Page 11 of Silent Nights and Vampire Lights

Nicholas shot me a glare so pointed I could practically feel it slicing through me. I ignored him. This stop had been my idea. We needed to rest anyway, and the Christmas Village here was magical. It would give him the perfect opportunity to pick out gifts for his family—because there was no way he had anything resembling a present in that black, boring duffel bag of his.

I plastered on my best smile. “That’ll be fine, Mrs. Birnham. One room is perfect. You have those shades we talked about, right? My boss is very sensitive to sunlight.”

Mae’s gaze darted curiously to Nicholas, who gave her one of his trademark blank stares. “Of course, dear. Would you like some breakfast before you settle in? Or I could bring it to your room if you’re tired.”

“We’d love it in our room, thank you,” Nicholas said smoothly, flashing a smile so charming it made Mae blush. I blinked. Where had that Nicholas been hiding?

Harold cleared his throat with a gruff sound, looking vaguely annoyed, but Mae brightened up. “Anything special for you?”

Nicholas leaned in slightly, his smile softening further. “I can already smell the baking—scones, I believe? They smell heavenly. A couple of those, please. Nothing else for me. Holly?”

“Tea and water, along with the food. Thank you so much,” I said, doing my best to look calm and not at all flustered by the performance Nicholas had just put on.

Once we were shut inside the room, I exhaled. The place was perfect—a little Christmas wonderland. The king-sized Cherrywood sleigh bed had crisp white sheets and a red-and-green duvet that practically begged me to dive in. The pillows were piled high like clouds, accented with festive plaid ones. There was even a green velvet ottoman at the foot of the bed.

A gas fireplace flickered between two windows, its flame casting a cozy glow on the garland draped over the mantle. Flameless candles flickered softly, and a gorgeous antique gold mirror hung above, making the space feel larger. Heavy, red velvet curtains framed the windows, with blackout shades tucked underneath for Nicholas’s unique needs.

Two plush chairs completed the room—one near the window and another by the fire. I could already picture myself curled up with a book, a cup of tea, and one (or three) of those scones. Too bad we were only staying for one night.

“You love this room, don’t you?” Nicholas’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“It’s a little slice of heaven,” I admitted, my voice dreamy.

“It looks like Christmas threw up in here.” He moved past me to inspect the blackout shades like a man on a mission.

I rolled my eyes and closed the door. “I don’t know why you hate Christmas so much. It’s the most wonderful time of the year—happiness, family, people helping each other…”

He turned, one eyebrow arched. “Really? Says the woman with no family, being chased by hitmen. I’m not sure this qualifies as the most wonderful time of the year for you.”

Ouch. That stung more than I cared to admit. “You’re right,” I said, the joy in the room dimming. “I should be all doom and gloom. Maybe I’ll find some sackcloth while I’m at it.”

He barked out a laugh. “I don’t recommend it. Itchy stuff. Stick to wool sweaters.”

A knock interrupted us, and Mae and Harold entered, balancing two trays. They set them on a small table and promised to make sure no one disturbed us before slipping out.

“That’s a lot of food for one person,” I said, eyeing the trays. “But I’ll do my best.”

Nicholas gave me a flat look. “What do you mean, for one person?”

“I assumed you don’t eat because, well…” I lowered my voice. “You know.”

He smirked, leaning back against the chair. “I eat. I just also happen to need blood to survive.”

I frowned. “But you haven’t eaten anything this whole trip.”

“Because your choices are terrible. Pastries, chips, candy. Not exactly nutritious.”

I shot him a sugary smile. “Just trying to make sure my blood stays as unappealing as possible to you.”

He leaned closer, his voice low and sensual. “Trust me, Holly. Nothing could make your blood unappealing to me. But you have my word—I won’t touch you. Unless you ask.”

The intensity in his gaze made me freeze, my heart stuttering in my chest, and I felt my nipples tighten. He grinned, breaking the tension, and popped a piece of cinnamon scone into his mouth.

“Delicious,” he said with a teasing lilt. “You’d better eat before I finish it all.”

CHAPTER 6

NICHOLAS

---