Page 6 of Bewitched Before Christmas
He stopped beside her. There was a shuffling and stamping of feet as the congregation turned to see what was happening, then turned back just as quickly.
He held out his hand.
She looked at it, then shoved her own hands in her pockets, but she did edge her way out of the pew and stomp toward the door. He followed. The tightness around his chest loosened as he stepped outside the church.
“Did you know you wouldn’t burn?” she asked.
“No.”
“Are you crazy?” She shook her head, and studied him, her brows drawn together. “That was interesting though. The candle thing.”
He looked down at her. “How do you know it wasn’t you?”
“Me?”
He shrugged. “Everyone knows witches are evil creatures.”
“Hah.” They came to a halt beside the Porsche. “Really? A sports car? In this weather.”
“Get in.”
“Can I drive?” she asked.
He shuddered. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Jesus,” she mumbled not quite under her breath. “Who’s a grumpy vampire?”
He unlocked the doors, and she climbed in. He got in beside her. Then went still. In the closed space, he could smell her blood, sweet and hot. Could hear it pumping in her veins. His gums ached with the need to feed, and he licked his lips. Maybe he could take a little drink and wipe her memory? Except he was in no way sure he could. He knew nothing about witches, except he didn’t trust them. Besides, he sensed a little drink would not be enough.
Control had never been an issue with him, now he found himself struggling, fighting to overcome the need that had been building for two months. Because he hadn’t fed in all that time. Had no urge, except from this one source. That he couldn’t have.
“Are we waiting for something?” she asked.
He gave himself a shake and started the car. It purred to life, and he pulled away. The snow had started to fall again while they were in the church, a thick almost impenetrable curtain of white. He drove quickly, need pushing him on. He’d drop her off and then he’d go feed. There were always willing volunteers who hung around the castle. Any one of them would be more than happy to feed the boss.
“Do you want to slow down?” she asked.
“No.”
He cast her a quick, sideways glance, her hands were grasping the sides of the seat, her fingers white, her face set.
He put his foot on the brake. Turned his attention back to the way ahead. Too late. Something was stretched out across the road. The tires hit, and they were spinning out of control.
Chapter Four
Someone was screaming, and Lola realized it was her. The car skidded as Lachlan fought for control. But they could get no traction on the icy road. They were sliding, huge dark shadowy shapes on either side.
She was going to die. And he wouldn’t because he was already dead. And that was so not fair.
Then everything stopped. A loud bang shattered her ear drums, and something punched her in the face. She couldn’t breathe and panic welled up inside her. Her arms flailed, trying to find a way out.
Beside her, the door was wrenched open, cold air hit her body, as a hand grabbed her arm and dragged her out. She was lying in the snow, flakes landing on her upturned face. Lachlan appeared above her.
“Move,” he shouted.
She shook her head, trying to get her brain to work.
“Move!” Without giving her a second to respond, he hauled her over his shoulder, turned, and—
