A Vampire's Christmas Carol(10)

“I already see you in all my dreams,” he whispered. “I think I’m tormented enough.”

Even though she wanted to crumble, Simone pushed back her shoulders and stiffened her spine. She’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. She just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see him again. “You’re dead, too,” she heard herself blurt.

Then she winced. That was hardly the introduction she’d intended to use with him.

His dark brows shot down.

“I, um, I mean…you’re undead.” That was the deal with vampires. Not totally dead and far, far from mortal.

He grabbed her then. Yanked her against him and into the cabin. Since he’d pulled her inside, she considered that an invitation to enter.

“Be real,” he rasped against her mouth, and then he was kissing her. She’d missed his kiss so much. He’d always kissed her as if he were desperate for the feel of her mouth beneath his. As if he couldn’t get enough of her.

Simone’s fingers sank into the thickness of his hair. She stood up on her toes as she tried to get closer to him. He was so solid and strong against her. So real. So…hers.

He tensed. His head lifted. His eyes blazed down at her, glowing now with the power of the vampire. “You’re dead.”

“You keep saying that,” she whispered. Simone licked her lips. She could still taste him. She wanted to taste him again.

“A dream? Is that what this is? Am I just dreaming about you again?”

She shook her head. “This is a visit,” she told him, fighting to keep the emotion from her voice. She’d fought so hard for this time with him. “I’m the second one to come and see you tonight.”

His brow furrowed.

Jeez, hadn’t William explained things to him? “Your life—your soul—is on the line, Ben. Tonight is your last chance.” His only chance. And she was so glad that she was with him. “Three visitors will come this night. One for the past. One for the present.” She swallowed. “One for the future.” She didn’t want to think about the future. She’d already glimpsed what could come, and it terrified her.

“I’m crazy,” Ben said flatly, but he didn’t let her go. “I’ve lost the little sanity I had, and I’m imagining you now.”

This was the part she dreaded. Simone exhaled slowly, and she let her own power slip out from her. Her shoulder blades tingled, then warmed as—

“You’ve got wings.” He leapt back, moving a good five feet in less than a second. “Fucking wings!”

Her hands twisted in front of her. She knew her wings—long, white, rather fluffy, especially when she got nervous—were fully extended. “When we met before, there were some…things…you didn’t know about me.”

His jaw dropped in shock.

“I was in New York because I was looking for you. But I…I wasn’t supposed to actually make contact with you.” She sure hadn’t intended to get physically involved with him, but Simone had broken all of the rules for Ben. “I was assigned to…help you. To guard you.”

He shook his head.

“I was your guardian angel.” Did he notice the emphasis she’d just put on “was” right then?

Ben shook his head again as he walked toward her. His hand lifted and he reached out to carefully touch one wing. “It’s real.”

“The wings are real, and so am I.” They didn’t have much time. This one night was the only shot that Ben had been given. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t stay with you.” She’d wanted to be with him. More than anything. But—

She’d changed.

He was still staring at her wings with something close to wonder in his eyes. “Why didn’t I see them before?”

Simone focused and slowly, inch by inch, those wings grew smaller. They kept shrinking until…now you don’t see them. “You remember the scars on my shoulder blades?”

He’d seen them. Kissed them. Asked how she’d gotten them. She’d lied to him and said that she’d been in a car accident when she was twenty-two. Well, technically, that had only been a partial lie.

She’d died in that car accident. As had her parents. But…she’d become something more in death. “The scars hide the wings. When I’m in the mortal realm, the wings shrink in size and slide beneath the skin there.” Their small size made them little more than a ridge beneath her flesh. “When I go…home…” She didn’t have a home any more. Hadn’t, not in years. “When I go home, the wings return to their normal size.” At least, that was what should’ve happened.

He spun her around. Stared at her back. She knew he’d be seeing the tears that were now in the back of her shirt. When her wings emerged, they sliced through her clothing. An angel’s wings were soft, true, but they could also become razor sharp—depending on the angel’s needs. When they were threatened, angels always used their wings for protection. It wasn’t all about flight with those wings. It was about power.

Slowly, he turned her back around to face him. His expression looked so confused, so hurt, when he said, “I thought you died in front of me.”

Tell him. “When I was twenty-two, I did die on a street like that one. My mom and dad—we’d just picked up our Christmas tree.” They’d been so happy. Singing carols in voices that had been horribly off-tune. But that had been their tradition. Get the tree. Sing the carols. Laugh all night during decoration time. She cleared her throat. “A drunk driver hit my family before we could make it home. I survived for a little while, just long enough for an ambulance to get there, but I was dead before they could load me onto the stretcher.”