“Let’s get you home, Berry, before you really turn into a snowman. I know I can keep you warm, but I’d prefer to do that in front of a fire and not out in the frigid temperatures.” Even if these temperatures aren’t bothering me. I’m built for the cold and the snow. But my very human mate isn’t.
We walk hand-in-hand, Holly continuing to chat away about countless memories over the years. She makes me want to go home with her for the holidays, to fully experience what she’s talking about. But she’s mentioned she can’t afford to go home anymore, not with the Macy’s salary. Something I will have to remedy eventually.
We reach the stoop of her apartment complex and take the four steps to her door. It’s not a bad building, but honestly, how would I know? They all just look like buildings to me, but I also know she doesn’t have a door greeter, and if the movies are to be believed, then it’s not a fancy apartment either.
We pause at the door, and I can see it in her eyes, the desire to ask me to come up, but there’s a hesitation. Almost a fear, I can feel it coursing through her. After the incident earlier, my antlers flashing, and another near-death experience, I can read her emotions fully.
I’ll save her from that fear this time. I pull her flush against me, grip her chin, and kiss her deeply. Stealing all the thoughts racing through her mind. I don’t linger or draw out this kiss. Instead, I leave her with something to think about when she goes to sleep tonight.
I took a step back, the rough stone solid beneath my feet, and dropped down to the step below her. “Sleep well, Berry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Ryatt.”
As she disappears behind the door, I let my head fall back, watching the snow spiral from the dark sky above. A faint bell tinks once, clear and knowing. There you are Goddess.
Aurielle’s form appears in the snowflakes, the rough idea of what she looks like. Though none of us know outside of the hand-drawn art we have in our tomes. The snowflakes part as they fall on each side of what would be a person standing in front of me.
Her voice echoes in my mind clearly, as if someone spoke the words aloud. “You’re on the right path, Ryatt. The answers you’ve sought your whole life are through that door.” The apperation lifts its arm and points to where Holly just disappeared. “Follow your heart and everything will make sense in all due time.”
The snowflakes that had just been floating mid-air fall quickly to the ground as she disappears as quickly as she appeared.
All in due time. I hope that when I tell her I’m a reindeer shifter that Holly accepts me and doesn’t fear me.
Chapter Eight
Snow Much to Think About
Holly
After dreaming of a devilishly handsome man, whipped cream, and melted chocolate, the next morning I woke up with a phantom taste of him on my tongue.
My lips tingle at the thought of his soft lips moving against mine as if it just happened, and it wasn’t several hours ago. Every second of last night was perfection—from the way he looked at me as if I was made from starlight and sugar to the way his mouth moved against without hesitation and he couldn’t imagine not kissing me.
It’s official. I’m ruined for all other men. I can’t imagine another man touching me, kissing me. There’s no way a singleperson will ever be able to hold a candle to what he’s done to me in just one date.
Chester sits on his window perch, his tail flicking like the judgmental roommate that he is, while I flop back against the pillow with a dramatic groan. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t sleep with him,” I mumble into my pillow. “Gods I wanted to. You have no idea how badly I wanted to drag him upstairs and ride him into the sunrise. But alas, he was the perfect gentleman and kissed me on the stoop.” I shove my face deeper into my pillow, groaning at the mental images flashing behind my eyes.
Chester meows with all the sass his body can muster.
I roll out of the bed, pulling on my ugly Christmas sweater fuzzy socks, and a sweatshirt saying “Fa-la-la-Flustered” for an all day fest of Hallmark Christmas movies, hot cocoa, and whatever sugary cookie I haven’t finished yet. I have the entire day off to spend molding myself into the couch, covering myself in layers of comfortable blankets, and drowning my woes in melted chocolate.
The snow continues to fall, making me feel as if I’m living in a snow globe, as it blankets the world outside my windows in white. Christmas is less than a week away, and winter’s silence muffles the city. While winter feels cold and hard, my heart feels almost soft and bright. Almost hopeful.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this kind of excitement. Maybe when I was a kid and bringing home my latest story for my parents to read. This is the kind of excitement that makes you believe in miracles, as if anything you dream of could come true. Something about Ryatt fills me with hope, something nobody has done besides my Pa. But as a parent, he’s always been obligated to do so, not that I didn’t believe him, just that it always felt less authentic.
With Ryatt’s periwinkle eyes gleaming under the streetlights and his full attention on me, I felt a surge of confidence.Something I’ve never felt before in my twenty-eight years of living on this planet.
The smell of mocha peppermint coffee fills the air as my pod coffee maker finishes its cycle. I plop down at my kitchen table, my laptop sitting exactly where I left it last night, as I bring it to life. The half-finished screenplay stares back at me from the screen. You know the surge of confidence he gave me? Yeah, when I came rushing upstairs, it wasn’t to run to bed…no, it was to put the words on the digital paper before I lost the creative drive thrumming through me.
The Christmas Prince Written by Holly Winters
It’s messy; it’s imperfect. But it’s 100 percent mine. I’ve convinced myself for years that I’d never have a story good enough to see the light of day. That I’d never be enough. But something about this one that is calling to me. Last night, I stood under the falling snow with a man who looked at me like I was someone worth believing in.
As the sun began to paint the sky, I was still typing away at my computer, fingers flying as if I were racing against time. The story flowed out of me as if there was a magical transmission from my brain to the computer screen. I’ve never written a screenplay so fast. There’s just something about this story that is calling to me, I don’t know if it’s the characters, the story, or all of it. All I know is it’s beautiful, raw, and magical.
I scroll through the script, smiling at the banter between the characters, and my little notes along the way.
ACT 2: She learns that love is magical as long as you believe.
