by Devon Monk
The pig appeared. It snorted out a satisfied plume of smoke that curled around its head and then drifted toward the ceiling.
Next to the pig, stood Bathin. Bathin did not look happy. As a matter of fact, he looked a little shaken.
I did not care. Because Bathin had his shoulder propped under Ryder’s arm, his hand holding him firmly around the waist.
“You sent the dragon after me?” Bathin asked. “The dragon? Do you know how much noise it makes in the…you know what? Never mind. If you ever do that again, Delaney Reed, I will make you pay.”
“I’ve already paid. Myra’s paid too. Hold up your end of the bargain next time, Bathin.” I wasn’t listening to his threats anyway.
Ryder was unconscious. “Bring him to the bedroom.” I rushed over and touched Ryder’s face. Cold. Touched his neck, pressed for a pulse.
There. Strong and steady. Some of the fear in my stomach unclenched. I could breathe again, could think again. “Move it, Bathin. Now. That way.”
Bathin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. In the distance I was aware of Myra talking to Jean, was aware of Spud barking like crazy and rubbing on the dragon while the dragon stared at the demon like he was something it would enjoy eating. In the distance I could hear someone singing about silver bells. But everything in me was tuned into Ryder, all my senses, all my focus.
He was alive. Unconscious. Blood, sticky and thick, streaked from the hairline above his left eyebrow down his cheek. He was bundled in snow gear: heavy coat and gloves, layered shirts beneath, snow pants and heavy boots. His clothes were damp, either from when he’d been lying out in the snow when we were on the phone, or maybe before that, when he helped the mom and kids.
Bathin laid him on the bed, gently enough it surprised me.
“He’s too cold,” the demon said almost as if he were talking to himself. “Has a lump on the side of his head, but that wound’s not serious. Get him warm and he’ll be fine.”
“You get a medical certificate from Hells R Us?” I pushed at his shoulder so I could move around him and get in the bed to take care of Ryder. It was like pushing a steel building. He was built like a concrete mixer.
He’d once told me he could take any form he wanted. It only made sense he’d chosen more muscles than a barbarian under that white button-down shirt.
“I’ve seen a lot of people on death’s doorstep,” he said. “I do my best wheeling and dealing in their time of desperation and need. When they have nothing left to lose.” He stood back, crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s not going to die.”
I was listening, but working fast to get Ryder’s boots unlaced, pulled off. His socks were dry–that was good. I took them off anyway, then his snow pants and the thermals he wore beneath them.
I rubbed my palms over his thighs, warm, muscular and strong with a long bruise spreading down his left hip. Then I stroked down his legs to his thick, firm calves, ankles, and checked his toes, cupping my hands over them briefly. No frostbite. No breaks. No wounds.
He started shivering, which was a good sign. I dragged all the blankets and the down comforter over him, then scrambled off the bed to dig out two more blankets from the top shelf of his closet.
Myra was suddenly next to the bed, a warm washcloth in her hand and a First Aid kit open on the bedside table. She gave me the cloth and I cleaned the blood off his face, felt for the bump Bathin had told me about. Left side, but the bleeding had stopped.
Taking off his coat and shirts revealed more of his skin, and it took everything I had not to just strip and curl up beside him. I wanted to be close to his heartbeat, drown in the scent of him, be captured in his heat.
I wanted to touch him, wrap around him, make him understand he was undeniably mine.
I settled for a single kiss on his non-bruised shoulder before I covered him back up. His left side had taken most of the impact of whatever had happened to send him off the road. His head, shoulder, ribs, and hip were all black and blue.
He stirred at my touch and made a small sound at the back of his throat like he was having a good dream.
“You’re home,” I told him. “You’re safe. You made it before Christmas. You didn’t break your promise.”
His eyes fluttered, finally opened a slit. “Delaney?”
“I’m right here. You’re home. You can sleep. You can sleep now.”
He shivered a little harder.
“You should get into bed with him,” Myra said.
I jumped. I had forgotten she was still in the room with us. “Do you think he needs a doctor?” I pulled the covers away and slipped beneath, immediately curling up on his right side. His arm drifted down to hold me close.
“No,” Ryder whispered.
“You don’t get a vote, baby.” I leaned my face into his chest, wrapped my arm over him, then tangled our legs up together. He made another happy sound.
“I think he’s okay,” Myra said. “I’ll stay here tonight and come in and check on you both a couple times, okay?”
I nodded. She must have seen it because she cleaned up a few things–probably the clothes I’d thrown on the floor–then left the room. I didn’t know if Bathin stayed too, but I knew Myra would handle him with the same calm she handled everything else. Plus, we had a dragon on our side.
I pressed myself across as much of Ryder as I could reach.
I’d almost lost him.
He’d almost said good-bye.
What would I have done without him?
“I love you, Ryder,” I whispered. “I think I always have. I know I do now. And I’ll say it every day, no matter what happens. I love you. I love you.”
I felt the bed shake as Spud jumped up to join us. He crawled up to carefully nose at our faces, then, satisfied, settled down behind Ryder’s legs. The bed took another dip.
“Oink.”
“He’s hurt. You need to get off the bed.”
“Oink oink.”
“Did you just tell me no?”
“Oink.”
I scowled, but the dragon-pig turned a quick circle then curled up on Ryder’s bad side, rooting at the covers until half his head was hidden by the folds of the blankets.
Ryder shivered, then sighed. And I knew why. I could feel the heat radiating off the little dragon from here. It was like sitting next to a fire. Warm and relaxing.
Ryder’s breathing evened out, deep and slow, and his muscles all softened and became heavy. I listened to his heart beat, listened to winter chewing away outside our cozy warm bedroom, listened to the dragon and the dog breathing, and fell asleep with them all.
Chapter Seven
Myra woke me up before she left. It wasn’t even light out yet. “I’ll take your shift this morning. You stay with Ryder.”
I blinked until my vision cleared. Ryder had shifted in the night and was now curled around both the dragon and the dog, his back to me. They were all snoring.
I smiled. I so needed a picture of that so I could blackmail him with it later.
“See you tonight.” Myra started toward the bedroom door.
“Wait, Mymy.” I slipped out of bed and stopped outside in the hall with her. “You go home. I’m going to take my shift.”
“You need to stay here.”
“He’s sleeping. I’ll call someone to keep an eye on him while I’m out. It’s your day off.”
I always worked Christmas Eve. Now that Ryder was home safe and the storm had blown through, I wanted to get eyes on the town. I needed to see if there was any damage, and make sure everyone had a warm place to celebrate the holiday.
“Just let me get dressed,” I said.
“Prefer you didn’t.” That voice, low with a burr of sleepiness, had me turning quickly.
Ryder stood in the doorway to the bedroom. Well, leaned there. The comforter was wrapped around his shoulders, held closed at the front. His hair was sticking up at all angles. There was a crease down the side of his face from how hard he’d slept on one side, and his bea
rd was thicker than he usually kept it.
But his smile made his eyes light with green fire, and set butterflies loose in my heart. He’d never looked more amazing.
“Hey,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. A little foolish. Happy to be home. Happier to see you.”
He’d moved while he spoke, and stopped right in front of me. “I thought I told you not to make deals with demons.”
“You did. And I didn’t. Myra made the deal.”
“Thought you knew better, Myra.” He pitched his voice so she could hear him, but didn’t look away from me for one second.
“I missed you,” he said.
“I missed you too.”
He opened the comforter, welcoming me into his warmth. I went willingly, thankfully, wrapping my arms around his ribs, pressing my cheek against the healthy heat of his skin, inhaling the scents of love and trust and home and him.
“Maybe you should stay.” He shifted so we were slotted together even closer.
I took one last deep breath and rubbed my hand down his back. I could feel him wince a little when my fingers ghosted over his bruises.
“I need to work. I’ll be home in time to change for Christmas Eve over at Myra’s house.”
“Or you could stay in, if you want,” Myra offered because she was a pretty awesome sister most of the time. Okay, all of the time.
“No.” I stepped out of the comforter, every inch of distance between Ryder and me making me wish I’d let Myra take my shift so I could stay wrapped up in him all day.
“Delaney,” Myra said.
I took one look at her bloodshot eyes, the tired lines across her forehead, and her wrinkled clothes. She’d stayed all night here on the couch, keeping an eye on us.
“You’re officially off duty, Officer,” I said.
She scowled. “Do not pull the boss card.”
“Shuffled, cut, and dealt. Go home. Take a nap. Get the feast cooking. Ryder’s gonna be fine here, and we’ll be by around eight for drinks and dinner.”
“Are you bringing the demon?” she asked.
I couldn’t tell from the carefully blank look on her face if she wanted a yes or no answer. “He doesn’t really listen to me,” I said. “Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t stay here bothering us all night.”
“I told him to leave us alone.”
“And he listened to you.”
She shrugged. “There was also the dragon issue.”
“The dragon was sleeping with us. Mymy, Bathin doesn’t listen to anyone…”
“Not this again,” she muttered.
“...except you.”
“Yeah, well, he knows I have all of Dad’s old journals and can banish him from Ordinary if I want.”
“Can you?” Last I heard she hadn’t found a way to be permanently rid of the pest.
“Not yet.” Then she gave me a dazzling smile. “Getting there though.”
She waved and headed toward the door. “See you tonight. Don’t worry if you’re late. Ryder, call if you need anything.” I heard the door open, then shut behind her.
There was a commotion of four-footed things running out of the bedroom behind us, the dragon in the lead, carrying a pillow in its mouth with Spud quick on his heels.
They disappeared into the living room and we were silent a moment.
“So we have a pig?” Ryder asked.
“Dragon.”
Spud barked, the dragon oinked then growled, a very dragony-sound. Spud barked again as if excited he’d made the piggy do a dragon thing.
“Dragon. Okay. What does it eat?” Ryder asked.
“Whatever it wants.” I smiled sweetly at his raised eyebrows. And yes, he looked excited to have a dragon in the house.
“Is there some way it communicates? Telepathy? Song? Riddle?” The man loved finding out what kind of creatures we had in town, and I loved his enthusiasm, even though he was trying to play it cool.
“One oink means yes, two means no.”
His eyebrows dropped and he frowned. “That’s no fun.”
I laughed and pressed a kiss on his mouth. A quick kiss, a gentle kiss, a kiss that was not supposed to linger. But his hands shot out, caught both of my arms. He held me to him, stepping into me as he did so, angling his thigh between mine. I was walked backward until my back bumped into the wall.
We never stopped kissing, couldn’t stop kissing. I swept my tongue along his bottom lip and he opened, his tongue licking into my mouth as we tasted, hungered, devoured.
I never wanted it to stop.
Never wanted to know a day when his hands wouldn’t be warm on my body, when his mouth wouldn’t be pressing secret words into mine.
Finally, we came up for air and we hung there, heads tipped, both of us staring at the other’s mouth.
I wanted to say it again. To ask him if he had heard me last night. To know if he understood that I loved him. Loved his laughter, his strength, his steady calm.
But I had already told him once, in the dark, in the relief that he was alive and with me. Maybe that would be enough.
Maybe that was all we were supposed to have. Maybe we didn’t need the words. Maybe we just needed this. Us.
I shifted, sliding my leg down off from his hip where I had somehow put it, and settling all my weight on my feet. I pressed his chest, and he stepped back.
“Go to the doctor and make sure you don’t have a concussion,” I said.
“I don’t have a concussion.”
“Go anyway.”
He sighed. “So you’ll be home before eight?” His voice was sex, and it took everything I had not to just strip right there and drag him off to bed.
“I promise.”
He searched my gaze for some other meaning behind those words, the same words he’d told me before he’d gotten stranded.
“Are you going to be okay alone?” I asked.
“Yeah. If I need anything, I’ll call. Delaney? Thank you for being on the phone with me. For keeping me awake. For getting me home.”
“Like I’d let you miss our first Christmas together.”
I waited for the words. They were there, in his gaze, in the soft pause of breath when he studied my mouth, my face, my eyes.
“I–”
A muted thump in the living room was followed by a crash then the sound of Spud running for his hiding corner.
Moment destroyed.
“I should check on the dragon?” he said.
“You should.”
His hands fell away. “But tonight?”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Ryder. It’s going to be a good night.” I smiled, then moved past him and into the bedroom to change into my uniform.
Chapter Eight
One good thing about living on the coast of Oregon: we knew how to weather the storms. Things didn’t usually get sketchy in our sturdy little town until the winds reached somewhere above an hundred-mile-an-hour.
But there were always little damages from high wind gusts. A fence, a store sign, garbage cans in the wrong yard.
Mrs. Yates’ penguin getting stolen.
Not that the wind had taken it, but apparently a storm was the perfect cover for the pranksters who liked to abscond with her concrete yard penguin.
“It’s Christmas for goodness sakes,” Mrs. Yates said for the tenth time as I stood there on her twinkling light-draped porch taking her complaint. “I always decorate the yard.”
“It looks nice.”
“And the house.”
“That looks nice too.”
“And the penguin. Really, he’s the star of the whole thing.”
“I understand.”
“He has a blog, you know.”
I did know. The penguin’s frequent kidnappings, creative hiding places, and hostage photos had taken a small corner of the internet by storm. That penguin was pretty much our most famous citizen. And Mrs. Yates ate up the stardom-by-proxy with a spoon.
I’d always suspected tha
t most of the kidnappings had been orchestrated by the high school kids, but lately, the kidnappings and photos seemed more professional. Almost as if the kidnappers were a well-oiled, well-coordinated machine.
It wasn’t just Mrs. Yates who liked the limelight. Most of the town was totally into our adorable concrete claim to fame.
“He deserves to be home for Christmas,” she said. “We all need him home for Christmas, Delaney. It would mean so much to the town.”
And that’s when I knew I wasn’t going to get out of penguin search and rescue duty. “I’ll do what I can to find him before the night’s over.”
“Yes,” she said, finally happy. “People drive by to take pictures of him in the yard, you know. Tourists too. Especially tourists. We wouldn’t want to disappoint them.” She fluffed her hair and stared past me at the road, looking for drive-by photo ops.
“No,” I said. “I’m sure we wouldn’t.”
Chapter Nine
“Where?” Jean asked.
I took another drink of the Tom and Jerry Myra had made from scratch from the family recipe. It had just a splash of bourbon in it to cut the thick, sweet warm milk and nutmeg, and it warmed me all the way down. The music was softly playing in the background, Ryder’s arm was draped over my shoulder, the house was decorated in that cozy but classy way that only Myra seemed to be able to pull off. If I decorated like her, it would end up looking like I was living in a garage sale.
“Aaron’s patio at the back of his nursery,” I said.
Aaron was the owner of the garden shop. He was also the god of war, Ares, who up until a few months ago, was vacationing here. Since he was gone, we kept an eye on his property for him.
“Doesn’t seem like much of a hiding place,” Hogan, Jean’s boyfriend, said.
The baker had had a drink or two, and he and Jean were cuddled up on the loveseat, both wearing hideous holiday sweaters. Hogan had accessorized with a pair of felt reindeer horns that flashed red and green. Jean wore a hat shaped like a Christmas tree, lights and all. Apparently, it also sang. Apparently, Myra had yanked the batteries out of the “obnoxious thing” after hearing Oh, Christmas Tree on repeat for an hour straight.