“You have all the best ideas,” she muttered, reluctantly peeling herself away from his side – but, as if she’d read his mind, she already knew what he intended to do.
He was still smiling at her as he began to shift, taking on the form of the mighty, winged pegasus. As if he knew she didn’t have the energy to climb up onto his back, he knelt down onto the ground, so all she had to do was swing one leg over his back – which she did, gratefully, snuggling up against the warmth of his neck.
“Let’s go,” she whispered, and felt the strong beat of his wings behind her – and then nothing more, since she was asleep before his feet had left the ground.
* * *
Christmas Day dawned cold, wet and windy, as so many days in Portsmith did.
Not that Celeste minded – the important thing was that she was with the man she loved, hermate, and she wasfree.
Free to snuggle down under the covers with Pierce, burrowing deep and enjoying the warmth that he radiated. Free to wrap her arm around him and press kisses against the back of his neck. Free not to have to worry about anything or anyone else.
The last few days had been a blur of carefree joy – of wandering about the town, sampling the various festive foods on offer, curling up in front of the fireplace with Pierce and a mug of eggnog, and watching the flames dance.
There had even been one incident involving a store doorway and some mistletoe. She would never have expected Pierce, of all people, to have a mischievous streak, but she’d found herself tugged into the doorway before she even knew what was happening.
Celeste felt lighter than she could ever remember herself feeling – certainly ever since she found out that she was destined to spend her days in forced isolation. It was as if a heavy weight that she hadn’t even realized was there had been lifted off her shoulders. She wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she’d just floated off into the sky, she felt so light.
And so much of it was due to this man lying here next to her, so warm and solid and dependable. She couldn’t have done any of it without him.
They had so much lost time to make up. But they were, she thought with a slight blush, doing a very good job of catching up.
Pierce stirred a little, before rolling over onto his back.
“Merry Christmas, Celeste,” he murmured.
“Merry Christmas,” she said back, smiling. Really, he was just so gorgeous. By all rights he should have morning breath, or sleep in his eyes, or terrible hair – but he was just the perfect amount of disheveled, his bed-head looking as if it had been professionally styled.
Is thereanythingabout him that isn’t perfect?
Looking at him, feeling him, she decided that the answer was a resoundingno.
She climbed on top of him, straddling him, and looked down at him playfully.
“Have you been a good boy this year?”
Pierce looked like he might actually be contemplating the question seriously. “I’d like to think that I’ve done a consistently good job at work over the past year, but I’m always open to constructive criticism.”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “You’re kind of taking all the fun out of this! But very well: you’re on the good list. Here’s your reward.”
She leaned down and kissed him deep and slow, savoring the taste of him. She was never, ever going to get tired of this.
“If we’re giving out Christmas gifts,” Pierce murmured after they broke apart, “then I have a little something for you, too.”
“Wait.” Celeste pulled back, feeling her heart sink just a little. “Do you mean an actual gift? Because I didn’t get you anything.” She hadn’t even thought of it. Christmas was something she was very, very out of practice with – it had completely slipped her mind!
And we’ve spent most of the past few days in bed, after all. And on the sofa. And up against the kitchen bench. When did he even find time to go shopping in secret?
“Don’t worry about it,” Pierce hurried to assure her. “It’s just something silly. And it’s for both of us, really.”
She still felt alittlebad, but she had to admit that curiosity was starting to burn up inside of her. “Where is it? Can I open it?”
“It’s over there in that bag,” Pierce said, pointing into the corner of the room. “Be careful – it’s fragile.”
Scrambling off the bed, Celeste hurried across the room and picked up the bag, bringing it back to the bed.
Reaching inside, she carefully pulled out a small but surprisingly heavy package, which was wrapped neatly in cheerful green paper printed with miniature Santas. She could tell right away that Pierce had wrapped it – the precision of the folds had Pierce written all over it.
