"You listen to me, Phina. You are not responsible for that hell-spawned harlot's actions. She's the one who's going to pay, and I'm going to be the one to collect. With interest."
And by interest, I mean I'm going to shove my foot so far up Lilith's ass she'll be coughing up boot leather for a century.
Seraphina's lips curve into a smile that could make the Grinch's heart grow three sizes. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look right now, wearing reindeer antlers and trying to be all romantic and sweet?"
God, I love it when she gets sassy. It's like watching a kitten try to roar.
I let out a laugh that's half amusement, half 'kill-me-now' embarrassment. "I probably look like a complete fucking idiot, right? Like Santa's perverted cousin who got banned from the mall for inappropriate comments to the elves?"
Phina reaches up and flicks one of the antlers, her eyes sparkling with that heavenly mischief that makes my dead dick spring to life faster than a jack-in-the-box. "I don't know, I think it's kind of cute. In a 'my boyfriend is a dork, but I love him anyway' sort of way."
Cute? I've killed men for less. But from her? I'll take any damn label she wants to slap on me.
"Well, lucky for you, this dork is all yours, antlers and all." I lean in close enough to inhale her scent. "Though I'd much rather be wearing nothing but your thighs around my neck instead of this holiday bullshit."
Too crude? Not crude enough? The line gets blurry when you're mated to literal divinity.
Seraphina's cheeks flush with a rosy glow that spreads down her neck. Instead of the scandalized gasp, most would expect from an angel, her golden eyes darken with desire. She leans in, her lips brushing against my ear.
"Maybe later," she whispers, her sweet voice carrying a hint of mischief, "you'll get to enjoy the results of that spa appointment I had this morning. Let's just say... your sleigh ride will be extra smooth tonight."
Sweet mother of unholy fuck!
My grin turns absolutely predatory as I pull her closer, my hands sliding down to cup her delicious ass.
"Mmm, why do you think I'vebeen walking around with a semi all afternoon?" I growl against her neck. "Rosa will kill us if we're late for dinner, but after that? I will worship at your altar so thoroughly you'll forget you were ever an angel."
Nothing says 'Christmas spirit' quite like planning to defile celestial perfection. Ho ho ho, indeed.
Danica
77
Nestled in our corner of the couch, I let myself sink into the moment—the towering Christmas tree casting its multicolored glow across the room, twinkling lights strung everywhere like captured stars. It feels like a lifetime since I've experienced anything remotely normal—just being a family soaking in holiday magic while the world outside threatens to implode.
After dinner, we all waddled outside like a herd of overstuffed penguins to marvel at the guys' handiwork on the house. And holy cow—"spectacular" doesn't even begin to cover it. These guys decided that subtlety is for mortals and went full Clark Griswold on steroids. There are enough lights wrapped around Lucian's mansion to be visible from space.
The neighbors probably need blackout curtains at this point. Or therapy. Maybe both.
I sink deeper into the couch, popping the button on my jeans with zero shame. Rosa's feast has transformed me into a human-shaped food balloon, and I regret nothing. Fashion be damned—this is a stretchy pants situation if I've ever seen one—crispy-skinned duck with that perfect layer of fat beneath, potatoes roasted until golden in duck drippings, and vegetables that somehow made me forget I was eating something healthy. The stack of chocolate chip cookies I demolished afterward didn't help matters.
A contented groan escapes me as I stretch my legs toward the crackling fire. Fat snowflakes tumble from the night sky through the bay windows, illuminated by the outdoor lights like falling stars. The fire pops and hisses in the stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room and radiating a warmth that makes my eyelids heavy.
Adrian's resurrection stillhas my brain in a tailspin. I haven't figured out how to pry him from Lilith's perfectly manicured clutches, but abandoning him to her puppet strings isn't an option. I know Lucian sees only the vampire who killed Sable, totaled his precious car, and kidnapped Seraphina—but beneath Lilith's compulsion is the real Adrian. The same Adrian who taught me everything of who I am and what I'm meant to do, who died trying to make things right.
Emily and Sable are already nose-deep in grimoires, hunting for something to break Lilith's maker bond.
Seraphina settles beside me, balancing a steaming mug of cocoa topped with a ridiculous amount of mini marshmallows. Balanced in her other hand is the ancient text on Pyrothos—the Fire Realm—our next research project in this cosmic scavenger hunt.
"So... ready to dive into the fiery abyss?" Sera asks, her voice honey-sweet despite the ominous text balanced on her knee.
I nod, reaching for the ancient tome. "Might as well get acquainted with hell before we vacation there. Need to know what we're walking into when the time comes."
Lilith may still have half the Soul Stone, but according to Brax, it's like having half a key—dangerous but ultimately useless to bring Moretemis here without its counterpart.
Speaking of our resident demon, his encyclopedic knowledge of Unbra shouldn't surprise me. The Shadow Realm was his playground for millennia before Emily yanked him through the rift. Still, watching Will Ferrell lecture us on interdimensional metaphysics in an elf costume was a cognitive dissonance I'm still processing.
Sera cracks open the ancient tome, releasing a cloud of musty parchment and acrid sulfur that wrinkles my nose. Her fingers dance across the yellowed pages, her eyes flashing gold as she absorbs information at supernatural speed.
