Page 24 of Gyft
But, God, it was great. Best sex ever. And as our heartbeats slow, he rolls over and pulls me onto him, not caring that we’re a sticky mess. His breathing deepens and a cocky smile roves over his face as his eyesclose. Are his fangs a little longer? They might be. God, it was delicious when he scraped them against my skin. His hair—the spiky, ropy tendrils that twist and take on a life of their own, are limp and replete. He’s just adorable.
He’s sleeping soundly after that wild sex we just had... the massive orgasms. Three for me, two from his tongue. But sleep eludes me. I feel more energized than the night before my wedding when I couldn’t sleep. Than the morning before when I sucked down the double dose of energy drinks.
Moving quietly, I slip downstairs. I turn toward the kitchen but notice a dim glow coming from the living area. The two little kids are sitting on the sofa, staring at a small tree that’s lit with soft, glowing nightlights.
“That’s like a Christmas tree,” I whisper, and both heads turn toward me.
“Can’t sleep either? I feel pretty energized, like I ran a marathon. Is that why you two are up?” Without expecting an answer, I sigh. “But I guess we did run a mile. Probably more, trying to get away from that thing! The mud monster.”
I exaggerate my shudder, trying to act a little silly because the kids both have enormous eyes as they stare, like maybe just seeing me brought back memories of what we’d all been through.
I sink down on the sofa between them, forcing them to scoot so I can fit, and then drop my arms around their skinny shoulders.
“Looks like we all have matching hair now,” I say. “We’re part of the cool kids club.” I can feel their gaze on me, but I stare straight ahead at the tree. “You know, on Earth, we decorate the trees with lights each year. We call it Christmas. It’s a religious holiday and we give gifts during that day. Of course, we also hang pretty things on the tree branches. Sometimes paint the windows to look like snow. Play Christmas songs which are only available that time of year. And during the night, you’ll find more gifts appear under the tree if you’re good girls and boys.Otherwise, Santa Claus will add you to his naughty list and you’ll get something awful, like a lump of coal or canned meat.”
The boy wrinkles his nose and I tap the tip of it, giggling. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. But it’s a huge part of why kids really behave. They want those presents on Christmas morning.”
“What kind of presents?” A deep voice asks from behind us.
I jump, because he’s not whispering like me.
He enters and sits down next to the little girl.
“Well, in the days right before Christmas, kids usually dress up in their finest clothes and go down to the mall, where Santa, that’s the guy who leaves the presents, waits on a big throne-like chair. Sometimes his elves, who are the toy makers, sit around with him. And parents bring their kids to plop in his lap. He’ll ask them what it is they want for Christmas. Parents usually get a picture of their kid on Santa’s lap to remember the moment—”
And then it dawns on me.
“You—you can understand me?”
The kids both nod, distracting me because I’m talking to my guard, but they understand too. “All of you?”
“Your download of our language hit,” the bodyguard says softly. “I’ve been expecting it. You’re talking in our language now. When we return to the castle, they’ll give me yours also.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “We are going to the castle, then?” Even after what we’ve shared, he still wants to take me to this Gyft? And I’m not sure why he’ll get my language... unless he’ll still be my guard? Shame fills me. This could get ugly real fast. I’m going to have to tell him that it can go nowhere. I’m going to have to confess to my husband that I want a divorce.
He nods solemnly. “It’s where we’ll live.”
And maybe we can just get away from it all? “I... I kind of thought you might like to explore that city that’s a couple miles away. Hellaya?”
“H’liyio. If you would like a second home there, we can do that.”
My jaw drops. Do they share women on their planet, then? But with the kids watching, I’m not sure how to ask.
“W-we can?”
“Of course.” He looks puzzled.
“Tell us more about this Santa Claus,” Brisa says. “I like that story.”
Distractedly, I turn back to the kids.
“Well, his hair is snow white.” I reach out and ruffle the weird little alien spikes on their heads. “Much like the color of yours. And... I guess, mine. As a matter of fact, we can probably do an alien version of Santa here! This city, Hellayoyo, does it have a shopping center?”
“Yes,” Kyno says, his eyes round.
“We can start working on all the toys we’ll gather. Some we’ll make. And on December 25th—we’ll have to use Earth’s calendar, not sure how your days run—we’ll sit in the mall and pass out presents to the little ones.”
Kyno scowls. “But does helping mean we’ll be on the good list so he’ll visit us?”
