I leaped across the room, my fingers narrowly missing Grimalkin as she scrambled up the tree. The bloody cat tore off with the string of tinsel and flung herself through the air like a bungee jumper. Customers scrambled out of the way as Grimalkin landed on her feet on the rug and took off into the stacks, dragging the tinsel behind her.
“That catnip has made her crazy.” I ducked into the stacks just as Grimalkin shot up the side of a bookcase.
“Croak!” Quoth swooped the cat and grabbed the other end of the tinsel. Grimalkin dropped to the floor, rolled over onto her stomach, and kicked at the tinsel with all four paws. Sparkly paper flew in all directions.
“Mina, they’re ruining the decorations!” Mum cried.
“Naughty kitty. You don’t play with that.” I risked life and limb to claim the tinsel back from Grimalkin. “There are plenty of other cat toys around the place. Find one of those.”
“Meow!” Grimalkin shot me a glare. She leaped into the air, landing spread-eagled in the tree, which teetered on its stand. I lunged, but I wasn’t fast enough. A gasp rose from my throat as the tree toppled sideways, just as Heathcliff stepped out his office door. Tinsel and needles and large glass baubles battered his head as he struggled to hold the weight.
“I hate this bloody tree,” Heathcliff growled, his eyes flashing. “I wish we’d never agreed to do this stupid charity thing. Let someone else be the Christmas elf so I can drink in peace. What thefuckare all these people doing in my shop?”
Silence fell.
“Sorry, folks.” I plastered a smile on my face. “Heathcliff is just kidding. Of course he—”
“I’m not kidding.” Heathcliff’s face was a storm. “IhateChristmas! I wish it didn’t exist!”
The children’s faces fell. Their mother shot Heathcliff a reproachful look and ushered them away. Tabitha shook her head sadly and tsked under her breath. Jonie looked like she didn’t know whether to applaud or run for her life. Mum tried to recover herself by explaining the decorations could be used all year round to ‘create a disco effect in your living room.’
Ah, Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year.
Chapter Two
“Is Heathcliff like this every year?” I asked Quoth as I watched him swirl his brush in red paint and dab it on the canvas. He’d turned the painting away from me and banished me to one corner of the room so I had no chance of seeing the image, which made my anxiety about finding his perfect Christmas giftso much better.
Not.
“He’s usually worse.” Quoth didn’t look up from the canvas. “He never allows decorations in the shop, and he barks at anyone who says Merry Christmas or hums ‘Jingle Bells.’ It shows how much he cares about you that he let us put that tree up in the first place.”
“Well… he didn’t so muchletus put it up,” I smiled, remembering. “Morrie and I erected it while he was passed out drunk.”
“I wish it didn’t have to be like that.” Quoth looked away. “I wish he wanted to help the animals, and he didn’t just agree to make you happy.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to upset you.”
“He does,” Quoth didn’t turn around. “Thank you for sticking up to him, Mina. It means a lot to be running the charity tree. I meet all kinds of animals at the shelter, and their stories make me so sad. It gets worse every holiday. Do you know how many people give pets as Christmas presents to family members who aren’t ready for them? It’s horrible. And then the animal gets neglected and abandoned and it’s not their fault…”
Quoth shook his head. His shoulders shuddered. Blatantly ignoring his rule of staying on my side of the canvas, I went over and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close and breathing in his earthy chocolate and fresh herbs scent. Quoth still struggled with his place in the world – he wasn’t entirely human, and yet he wasn’t just a bird, either. He was so much more. To me, he was special and unique and wonderful, but when he looked at himself, he didn’t see that. He saw a freak who had to hide away. Being involved with the animal shelter was one small step toward Quoth being happy in his own skin.
I knew running this tree meant the world to him – it wasn’t just about saving neglected animals. It was about showing in a small way that he was part of the village. That he didn’t want to hide away anymore. That he considered this his home enough to put down roots here.
Quoth burrowed his head into my shoulder. Although I itched to peek over Quoth shoulder at the canvas, I didn’t want to ruin his surprise. I tipped his head back and kissed him – using my lips and body to speak my feelings for him because it was Christmas and Quoth was beautiful. He wasmyfamily. He didn’t have to be alone.
Quoth melted into me. Paint-covered fingers grazed my cheek, featherlight and reverent. Warm lips brushed mine, tentative but laced with need.
We slid together, our bodies drawn to each other like punk rockers to safety pins. Quoth kissed with his eyes open – those dark orbs of his boring into me as if he were trying to commit every moment of us to memory.
I planned to give him something to remember.
I nudged Quoth toward the bed, flicking open the buttons on his shirt. I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling his heart pound beneath his skin. Somehow, inside him existed bird parts and human parts all meshed together. He shouldn’t exist, and yet he was here, flesh and bone made real and wonderful. He was a miracle.
My miracle.
Our kisses deepened as we tossed away our clothes. I wanted to fall into him, to become part of the miracle of his body. Quoth’s fingers trailed down my spine, sending a delicious shiver through my body that had nothing to do with that poxy draft blowing through the attic.
Quoth trailed kisses along my neck, over my collarbone, touching the spot on my clavicle that made me shudder with desire. I reached between his legs and grabbed his cock, stroking it between my fingers. His shoulders tightened and a small sigh escaped his lips.
