Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “That’s going to make you a conehead.”

  “Not quite the look I was going for,” she said, taking in his slightly crooked, perfectly sexy smile.

  “Don’t worry. Won’t make a damn bit of difference.” His gaze centered on her eyes, and Selene felt him looking at her just as easily as she saw it happening.

  All at once her body reacted, cheeks flushing, chest tightening, muscles along the insides of her thighs clenching. She curled her toes against the horrible desire to jump onto his lap. The man was an absolute demon. Selene was certain this was exactly what he managed to do with every woman he met.

  She was not going to be like everyone else. She would not become another notch for him to laugh about.

  “Why are you in church, vampire?” She slid along the pew, putting a couple feet between them. “Hoping to make things right with God?”

  HER VAMPIRE PROTECTOR

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sitting beside Selene in the dimly lit church where he’d watched her pray more times than he could remember, Oswald wasn’t entirely sure how this situation had come to pass. How had he managed to allow himself to be caught intruding again?

  Caught? He hadn’t been caught this time. He simply gave himself up, marched right up to her and gave himself away. What was wrong with him?

  Exactly how was he going to answer her question, so filled with indignation even a lovesick vampire couldn’t miss it? Quickly ticking through every battle strategy he knew landed him on the idea of stalling.

  “A better question would be why are you in church,” he said, feeling utterly pathetic in his tactic.

  “Really? You think that’s a better question?” When she looked at him her nose and her eyebrows crinkled into an expression that practically shouted you’re a moron. “I’m catholic and I attend mass here, and my uncle is the pastor. I basically grew up in this building. But you think asking me why I’m here is a better question than asking you, a vampire, what you’re doing in church?” She shook her head. “I think you might be the one with the concussion.”

  She might have had a point. But Oz was not at his best. He could feel it. Something was off. Something big was off. He didn’t bother trying to figure it out. He knew damn well what it was, and it had nothing to do with being a vampire in church and everything to do with being so close and alone with Selene while she was consciously aware he was sitting with her.

  He had a past, one he knew for sure she would not approve of. It wasn’t the other women that would upset her. Okay, maybe it would. But, he could prove there’d been no other women for many years in spite of the uncontrollable flirting. Some things a man just couldn’t help.

  But, flirting was not against the law, and for the most part it was innocent, meant to make everyone involved feel good. How could that be bad?

  “Oz?” She moved closer and snapped her fingers before his eyes. “You in there?”

  In a blink he caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Yes.”

  “Oh!” She snatched her hand away. “You’re an animal. This is a church. A holy place. A sacred place.”

  St. Benedict’s had been Selene’s private sanctuary for years. Eight years to be precise, though, she had been coming here since she was born. Oz knew every detail, most he’d gleaned from conversations, one-sided conversations with her aunt and uncle, but some he’d learned over time from Selene.

  She turned on the bench beside him, bending her leg and causing her knee to slide along his thigh. The heat from her body made the desire to pull her into his arms almost unbearable. Yet, years of diligent practice made it possible for him to resist. Though, it didn’t stop him from taking in the sight of the most beautiful woman he knew.

  She wore sneakers, the same ones she always wore in and out of the office. At her ankle there was now a hole in the shimmery stockings that made her calves look as though they’d been carved by angels. Two lines raced up her leg to vanish beneath the hem of her skirt, which was still spattered with blood and now had dirt smudges in four places. Her tight little sweater twisted to the left at the waist and to the right at the collar, though kept a nice firm hold of her swelling breasts. Bright red burned in her cheeks and those hazel eyes sparkled like the candles in the vestibule reflected in them. Her typically perfect hair was a lovely mess that Oz would have begged to run his hands through.

  She was the picture of perfection, and he silently thanked God for leading him to St. Benedict’s all those years ago.

  Really, St. Benedict’s had literally been a God-sent gift, though Oswald wasn’t certain if the gift was for Selene or him.

  The very pew they sat in was the same one where he’d twice left her sleeping. Once, eight years ago, the night he pulled her from the car wreck that killed her parents. The second time, six years later when in his unbridled excitement to see her he rushed out from the alley, planning to hide in the confessional as he’d done countless times before when he watched Selene sing or pray or simply sit and contemplate whatever it was she thought about. Only that night he ran smack into her a few feet from the door.

  “Do you need to go back to the base? Would you like me to drive you to the infirmary?” she asked.

  “Nah. I’m fine.”

  “Really? ’Cause you’re acting very weird.”

  “I’m simply in awe.” He watched the way her eyes tracked over him, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her mouth moved, lips forming unspoken words.

  For a few minutes they sat in silence, Oz unable to bring himself to say much else, afraid to ruin the few moments he’d ever had alone with her when she was alert and oriented and not avoiding him like he was a scourge.

  Even though he stopped by her office every night for some stupid reason or another, they were never truly alone. Somewhere, not far away someone was always around. But here in the silent peace they were able to simply be together, and Oz was certain the reason Selene remained seated so intently interested in him was she thought God was on her side.

  Far be it for him to ruin her illusion, or the moment. If it was going to take involving God to get this woman to notice he loved her more than anything else, then so be it.

  “Awe? Like amazed you’ve not been struck dead for sitting inside a church? I can’t understand how you could possibly get in. Isn’t it forbidden or something?”

  The way she leaned toward him with her head tilted to the left, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, yet remaining intently focused on him, reminded him of the way a new vampire focused on influencing his prey.

  The ability to influence humans was innate to an extent, but that didn’t mean it didn’t require practice, lots of practice. Every hunter had to learn the best way to use his skills. Overpowering your prey without frying her brain was the key to success.

  She leaned in another inch. “Does it hurt to be in here?” Her eyes darted around for a second, then up to the ceiling and back. “Do you feel like your insides are burning?” She nodded, wide-eyed.

  He had to work not to laugh. She was so eager to hear about him melting due to the angry wrath of God. He hated to disappoint her.

  His insides did feel like they were burning, but he knew it had nothing to do with entering the church and everything to do with wanting to hold her.

  “You know…” He let his voice drop to barely a whisper, causing her to lean even closer, her eyes now staring straight at his lips. “I do feel something. It’s hard to describe.”

  He made a show of looking around as if searching for God.

  “Go on.” She rested her hand on his leg, further testing his self-control. “What is it?”

  “Well, I walked right in.”

  “How? I locked the door.” Confusion played across her pretty face.

  He shrugged. “The choir loft window. I hope you don’t mind.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’ve used it before.”

  “Oh.” Her back stiffened, and she glanced away for a moment. “Well, if God doesn’t mind, who
am I to question?”

  Oz nodded. “No one, not even God tried to stop me. Should I be concerned? Do you think He’s trying to tell me something?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a message. Maybe you’re supposed to…”

  “Change?” He could not help but enjoy the look of utter shock on her face. “Change my wicked ways?” Maybe he’d gently lead her to the idea that he’d change anything she wanted, anything at all just to be with her.

  She sucked in a loud breath. “Yes! Maybe God does want Serge to experiment and find a way to change you back. Maybe the point is that you’re supposed to, to, confess something and then you can be human again. Maybe that’s why you’re always drawn to the confessional.”

  “Drawn to the confess—”

  “You’ve been trying to prepare all this time. I never wanted to say anything. I mean, who am I to question.”

  “You knew?” Oz had been certain to remain hidden and never to draw suspicion. How did she know?

  “I did. Well, no, I didn’t. I knew something. I felt you. I can’t explain. It doesn’t matter anyway.” She grabbed his wrist, and before Oz could assimilate what she’d said she jumped up from the pew, pulling him along behind her and rushed to the nearest confessional.

  “Oh my God! You’re it. You’re the one who’s supposed to be sacrificed.” She shoved him into the booth and whipped out her cell phone. “I should have thought beyond. Beyond.” She waved her hands and the phone above her head. “Who am I to question? I should have known better. Serge was right.”

  “Sacrificed?” Oz stumbled backward into the little closet, missing the chair, crashing into the wall and falling to the floor.

  “Get in there. Sit in the chair. What is wrong with you?” She cradled the cell phone between her chin and shoulder while reaching under Oz’s arms to heft him upward. “Geeze, you’re heavy.”

  Using strength Oz knew had to have come from God, Selene managed to pick him up like he was some rag doll and with an unceremonious plop drop him onto the chair.

  “I wonder if Serge knows you’re the one.” She bent over bringing her face within inches of his. “The one. Who knew?” Her eyes were wide and the expression of utter exhilaration was breathtaking, if not terrifying.

  It was impossible for Oz to think. He’d planned to make up some sort of gruesome story, dragging it out in long and torturous fashion and then working it around to the topic of he and Selene spending more time together, but all he could think about was her hand on his leg and the way he wanted to feel her heated touch everywhere and before he knew it she’d hijacked the conversation and was sacrificing him. And was he being sacrificed to Serge?

  Looking into her eager face, seeing the way her beautiful eyes danced with excitement and her mouth opened to once again form a perfect O, Oz couldn’t speak. Instead, he reached up and touched her cheek.

  She smiled and shook her head slowly. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner. I’m so excited for Serge and his experiments. I had no idea he had this connection with…”

  “Hello. Selene, honey, is that you,” a man said on the other end of the phone.

  “Yes! Uncle Ralph, it’s Selene.” She stood up, holding Oz’s hand between her breasts, a movement he’d have generally loved, except for what he next heard. “Oswald Addison from The Vampire Guard would like you to hear his confession.”

  “What?” Oz heard the question spoken at the same time he asked it.

  “Isn’t he the vampire you told me and Aunt Margery about?”

  Selene’s expression changed, the smile fading. “Well, yes, but…”

  “The vampire?” a woman squawked on the other end. “THE vampire?”

  “You’re with Aunt Margery? Isn’t it awfully late for you to both be up?” Selene turned her back to Oz, forcing him to lunge forward, pressing his face into her backside, and again finding himself in a position that in another situation he was certain he’d have thoroughly enjoyed.

  “Where are they? Are they alone? Is she alone with that man? He’s still a man, Ralph. Doesn’t matter that he’s a vampire. He’s still a man, and our little Selene is a very beautiful young woman, and you and I have talked about this and that man, and what we think, and you know as well as I that this could lead to things. Man and woman things.”

  “This is why I said to stop buying the mistletoe. She’s been pilfering it for several days. You’ve put ideas in her head,” the man said.

  “Ideas? With mistletoe? If she’s only thinking about kissing, we’ve certainly done a terrible job of explaining the facts of life to her!” the woman said.

  “Aunt Margery!” Selene’s voice shot up several octaves. “We’re in the church!”

  “A vampire is in the church?” Both Ralph and Margery yelled. “We’ll be right there.”

  HER VAMPIRE PROTECTOR

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Cradling the phone to her chest, Selene breathed in a deep breath, then released it and repeated. Sometimes Aunt Margery and Uncle Ralph were a bit old-fashioned and nutty. She supposed that happened when you were sixty-something-year-old celibates.

  Well, at the very least, Uncle Ralph could hear Oswald’s confession and prepare him for the transition.

  “It’s a very dangerous thing you’re doing,” she whispered, feeling her chest tighten. “You could…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence aloud.

  The fact was Ozzy could die. The transition from human to vampire was said to be gruelingly painful. She could only imagine the journey back to being human would be equally as traumatic.

  “I’d have never guessed you’d be so…giving and thoughtful, or that you’d put the entire wellbeing and future of your…race? I suppose vampires are a race unto themselves.” She nodded and sighed, resigning herself to the idea they were a race.

  This had been a question plaguing her mind for several months, though she’d never had the boldness to ask it aloud.

  The idea of Oswald volunteering for an experiment that almost certainly guaranteed his death was overwhelming. And, not simply because such selfless acts were indeed rare these days. In all honesty hearing of Ozzy’s selfless dedication was not surprising. He was a kind and generous man. She had witnessed this on numerous occasions.

  But the fact was he clearly had a higher calling, superior to any lustful desire Selene had of him. Now, realizing what he had probably planned to do with the life he’d been given or more likely, felt in the deepest parts of his soul to be his calling, she understood why he had no serious romantic interest in her (or any other woman). How could he when she had questioned, argued, and extoled the wrongness of this plan from the first moment she heard of it? Who was she to think about him in ways that were less than charitable or reverent, even? Wasn’t someone who sought to sacrifice himself for the betterment of society someone to be revered?

  She could hardly find words to describe her feelings. She vacillated between wondrous awe and fear for his safety and what he was sure to experience and, sadly, a bit of loss for herself. Doesn’t everyone feel loss when a dream or fantasy is shattered?

  The right thing to do was to put aside her ridiculous fantasies about him and to fully support his decision, to offer to help in any way, to squelch any selfish thoughts she had.

  There was only one way to describe Oswald. “Courageous. So courageous.”

  She glanced down. That’s when she realized she wasn’t simply cradling her phone to her chest. No, she very firmly held Ozzy’s hand to her right breast, even clasping her hand over his, keeping it cupping the full breast.

  When she looked a little lower she noticed his hand gripping her thigh. Heated breaths puffed on her backside with every rapid breath he took.

  “We’re in church,” she said.

  “Uh-huh.” The feel of his jaw moving made her squirm, then both his hands gripped her body a tad bit more firmly.

  It was an awful catch twenty-two. Awful because they were in church and Oswald was special. He ha
d a higher purpose. Selene should not tempt him in ways that played on his weaknesses. It was cruel.

  In spite of the direction Oswald was headed, he was still a womanizing pig. Everyone had a weakness, a pothole in his character that needed occasional patchwork. Obviously, the Righteous had issues, too.

  The thought made Selene feel good and bad all at once. Good because the notion of Ozzy not being perfect made her feel less imperfect, and bad because wasn’t she now the temptress? She did not want to be the reason he misbehaved. That was never her goal with Oswald.

  Unfortunately, the feel of his touch, both on her leg and her breast, oh, and the strong press of his jaw to her backside, none of that was awful. Not even a little bit.

  Selene swallowed audibly.

  The situation was awkward, very awkward. Logically, Selene knew she should push his hands away and go sit in the other confessional and pray the rosary five thousand times. She certainly was not about to say confession to her uncle. What would she say?

  Forgive me Father for I have sinned. I forced a vampire with a much higher calling in this world to grope me in the house of God and I loved it.

  Somehow that just did not seem right on so many levels.

  Still, why she continued to stand holding his hand to her breast and letting his other hand fondle her thigh Selene could not explain. Actually, she could explain.

  She liked it. She really liked it. She’d wanted this for so long, now that it was happening she couldn’t stop, even though it was happening in church.

  “This should stop,” she said.

  “Okay,” he mumbled into her backside.

  “Oh, my God.” She let her head drop back at the feel of his lips moving.

  Selene had dated a few men. Few, being the word. When you were raised by a priest and his matronly older sister, who, for her part, loved romance movies and novels, you did not date much, and sometimes, you took your old aunt and uncle with you.