Stupid Christmas lights were a tangled mess.
Eoin sat at the base of the tree, a long extension wire running across the stone floor from the single electrical outlet in the room. He plugged in string after string, searching for a working set. Even if a few bulbs were burnt, he would have been thrilled, but most of the lights weren’t functioning and he didn’t have replacement bulbs. This meant a trip to one of those deplorable department stores and if anyone recognized him, there would be more than just screaming babies.
In the bottom of the wooden trunk where he had stored the lights, he discovered an empty package of replacement bulbs. The writing was faded and the edges worn. Did they even make this type anymore?
The last time he had decorated the castle, his little sisters had come to spend Christmas. Sanja was mated now with an egg on the nest and Bella was… Well, she... Shit, she was an adult now. His brothers took care of her security; since he didn’t live with the clan, it made no sense to include him. Unmated females were rare and it wasn’t unheard of for one to be stolen. Last time he’d spoken to her, she had been betrothed to the son of Harman, an old family friend and ally. She wasn’t happy about it either.
Sparks exploded in his hands like tiny fireworks. Electrical current sang along his fingers. He dropped the wire, bulbs shattering in razor-sharp small pieces. “Goddamn mother-freaking, werewolf-loving, bastard of a whore—” His attempt to stop cursing wasn’t going well. He sucked his fingertips. He was fireproof, not shock proof. If he had been human though, he would have died. Or have frizzy hair. He’d prefer death. Instead, the current numbed his digits and made his nerves tingle painfully.
That was the second time today. He snarled at the mess surrounding him. This was more work than he had anticipated. Then again, the lights had been new the last time he had touched them.
The beat of wings hammered delicately against the castle walls. He glanced up at the spider web infested ceiling and listened, the sound familiar yet new enough that his old heart still thrilled whenever he heard it. Angie was circling their home and coming in for a landing.
Eoin shoved the tangled Christmas lights on top of the pile of pine needles he’d swept, hiding the mess from Angie. Sparks sputtered and the dry needles flamed. Eoin yanked the long cord, pulling the plug from the electrical socket. He stomped on the fire barefoot. Delicate glass shattered since the string lights were among the flames. He threw back his head and let out a tiny stream of fire, careful not to set anything else ablaze. Next time he wanted to make a grand romantic gesture, he would take Angie on a vacation. It would be less painful.
Making quick work, Eoin plucked the broken glass from his bare feet, the blood barely had time to well before the small wounds healed. He would figure this out. He had this. Angie had seemed disappointed by the tree yesterday. Once he had it lit and decorated, her Christmas spirit would jingle.
She slipped inside the castle, dressed in the generic sweatpants and sweatshirt that she had left outside in a weather resistant box. She had been raised thinking she was human and still clung to their aversion of nudity. Not to mention, the annoying gargoyle who lived on their walls enjoyed cat-calling at every opportunity. Eoin had offered to muzzle the creature, but his Angie had a kind heart. She only wanted to blast him with flame. Maybe she didn’t realize gargoyles were made of stone.
Her smile brightened his day. “Hey there, sexy beast.” She sauntered across the room, hips swaying seductively.
His inner dragon preened for her. He had been exceptional in bed last night. Sweeping her into his arms, Eoin kissed her. He would do better tonight.
She lifted her nose to the air and sniffed. “What did you flame today?”
He hesitated to answer. There was a reason Eoin had chosen a stone castle for his home. The harbinger of smoke and darkness tended to flame when he lost his crap. A habit Angie wanted him to break since they couldn’t afford to buy furniture every week. “Nothing.” He inhaled deeply and smelled the acrid scent of smoke.
“Something is burning.” She leaned out of his arms and glanced hopefully at the tree.
Why did she hate it so much? He had worked diligently all day, sorting decorations and—and making cookies. She liked sweets and he thought the whimsical shape he’d chosen would inspire more smiles.
The smell was growing stronger instead of fading though. His heart sank to his stomach. Burnt smell? “Cookies!” He released Angie and ran to the kitchen, way at the back of the castle, Angie at his heels. Dark smoke clouded the room. Neither of them coughed since they were dragons. The source was the oven, smoke rising through the escape vent. “No. No. No.”
He had spent hours making the dough and cutting those fuckers out freehand since he didn’t own any of those fancy cookie cutters. He’d wanted to surprise Angie with Santa shaped cookies decorated in colored glaze. They could have bitten off the heads with glee. With a heavy heart, he turned off the heat and yanked the oven door open. More smoke rolled out. He pulled the trays free of the oven without mitts and set them on the cooling trays. Instead of golden, delicious sugar cookies, he had charcoal disks.
Angie wrapped her arms around his waist, her body pressed along his back as she leaned to the side to look. She shook with laughter. “Oh honey, you baked.”
A growl rolled in his chest and he hung his head. “I made them for you.”
She slid around him and cupped his face, kissing him tenderly, as if he was the fragile one. Caring for him. She did that often and every time it was a beautiful surprise. “I’ll open the windows and let the smoke clear. Maybe we can bake some together.”
He set aside the cookies on a plate.
She gave him a sideways glance. “Don’t tell me you’re going to eat those.”
He gave her a sharp grin. “I’ll send them to Ryota as a gift. You know, as a friend.”
She threw back her head, her laugh clean and clear. “I wish I could be there to see his face.” She wiped her eyes. “You always know how to make me laugh.” She opened the fridge and pulled out the eggs and butter. “What else do we need? The last time I cooked cookies, I was a kid.”
Suddenly the gray clouds that had been hovering over Angie for days descended with a vengeance. The sparkle he had glimpsed in her eyes vanished like a terrible magic trick. She returned the butter and eggs to the fridge.
“How about we go for a flight instead?” Her smile held fake joy. She tried so hard to pretend it made his stomach ache.
He gathered her back in his arms, where she belonged. “What’s wrong?” It was a question he had avoided because he’d assumed this was his fault. But lately, every time he managed to make her happy, it disappeared just as quickly. Yet, she still searched him out. Still let him hold her, love her. He didn’t comprehend. Was it a human thing?
“Nothing. I’m just tired. I think some fresh air would make me feel better.”
This, he could understand. Flying always made him feel better. They could travel to the lake and take a cold dip, or… “I have an idea.” He took her by the hands and let her toward the tower where they usually took wing. “We’ll fly over some of the local neighborhoods and look at the decorated houses to get some ideas for the castle.” Nothing with elves though. Eoin found them creepy.
Angie rolled her eyes. “Sure.”
Eoin would help Angie find her Christmas spirit. This flight would be the start. Who could resist the colorful, sparkly lights and inflated caricatures? They climbed the tower together, racing up the spiral staircase.
She was out of breath at the top. “You let me win.”
“Of course I did. What kind of mate would I be if I didn’t?”
She poked him in his side. That secret spot she’d discovered that tickled. She might be tiny but Eoin had learned the hard way that short women were a force to be reckoned with. They were just the right height to punch him in the balls.
“Take off your clothes, Angie,” he purred.
“Oh no, you don’t.” She waggled her finger at him. “Not when you are using that tone of voice.”
“What do you mean?” He tugged her sweatshirt off in one swift motion then fondled her lovely breasts.
She spun away, covering them with her hands. “It’s freezing and you promised me a flight.”
“You need to be naked to shift.” He stripped as an example. “See.” He gestured to his body.
Her gaze traveled over him. Slowly. Too slowly.
“Let’s skip the flight.” He closed the distance between them. He could warm her up.
Angie shifted, her track pants tearing in the process. Her hide was pure white, the scales so small they gleamed like jewels in the moonlight, and her wings were covered in the softest feathers. He had never seen a dragon like her and would never tire of watching her shift. “We fly first.” She gave a sharp toothed grin.
He followed suit, his size dwarfing her. For a moment, he draped his dark, webbed wing over her form and rubbed his rough scales along her soft flank. “Maybe you’ll let me care for your scales after? I bought some nice cinnamon oil. It’s supposed to feel warm on your skin.”
She nipped his throat playfully. “Deal.”
Together, they dropped into the air and took wing.
Angie waved to the gargoyle chained to the castle wall. “We can’t keep him forever.”
“Why not? Other races have pets.” He kept the gargoyle chained as punishment for his prankster ways and the death he had caused.
“Eoin.”
“Eventually, when I know the city will be safe from him.”
They flew over the rural area surrounding the city toward a non-predator shifter neighborhood. Eoin usually avoided flybys in this area because his presence caused them so much distress, but not at this time of the year. “The deer shifters are fanatical about decorating.”
Though smaller, Angie kept pace. “Are you pulling my leg?”
“No, the herd lives in family units close together. They buy out whole neighborhoods when they move. At Christmas, they collaborate to decorate using themes. It’s amazing. I flyby every year.” He tossed her an apologetic glance. “We can’t land though. I wrecked Christmas the year I did. I understand some still have nightmares about it.” He didn’t eat shifters, but some rumors were impossible to quell.
“I still can’t tell if you’re joking.”
Over a hill and through a dale, he led her until they were greeted by the warm, golden twinkle of Christmas lights. He hovered high above the deer homes and scanned the neighborhood. This year they had done a gingerbread house theme. “Wow, they outdid themselves.”
“You weren’t kidding.” Angie flew a slow circle around him, attention focused below.
“Oh look.” He pointed out a family group that work together to raise a huge gingerbread man in the center of a park. The workers on the pulley continued to raise the heavy decoration while some of the smaller ones, who must be children, pointed at them in the sky. Doors of homes opened and deer shifters poured out. A few even waved.
Angie waved back. “Don’t you dare flame.” She tossed him a glare.
“Maybe we could do a cookie theme at the castle. I could scatter the burnt sugar cookies on the front courtyard as anti-slip in case it snows.”
“I prefer your Ryota idea better.” Her response was a whisper. She stared below as more families gathered together to help anchor the gingerbread man. Someone plugged it in. Yellow and green lights blinded him for a second.
“The arms move,” he cried out. “I want one.”
Angie sighed as he dove for a closer look. A few of the deer shifters scattered back into their homes. He twisted midflight, expecting Angie’s razor-sharp tongue to scold him. Instead, he watched her fading figure fly slowly back toward home.
Ignoring the chaos below him, Eoin winged along her flight path.
She didn’t like the gingerbread theme?
Eoin dogged Angie all the way back to the castle in silence. He wasn’t blind. Something was eating at his mate. An invisible foe he couldn’t battle for her. He didn’t have the art of conversation like his vampire friend, Viktor. The Russian could sweet talk anyone out of a confession. Eoin was more of the beat-them-until-they-cry-for-mercy kind of dragon, but he would never use that tactic on Angie.
She reached home first, perching on the balcony before shifting to her human form. She raced inside, clothes in hand and shivering as if cold. Eoin chose to land in the courtyard and give her space. He knew her well enough to know she would just snap at him until she’d had time to think. He buried his claws into the frozen ground. It wasn’t easy waiting.
The gargoyle sat above the front entrance, singing Christmas carols. Surprisingly, he had a good voice and could keep a tune. It was a nice touch and maybe Eoin would consider integrating Nick into the decor. But Eoin would have to hurry. According to his cell phone, Christmas Eve was tomorrow.
He changed shape to human form and went inside. The bare tree shivered. He paused mid-step in his determined path to Angie and took a closer look at the evergreen. What now? He was greeted by familiar meows. Those were happy sounds.
“Felines.” He toured the base of the tree, trying to get a glimpse of his ratters. “This isn’t a new toy for you.” But the idea had promise. He would need to consider planting a tree in the castle for them to climb. Maybe in the dining room. He and Angie never used it and all the windows were broken so the cats would have free access to both indoors and outdoors.
There. He caught a glimpse of Orange Devil. The one who led the others into trouble more often than not. He was at the top. “How do you plan on climbing down from there?”
Orange Devil meowed even louder.
“That’s what I thought. You can’t.” Soft fur caressed his ankle. He bent to pet Princess Sassy Pants’ pale gray fur. “I see you weren’t dumb enough to follow like the others.” At different levels, cats clung to his Christmas tree. He hadn’t considered the cats when he’d brought it home. They loved it so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.
More meowing ensued as a few climbed down to greet him. He had named each one according to their personalities. They hunted the rats in the castle and were adorably good at it. Sometimes they even shared their kills with him.
Orange Devil’s cries grew louder and a tad bit more desperate. Eoin had a special place in his heart for that troublemaker. Eoin changed shape again. The process didn’t tire him, he could go back and forth as many times as he liked.
The cats around him moved to give his bulk space.
Eoin stretched as high as he could and set his snout close to Orange Devil. “Come on. Climb aboard. I can’t hold this pose forever.”
The cat padded onto Eoin’s nose. It hadn’t taken very long for the creatures to trust him. They were quite intelligent. Orange Devil’s claws didn’t hurt Eoin as the cat used them for purchase on his scales. Once the cat was aboard his head, Eoin lowered him to the ground. Eoin repeated the process three more times for others who had climbed too high. He returned to human form, dressed in discarded clothes scattered around the room from other times he had shifted, and sat among his feline companions. They rubbed against him and purred. Orange Devil chewed on Eoin’s big toe.
See, he could understand cats. They kept no secrets from him. Feed me, pet me, play with me. That was it. Very much like dragons.
Angie, though, always clutched her emotions inside. She was like a duck— floating calmly on the surface, but underwater paddling like crazy. Might explain why she was so exhausted. He had to change his tactics if he wanted to discover what was bothering her so much. So far, he’d been straightforward and she’d redirected his attention to something else. He had tried being subtle and she only ignored him. What now?
He could attempt to make her angry and maybe whatever she was keeping secret would explode from her like a ball of flame.
Dealing with a furious Angie was better than a crying Angie.
Eoin set Princess Sassy Pants aside and rose to his feet. Hands fisted, Eoin climbed the tower to the master bedroom. His Angie had always had a razor-edged temper and could claw any opponent with her words. He steeled his heart against what he was about to do. No matter what she said, he would not let her hurt him. He was doing this for her own good. Keeping secrets would only harm them and a good fight was healthy for the soul.
The door to the bedroom stood ajar. He had planned on slamming it open. Objective one failed, but he still had the opportunity to storm inside. Mouth open, he pointed at Angie, ready to shout the first thing that came to his mind, but his throat locked.
She was curled on her side, the blankets tucked tightly under her chin. Tiny in their huge bed. She opened her big eyes and they were wet with unshed tears.
He deflated instantly and crossed the distance between them within seconds. Crawling under the blankets with his mate, he wrapped his body around her. This was worse than he’d thought. His Angie didn’t cry. She made others weep.
“Are we okay?”
No matter her answer, Angie would always remain in his heart. If she left him, he couldn’t stop himself from loving her. It just wasn’t possible.
“Of course, we’re all right.” Angie pushed up the hem of his shirt, her hands caressing his skin. “Take this off.”
He pulled the shirt over his head and flung it to the floor.
She curled in his lap, face pressed to his chest, hugging him tight. “I’m just feeling weird. I can’t get a handle on my shit lately.”
“Maybe you should stay home from work and rest.” He ran his fingers through the short silken strands of her hair. She was the hardest working person he’d ever met. They weren’t rich, but they could afford for her to take a break. He had enough savings to support them both for a few decades. They could spend Christmas Eve together decorating their home and cooking and having sex. “I’ll make that caramel popcorn you love and we can burn marshmallows in the fireplace.” He loved burnt marshmallows. “I have that cinnamon oil and I’ll rub it all over—”
Sighing, she pressed her face even harder against him. “That sounds so tempting. There’s nothing I would rather do than spend the next few days in bed with you. But I have a full day of appointments booked. It was hard just taking Christmas off. I can’t cancel at the last minute without a good excuse. It’s just not a good business practice.” Her sharp nails slid over his skin.
He shivered and brought the palm of her hand up to his lips for a kiss. He stared at her nails and compared them to his own. “I can take your place.” His nails were just as sharp.
“You would scratch shifter backs for me?” She rested her chin over his heart so she could look up at him.
“I would do anything for you.”
Her kiss was lightning in his veins. Soft mouth sipping at him. Slow.
Gentle.
He closed his eyes and parted his lips under hers in an instinctive invitation that she accepted. One hand caressed his scalp as the other cupped the nape of his neck. The taste of her—sexy, female, beautifully sweet—infiltrated his every sense. The caress felt tender, sad, but no less affectionate for it.
She retreated. “I love you, but you’re not working in my salon.”
A fist of hurt punched through his diaphragm and squeezed his heart. “Why not? It’s not like I need a degree or that I would be taking over your business.” He needed to help. He couldn’t stand watching her sad anymore.
“Because you scare everyone. I need return business.” She moved to straddle his hips. The blanket pooled onto the mattress. She wore a spaghetti strap tank top and panties.
His blood burned. His body hardened.
“Mrs. Smith has an appointment tomorrow. You can scratch her back for me. I’m sure she’d be thrilled and leave a huge tip.”
He rolled his eyes. Mrs. Smith was a honey badger shifter. “No.” She didn’t have an ounce of fear in her or any common sense. She also pinched Eoin’s ass every chance she got, claiming with old age came privileges. “Maybe you should schedule fewer appointments.” He loved this idea. “You could work part time.” She’d be home more. They could renovate the castle or take flights and explore. The possibilities were endless.
Angie crossed her arms, causing her breasts to squeeze against the thin material. Dear lord, how did she expect him to concentrate? “This isn’t a hobby. I can’t make enough to pay the rent and Beth if I cut back my work hours.” She crawled off his lap and laid back down on the bed, giving him her back.
“I was just trying to help, baby. You’re just so tired and moody lately.” He spooned her, sliding his thigh over her legs. “What can I do to help?”
“With my moodiness?” Her question slashed out, trying to skin him alive. Now that sounded more like his Angie.
He rested his forehead on the top of her head, eyes closed, and breathed her in. He was digging his own grave tonight and with so little effort. If he kept this up, he’d have to sleep over at Viktor’s place until Angie cooled off. Again. “There is no safe answer to that question.” He would not change one prickly scale on Angie’s hide. There were many beautiful flowers in the garden of life, but to get the cactus to lower her spines and love him was a treasure.
“No, it’s not.” She seemed to deflate into the mattress, her spine curving against him. “Go to sleep, Eoin.” Pure deceit. It was not what he wanted to hear. His Angie had peeked out behind this cloud of depression, but it swallowed her whole once more. She exhaled a long breath. “Why are you trying so hard to decorate? We’re spending Christmas at Ken and Betty’s. We don’t need a tree or lights.”
He wanted to shift to his dragon form and cup her in his big clawed hands. Fly her away to some magical place that would make her smile. He suspected that such a place did not exist and no matter how far away he flew, whatever bothered Angie would only follow them. “Why are you so sad?” She hid a lot behind her sharp words, but he was her mate. He knew her. She weaved and dodged and bit. She’d blamed it on being tired. At first, he had accepted these feints and excuses.
No more.
She rolled onto her back and cupped his chin with her tiny hands. Her gaze couldn’t meet his. “Do you think we could skip Christmas?”
Shock. Dumbstruck. “Why?” Alone for so many years, Eoin finally had someone special to spend Christmas with, however she didn’t feel the same. He had always enjoyed the holiday season. The lights and the music and the food. Angie wanted none of this?
“I don’t really celebrate Christmas. Ever.” Her voice small so he could barely hear. She snuggled closer in his arms, her nails biting into his biceps. “Ignore me, Eoin. I think seeing all those deer shifter families made me maudlin.”
“I can’t ignore you.” He curled around her and stroked her hair. Petting her. “It’s impossible.” He hurt for her. “You never celebrate Christmas?” His chest constricted.
“When I was young and my parents were alive, we did.”
The quiet grew heavy. Her breathing slowed as he continued to pet and comfort his mate.
He wanted to punch himself. Finally, he understood. “You miss them.” He was so focused on the present. It was the way of dragons. They lived so long that sometimes the past was better forgotten. Angie had been raised by humans. She didn’t do that. The past clung to her like mold and was hard to kill.
Her hair scraped gently over his skin as she nodded. “They might not have been my birth parents but they were my family. I loved them very much.” Angie’s parents had adopted her as a baby, not knowing she was a dragon, and had raised her as their own.
“The orphanages didn’t celebrate the holidays?” If this was true, then he had some changes to make in their policies.
Her sad smile broke him. “Of course, they did. They did their best to make us happy, but it’s not the same. Every year it was a reminder that I didn’t have a family.”
“But, baby, you’ve got one now.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’ve got me and we’ll make new memories.”
She crawled on top of him again, straddling him as she curled up on his chest. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Yes, every morning when I wake up and you’re still here.”