Page 27 of Mistletoe

“Hey, I smashed a mug into that guy’s head first. Don’t go stealing my glory,” she chided, good humor in her voice. “That was my fight, fair and square. You can start the next one.”

He turned his hand, allowing their fingers to brush together before withdrawing.

“You are a hazard to my good health,” he said.

She chuckled softly, keeping her voice quiet to avoid detection. “The reason I’m in here is because the sheriff thinks you’ll do something silly like try to rescue me. I’m bait. You really can’t be here.”

As far as bait went, it was top quality. Emma had a hold on him that he couldn’t explain.

“Besides, the sheriff can’t hold me forever,” she said, giving a reassuring smile. “She’s not a tyrant. If anything, she’s too law-abiding and won’t abuse her authority. I’ll be out by morning.”

He didn’t like it. Everything she said was logical. If she escaped the jail cell, she’d just be captured immediately and face harsher consequences. The sheriff wanted Hal captured and wasn’t above using Emma as bait. He should leave—now—but his feet would not obey.

“Go,” Emma said. “Head back to the farm if you want. Just don’t hang around town. It’s too small, and you’re conspicuous.”

“I do not like this,” he replied. Amazingly, he took a step back. Then another.

Once he reached the stairs, she called out to him. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”

Hal left without a word. If he replied, he’d never leave.

On the way out, the deputy snored relentlessly at the desk. Hal took his coat, though he doubted that would teach the man any sort of lesson.

A newspaper lay forgotten on the desk. The headline read: “Vampire Draven Surrenders.”

He shouldn’t be doingthis.

He should have listened to Emma and left town.

He shouldn’t be here. Emma shouldn’t be in that jail cell.

He should be in a cozy prefabricated cabin on a plot of land, as promised in his employment contract. Emma should be in her own home.

Looks like no one got what they signed up for.

Hal hadn’t dreamed of a farmer’s life, but he had dreamed of a world where the rain did not burn his skin. Where he could breathe.

That much appeared to be true, at least. The air stank of animal waste and smoke, but taking a deep breath did not result in a coughing fit. No masks or air filters needed. The sky was gray but not from smog or grime, but snow.

Fluffy snow, clean enough for children to play in. He had never seen such a thing, not in his lifetime. Growing up, snow held a gray tinge even before it hit the street and melted into a filthy slush.

Regardless of contracts signed and promises made, he should not behere.

Inside a military base.

Prowling around as the pearly gray dawn chased away the dark.

Looking for his brother.

Draven. Ethan. Whatever he called himself. Hal did not owe him a thing.

Correction, he owed his brother several things, mostly punches. Possibly some broken bones. Definitely choice words. Hal had several things to say to his brother.

He absolutely was not searching for his brother out of familial love or obligation. He wanted to know if the newspaper article was true. If the vampire Lord Draven surrendered.

Hal couldn’t imagine his brother relinquishing control. Ever. It was not in his nature. The more events and people fought against his command, the more tightly he squeezed.

This was the height of foolishness. Hal should put as much distance between himself and his brother as possible. Instead, he scaled a wooden stockade. He might not understand everything about this new world, but he knew that he would not be welcomed. Best to stay in the shadows.

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