is a bit smaller. Someone has placed hundreds of twinkling lights from top to bottom.
“It’s beautiful.” I stop to admire it. “We’ll have to find some decorations.”
Damien smiles. “Good idea.”
Davis steps forward and holds the door open. I step outside to the brisk, gray chill of the afternoon and gasp when I see what’s at the curb.
“Damien! You didn’t!”
He smiles and I cling to his hand. A sleek black carriage waits at the bottom of the steps with a beautiful white horse at the front. The horse sniffs and clomps its hooves. A big wreath with a red bow is mounted to the back of the carriage.
“I’ve always wanted to ride in one of these! It’s so perfectly touristy—and totally New York.”
The driver waits for us by the carriage and offers me a hand as I climb inside. The seats are lined with a soft, red, velvet cushion. Damien sits next to me and pulls a heavy blanket over our laps.
“Where are we going?” I ask as the driver walks around to the front. The horse’s feet clomp on the pavement.
“We’re touring Christmas in New York. All the famous spots in the city.” He gives me a sly look. “Then I may have another surprise.”
A gust of wind rustles my hair and Damien tugs down his hat. He wraps his arm around me and I snuggle in tight, excited to begin our adventure.