Bewitched Before Christmas (Daughters of the Morrigan Book 4) Page 7

  Her mother smiled. “He used to be known as Odin, and he led the Wild Hunt across the skies at Yuletide, doling out presents to the deserving, and death to others. Then mankind decided to give him a revamp. It never quite took. But we’ve been friends a long time.”

  Lola had a horrible thought. Though he didn’t look particularly short. “Good friends?”

  “Not that good.”

  “I’m staying,” Lachlan said.

  Lola turned to look at him. He had a closed off expression, his mouth a firm line. She didn’t want to leave him here. Not with a brother who hated him and had a big sword.

  “Please Lachlan, come with us. Or I’ll stay. But don’t leave me. Everyone leaves me.” She didn’t care if she did sound needy. “Please. I lied. I do need you.”

  He stared straight ahead. “You should go. You don’t need me. Your family is waiting for you. There’s nothing for you here and I’m quite capable of looking after myself. I’ve been doing it for three hundred years.”

  He was right. And without her to look out for, she was sure he was more than a match for a pack of werewolves. But all the same, she had to swallow down the urge to beg. Because he was right. She’d known all along that Lachlan would never give her what she needed. That’s why she’d been so shocked when she’d kissed him under the mistletoe in some unknown future that was never going to happen. Why she’d been determined to get away. Because it could never work. She couldn’t make him care. The last hours had been nothing but time out. And now it was time to get back to real life. And her family were waiting—and they did care for her. Suddenly she had an overwhelming urge for her big sister, Regan, to hug her tight.

  For a moment, she stood, unable to move, then she gave herself a shake. She searched the ground and found Lachlan’s pistols where he’d dropped them in the snow. Picking them up, she went back to where he stood and pressed them into his hands.

  “Don’t you dare die.”

  Then turning her back on him, she walked away.

  Lola climbed into the back of the sleigh, and her mother got in beside her and patted her arm. “You did well. There are other men out there. Best not to get too attached. The secret is that you must be the one to walk away. Or in this case…fly away.”

  The crack of a whip sounded in the silent, snow muffled night, and they rose into the air, bells tinkling.

  And then they were flying.

  Below her, Lachlan grew smaller and smaller until finally he disappeared from sight.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lachlan forced himself to stare straight ahead. Not to watch her go, because then he might beg her to stay.

  She would if he asked, because she was that sort of person. Loyal. And sweet. And good. Too good for him. He clamped his lips closed to stop himself from calling after her.

  She wasn’t going to die. And no matter what she’d said—she didn’t need him. He was the kiss of fucking death. She was better off without him. But his chest ached. Christ, for nearly three hundred years, he’d avoided all emotion, now he was drowning.

  Somewhere way off in the distance, he heard the chiming of bells from the village. The world was reawakening.

  Christmas was coming.

  Time to say happy fucking Christmas to his long lost brother.

  He took up position in front of Gabe but out of the sword’s range, raised the pistols.

  A blue eye flickered. A tic jumped in his cheek. Then the sword was swinging in its downward arc. But Lachlan was too far away, and the stroke missed him by a foot.

  He shot into the snow at Gabe’s feet, making his brother jump back. Gabe stopped. Frowned. Looked around him. Reached up and touched his face. “What the hell?”

  Lachlan stood, ignoring the growls and howls and whimpers that surrounded them, pistols aimed at the center of Gabe’s chest. “Hello, Gabriel. Good to see you after all these years.”

  The arm with the sword dropped to his side. His gaze searched the area. “How? What?” He shook his head. “Where’s the wee lassie?”

  “Gone.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And where the fuck are your clothes?”

  “Gone.”

  “What’s going on here?”

  “You can ask me that?” he growled. “You were going to kill me. With my own da’s sword. You know how fucked-up that is?”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic. I wasn’t going to kill you, just give you a little cut. For old time’s sake.”

  The wolves were creeping closer.

  “Call off your dogs,” Lachlan snapped. “This is between you and me.”

  “Really? You think you can take me?”

  “Hell, I know I can. I always could.” And right in that moment, he wanted to try. He wanted to punch something. Break something. He’d sent her away. She’d asked him to go with her. Just about begged him. She could have been his. If he wasn’t so much of a coward.

  Gabe shouted a word into the night and the wolves fell back, giving them space.

  Lachlan tossed the guns down onto the snow and closed the space between them. He didn’t need guns. Gabe stood his ground, one eyebrow raised. A supercilious expression on his face.

  “Tell me one thing,” Lachlan said. “Why?”

  Gabe’s expression hardened. “You left me. Left me for the wolves to feed on. I was dying. My guts fucking hanging out. And I saw you. You got up and you walked away and you didn’t look back.”

  “I’d just been turned into a fucking vampire. I wasn’t feeling myself at the time. I came looking for you as soon as I could.”

  Gabe shrugged. Asshole. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. To wipe away the memory of that hurt, disappointed expression. He was good at disappointing people.

  But where the hell had Gabe been all these years? One thing was for sure—he hadn’t come looking for Lachlan.

  Lachlan drew back his fist and punched him on the nose.

  A very satisfying crunch. He punched him again, putting all his strength behind it, and Gabe flew back through the air, landing in a drift of snow. All around him the wolves howled. But no one moved. And Lachlan hurled himself after the other man. He landed on his chest and got in a couple of very enjoyable punches before Gabe pushed his knees between them and heaved Lachlan so he was thrown backward. He slammed into a tree, and the breath left him in a whoosh.

  He straightened. Gabe was back on his feet. Lachlan rolled his shoulders to ease the tension, then holding the other man’s gaze, he raised his hand to his face and licked the blood from his knuckles.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” Gabe said and charged.

  Lachlan roared, lowered his head, and they met in the middle. His forehead rammed into Gabe’s rock hard stomach driving them both backwards. Gabe’s arms wrapped around him but Lachlan wriggled free and lashed out with his foot, swiping Gabe’s legs from under him and they both crashed to the ground. And then they were rolling, first he was on top and he rained down punches, then somehow their positions were reversed, and Gabe’s fists were slamming into his face.

  His nose broke and his vision blurred. The sharp scent of blood filled the air and his fangs elongated.

  Gabe was incredibly strong. They were well matched. But Gabe was clearly finding it hard to get a grip on his blood-slick skin. Lachlan grabbed a hand in his brother’s jacket and shoved him away.

  They both leaped to their feet.

  Lachlan shook his head and blood sprayed onto the snow.

  Then Gabe charged again, and they grappled. Once or twice, he knew he could have done serious damage with his fangs but something held him back. Finally, Gabe made one last wildly out-of-control punch in Lachlan’s direction and missed, but the momentum drove him to the ground, taking Lachlan with him.

  “Enough,” Gabe muttered.

  Lachlan lay in the snow, staring up at the sky, the flakes landing on his upturned face. Gabe lay beside him, breathing heavily.

  She was gone. He’d done the right thing.

  But
everything hurt. Including his heart.

  “Shit,” Gabe muttered. “I think you’ve broken every one of my ribs.”

  “Good.”

  “And my nose.”

  “Stop being a pussy. You always were a whiny little bastard.”

  “The hell I was.” Gabe was silent for a moment. “You want a drink?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  #

  Lachlan stood over the graves of his mother and sisters. Gabe appeared from behind him and handed him a bottle.

  “They’re all dead.” Lachlan raised the bottle to his mouth and swallowed the Scotch. Single malt. Warm and peaty. He hadn’t drunk scotch since he’d left Scotland—it raised too many memories. When he’d left, he’d turned his back on everything that had reminded him of his homeland. It was the only way he had coped with the loss of everything that he loved. Everything that mattered to him. “They’re dead. I’m dead. Everyone’s dead.”

  “I’m not dead,” Gabe said, taking a swig from his own bottle.

  “That might not last.”

  “Hah. You couldn’t take me back then. You couldn’t now.”

  “I probably could. If I could be bothered.”

  “You know your problem,” Gabe said.

  “I have a problem?”

  “Yeah. You always did think the whole universe revolved around you. Everyone lost people back then. Stop thinking you’re so goddamn special.”

  “You mean the world doesn’t revolve around me?”

  “Hah.” Gabe rook another swallow. “So the bonnie lassie from tonight. She vanished. Is she dead as well?”

  “Nope. She’s a witch.”

  “A witch? Are they even a thing? I thought they were like fairytale stuff.”

  Lachlan studied his brother in amazement. Where had he been for the last three hundred years? “You’re a goddamn werewolf. I’m a fucking vampire. Why wouldn’t witches be a thing. Goddamn ignorant dogs.”

  “Hey, just because we like to keep to ourselves doesn’t make us ignorant. Just particular about who we spend time with. So, the witch—you care about her?”

  Lachlan gave him a sharp look. “Why would you ask that?”

  “The sappy way you were looking at her. The fact that you were ready to give away your life for hers.” He studied him for a moment. “It won’t hurt to accept that you care about her.”

  Lachlan swallowed the last of the scotch. He’d loosened his control and he could feel the alcohol like a buzz in his brain. “Might not hurt me. Probably kill her. I don’t have a good track record.”

  “Jesus. Here we go again. Mr. Special. You’re just too much of a coward to take the chance.”

  “And you’re happily married with a houseful of bairns are you?”

  “No. But I haven’t found the right woman yet. I will. I’m not a closed off miserable bastard like you. I presume she saw that in you and told you to fuck off.”

  “She asked me to go with her. She said she needed me.”

  “And you did the honorable thing and told her to go. Stupid bastard.”

  Was he a stupid bastard? He felt doubts coalescing into a big, hard lump. “Besides, I’m too old.”

  Gabe looked him up and down. “You don’t look a day over twenty-two. It’s true. You haven’t aged at all. Mentally or physically. You need to grow up.”

  Actually, he needed to change the subject. “What happened to you? At Culloden.”

  “When the battle was over, the pack came. They feasted. I was close to death. I’d already seen you walk away. They killed most of the dying but a few of us they kept alive. I didn’t care at that point. Christ, it hurt. So fucking badly. Like I was on fire from inside.” He shrugged. “The past. I’m over it.”

  “Except you don’t like vampires.”

  “The wolf that changed me was an evil bastard. Used to pimp us out to the vampires. Sell our blood.” He cast Lachlan a sideways glance. “I know vamps like wereblood so don’t be getting any ideas.”

  Lachlan raised his upper lip to show the tip of his fang and licked his lips. Grinned.

  “Never going to happen. Anyway I killed him in the end and took over the pack. Then killed the head vamp because he was an evil bastard as well.”

  “There’s a darkness inside us.” Lachlan shrugged. “It’s closer to the surface in some. Will you join the Council?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” That was all he could really ask.

  “Will you stop being a coward and go after your little witch? Or at least accept that you’re afraid for yourself not for her. Afraid you’ll lose her. Like you think you lost everyone else. You know she liked you as well. It was totally obvious.”

  He had a flashback to the feel of her, warm, and soft, and giving. The taste of her—sweet, and the raw power in her blood. The look in her eyes when she’d told him she needed him.

  In that moment he realized he didn’t want her to need him. He wanted her to love him.

  And that was seriously scary stuff.

  He’d never had a chance to grow up. She was right, he’d been emotionally stunted with no chance to evolve. His whole life had been about surviving, fighting, staying alive. Then he’d been changed, and he’d never thought love was an option.

  Vampires didn’t do love.

  Except his sire, Darius, had found love. With Lola’s sister.

  God, he’d been so stupid. “I have to go find her,” he said.

  “You should probably put some clothes on first. I’ve got just the thing. Time to turn back the clocks. Find the man you should have been. Make your ma proud of you.”

  He wasn’t sure that was possible. She’d been a devout Christian; she was probably turning in her grave. But he wasn’t evil. Even a vampire could choose what he wanted to be.

  He was going to show Lola that he could be the sort of man who wouldn’t walk away. He was going to offer himself for Christmas.

  But maybe he should take along something else to sweeten the deal.

  “I need a puppy.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Christmas Present…

  Lola sniveled and swiped her hand across the back of her face.

  They were all at the castle. She couldn’t believe it.

  Regan and Caleb. Darius and Gina. Their daughter Raven and her husband Kael, the head of the Council. And Catrin.

  They’d been planning to come all along. A big surprise.

  And there was a tree in the great hall, that twinkled with lights and baubles. And streamers festooned the walls. A huge log burning in the grate.

  “Do you really think we’d leave you alone for Christmas?” Regan asked. “We’re your family. We love you.”

  She’d always known that. Sometimes they just weren’t very good at showing it. But she’d been an idiot. Wallowing in self-pity because they’d abandoned her in the wilds of Scotland. And terrified because she was fixating on a stupid miserable bloodsucking vampire who hardly knew she existed and saw her as nothing more than a duty—a painful one at that—and a quick fuck. And who was the least likely candidate for a kiss under the mistletoe she had ever come across.

  Cold and cruel and unfeeling.

  Except he wasn’t. He was just screwed up. Like she was.

  Scared of letting anyone close because then you might lose them.

  And he’d lost so many.

  She sniveled some more, and Regan frowned. “I thought you’d be…happier.”

  “I am. These are happy tears. I’m so pleased to see you all.”

  “Hmm.” Regan took a step back and studied her. “What are you wearing?” Her eyes narrowed on Lola’s throat. “And what’s that mark on your neck?” She peered closer. “Jesus, no. Not the goddamn vampire. I knew it was a mistake sending you here. If he hurt you, I’ll kill him.”

  “He hasn’t hurt me.” Just broken my heart. She’d realized something on the sleigh ride here—she didn’t need him after all. She was quite strong enough on her own.


  But she wanted him desperately. And she suspected she loved him. Which was totally stupid.

  “Come on, baby sister. Make my day. Tell me he bit you by force and you turned him into a toad.”

  She shook her head.

  “So where is he?” Regan asked. “I might turn him into a toad myself.”

  “Don’t turn him into anything. And you don’t have to worry. He doesn’t want me. He told me to go home. He said he was the kiss of death.” She rubbed her eyes. Goddamn him for being such a coward. He wanted her. She knew he did. She’d seen it in his eyes.

  But he’d lost so much.

  Maybe she had to be brave enough for both of them.

  “Sorry,” she said to Regan. “There’s something I need to do.” She ran toward the doors, threw them open and skidded to a halt. The mournful sound of bagpipes filled the air.

  A man strode across the flag stoned floor. Tall, broad at the shoulder, a green and red plaid kilt swinging from his lean hips. His dark red hair pulled back in a ponytail, showing the lean handsome lines of his face.

  She swooned.

  Then she took a slow step forward. Maybe this was some sort of vision—a vision of Christmas present. What it could have been. He wasn’t real.

  But he looked real. As did the squirming animal in his arms. He had stopped as well. Eyes widening as he took in the room full of people behind her. Her family could be a little…intimidating. Then he stepped forward. He held out the puppy to her, and she took it from him. It was huge—she nearly went down under the weight—and gray and fluffy, with yellow eyes.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I wanted to get you a puppy, but he was all we could come up with quickly.”

  “It’s a wolf?”

  “Yes, but a real one. Not a werewolf—you don’t have to worry about it shifting or anything.” He sounded nervous. “He’s an orphan, taken in by the pack.”

  She placed the puppy gently on the floor, and he looked up at her out of yellow eyes then licked her fingers, and she fell in love. “He’s beautiful. The best Christmas present ever.”

  “I wanted to make your dreams come true.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “And to tell you I was wrong. That you’re not needy. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. And that I’m scared. Scared I’ll lose you. But I want to try.”