Page 19 of Silent Nights and Vampire Lights

CHAPTER 9

NICHOLAS

No one was more surprised when I kissed Holly. I knew she was asking me to taste the snow but, in that moment, I wanted, no, I needed to taste her more than I had ever needed anything else. Then she responded so sweetly, and it was all I could do not to take her right there in the cold, wet snow. Reason fortunately intervened, and I took a step back—only to have Holly pursue me and ask for more. Maybe I was weak, but I couldn’t imagine spending another night next to her without knowing what she felt like, how she sounded when she came, and how she tasted.

I’d probably be damned, especially since I knew I had to let her go. But I would deal with that another day. Tonight, I was going to be selfish and indulge in Holly Winter.

I carried her through the now-empty kitchen. The Birnbaums must have gone to bed while we were outside. If I had to get up as early as they did, I’d be in bed early too. Of course, having Holly in my bed would make me spend a lot longer in bed, and I intended to spend all day with her.

I strode up the stairs and down the hall to our room. Harold had brought our luggage while I was stacking the wood, placing it to the side. We wouldn’t need it tonight. The fire was cracklingin the fireplace, and the bed was thoughtfully turned down. I gently tossed Holly onto the bed, and she bounced, giggling. I tore off my jacket and shirt, tossing it to the side and began unwrapping Holly like the sweetest present I’ve ever received—her hat, scarf, gloves, and bulky wool coat.

“I always wanted to know what that felt like. I read about it, but never believed anyone could actually do it?—”

Her words ended on a squeak as I covered her mouth with mine. The warmth of her lips against my cool ones sent electricity through my long-dead nerves. Even after almost a hundred years, I'd never experienced anything like kissing Holly. Each brush of her lips, each small sound she made, awakened something in me I thought had died long ago.

Her heart was racing. I could hear its rapid flutter and smell the sweet rush of her blood beneath her skin. The predator in me stirred at the sound, but for once, the bloodlust wasn't the strongest hunger I felt. I wanted more than her blood. I wanted all of her.

"Nick," she whispered against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair. The sound of my name on her lips made me shudder. Her skin was flushed, warming the air around us, and her scent was intoxicating. The melting snow in her hair released a fresh, clean scent that mingled with her own, creating an aroma uniquely Holly.

I took my time exploring her mouth, memorizing every sensation—the soft press of her tongue against mine, the little sighs she made when I deepened the kiss, the way her hands clutched at my shoulders when I gently caught her bottom lip between my teeth. Every moment with her was precious, every touch a gift I never thought I'd receive again and might never have after tonight.

Her deep pink sweater clung to her curves, and I helped her out of it, my fingers trailing along her sides as I did so. The silk ofher skin was impossibly soft under my touch, and I marveled at the contrast between us—her warm, living flesh against my cool marble exterior. She shivered, but not from cold; I smelled the spike in her arousal, heard the catch in her breath.

I kneaded one perfect breast, the soft flesh fitting perfectly in my hand. I flicked her nipple with my thumb, and she moaned. I tweaked the peak, twisting lightly, and she gasped, her eyes flying open and meeting my gaze.

“There you are. Eyes on me, love.”

She flushed, the red spreading up her chest and neck to her face. It was adorable. I unhooked her bra and tugged the straps down and tossed it aside, leaving her bare to my gaze. She laid on the bed, watching me with a small smile on her face.

“See anything you like?”

So many things. Her breasts were perfect, tipped with pale pink nipples, tight and begging for my attention. I trailed kisses down her throat, letting my fangs graze ever so lightly against her pulse point. She gasped, arching into me, and the trust in that gesture nearly undid me. Any other human would have pulled away, would have felt fear at having a vampire's fangs so close to their throat. But not Holly. Never Holly.

“You're not afraid,” I murmured against her skin, still marveling at the fact. Her fingers tightened in my hair.

“Never of you,” she breathed. “I trust you with my life. With everything I am.”

The weight of her trust settled over me like a mantle. I had to be gentle, had to maintain control. My strength could so easily hurt her, but the way she looked at me—like I was a hero rather than monstrous—made me want to prove worthy of that trust.

I kissed my way down to her nipple and sucked it into my mouth, grazing it with my fang, since Holly seemed to like a bite of pain. She dug her fingers into my hair, gripping tightly to hold me in place. I tweaked her other nipple while I licked and suckedthis one, then I switched, playing back and forth until she tossed her head, whimpering under the attention.

The sound of her pleasure was the sweetest music I'd heard in centuries—the soft moans, the whispered pleas, the way my name fell from her lips like a prayer. Her nails dug into my scalp with tiny pricks of pain, holding me where she wanted me. I nipped her lightly and lifted my head to watch her lost in the sensation.

She relaxed her hold and explored my body with equal fervor, tracing old scars and the planes of muscle with wondering fingers. The heat of her palms against my cool skin was exquisite torture. I had forgotten what touch felt like in my existence, having spent little time with women, not wanting to risk the chance of exposure or of loss, but Holly was teaching me again, warming me from the outside in.

“You're beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes dark with desire as she traced a particularly long scar that ran across my ribs. “Every mark, every scar—they're part of your story. Part of what made you who you are today.” Her words pierced something deep inside me, something I thought had calcified long ago. No one had ever looked at my scars—the visible reminders of my violent transformation—with such acceptance, such love.

I captured her hands in mine, bringing them to my lips to kiss her palms, her wrists, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my lips. “You're the beautiful one,” I told her, meaning every word.

She was life itself—warm and vibrant and so perfectly human. The firelight played across her skin, casting her in gold and shadow, and for a moment I wished I could capture this image forever: Holly, her hair spread across the pillow, looking at me with such trust and desire.

When I kissed her again, it was slower, deeper, pouring all the emotions I couldn't express into the gesture. Her hands roamed my back, tracing patterns that felt like they were beingbranded into my skin. Every touch, every sigh, every whispered word was precious to me. In my long existence, I had never wanted to be gentle more than I did now.

I rolled to the side and shucked my shoes and jeans, leaving me bare. I gave her a moment to absorb the sight and make a decision. She lifted her hips and wiggled, trying to pull off her jeans.

“Damn it,” she cursed, frustrated. “How did you do it so effortlessly?”

I chuckled. “Years of practice.”

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