“Seth, I hope you’re all ready to go.” He held out his hand to Cullen. “Hello there. I’m Sambo. Sambo Jones. But you can call me Santa. Everybody else does.”
“Nice to meet you, Santa.” Cullen shook his hand. “I’m Cullen. Here to help out Seth.”
“Yes, yes, I know.” Santa cocked his head at Cullen and studied him for a brief moment before he nodded. “Yes, you really are Cullen aren’t you?”
Cullen paused, plainly unsure about how he should respond. Leave it to Sambo Jones—the oddest man she ever met—to catch a fallen angel off guard. Oh, she knew the Highlander had fallen from God’s good graces. She just had no idea why yet.
The Stewart finally offered a practical answer. “Yup, last time I checked I was definitely Cullen.”
“Alrighty then boys.” Santa threw his red velvet bag on the counter. Rubbing his big belly, he grabbed a few elf coats off a peg and flung them at Cullen and Seth. “Put these on then. This place’ll be fillin’ up with little ones in no time and I’ll not have you scaring them off.”
Cullen’s brows lowered sharply and he shook his head. “Never gonna happen.”
“It will if you want to learn more about the bonnie lass I’ve fallen in love with.” Santa winked at him. “She haunts this little winter wonderland.”
Chapter Three
CULLEN ALWAYS FIGURED he had a pretty good grasp on hell. Having fought a few demons in his time, he understood evil better than most. Shit, he was evil now. But the truth was hell and all its horror had nothing on this place. It wasn’t so much the children. He had always enjoyed the wee bairns. No, it was the wagon wheel who called himself Santa and his troops, or minions, of self-important employees.
As it turned out, the woman Santa loved who supposedly haunted the place was his assistant. A woman as round and irritatingly jolly as him. Despite the revelation, Seth and Cullen were still roped into playing elf to far too many sticky fingers while discreetly investigating the paranormal.
“Better you than me, Highlander.” Gop held his nose and shook his head. “If I never smell another peppermint candy cane again it’ll be too soon.”
Cullen was in complete agreement. Thankfully, the lodge had just closed. A grand affair consisting of caroling from cottage to cottage and more candy than any child should consume in a lifetime.
He was still amazed by the size of this place. Built on a hill spanning through the forest, it included a frozen pond, snow slides that wound through numerous igloos and a total of twenty-five cottages. Though Santa and his posse were gone for the night, they left the lights and music on claiming that it was only right on Christmas Eve.
If he were twenty years younger, he might have loved it here. But he was not. Now the only thing he liked about it was the approaching midnight hour.
He and Seth got along well enough. Like him, the American had an adventurous spirit. What he probably liked best about him though was his viewpoint on being a warlock. Where Cullen saw it as a curse, an impregnable wall between him and God, Seth saw it entirely different. He knew he was evil but remained determined to use his powers for good.
It was a new take on an impossible idea.
Then there was the fact that Seth had traveled back in time to medieval Scotland. Cullen was surprised by how much he enjoyed tossing conversation back and forth with someone who understood both eras.
“So no more luck with the digital recorder or EMF detector?” Seth asked.
“No.” Cullen perched on a wooden railing outside the main lodge’s back door and frowned as random snowflakes started falling. Good thing there had been room in one of the costume sheds for his bike. “Hopefully I won’t need either device much longer.”
“That’d be nice.” Seth shook his head. “The paranormal activity was far more active before you got here.”
Cullen only grunted. He had some theories on why that might be but saw no reason to volunteer them. All he wanted was for the clock to strike midnight. To finally lay eyes on Treasa as he remembered her. Not how the Ghost of Christmas Present looked in the car on the highway. He knew about that ghost and how it reflected what its viewer truly wanted for Christmas.
And all he wanted was Treasa.
Gop scowled at Cullen then squinted up at one of the icy slides. “Being in your past is no fun. I’d fall to my death if I attempted that thing.”
Cullen looked skyward. “Give it a shot then. Might be an improvement over your current state of death.”
Seth chuckled. “You two really don’t get along, huh?”
“We would if he didn’t dislike his past so much,” Gop grumbled.
“Only parts of it.” Cullen gave the ghost a pointed look, downed the remainder of his whiskey then tossed the flask to Gop. He caught it with a grunt and landed on his backside.
Gop complained something fierce before Seth put a finger to his lips and shook his head. Lights were flickering. Apparently that happened when spirits tried to communicate with the living. Cullen glanced at the wreath styled clock. Just past midnight and still no sign of Treasa.
He frowned at Gop. “I thought I’d be able to see her at midnight?”
Perplexed, Gop scratched the side of his nose and eyed the clock.
Meanwhile, Seth scowled at his equipment. “Everything’s dead so I can’t double-check the time.”
Left with no choice but to wait and hope, the next few minutes seemed like an eternity. Where was she? He needed to see her. Cullen closed his eyes. Though reluctant for obvious reasons, he prayed to God that when he opened them she would be there. At last. Again. Just one more time. But when he opened his eyes there was no sign of her. Maybe she had appeared elsewhere to avoid him. Growling in frustration, he raked a hand through his hair and started up a pathway to search for her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Gop grumbled. “Stop, Cullen. She's here.”
Cullen spun. There she was. At long last. Treasa.
Times two.
One version of her leaned sensually against the building, eyes as sultry as they had been in the sports car. Ignoring the Ghost of Christmas Present, his gaze went to the woman next to her. Arms crossed over her chest, she glared at him.
His Treasa.
And not too pleased to see him. Or have him at last see her.
Lord, she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. Long, curly pale blond hair dusted her lower back. Thick lustrous lashes framed almond-shaped sage green eyes. As always, her flawless skin seemed to glow. When his eyes made a slow sweep down her body, she shook her head sharply.
“Don’t you dare, Cullen Stewart,” she bit off. “You lost the right to look at me like that a long time ago.”
While he might have respected her wishes before he had fallen, he was no longer the gentleman she remembered. So he took his time making his way back up her sinfully long legs, past her slender waist and over her ample chest. Because he thoroughly enjoyed the defiance in her eyes, he purposefully utilized his accent. “‘Tis good to see ye again, lass. I didnae mean any disrespect by giving ye the eying over ye so deserve.”
“Ah, you can see her now,” Seth murmured. “Excellent.”
Treasa’s eyes narrowed further before she mumbled at the ghost next to her. “Stop mimicking the traitor.”
Cullen grinned. Obviously the Ghost of Christmas present looked like what she wanted most for Christmas. Him.
Treasa turned a frown Cullen’s way. “And you. Don’t bother with the accent. It’s lost its appeal.” After releasing a little huff he assumed was exasperation, she continued. “I suppose I should thank you for coming.”
It took about everything he had to remain casual when all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms…assuming he could. “Why did you summon me, Treasa?”
The Ghost of Christmas present licked her lips and eyed him up and down. “Do you really need to ask, Highlander?”
“Stop it, Ghost,” Treasa said. Her eyes went back and forth between the entities. “I need to s
peak to Cullen alone.”
“He’s all yours,” Gop said and started waddling up the hill, eyeing the slide.
“I want to stay.” Ghost pouted. Its mischievous eyes skirted between the two. “Please.”
“Fine.” Treasa nodded at Seth. “Stay here and haunt him. He looks bored.” She breezed past Cullen. “Follow me, warlock.”
Cullen’s eyes never left her jean-clad backside while he spoke to Seth. “Going for a walk with my lass. Keep using your equipment. You might just catch something.”
“I’m not your lass,” Treasa said as she headed into the Polar Express building.
Like the inside of nearly every cottage here, soft Christmas lights sparkled in and out of shadows. A long train whistled as they entered and started chugging along an intricately designed snowy terrain. Treasa leaned against a boulder made to look like a mountain, arms still crossed defensively over her chest as she eyed him.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” she began, words trailing off when he came close.
Sure, he could keep his distance but it had been far too long since he last saw her. So he leaned his shoulder against the wall, nearer than she expected. Not touching. Not yet. Instead, he inhaled deeply, relishing the sweet smell of her hair and the catch of her breath when her eyes met his. She started to speak but stopped.
Just like that they were back at the beginning.
The unavoidable attraction.
The undeniable need.
He wanted it all over again. But were they allowed. Was he allowed?
“So what’s the deal?” he said, voice low as he prompted Treasa to finish her sentence.
After a few blinks, she stood up straighter and seemed to gather her wits. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “I summoned you because I need help. I’ve been trapped in this place since it was built in the mid-seventies.”
Cullen smirked. “That explains the clothes.”
Her brows slammed together and she peered at her clothing. “What’s the matter with my outfit?”
She really had no clue. “There’s not a damn thing wrong with it or you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Anyways, like you apparently, I was banished to the twenty-first century. Well, originally the twentieth century.”
“Ironic, that,” he murmured.
“Hey, at least I’m not evil.” An odd glint met her eyes as she continued. “You’ve fallen a long way from where you were last time I saw you. How’d that happen?”
“You first.” He nodded at the train chugging by and the happy little conductor waving at them. “How’d you end up in way-too-much-joy-for-anyone central?”
“Wow, you really have catapulted off the high and mighty list, eh?”
Though tempted to crack a joke about her four-decades-too-late outfit, he wanted to get back in her good graces not out of them. So he gave her the sad truth. “My sister teamed up with an evil demi-god chieftain determined to kidnap King Robert the Bruce when he was a bairn. They hoped to change the fate of Scotland. I embraced evil and became a warlock so I could stop them. I failed. Meanwhile, God clipped my wings then a Celtic god booted me from medieval Scotland so my sis couldn’t use me to further her cause. Seth and his paranormal society are warlocks who can help keep me off her radar.”
He shrugged when her eyes widened. “That’s my story in a nutshell.”
“Damn,” she murmured. “Ghost told me you’d been a bad boy but never mentioned you were acting for a greater good.”
“Does that really surprise you?” he said softly, cursing the words the moment they left his mouth. Treasa obviously still felt betrayed that he turned to a greater good to begin with.
“So is the King safe?”
“For now. His is a journey that I’m no longer part of.” Cullen edged a little closer. “It seems I’ve someone else to save now, aye?”
“Way to crowd my space,” she said without moving. Despite her words, she almost seemed grateful he was close and not so much for romantic reasons.
“What’s wrong, Treasa?” he whispered, slipping into his brogue unintentionally. “Because there isnae anything I wouldnae do to keep ye safe, lass.”
“Don’t.” Treasa spoke of his speech. Her insolent eyes softened with the reflection of a thousand tiny Christmas lights. “I need your help as the man who would do anything to save someone who was in trouble not as…” She again trailed off when her eyes became lost in his. Startled by another train whistle, she snapped out of it and looked away. “I need you for the hero you always were. Nothing more.”
She inhaled deeply. “Because if you’re under the impression that I summoned you for another reason I didn't. What we shared doesn’t exist anymore.” Her determined eyes met his. “What we had is over.”
Like hell. But now was not the time to push her. “Then tell me what’s going on.”
Lips pressed together, Treasa hesitated a long moment before coming out with it. “After you, what’s it called?” She perked a brow. “Ascended to Heaven, I went through sort of a rocky period and made some poor decisions.”
“What kind of poor decisions?” He snorted. “There’s nothing worse than doing what I did and embracing evil.”
“Well.” She appeared a smidge sheepish as she fiddled with a tiny figurine of a caroler. “A few people died the day you left and I ended up in an argument with someone when I felt their souls were being taken too soon. I mean it was Christmastide if you recall.”
Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. “Aye. I remember every detail of that day. My heart still aches for the souls lost. If I’d been able to save them, I would of.”
“I know.” She still sounded guilty. “So in my own way I was just trying to smooth out the rough edges of everything you’d sacrificed yourself for.” Treasa cocked her head. “Because it was a mighty sacrifice leaving me for those Heavenly wings, aye?”
Pain tightened his chest, but he ignored it. They were long overdue for this argument. “So I suppose you would’ve said no to God if he asked you to become one of his angels?”
Sorrow flickered in her eyes. “I honestly can’t say, but one thing I know for sure is I would’ve at least had the courage to tell you to your face.” Her voice caught. “I would’ve had the decency to say goodbye.”
“Did it ever occur to you there was a reason I didn’t?”
“Yeah, you were too busy loving God and forgetting that you’d supposedly loved someone here on Earth first.” Treasa’s eyes shot fire now. “Someone you had no issue leaving in a heartbeat.” Her face turned red as she accused. “And what’s worse is that I’m more the arse for being jealous of God.”
Riled as well, he shook his head, voice raising a notch. “I came back down to explain things, but you were gone, Treasa. Vanished. I searched and searched but couldn’t find you. Where did you go that even one of God’s angels couldn’t find you?”
Fists clenched, jaw locked, she glowered at him and said the last thing he expected. “That’s the problem. That’s why I need your help now.” She sighed and shook her head but never once looked away. “I ended up dating the Angel of Death.”
Chapter Four
TREASA COULD STILL close her eyes and remember in vivid detail what Cullen Stewart looked like in battle. The way his muscles flexed when he swung a broadsword. The fury in his eyes as he fought with more skill and precision than most. Yet the look on his face now, the fuming disbelief, made her shift away.
Or at least she tried.
His hands fell against the snowy mountain on either side of her head, his body so close she felt his heat. Actual warmth. She bit the corner of her lip, desperate to reach out and touch him while simultaneously terrified he would only be thin air. Then there was the trembling rage he seemed to be repressing. That might be a good reason not to touch him too.
“The Angel of Death,” he said slowly, enunciating each word not as a question but as an incredulous statement.
“Yeah, you know the one,” she murmured. “Oversees
all the reapers and—”
“I know who he is,” Cullen ground out, eyes not blue in the least but black as he fought the darkness in him, the rage her revelation had caused. “Did you lay with him?”
Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
Now his eyes churned both blue and black. “Did you?”
“From Heaven High, O Angels, Come!” a little group of plastic carolers sang as the train chugged by and the conductor again waved hello. What the heck? Treasa’s eyes dropped to the figures. Was that Ghost?
When she shook her head, Cullen flicked his wrist. A tiny yelp escaped as the figurines turned into a bouncing Christmas tree bulb. It flew out of the cottage with smoke trailing behind. She flinched. Ouch. Who knew a warlock could light a spark under a ghost’s…bulb?
Then it happened.
Cullen touched her.
His hand. Her cheek. Not rough. But determined.
“Answer my question, lass.”
Pull away. He no longer deserves to touch you. But she was rendered immobile and speechless by the feel of him. It had been far too long since she’d felt anyone’s touch. So she did the opposite of what she should have and tilted her cheek into his warm palm. It was strong, rough and calloused as if he had never stopped wielding weapons.
“You need to tell me. Did you lay with him?” he said, voice gruff.
She put her hand over his and closed her eyes. When she responded it was barely a whisper, her Scots tongue crawling to the surface. “It doesnae matter.”
“It does.” He cupped her other cheek. “More than you know.”
While tempted to tell him what he obviously wanted to hear, a part of her reared up in defiance. They chose their paths. Though Cullen said he tried, he never gave her an explanation all those years ago. Why should she give him anything now?
Yet she still did not pull away. He felt too damn good.
Cullen wrapped his hands into her hair and tilted her head until their eyes met. There was no anticipating the torture in them, the pure heartache. Even in his softest hour, he had always been made of steely reserve. “I had no choice but to leave you, Treasa. None at all.”
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 154