His hunger and passion and lack of control he usually showed with me was both surprising and intoxicating, and a gasp flew from my lips.
“Abram,” I breathed.
His teeth ground together as he thrust into me again. “Say my name again.”
Each thrust pulled another moan from me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him tightly. “Abram.”
He groaned as he crashed into me again, lifting my body, my back rubbing against the rough tree bark. The sensation was too erotic to be painful, though, but Abram had a way of doing that—a way of making the hurt feel good.
Heat and electricity beamed out of my pores as he freed my breasts from my blouse, exposing me to the icy winter night air. His fingers deftly manipulated my nipples, heightening my arousal and he rocked his body into mine with such fervor, his pelvis grinding against my most sensitive spot, that the tension was building faster than seemed possible.
His eyes took on a beastly red hue and as his mouth crushed into mine, his groans turned more into growls and grunting. My entire body clenched around him, taking him in and yearning to keep him there forever. He pumped into me faster, one hand winding in my hair and pulling down to hold me still so that every thrust came hard and unyielding, while his other hand continued to manipulate one of my nipples.
This was what our life was supposed to be, making love in the forest with the moon watching over us like some excited voyeur. Passion melting away our worries and our fears. Stolen moments that belonged only to us. Something more than just fighting all the time.
He rocked into me harder, pinching down on my nipple just as my body reached its breaking point, climaxing, shattering me into a million pieces and making me cry out.
Abram grunted again, this time louder, pumping into me as my orgasm sent aftershocks through my entire body. The sweetest of calm flooded me, and I felt closer to him now than I had ever been to anyone.
His body stilled, his cock pulsing into me as he panted against my shoulder. He stayed there for a moment before gently lowering me to the ground. I leaned against him, and him against me.
“I love you,” I muttered into his chest.
“I love you,” he answered, brushing the top of my head with a gentle kiss. “Merry Christmas, Charisse.”
And Serial Santa be damned, at least for this one moment, it really was.
*
I strode hand in hand with Abram back toward the lodge, more confident than ever. Though the moon was still up there, still watching us and warning that trouble lurked in the night, it was as though a weight had been lifted from me.
Sure, we had just been handed a setback, and we would have to live with that for the rest of our lives, but Abram and I were together, and together we were strong. This Santa Claus might be more powerful than we originally expected, but we could take him. We could free this town from the yearly terror they had resigned themselves to. Much like Abram had just done for me, we could give them Christmas back.
As the lodge came into view, I was surprised to see the lights on in the lobby. In a town this small, I figured the innkeeper would have closed up shop by now. But hey, it was Christmas, and even if Christmas wasn’t exactly ordinary around these parts, maybe old Dudley decided to keep the midnight oil burning.
“We still can’t sleep, you know,” I said, sighing at the prospect.
“I know.” Abram released my hand and placed his soothingly at the small of my back. “If the naughty list doesn’t have a new name on it by now, it will shortly. We need to cut Santa off at the pass in order to make the most of our second chance. You saw the way the mayor reacted to me. Dudley’s the only person we’ve been able to get anywhere with, which means if we’re going to get information on the new target, it’ll be from him.” He raked his fingers through his dark, untamed mess of hair. “Besides, a shower doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I think I have leaves in my hair.”
“And whose fault is that?” I smirked, playfully elbowing him in the side.
He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, my hip nudging into his thigh. “I regret nothing.”
Yeah, this Santa Claus didn’t stand a chance.
We approached the front door to the Inn and, surprisingly, I heard music coming from inside.
“Is that—”
“Jingle Bell Rock,” Abram finished solemnly.
He twisted the handle and pushed the door open. Decorations covered nearly every inch of the lobby. Mistletoe hung from the ceiling like grenades dangling in the air. Four stockings were pinned along the fireplace, each with a name embroidered across the top in gold glitter.
Abram, Charisse, Dudley, and Annabeth adorned the socks and a tree, huge and glistening, sat perched in the corner.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked, shouting over the music.
“What’s going on?” A voice, hoarse and shaky, shouted from above.
Dudley stood at the top of the staircase, his eyes wild and his hair strewn wildly across his head. “I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
He shuffled down the stairs, his feet moving so quickly I was sure he was about to take a tumble.
“They delivered this thirty minutes ago, while the two of you were doing God knows what.” He pulled a paper from his packet. It was crumpled and wrinkly, but it was undoubtedly the naughty list. And across it, in the same flowery cursive, sat his name.
“Oh Lord, Dudley,” I murmured, my hand traveling to my mouth.
“That’s right!” He waved the paper violently in from of our faces. “And then all of this appeared, and this damn music! This music that won’t shut off! I’m going to die!” His voice cracked with the last word. “I’m going to die, and it’s all your fault!”
Chapter 6
“Our fault?” I scoffed, staring at the tall, slender man. “If I were you, I’d blame the Santa monster trying to kill me.”
“Oh, that’s rich!” He shook his head. “We all know what happens this time of year. Is it fair? No. Is it right? Probably not. But I’ll tell you something, that monster forces us to live clean decent lives. Our little town is free of depravity because of him.”
“Tell that to Amanda,” I said, folding my arms over my chest.
“I suppose she’s dead?” The indifference that colored his voice reminded me of Carly and of the mayor. Was everyone like that here?
Abram glared at him. “Would your name be on the list if she wasn’t?”
“My name wouldn’t be on the list at all if not for you people.” Dudley snorted. “I’m not like that whorish girl. She’s been skirting her fate for years now. Got herself knocked up out of wedlock. Had an affair with a married man before the wife caught on. And the way she treated her little girl.” Dudley waved his hand dismissively. “It’s like she had a death wish. But not me!” He pointed to his chest. “I have lived piously. I’ve been a saint. Never once have I even had an inkling of concern that my name was going to wind up on that damn list. Until you two showed up.”
“But now your name is on that list,” I said, stepping toward him. “That should tell you something. It doesn’t matter what you do. Santa isn’t out here trying to right wrongs. He’s using that as an excuse to indulge his bloodlust. Yeah, Amanda was lacking in a lot of ways, and maybe she didn’t live a perfect life, but by your own estimation, you did. And you both ended up in the same place.”
I touched his shoulder, hoping to comfort him in what had to be an extremely difficult time, but he pulled away, narrowing his eyes at me as if I had just come at him with a machete.
I huffed. “Look, I get that you’re upset. You feel wronged, and that’s understandable. You did everything right, and you’re still where you are. But you need to let us protect you.”
“The way you protected that whore? I don’t think so!” Dudley’s hand crunched into a fist, crumpling the list. He let it drop to the ground. “I assume that’s where you’re coming from, yes? A failed attempt to keep her sa
fe?”
“We know what we’re up against now,” Abram said, his voice even. Maybe our time in the woods had helped him regain a control on the beast within, or at least on his unruly tempter.
“So do I,” Dudley said, “and a hell of a lot better than either of you! I’ve known what I was up against my entire life.” Dudley ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “You know, I’ve been wracking my brain ever since they brought this to me. What could I have done? What am I being punished for?”
“Nothing,” I answered. “This isn’t about what you did or didn’t do. You have to let us try and stop it.”
“I’ve been a good person. I’ve been a good neighbor. I’ve been a good businessman. My rates are more than fair,” he said. His forehead wrinkled and he chewed his lip. “I couldn’t make sense of it. And then it came to me.” He pinned us with his gaze. “This is because of you—this is because I let you horrible people stay here!”
I balked. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re an innkeeper. Not only is it your job to give us a room, but you put a roof over the heads of two people who needed it. How could that be considered a bad thing?”
“Oh, don’t rewrite history!” he said, shaking his finger at me. “You barged in here and threatened me into giving you a room! And instead of standing up to you like a man should, I folded and let you walk all over me. I put your lives at risk, and I did it because I was afraid of a confrontation. That’s why this is happening to me, because I made it too comfortable for you to get yourselves killed. I facilitated this and, if I’m going to make it right and save my own skin, then I need to un-facilitate it.”
Abram’s eyes flashed red. “Don’t you dare.”
“What are you going to do?” Dudley laughed, though it was bitter and maniacal. “You gonna threaten me again? Beat me to a pulp? It won’t be half of what will happen to me if I back down again.” He pointed to the door. “I used the car key on your dresser to put your belongings in your car while you were gone. You’re welcome.”
Abram’s hands balled into fists at his side. “You can’t do that!”
“It’s my hotel,” Dudley answered, turning from us and starting toward the check-in counter. “I can do whatever I want.”
“I don’t care about the damn room, Dudley. If you throw us out, then how are we supposed to keep you safe? You have to think about your survival.”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he answered, turning back to us as he got behind his desk, just like the first time we ever saw him. “Play half-assed heroes all you want, but do it with someone else’s life. That’s why I gave you the list.”
He motioned to the paper crumpled on the floor. As he spoke, I blinked hard, unsure of what I was seeing. The decorations in the lobby were beginning to flicker in and out of existence. And the song, Jingle Bell Rock, started slowing down, like a record was messing up.
“Abram, do you—”
“I see it.”
“As soon as the two of you take your troublesome behinds out of here, a new name will appear on that paper. If you want to throw yourselves in harm’s way by trying to save them, that’s up to you, but don’t expect any help from me.”
The lights dimmed and disappeared. The stockings shrunk and dissipated. The tree reverted into a sapling and imploded onto itself. And the music died to a whisper, and then to nothing.
It was all gone. Every inch of Christmas spirit—every shred of evidence that Santa Claus had ever considered Dudley as one of his potential victims—had all melted away like butter in the sun.
Dudley shuffled some papers together and set them aside. “Now, before I have to call the police, get the hell out of my lodge.”
“This could be a trap,” Abram said, standing firm. “This could be some trickery of Santa’s. Maybe he’s trying to lure us away from you to make killing you easier.”
“It could be any number of things,” Dudley answered, “but it isn’t. Besides, judging from your previous failure, I doubt Santa’s concerned about whether or not you’re trying to stop him.” Dudley blinked hard. “Let me make this very clear. I don’t want you here. Even if Santa was still trying to kill me, which we can all clearly see is not the case, I would rather take my chances with him than with the two of you. This is town business. Every inch of it. Now, if you won’t respect our privacy as a community, I’m asking you to respect mine as an individual. Get out of here and leave me alone.”
“You don’t understand.” Abram’s posture deflated. “I did this. I was here in 1965. Whatever is happening here—I’m certain it’s connected to me somehow. We need to fix it, and I’m pretty sure we’re the only ones who can.”
Dudley’s eyes got wide. His mouth opened and closed again, before finally he pointed to the door. “GET OUT!”
“Dudley, please just let us help,” I said, raising my hands to try to calm him. “All Abram meant is that this is our business, too. Let us tend to it.”
His expression softened then, and his hand slowly lowered to his side. “Well, I can understand—”
The music kicked back up. Loudly.
“No.” Dudley shuffled back out from behind the counter. “You need to get the hell out of here, and stay the hell away!”
When Abram and I didn’t budge, he continued over to us and pushed against Abram’s chest. Of course, that didn’t do shit, but it didn’t stop Dudley from trying, either. He kept pushing at Abram, an ant trying to move a well-defined and muscular mountain.
“Just go!” he screamed, shoving harder. “Can’t you see you’re going to get me killed?”
I placed my hand on Abram’s arm. “Let’s just get out of here. He doesn’t want our help, and obviously someone doesn’t want us to help him.”
“Which is why we should,” Abram said, unmoving.
“Not like this,” I said, my heart sinking at the fear and panic on the smaller man’s face. “Let’s just go. For me.”
Abram looked down at Dudley, pushed him back sharply, and turned toward the door.
“Th-Thank you,” the innkeeper said, batting sweat out of his hair. “And good luck. I really, really mean that.”
Abram growled. “How selfless of you.”
I reached down and snatched up the crumpled list from the floor—our only clue on where to go next, and followed Abram outside.
The night air was colder and the moon even higher now. Probably close to midnight…close to that hour when Abram was no longer able to keep the beast at bay. We needed to either solve this soon or get him to a place where he couldn’t hurt anyone.
I shivered on the patio, crossing my arms over my chest. Abram removed his jacket and slung it over my shoulders. It was that—the little things—that suddenly made things seem a lot better.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“What we always do,” he said, wrapping his massive arms around me to keep me warm. “We keep going.”
“It actually left, Abram. The Santa thing—whatever it is—it left when Dudley evicted us.”
“I know.” He nodded, eyebrows pulled together and mouth frowning. “But a murderer who negotiates is still a murderer. We still have to take it down. I wasn’t lying when I said I hold myself responsible for this. In one way or another, I unleashed hell onto this town. I have to fix this.”
“We have to fix it,” I said, leaning up on my tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek. His warmth was intoxicating, and it actually hurt to pull away from him.
“Yes,” he said. “We. Us.”
“The list,” I said, holding the crumpled paper out to him. “There should be another name on it now. We have to find whoever it is and keep them safe.”
Abram took the paper from my grasp and unfolded it. His face remained stone-like as it scanned over the page.
“Well?” I asked. “Who is it?”
Folding it over and sticking it in his pocket, he shrugged a frown. “Doesn’t matter.”
“What does that mean? Of course it matters.” I
reached for his pocket to take the list back out, but he pulled away. “Abram!” I said. “Abram, let me see that!”
“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated. “I think I should handle this alone, anyway.”
“You just said we were in this together!”
“No,” he said, his face contorting angrily. “You said that.”
“You agreed! Damn it, Abram, I’m in no mood for games. Just tell me whose fucking name is on that paper!”
His mouth set, the muscles in his jaw firming up. “You remember how I said I blame myself for what’s happening to this town?”
“Yeah,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean you have to do this alone!”
He handed me the list, and my heart shattered as I read the name now splattered across it.
Abram Canavar.
Chapter 7
“No. This can’t be right,” I muttered to myself, eyes plastered on the list. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes as much sense as anything else here does, Charisse,” Abram answered. But there was no fire in his voice, none of the terror that now coursed through my veins like fire.
I crumpled the paper in my fist. “How are you okay with this?”
“I’m not. But you have to admit that, of all of the people whose names could have appeared on that list, it’s for the best that it’s mine.” His expression was even and unemotional. “I did this. It’s fitting I should be the one in peril because of it.”
“Really?” I asked, throwing the paper at him and shaking my head. “I have never, in my entire life, met someone with such a martyr complex. Let me ask you, is it uncomfortable up there on your cross?”
He glared at me and then the paper on the ground. “However you may be feeling right now, I will not allow you to disrespect me. Do not try my patience, Charisse.”
I threw my arms up. “Oh, heavens no. By all means, let’s talk about you tossing your life away like it was a Big Mac wrapper with the sort of calm detachment that it deserves.”
I slapped him in the chest, but he grabbed my wrist and scowled at me in warning. At least he was reacting to something, but his firm grasp and angry face slowed me down a notch.
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 68