Page 5 of Bewitched Before Christmas
The locals had all disappeared inside, though Lachlan had received some strange looks as they passed him. A couple had even crossed themselves.
The witch came strolling down the hill from the moors, dressed in jeans and boots, some sort of bulky coat and a red bobble hat. Red and green Christmas trees dangled from her ears. She was accompanied by a huge golden…dog.
His eyes narrowed as she got closer and his nostrils filled with the wild, musky scent of…werewolf. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat and the ‘dog’ pushed closer against her.
His heart rate kicked up. He almost didn’t recognize the emotion that gripped him. Fear? Vampires didn’t do fear, but the thing was big enough to chew off her head. Had she no sense?
He held himself still as they came to a halt in front of him. Werewolves could be skittish. He didn’t want to trigger the thing off. Her hand rested on its head, and she scratched its ears almost absently. It leaned in against her and watched him insolently out of golden eyes. She’s mine, it seemed to say, and the growl trickled out of Lachlan’s throat.
“Move away from the werewolf,” he said slowly. “Right now,” he added when she failed to respond.
Her brows drew together as though he was speaking a foreign language, then she peered around her as if searching for something. Christ, she had no fucking clue.
Breathing slowly, he tried to calm himself. But his fangs were elongating, and he could sense the darkness rising inside him.
He saw the moment she worked it out. Her eyes widened. She looked from the wolf to him and back. “Really? You’re a werewolf?”
It took Lachlan a second to realize she was talking to the thing.
“Woof.” And it was answering.
“Wow.” She sounded impressed.
He was going to lose it. Any moment now. The wolf must have sensed something similar because with one last disdainful look at Lachlan, it trotted away. Tail wagging.
She watched it go and then turned to look at him, her expression wary. Like she expected him to totally lose his fucking cool because she’d crept out of the castle, where he was supposed to be keeping her safe, to meet up with a goddamn werewolf.
His rage was rising again, and she took a step back. “Did you know that your eyes have gone red. Is that normal?”
“Only when I get really, really angry,” he said. Or when he ate. Or got sexually stimulated. But he wasn’t going there. Though actually, he was already there, his dick hard in his pants.
“I thought you were always angry.” She glanced back to where the wolf had disappeared. “Is he really a werewolf?”
“Clueless,” he muttered to himself. “No wonder they don’t want you back.” He’d asked Darius enough times when he could return her to where she belonged. “You’re a fucking liability.”
A hurt look flashed across her face. And he felt instantly guilty. Something else he couldn’t remember feeling in a long time. Centuries. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get her safely back to the castle, lock her in that dungeon, and get as far away as he could. “Come,” he said. “I’ll drive you back to the castle.”
“I’m going to the carol service.”
“No. You’re. Not.” He said it slowly, because she was obviously not too bright.
She gritted her teeth, then her eyes narrowed. She dashed past him before he realized what she meant to do. Hauling the big wooden door to the church open, she slipped inside, but then turned to face him. “Don’t vampires spontaneously combust if they go onto holy ground?” she asked. And she disappeared inside.
He stared after her. How could something so small cause so much mayhem?
Did vampires burst into flame in churches? He had no clue—he’d had no urge to test the theory since he’d been changed. General opinion was no. Like garlic and holy water, it was a legend with no basis in fact. But he wasn’t absolutely sure.
What he was, was angry enough to risk it. And part of him had always wanted to know. Was he evil?
Maybe he would spontaneously combust.
Would it matter?
He strode to the door, flung it open and…hesitated. He spotted her on the outside of a pew at the back of the church. As if sensing him, she turned around and blinked, her eyes widening. He stepped inside, every muscle tensing, a band tightening around his chest.
But no flames.
As he strode toward her, all around the church, the candle’s flickered and died. The singing faltered. The place went silent.
