Such Violent Delights: A Holiday Paranormal Romance Anthology

by S. L. Jennings

“Why didn’t you tell me the Queen was Mrs. Claus?” I glanced at him. I had no energy to push his hand away.

  “What would it have mattered?” He brushed strands of hair sticking to my face.

  “I don’t know who to trust.” My gaze scoured his face. He was an exceptionally attractive man. In the dim light streaking in from a lamp in the passage, his blue eyes glowed, holding me to him like an anchor. “Why were you her knave? Did you have sex with her?”

  He took off his hat, running his hands through his gorgeous black wavy hair. Damn, this man was hot. Or was that me? Sitting back on my heels, it felt like someone put me in a pot of boiling water, the fabric of my outfit sticking to me.

  “As I said, you should trust no one.” Scrooge watched me, no emotion in his words or on his face. His hand reached out, and his fingers slid delicately over my cheek. “The only person you can protect is yourself.”

  “But I don’t want to live like that.” I stared back at him, my lashes fluttering at his touch. He was a cool balm, calming my scorching skin. “Don’t stop,” I whispered.

  “Does it feel good?”

  I nodded, a soft groan breathing from my lips, my lids closing as his fingers slid down my throat. “Being strong and independent is different than being isolated. All living things need some kind of family, a group to depend on and trust. It does not make you weak.”

  “I’m not a good man, Ms. Liddell,” he said, his timbre like gravel and smoke. “I’ve done horrible things in the name of protecting a group like the one you speak of. It did not change anything. I will not go through that again. I’m stingy and frugal with my trust now. I have learned it is only yourself you can worry about.”

  My lashes drifted up, my attention locking on him. For a second, I thought I saw grief darken his eyes, but it vanished before I could blink. We stared at each other, silent and intensely, forcing my pulse to throb fiercely until it echoed in my ears.

  Queasiness crashed down, bile flooding the back of my throat. “Oh no.”

  “Wait. Here.” Scrooge grabbed a wooden bucket from the corner, which was probably our toilet, and shoved it underneath my head scarcely in time.

  I had no clue when the last time I ate was, but I continued to vomit until nothing was left. Groaning, my limbs collapsed, no longer able to hold me up.

  Scrooge moved to me, pulling my head into his lap, patting the dripping sweat from my head.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Liddell.”

  “Why?”

  “For taking you through there. For not getting medication in time.”

  “None are your fault.” It was becoming a struggle to talk, my thoughts and mouth floating in different directions.

  “I’m so hot,” I muttered. Roasting heat flushed over me, making me want to crawl out of my skin. I tore absently at my outfit, wanting it off. I was going to boil to death, I knew it. And anything touching my skin felt like it was strangling me. “I need these off.”

  “What are you doing?” Scrooge tried to grab for my hands.

  “No!” I screamed, using my failing energy. I moved away, pulling off my shoes, then standing up to start on my costume. “I need them off! They’re melting to my skin. I can feel it.”

  “Ms. Liddell. Stop.” Nerves danced along his chin, his nostrils flaring.

  “I’m baking to death!” I cried out, no longer aware of anything except the feeling I was on fire, the fabric bubbling like cheese.

  “You merely think you are. It’s the poison. You’re hallucinating.” Scrooge held up his hand, as if I was some wild animal, moving closer to me, trying to stop my actions.

  Fuck him. He didn’t understand I was searing from the inside out. Flailing my arms, I felt panicked and desperate to get my clothes off any way I could.

  “Ms. Liddell. Please. Don’t.” He tried to grab for my hands again, but I wiggled away like a disobedient child, fumbling with the zipper. Before he could stop me, I got it down enough to rip what was left of it, shoving it off me and leaving me only in my black bra and underwear.

  “Fuuucck,” he hissed, turning around and walking in a circle.

  The lack of clothes didn’t help much, generating a whimper from my throat. “Make it stop.”

  He jerked his head back to me, his gaze roving over my body, making me feel utterly delicious, like he was the only thing that could help me.

  “Touch me,” I begged. It was only him who had cooled my skin, giving me a moment of relief.

  He stared at me for several beats before he let out a heavy exhale. “I must be going truly mad.” He rubbed his head. “Absolutely bonkers.”

  The flames inside turned up, and I cried out, my legs giving out, my body bending over itself. “Please.”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he moved back to me, crawling down on the floor.

  Normally I might find this embarrassing or inappropriate, but it’s funny how fast pride and silly things like modesty dissolve when you are in agony. I didn’t care where we were, who he was, or if people were watching. I just wanted the pain to end.

  He pulled me into his lap again, his hand hesitating over me.

  “Scrooge. Please.” I grabbed for his hand, flattening it on my chest. A deep moan burst from me. His touch was like magic.

  “Jesus,” he rumbled under his breath, his chest heaving as his hands moved down me. His words licked at me with heat, but his hands abated the torture incinerating me.

  “Moooorrreee.” His fingers were heaven where he skimmed then over my skin, but it would flare up the moment they moved on. “Please. More.” I weakly tugged at his jacket, a haze started to blur my vision.

  He made a deep noise in his chest, the color of his eyes almost looked black. “You are really trying to test me, Ms. Liddell.”

  He leaned his head back, sucking in a deep breath before he tugged off his velvet coat, his fingers working down his sullied button-down dress shirt. “This doesn’t make me like you or trust you.”

  “Same.” I felt my lids drift closed for a moment, but the raging fire in my body kept me from giving in completely.

  He yanked his shirt off. Even delirious, I couldn’t stop myself from gaping. Or maybe it was because I had no filters or walls. “Wow.”

  I reached up, my palm running over his toned chest, my hand feeling the same tingle when we touched, but now it also sent relief down my arm to my chest. He was sexy as hell, with muscular arms and shoulders, and enough hair on his chest you knew he was a man, not a little boy. I couldn’t stop the draw to his six-pack abs, his stomach contracting as I trailed down.

  “Ms. Liddell.” He warned but didn’t move to stop me, his breath clipped.

  I continued to trace the tattoos over his heart and running down one shoulder. I could swear one by his heart said: “It’s always tea time.”

  I had to be losing it.

  “Why when I touch you do you send sparks through me? Cold and hot?” I couldn’t stop my mouth or my hands. “Like you know perfectly what I need.”

  His nose flared along with his eyes. His hand moving over my stomach, whispering hoarsely. “You felt sparks?”

  “God, yes.” I arched into his palm, like he was scrumptiously icing my roasting veins.

  My mouth opened to ask if he had felt it too when a stabbing sensation sliced at every nerve ending in my body. My frame jackknifed at the assault. A bone-chilling scream bounded around the small cell. I knew it was from me, but I no longer felt attached to my body. I thought I heard my name being called and felt Scrooge move down next to me, cradling me to his bare chest, but nothing felt real or sound. Shadows burst around my vision, flourishing until the darkness claimed me.

  “Alice!” His voice tried to reach for me, but nothing stopped my fall into the darkness.

  Chapter 9

  My lids blinked open, my body trembling violently on the icy stone. Like a forewarning, my spine tingled with alarm. I didn’t even need to look around to know I was alone, but I lifted my head to peer into t
he dark corners, hoping I was wrong.

  “Scrooge?” My voice came out raspy and weak. I pushed up, my bones shrieking in refusal. I was happy the fever broke, but it left me weak and hazy. “Scrooge?” I twisted, sitting on my rear, my gaze frantically moving around the space.

  He was gone.

  “Oh, no.” Wobbly, I stood up and grabbed onto the bars to steady myself.

  What happened to him? Did the Queen take him as I slept? Was he still alive? How long had I been out? Did the festival already happen? Was he being tortured? His head on a spike already?

  A million other questions ran through my head as panic clutched around my heart. The thought of him being hurt or even killed as I lay here pricked my eyes with tears.

  “Scrooge!” I screamed his name down the corridor, rattling the bars of my cell. All of a sudden, my notice went to my clothes. Once again, I was dressed in my elf costume down to my boots, in better condition than I recalled. Did he redress me? Maybe I dreamed I stripped it all off? I rubbed at my head. The awareness of what was truth and what might have been a hallucination or dream felt just out of my grasp. Did I not lay practically naked with Scrooge? And why did that oddly disappoint me?

  My tangled hair brushed my arms as I shook my head. None of it mattered. Finding him was the priority.

  “Guards!” I bellowed, shaking the door frantically. “Scrooge!”

  I continued to scream, but no guards came.

  Where was he? For a man I was slightly scared of and didn’t trust, his absence made me anxious. I didn’t like being parted from him and not knowing if he was all right.

  “Please! Someone hear me!” I shouted, my throat going raw.

  “The dead can’t hear you, Ms. Alice.” A round outline glided out from the shadows.

  “Frosty,” I snarled at the snowman. “Where is he? What did you do with him?”

  “With who?”

  “Don’t play games. Where’s Scrooge?”

  “Oh. Him.” His pipe wiggled as he moved closer to the bars. “I imagine he is having tea or a buttered rum with the Queen about now. Pledging to be her faithful servant again. Laughing at the fact he left you all alone to die.”

  “What?” I jerked back, my brows curving down. “What are you talking about?”

  “Scrooge only looks out for himself. He does what needs to be done. I warned you, my dear, he would backstab you.”

  “No.” Dread clamped up my back, gripping at my throat. “He wouldn’t.”

  “He would,” Frosty’s smile grew wicked. “And did.”

  “No.” My refusal clung feebly to my heart. Scrooge wouldn’t betray me, right? Who was I kidding? He even told me himself he just looked out for himself. I foolishly hoped we had shared a moment, a bond…

  I was the one utterly bonkers.

  “I am sorry, my dear, that you fell for his wounded soul act. You aren’t the first.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s say you are not the first woman who died while he saved his own neck.”

  Emotion thickened my throat, my lashes batting it back. Did I feel hurt, angry, disappointed in him? Yes, but more at myself. I should have known better.

  Stupid Alice, when will you ever learn people, especially men, only deceive and hurt you?

  I felt defeated and broken.

  “Well, I’m not a patient person.” I lifted my chin, clearing my throat. “When is this party anyway? Let’s get this over with.”

  “Oh, my dear, you are far too interesting to lose that pretty head of yours.” Frosty’s hand pulled from around his back. On his branch fingers hung a key.

  My mouth dropped open. “But why? Why would you help me?”

  “You are such a peculiar, curious thing,” he replied. “Being inquisitive can lead to losing more than your mind.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Sense in itself is senseless.”

  He let the key drop at my feet, then turned and drifted down the passage.

  I blinked a few times, stunned at the turn of events. But I quickly picked up the key, the lock cranking loudly as I turned it over, the door squealing.

  “Rum and coffee, I’ll be caught before I even get out,” I muttered, slinking out of the jail, my gaze roaming everywhere for signs of guards. The dungeon felt eerily quiet, grating my nerves.

  I moved down the passage, spotting empty cages. This was really strange. I knew I saw them filled with creatures when Scrooge and I were walked through here earlier. Maybe they had been taken to prep for the festival?

  No one stopped my progression upstairs. Not one soldier was on guard nor were any prisoners inside the cells. Apprehension pricked at the back of my neck. Something felt off. Wrong.

  I climbed the stairs, shoving open the heavy door to the outside. Fog draped thickly over the grounds, syrupy and coagulated. I could barely see a foot in front of me. It felt like I was in a vast empty space, only surrounded by fog.

  Everything in me was suspicious, but wanting my freedom, the desire to get far from here pushed me forward. I wanted to save Hare, Dee, Dum, and Penguin, but I felt really turned around. I had no idea where I was, as though the dungeon let me out in a completely different place, like the holly did.

  Stumbling on, the soup around me grew denser, the endless night giving me no light to help me see my way.

  When I saw it, I rubbed my eyes, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating again.

  “No way,” I muttered to myself, a strange excitement bubbling in me, moving me swiftly toward the red glowing light breaking through the foggy night. “Rudolph! Wait!”

  My boots crunched the pine needles and dirt as I jogged after him. Like when I first followed him, he stayed just out of my sight, disappearing the moment I thought I had him pinned down.

  “Deer man. Rudy. Come on!” I yelled after him. My legs strained trying to catch up. Finally, the fog thinned a little, and I saw his outline in the dense forest. “Wait, Rudolph!”

  He turned toward me. I had forgotten how beautiful he was with his antlers and naked chest, seriously magnificent. “Alice.” I thought I heard him whisper my name.

  Too busy gaping at him, I missed the log in front of me. My boots hooked on the piece of wood. “Whoa!” I cried as I fell forward.

  And continued to fall.

  Like a twisted déjà vu, the world dropped away, and a scream caught in my throat as I plummeted.

  Down. Down. A dark, dark hole.

  Chapter 10

  “Alice!” My name jolted me awake, my arms and legs thrashed like I was still falling. My book slid from my lap, landing with a thud.

  “Whoa, girl.” A familiar voice snorted behind me, and a hand patted my shoulder. “You must have been in a deep sleep.”

  My lids batted as I took in my surroundings: a warm fire, a place looking like Christmas vomited all over. A tall decorated tree with fake Christmas presents sat next to the large comfy chair, a camera set up to capture the moment with Santa.

  Confusion snaked my brain into knots. I twisted around, looking at Gabe, dressed up like Santa Claus, the beard pulled down below his chin.

  “Are you okay?” He peered at me. “You look a little off right now.”

  “Y-yeah.” I shook my head, then rubbed it, images floating in and out of my head faster than I could make sense of them. “I had the most intense, crazy dream.”

  “Pot can do that.” He grinned, his eyes bloodshot.

  “I didn’t smoke anything.” Or did I? I didn’t remember.

  “Girl, you look like you either had a really bad trip or are about to puke on the floor.”

  I touched my forehead, noticing I was clammy and flushing hot, my skin itching like poison crawled underneath it.

  Vampire holly. A whisper of my dream flashed back into my head, glimpses of holiday creatures, Mrs. Claus, castles, dungeons, and a freaking male model who called himself Scrooge.

  Shaking my head, I rubbed at my temple. Strange dream.

  “You really
don’t look well. Why don’t you take off? No one’s coming tonight. I’m gonna lock up.” Gabe broke into my reverie.

  Normally we couldn’t leave until the farm closed, but I didn’t feel well. Worse to stay here and get everyone else sick.

  “Yeah. I might be coming down with something,” I nodded, standing up from the chair, the room tilting. “I’m not feeling very good.”

  “Damn.” Gabe grabbed for me. “You’ll be okay to drive, my dear?”

  “Wha-what?” My neck snapped over, a feeling of dread rushing up my spine. “Why did you call me that?” Gabe never called me that before. Why did it bother me?

  “Call you what?” Gabe frowned, peering at me suspiciously. “Maybe I should drive you home.”

  “No.” The word burst from my mouth, my head wagging. “I’m fine. Just need a good night’s sleep.” I grabbed my book and bag off the floor and shuffled to the door, sweat pooling at the base of my neck. Whatever I was getting came on fast. I was really weak and already ached. It felt like my bones had been burned to a crisp then shoved back in my body.

  “Feel better!” Gabe yelled as I snatched my jacket and scarf from the coatrack.

  I waved over my shoulder, stepping out into the night. The cool air skimmed over my hot flesh, like fingers were gliding over my skin and up my thighs, and I felt myself loudly moan in pleasure.

  Okay, that was weird.

  I needed to get home and into bed.

  Walking to my sister’s car I barrowed, a gust of wind blew through my hair down my neck.

  “Alice.” My name whispered over the air, pebbling my flesh and whirling me around. Fright tapped at my spine. My eyes searched the dimly lit road, only one yellow streetlight cast down on the country road, the forest dark and dense on the other side.

  I simply imagined it said my name. I veered back, digging in my bag for my keys, striding for the white Volkswagen Rabbit.

  “Alicccceee.” My name hissed with the wind, jerking my head around again.

  My heart crawled up my throat, thudding violently.

  “Get it together,” I chided myself, reaching for my car door. Out of the corner of my eye, a figure of a man wearing a top hat stood under the gloomy streetlamp, blue eyes staring. “Alice. Come back to me.”