Her shoulder lifts as she smells herself.
I chuckle. “Not that kind of smell. I forget that you don’t know about mates.
She lifts her head up, tucking a hand under her chin as she stares at me with confusion. “You’re definitely going to elaborate or I’m going to go shower and pray to the Goddess that the smell goes away.”
I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear as I stare at her. I don’t know how I got so lucky in life to deserve someone like her, but I’m grateful for whatever it was that I did right.
“Okay, so everyone has their own unique scent, but only your mates scent will be enticing. Everyone else’s will feel off to you. Think a food that smells good until you try to take a bite out of it and it sours in your mouth. Kind of like that. Now that we’re mated you should be able to smell my scent as well.”
Her face drops against my chest as she sniffs deeply. I almost die laughing when she looks back up with a pondering look on her face.
“Yeah, so I don’t know if I’m doing it wrong, but you just smell manly and a little bit like sex. Is my sniffer broken or do I not get that cool upgrade since I’m not a reindeer?”
“Uh,” I reach up and scratch my head. “I don’t think your sniffer, as you put it, is broken. Maybe we should ask the elders? I have no idea.”
Holly opens her mouth to say something when her stomach chooses that exact moment to let us know that it’s time for breakfast. We both chuckle as we roll out of the bed. Holly is glancing around with one arm banded across her chest, clearly trying to determine what to put on.
My fingers snap together, and we are both covered in thick pajamas and wool socks.
“I said it last night, and I’ll say it again. Endless wardrobe for the win. I think it’s the fact that it’s always a perfect fit too. No need for a tailor if you have reindeer magic. Does everyone here have the same magic, or is it like the books, and everyone has unique magic? If it’s the latter, then I will want to learn every single magic here.”
I hold the door open for her as she walks down the hallway back to the open space with the kitchen, dining, and living room. There’s two other bedrooms in this house, but I’ve never taken the time to decorate them beyond a bed, nightstands, lamps, and a dresser. Having Holly walk through my home makes me feellike I never really made this a home, more a house, a place to rest at night before rushing out the door again the next day.
My mother always said that a woman makes a home, and at this moment as I watch Holly’s hips sway down my hallway, her fingers trailing along the wall, I finally realize what she’s meant all along.
She might not have actual magic like I do, but I can feel the space already transforming as she makes a place for herself here.
When we walk into the kitchen, Chester squawks from his pillow on the couch. His eyes narrowing on the both of us as if he can’t believe we’d dare sleep in beyond his designated feeding time. Yeah, I know all about his breakfast time and the attitude he gives when it’s not met.
The first night I stayed over at Holly’s apartment, I almost lost an eye when he helped himself to the bed and attempted to swat my face, claws fully extended. Thankfully, I’m equipped with speed, otherwise I’d have to walk around with an eyepatch.
“Oh, hush, Chester,” Holly swats at him when he launches onto the kitchen island and directly where she’s setting our coffee mugs. “You won’t die if I’m not feeding you at exactly eight.”
Chester lets another string of long, drawn-out meows, which clearly is him disagreeing with her sentiment.
I start brewing our coffee while those two banter back and forth. Now that we’re here, I can't stop thinking about the phone call from my Dad asking for me to come back because he’s ill.
It’s odd that he wasn’t greeting me when I apperated in, or at least Mom showing up. Why instead was it Mrs. Claus?
I start brewing our coffee, listening to them bicker in the background. The sound is grounding, almost natural—until my thought wander.
My father’s voice echoes in the back of my mind, raspy and strained. I’m sick, Ryatt. You need to come home.
But something about it doesn’t sound right. He didn’t sound weak—just…measured. Calculated in a way he’s only used on me a few times. And if he’s really ill, why wasn’t Mom the one to greet us when we arrived? Why was it Estelle who appeared instead?
The question sits heavy in my chest, colder than the frigid temperatures outside.
We are just sitting down to enjoy the first sips of our coffee when I hear it, the tink-tink-tink of a ice clinking against glass. There’s only one thing it could be…
I set my mug down slowly, the steam curling upward like a warning flare. “Don’t make any sudden movements,” I murmur.
Holly freezes halfway through her sip. “Is this another one of thosereindeer thingsyou haven’t told me about?”
“Sort of,” I say, scanning the kitchen looking for a sign of frozen snowflakes in unusual places. “But not exactly one of mine.”
The low notes of Frosty the Snowman fill the air, like a whisper of an old radio playing quietly in the background. Then, between the coffee pot and the sugar cup, a shimmer of light flicks across the spoon as she appears, Eirvyn.
Her body glows faintly blue, each facet of her crystalline skin catching the light like freshly made icicles. Her skirt isn’t fabric at all, but one large snowflake, perfectly built and flowing to just below her knee. She swirls it in a slow, lazy orbit around her hips. A crown of frost curls along her hairline, her long blue wavy hair pinned into a ponytail off the back of her head. The smallest silver bell dangles from her ear, chiming with every tilt of her head.
