Christmas in Dark Moon Vale

by Tessa Dawn

  A chorus of moans met Arielle’s besotted question, and Ciopori settled down.

  “You really need to come down from that honeymoon platform,” Nachari said, laughing. “Kagen isn’t perfect. In fact, Kagen almost killed Nathaniel.”

  “What!” Jocelyn exclaimed, gawking at her brother-in-law.

  “How?” Arielle asked. She placed her palm on her mate’s thigh and leaned into him solicitously. “Kagen, how could you do such a thing to your brother, to your twin?”

  The healer just shook his head. “Kill is a bit of an exaggeration.”

  Keitaro crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his only brown-haired son. “Kagen, you stuffed him in a barrel, filled it up with water, and sealed the lid shut. Then you sat on top of it until he stopped breathing, pried it open, and filled the barrel with salt.”

  Kagen shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive, casual manner. “You act like it was malicious or something.”

  “Yeah, ’cause that would be out of character, Mr. Hyde,” Nachari goaded.

  Kagen laughed. “It was an experiment!” He lifted Arielle’s hand, brought it to his lips, and softly kissed her knuckles before turning his attention back to his father. “It worked on flies,” he explained. When Nathaniel’s growl began to shake the glassware, he turned to his equally deviant brother and walked him through a more detailed explanation, using gestures as he spoke. “If you put a fly in a jar and drown it, then fill it back up with salt, the fly comes back to life. I just wanted to see if it would work—”

  “On your brother,” Keitaro interjected. “Oh, great Lord Sagittarius,” Keitaro added, “I thought Serena was going to kill you, for real, that time.”

  Shelly Winters released a shallow breath and cleared her throat, gazing at Keitaro with stars in her eyes. “Is that your ruling lord?” she asked softly.

  Keitaro’s brow smoothed out. “It is.” He smiled graciously at Shelly, and she quickly glanced away.

  Wow, someone had a major crush on Keitaro, Ciopori thought.

  Kagen cleared his throat and gestured toward Nathaniel with his chin. “He looks all right to me,” he said, seamlessly redirecting the awkward moment.

  Nathaniel shook his head. “I have no memory of this trauma.” He sat back like a lazy feline, stretching his shoulders by curling his spine inward. “But perhaps it is why I am so dark, devious, and disturbed as an adult.”

  Jocelyn shook her head. “No, that’s not why. That’s just you.”

  Nathaniel scrunched up his nose and frowned.

  “I’m just sayin’,” Jocelyn quipped.

  Before anyone could add a rejoinder, Ciopori stood up from the table and shifted her weight from foot to foot, crossing her arms in front of her and hugging her slender sides.

  Kagen appraised her thoughtfully. “Princess, are you okay? Are you feeling well?”

  She smiled sweetly. “I’m fine, healer. I’ve just been sitting a bit too long, and now I prefer to stand.”

  Nathaniel cocked his eyebrows in question. He glanced from Ciopori to Marquis, then back again, catching the female’s icy glare. “Brother, what did you do?”

  Marquis shook his head from side to side, as if he was perfectly innocent, and Ciopori snapped.

  “He spanked me!” she blurted, no longer caring who knew. Heck, Nachari could take care of the humans, so why should she conceal it.

  Kristina’s mouth fell open, the destinies all blanched, and the humans jolted in their seats, a few of them looking as if they wanted to jump up and run.

  “Damn,” Nachari droned. “Warrior, that’s kind of rough. What gives?”

  “Was this consensual?” Kagen asked, eyeing his big brother sideways.

  “No, it was not,” Ciopori replied.

  Marquis stood up, rolled his neck on his shoulders, and his fangs slipped beneath the shelf of his gums. “Leave it alone,” he snarled, eyeing Nachari, then Kagen, in turn. He cast a sweeping glance across the table at the humans. “All of you. Not a word.”

  As if on cue, every human heartbeat sped up to a frenetic pace. The pungent tang of adrenaline—one of the fight-or-flight hormones—wafted through the air, and Keitaro Silivasi cleared his throat. “I don’t recall raising such a bully.” His voice dropped to a silken, imperious tone. “Marquis, sit down.” He gentled his tone and regarded Ciopori directly as Marquis folded back into his chair, grumbling. “The guests are staring and getting nervous; this is family business. We will handle it later.” He replaced his stern, reprimanding censure with a smile and a wink.

  “Oh, hell,” Nathaniel Silivasi drawled before whistling low, beneath his breath. “Now this just got interesting.”

  Nachari waved his hand through the air, and the humans were instantly placated. He had obviously reversed their sense of time, rewinding the conversation by a couple of minutes. Before anyone else could speak or react, a pretty Latina lady, with rosy-red cheeks and finely manicured eyebrows, entered the dining room from the butler’s pantry, her hair looking wild and unkempt, her face flushed and exasperated.

  “Excuse me, Señor Silivasi.” She was staring at Nathaniel. “I believe we found the ham.”

  Jocelyn’s head dropped into her hands, and she began to rub her eyes. “Storm?” she asked, groaning as if she already knew the answer.

  Alejándra nodded slowly, and her keen dark eyes deepened in apology. “It would appear that Master Storm speared the ham with a barbecue fork, tossed it down the laundry chute, and tried to dispose of it in the basement latrine when no one was looking.” She sighed. “I swear, Mr. and Mrs. Silivasi, Maria and I only turned our back on him for a moment this morning.” She placed a regretful hand over her heart and frowned. “When we asked him why he did it, he said—Master Storm said—that he didn’t eat pork.”

  “What the hey?” Nachari murmured. “He’s a vampire. In a few more years, he won’t be eating anything.”

  Alejándra nodded slowly. “I am only telling you what the child said, Mr. Nachari: Storm no feed da pork!”

  Jocelyn blinked several times in quick succession, and Ciopori couldn’t tell if there was something in her eye, or if she was fighting the urge to weep.

  “Thank you, Alejándra,” Nathaniel said dryly, placing a supportive hand on Jocelyn’s arm. “We’ll deal with him when we get home. It should only be a couple more hours. You’re doing a wonderful job. You and Maria.”

  Alejándra nodded, and Marquis bristled. “When are you going to get that child some help, Nathaniel?” He shifted his gaze to Nachari. “Wizard, you are the one who is so gung-ho on the idea of interpersonal therapy. Perhaps you should help your eldest nephew before he grows up to be a serial killer.”

  “Marquis!” All of the destinies chastised him at once.

  Jocelyn shook her head, looking almost as weary as Alejándra. “Mind your own business, Master Warrior.”

  “Ancient Master Warrior to you,” Marquis barked.

  “Oh, is that right?” Ciopori chimed in. “What are you going to do about it, Ancient Master Warrior? Spank her?”

  And that’s when Keitaro Silivasi stood up.

  He nodded at the human guests, flashing his warmest, most endearing smile. “Thank you so much for joining us this night. I hope you each have a Merry Christmas.” He turned to regard his youngest living son. “Nachari, be a gracious host and help my daughters see our guests to the door—and make sure each family receives a generous Christmas bonus.” He switched seamlessly to a common telepathic bandwidth: Oh, and Wizard, once the guests have departed—but before we gather as a family in the parlor—I want you to follow up on the male who is with Kevin Parker: Who is he? Why is he here? What does he know about the Vampyr? Make sure he only knows what he should, and whatever he shouldn’t…remove. “Now then.” He cleared his throat for emphasis. “I think it’s time to settle this whole spanking matter once and for all so we can enjoy the rest of our evening. Marquis”—he gestured toward the back of the house—“outside, now!”

&n
bsp; “Excuse me?” Marquis snarled, staring at his father like he had just donned a clown suit and danced on the table. “With all due respect, I’m over fifteen hundred years old.”

  Keitaro crooked his thumb and waved it toward the kitchen, indicating the back door leading into the yard. “Yeah, well, you’re not too old for the woodshed. And I’m not going to say it three times—get your ass outside, boy. Now.”

  Nathaniel jumped up from the table—like a five-year-old kid at a carnival who had just been offered cotton candy—close on his father’s heels. “Oh, I have got to see this! I’m going with.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” Kagen said.

  “Me three,” Vanya chimed in.

  “I’m in!” Kristina squealed. “Sorry, Pops, but I’m done playing hostess for the night. Heck, I already sprang for the pizzas—that should count for something.”

  “I’ll pass,” Deanna said wryly.

  “As will I,” Arielle agreed.

  “I think I need to check on Storm,” Jocelyn murmured, sounding bereaved.

  “This whole damn family needs therapy,” Marquis grumbled, shaking his head in disgust. Nonetheless, he made a beeline toward the kitchen and out the back door.

  He wasn’t about to test his father’s resolve.

  5

  THE WOODSHED

  The sun had set hours earlier.

  The December moon was radiant, large, and glowing.

  And the midnight-blue sky was virtually glittering with dense, wet snowflakes, the cold crystal prisms swirling as they fell, only to be swept away in gentle, hidden eddies of sparkling light.

  It was the perfect backdrop for a Christmas Eve smack-down.

  It was the perfect night for Ciopori’s revenge.

  Unfortunately, as soon as Marquis realized that it was Ciopori, not Keitaro, who was going to dish out his punishment—Keitaro was just an enforcer—the warrior could not stop laughing.

  Which only made Ciopori see red.

  Well, she would show him how the cow ate the bacon…or the pig ate the horse…or the mule ate some cabbage…

  Whatever!

  As she continued to rummage through the large cedar shed—searching for just the right implement of torture—she could hear the Ancient Master Warrior laughing outside the creaking door. “What are you looking for, my love?” he asked in that deep, king-of-the-jungle voice.

  Ciopori smirked. “A baseball bat, my darling.”

  Marquis chuckled like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “You’re going to beat me with a bat?” he asked, laughing so hard he snorted. “I’m afraid we don’t have one, draga mea.”

  My darling.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Ciopori snipped.

  She emerged from the shed with a four-foot-long, three-inch-thick wooden paddle, drew it back over her shoulder, and swung it forward in a slow, level line—several times in a row—like a professional baseball player warming up at home plate. “I believe this will do just fine.”

  Marquis’s long, silky hair fell to his broad, muscular back as he folded his arms above his head, placed them against the shed’s cedar siding, and spread his legs a shoulder’s width apart, offering Ciopori his ass.

  Her breath hitched in her throat.

  Great Celestial Ancestors, the male had a backside to die for.

  Her mouth fell open, and she started to drool—but she quickly stifled the reaction.

  This was neither the place nor the time for such antics.

  She could always molest him later.

  Right now, it was time to teach the Ancient Master Warrior a lesson.

  His voice dropped to a heated, savage purr, and Ciopori almost lost her concentration when he glanced over his shoulder, flashed a hint of fang, and flexed both of those perfect globes. “Hurt me, baby.”

  Nachari started laughing, and Kagen smacked him in the arm.

  Kristina cackled like a Salem witch, and Vanya leaned against her, angling her head to the side—apparently, the regal princess wanted a better angle.

  Nathaniel just smiled, like the deviant he was.

  And Keitaro?

  Well, his dark eyes twinkled, like he was thoroughly amused, as he placed one foot on a tree stump, braced his elbow on his knee, and leaned in to watch the action.

  Yeah, well, Ciopori thought, we’ll see who’s amused when I’m finished. “Three strikes for three spanks,” she announced. And then, without hesitation or preamble, she drew back the paddle and swung it like a bat, breaking the wood on Marquis’s upper thighs.

  “You missed, sister,” Nachari said, pointing out the obvious.

  “Blessed Andromeda!” Ciopori snarled. She stared at the broken paddle, huffed her annoyance, and tossed it aside, heading for the nearest tree. She returned moments later with an equally long branch, handed it to Keitaro so he could strip off the leaves, and studied Marquis while he waited. She couldn’t help but notice that the vampire had grown quiet.

  Silent as the falling snow.

  And as an ivory beam of moonlight illuminated his handsome profile, she noticed something else…

  His fangs had descended in his mouth.

  The vampire was no longer laughing…or teasing.

  Good!

  Her message was getting through.

  She stepped up to the “plate” once again, drew back the heavy tree branch, and let him have it—hard—this time, right in the center of his cheeks.

  He groaned in pain.

  Or was that a purr?

  It sounded a bit like a feral growl.

  “How do you like them oranges?” she goaded.

  “Apples,” Nachari supplied.

  She spun around and glared at the Master Wizard. “What!”

  “How do you like them apples?” he repeated.

  “Oh, well, fine,” she huffed. “How do you like them apples, Marquis?”

  Once again, the warrior groaned.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she sliced the branch through the air one last time, and smacked him with every ounce of vampiric power she could muster. The back of his black cargo jeans tore along the seam as a snag in the branch caught the denim. “Oh, gods!” Ciopori cried, suddenly feeling ashamed. “Marquis! Are you oaky?”

  The vampire spun around with all the stealth and grace of his predatory species and dropped into a squat, his biceps bulging, his quads trembling, his elbows resting on his knees.

  His eyes were glowing.

  His fangs were fully extended.

  And his…oh-my-gods…was standing to attention.

  Marquis had definitely lied to her earlier: He absolutely had a baseball bat.

  “Time to blaze a trail,” Nachari murmured, grimacing.

  “Uh, yeah,” Kagen grunted. “Could’ve gone a lifetime without seeing that image.”

  “Oh, just…no,” Kristina bellyached, and Vanya covered her eyes.

  “Keitaro?” Ciopori cast a desperate glance toward the patriarch, looking to her father-in-law for assistance.

  The strong, resilient male shook his head. “You made this bed, Ciopori—you and Marquis, both—now you have to lie in it.” With that, he simply vanished into thin air, along with the other vampires.

  Ciopori turned her attention to the heated vampire in front of her. “Did I hurt you?” she crooned, her voice soft with compassion and maybe a little apology.

  “No.”

  “Are you angry?” she whispered.

  “No,” he snarled.

  She gulped and took a cautious step back.

  “You must think I’m the petulant child.”

  Marquis Silivasi stood to his full, imposing height and took three purposeful strides forward. “I think you are the single most beautiful, sexy, and powerful female on the planet.” His features grew strained and his voice raspy. “You are master of our home; I will follow where you lead; and I’m sorry that I spanked your sexy ass to begin with. I will never do it again.” He paused. “Unless you ask me to.”

  C
iopori gulped, but she didn’t have time to reply.

  The vampire scooped her up by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder, and carted her into the shed, where he slammed her—albeit gently—against the interior wall and ripped the skirt from her hips.

  His tattered jeans were off in an instant—her undergarments were ripped to shreds—as he grasped her thighs, surged between them, and thrust forward with his powerful hips.

  And the rest was Christmas history…

  As Ciopori whimpered and moaned.

  To heck with the meal—this holiday was epic!

  Glorious…

  Indescribable.

  Blissful.

  Nathaniel Silivasi flashed out of sight, departing the scene of the woodshed before he got an eyeful of something he could never forget. Truly, Marquis and Ciopori were a comic—and perfect—match, literally made in the heavens.

  As he rounded the back corner of Marquis’s expansive farmhouse, he noticed two human men, bundled in winter coats, wool hats, and insulated gloves, chatting quietly amongst themselves, just yards away from a familiar old blue pickup truck. The Chevy belonged to Kevin Parker, the human male who ran the Dark Moon Stables for DMV Prime—the overarching corporation encompassing all the house of Jadon’s business holdings—and the male beside him was none other than the mystery guest from dinner. No doubt, Nachari had already handled the business, just as Keitaro had asked him to, but Nathaniel decided to check it out…just to be safe.

  He was surprised when Kevin Parker stepped forward and approached him first. “Mr. Silivasi, I’m glad we ran into you.” He hunched his shoulders, shivering a bit from the cold. “Well, actually, that’s not entirely true—we were hanging around on purpose, hoping to get a word.”

  Nathaniel’s eyebrows hitched up. “Call me Nathaniel.”

  The human nodded. “Nathaniel…”

  The thin blond guy standing next to Kevin shifted nervously back and forth on his booted feet, and he couldn’t hold Nathaniel’s seeking gaze.

  Interesting…

  Kevin gave his friend a reassuring nod and continued addressing Nathaniel. “Look, I realize you oversee the management of the ski resort and lodge, and that I have full authority to run the stables as I see fit. I’d like to bring Michael, here, in as a private contractor to help with upkeep of the ranch, the equipment, and the guest cabins. He’s talented, and he’s also married to my third cousin, Michelle. So he’s family.”