Page 16 of Mistletoe Wishes and Dragon Kisses

Preparing for the inevitable thud, bump, and crack of his tailbone, Chris pulled Gloria even closer, held her tighter, and pushed all the Enchantment he’d ever possessed and whatever he could channel from good Old Mother Nature into the ever–diminishing space between his ass and the cold, hard ground. Squeezing his eyes shut as tight as they would go and his arms tighter still around the Witch the Universe made for him, the Guardsman held his breath and counted backward. “Three… Two…”

And nothing happened.

One eye flew open. Then, the other one joined the party. And before he could get his mouth open, he landed on the snow-covered sidewalk as if he were a feather floating to the ground. It was then he felt the dichotomy of Glo's Magic filling the air all around him. She had stopped the inevitable crash. She had saved his ass. She was everything he'd ever needed, and all he wanted to do was tell her he loved her.

But that was not to be because that was when all hell broke loose.

Feet kicking, knees punching, and hips wiggling, Glo's tiny fists beat on his chest in a furious succession that made it hard for him to breathe–but he wasn't about to let go. He'd dreamed about having her back in his arms since the day he and hisbrothers left Nowhere, USA, and there was no way he was letting go now.

The reality of having her in his arms was so much better than the ten–year old he used to be had ever imagined. Gloria Angelica Brown was his and he was hers. That’s all there was to it, and he needed to tell her all that and more that very minute.

However, the blood was rapidly leaving his brain, bypassing his heart and heading south at a high rate of speed because the more Glo’s luscious curves wiggled and squirmed and frantically swiggled against his body, the more everything from his waist down awakened. It wasn’t the time or place he’d imagined for all those years, but he had his Mate in his arms, and his body was ready to go, go go!

Unfortunately, Gloria was not.

Moving one way then the other and twisting and contorting her body in ways he’d never imagined, she finally got her hands free with a huff that he felt all over his face. Slapping her palms against his chest with a push of Magic that set the hair all over his body on end, she shoved with the strength of ten Witches and a couple of Dragons, seething through gritted teeth, “Chris! Stop! Let me go! I gotta Beetle to kill! Let me go! Let me go! LET. ME. GO!”

Instantly dropping his arms open, there was no doubt in his mind that he looked like a child getting ready to make snow angels, but none of that mattered. What his Mate wanted, she would get–or he would die trying. He'd been away from her for too long, and that shit ended right then and there.

It was everything he’d ever wanted.Shewas everything he’d ever wanted. His dreams were coming true. Everything was…

"Wake up, Christopher!" Glo shouted, snapping him out of his stupor. Giving his chest a final one–two swat, her fury only got louder. "I gotta go! Get up! Move! For the sake of the Great Goddess's gold sequined Go-Go boots, do something!" Diggingher knees into the ground on either side of his hips, the heels of both of her hands hit him right in the center of his six-pack as she pushed up onto her feet, took off running, and shouted over her shoulder, “Get outta that snow! You’ll catch your death!”

“Aww, she does care,” he smiled, even as he struggled to catch his breath.

But his revelry was very short-lived when Hillary K. Hippo raged from her place on Gloria's shoulder, "Move, Dragon! Move! That nasty ass bug ain't no hero on a half-shell! That bitch is killin' off all the Mistletoe! Get your ass in gear and help us or get the hell back to wherever you've been for the past four years!" The Pygmy Pepto-Bismol pink hippo's snarled command was accentuated by a high-pitched wheeze and a grunt that had her already large nostrils flaring to epic proportions, allowing him to get a look all the way down to the inside of her toes–and it wasn't a pleasing sight.

Finally, fully awake and more than a little confused, Chris was up on his feet, turned around, and racing after his Mate and her Familiar in the blink of an eye. Chasing them as they rounded the corner of her house, he yelled, "But Glo…! Hill? Somebody? Anybody?"

When neither his Witch nor her Familiar answered, he poured on the speed, doing his damnedest to win the imaginary race. Catching up before he was completely out of breath, he put one foot well in front of Glo's forward motion. Shifting his weight onto the ball of that foot, he shoved off with his back foot, spun to face her, and put up his hands with the hope of stopping her forward motion. Not one to ever be deterred–and this time was no different–Chris saw the determination in Glo's brilliant blue eyes when, with more than a little oomph, she bent at the waist as he switched tactics and tried to, at the very least, catch her hand.

Faking to the left, she did a side step to the right, spinning way out of his reach quicker than he could blink his eyes. If he hadn't known better, Chris would've thought Gloria Angelica Brown had the spirit of the fantastic WBNA point guard Arike Ogunbowale somewhere within her. She was literally moving at the speed of light or sound or whatever was faster.

Looking left and right, then left again, the Guardsman pretty much imitated his Mate's spin and then had to run to catch up to her all over again. Getting close enough to inhale her sweet scent, he was so lost in thoughts of Gloria and wanting to be with her that he was almost cold cocked by the swinging door of the shed in her backyard.

Skidding to a stop right outside that red wooden building with white accents and a black shingle roof, he got as far as, “Glo, can you just…before he was forced to scream, “Whoa!” And take cover.

Dropping to his stomach, he not only got a mouthful of snow but just barely missed being taken out by an oversized snow shovel the color of Concord grapes, an old broom three times as long as his Mate was tall, three gallon–sized mason jars filled with dark, brown, sludge he could not–nor did he want to–identify, and a huge bright green cauldron that flew from the inside of the small barn with wild abandon. Back on his feet as fast as he could move, he mentally growled,“Anytime you can wake up and tell me what the hell is happening would be good, ya’ old fart!”

As the aforementioned Witch's accouterments landed with a thump, bump, and more than a little crash, he waited until nothing further had been flung from the shed for a full three seconds before getting to his knees. Ready to ask his Beloved what was happening and whose ass he could help kick, Chris got as far as opening his mouth when the Dragon King withwhom he shared his soul finally woke up and chuckled, “Not the homecoming you expected, Lad?”

“Shut up, Rí,”he growled."And thanks for finally paying attention, Asshole."Then, aloud and before his Dragon King could throw a witty comeback his way, Chris called to his Mate, "Sweetheart. Glo? Gloria?! What can I…?"

Of course, there was no answer. For at that moment, his One True Fated Mate appeared from the darkness of that little red wooden shed with something that slightly resembled a massively oversized Shop-Vac with limp, hanging tentacles on the end of the wand and a tank precisely seven–and–a–half times as big (and as round, but please do not share that information) as Hillary K. Hippo and painted just as shockingly pink.

Looking more determined than a four-year-old pushing a chair across the kitchen floor in order to climb onto the counter to reach the cookie jar full of freshly baked chocolate chip goodies without getting busted by her Granny, Glo gave a single, sharp, unwavering nod. Before his heart could beat one more time, the air filled with wonderfully warm Brown Witch Magic. Hillary gave an enthusiastic fist pump, and the monstrous machinery his Witch carried in her hands roared to life.

Waving the wand left and right, then above her head and ending with a wide circle, she narrowed her gaze, and her brilliant blue eyes glowed as she concentrated. Zeroing in on the swiggling appendages, Chris nearly hit the deck for the second time when laser beams shot from the eyes at the end of wormy things–the eyes he hadn't known existed until that very moment.

“Nope! Won’t work!” Glo snapped before he’d even had a chance to refocus his attention.

Watching as she tossed the Shop-Vac thing to the side, the motor shut off, and the wiggly tentacles went back to sleep, he tried a different approach to get the attention of the only womanhe would ever love. Forcing a chuckle, he called out, “Hey, Glo, can I…?”

Sadly, that was as far as he got. His Mate had already disappeared back into the shed, and the grumbling conversation between Witch and Familiar was once again in full swing.

Following after her, determined to say a proper hello and find out what fresh hell had befallen Purdy Petals and the Witch made for him by the Universe, Chris made it exactly three strides before the double door once again swung open, and he was forced to step back–one more time.

“Can you just get out of the way, Christopher,” she spat a split second before appearing in the doorway of the shed dressed in something resembling Neil Armstrong’s space suit with huge pockets covering her thighs and holding tools straight out of a Dr. Suess book.

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