The Naughty List (22 page)

“I didn’t get you anything,” he said, wrinkling up his nose.

“You’ve saved my life thirty-nine times. I think we’re even.” Hopefully, he’d keep adding to that count if needed. The gift that kept giving.

“Yes, but…”

She shoved another segment into his mouth. “Besides, I’m planning on stealing more of your orange, and I sort of prefer giving to receiving.”

Zeit smirked.

She reached across and flicked him in the forehead. “You’re definitely going to get coal in your stocking if you keep thinking like that.”

“You’re getting coal because you knew what I was thinking.” He cleared his throat. “You said you’d tell me what you liked about coming here.”

Oh, that’s right. She had said that. “It feels like being part of a family without all the drama.”

“I thought mortals liked drama.”

“Not me—the only family I know of is all drama, all the time.” He had no idea. She wanted more from this Christmas season, though. Not more drama, but no more being on the outside looking in.

She’d nearly died. If she died tomorrow, she didn’t want to die never having taken chances. She was not going to spend the whole week inside reading a book—especially not with Zeit around.

Nodding at the other two gifts, Hannah picked up her silverware. “Are you opening your other presents?”

“No. Maybe tomorrow.”

“No instant gratification for you, huh?”

He smirked again. “Sometimes I like to be gratified right away.” His gaze met hers, and he winked.

“You’re getting coal.”

* * *

Neither of them got coal, but he still should stay away from her. She was making that exceptionally difficult—both emotionally and physically. After breakfast, she’d dragged him out to the tree to watch families open gifts. She’d watched them, and he’d watched her. He had to keep her alive. She was like George Bailey, but she was also
nothing like
George Bailey.

“The mistletoe socks are cute,” she said. “Do you think they count for tradition?”

He’d received mistletoe socks in his stocking. Socks in a sock—odd. Mortals were very peculiar.

In point of fact, Hannah seemed to be flirting with him after all her pushing him away last night. Mortals were inconsistent. Something about her had changed. She was less cautious… about him and about life. Their reversal of roles spelled doom for his noble intentions. It was hard enough to resist her when she was wary of him.

“I don’t know. If you hold them over your head, we can see if I’m overcome by tradition,” he said.

She set down the mug of hot chocolate she’d been sipping as she grinned. “I like your snowman kit. We can make a snowman this week.”

Hannah kept doing that—making plans. He
needed
to back off and return to being in the shadows of her life, and she kept pulling him back in.

“I want to go on a sleigh ride later,” she said.

She was infectious—she made him want to be a part of something, but he was beginning to see why it was better that he never had been. He’d never have been able to steal the lifetimes of mortals if he’d spent time with any like Hannah. “I don’t know.”

“I thought you were going to stay near me.”

“I am, but…”

“But what?”

He tucked the snowman kit back into his stocking. “I’ve been around you this whole year without you knowing. I can go back to that.”

She went still and looked away. “Wow, I honestly thought you’d have to
actually
spend time with me before you got sick of being around me.”

What? Was she joking? She had to be joking. “You deserve someone who is…”

“Mortal?”

“Yes!” She did understand, so at least there was that. He could ignore the dull ache returning.

“Because you’re too good to waste time with a mortal.”

“No. No, that’s not it at all.”

“I’m not stupid, Zeit. I get that you’ve been around for a long time, and you’ll keep being around so it’s not like this can be long term. Mortals age, and you’re the eternal Peter Pan.”

“
Peter Pan
?” he repeated. “Isn’t that a child’s story?”

“Yes, it’s about a boy who never has to grow up so he lives in this world of never-ending adventure until this human girl comes along. She discovers that never growing up means never getting to experience half of life—she grows up, and he doesn’t. And they’re both happy.” She picked up her hot chocolate and stirred it, clinking the spoon on the mug. The clinking annoyed him. It got under his skin. He couldn’t tolerate it.

Also, she wasn’t right.

“But I’m not happy,” he snapped. Hell. That had slipped out. “I mean, I’m not this book character.”

Her hand froze. Good—he was about to grab the damn spoon and throw it.

“Hannah, I’m not right for you. I came into your life because I’d intended to take it.”

“And then you didn’t, and now you keep saving me.”

“For now.”

She turned back to him and rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“But I might stop saving your life.”

She shrugged. “And it sounds like I should have died a year ago. It’s time to start living.” Then she bit her lip and whispered, “Are you going to stop saving my life?”

“No.” Never. There was no way he could take her life or allow it to be taken. Whatever kept making his chest ache had stolen through his brain. He’d keep her alive until old age took her. He should learn to love Boise.

“Okay, good, because I also want to learn how to ski while I’m here.”

Closing his eyes, he shook his head. She was going to make him work hard to keep her alive. Hell, maybe the challenge would keep his concerns from plaguing him. He looked over when she started laughing.

Reaching deep into her stocking, she pulled out two cylinders. “Chapstick. Peppermint and Christmas cookie. Mistletoe socks and chapstick. The Cowpers aren’t very subtle. Then again, she saw me grab your breakfast. Subtlety is out.”

On that, they could agree. The Fates would soon sense he wasn’t planning on following their edict this New Year’s Eve. They’d probably redouble their efforts—possibly out of spite.

The sound of a bell jarred him. Last night’s movie and that little girl at the end. Every time a bell rang… He shook his head to clear it. He was not an angel.

On the other side of the room, Mrs. Cowper set the bell back on the fireplace mantle. “Attention. Mr. Cowper will be giving sleigh rides for the next several hours to those interested.”

Hannah leaned closer. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.” When he didn’t protest, she grabbed his hand as she stood up. “Let’s go dump our loot in our rooms and get changed into warmer clothing.”

Zeit got to his feet and then stood there staring down at his brown-haired weakness. Her small size made him feel more powerful and in control. He could do this. He was master.

Tilting her head, Hannah asked, “Besides, what could happen on a sleigh ride?”

They’d find out, wouldn’t they?

Chapter Six

This was like a Christmas Special on TV. Hannah slid closer to Zeit.

They were in one of the most pristine white and heavenly-scented places on earth, yet he scanned the surrounding area as if they were about to be set upon by a battalion of bloodthirsty assassins. Zeit beside her, the smell of the pine trees in the air, and the bite to the faint wind—it was as close to a perfect moment as she’d ever felt. She wrapped the sleigh’s blanket around her legs, then took a deep breath, grabbed Zeit’s hand, and pulled his arm around her as she tucked herself into his side.

Subtlety was out.

Zeit blinked and looked down at her with a frown that transformed into a smile as he gazed into her eyes. The tenseness of his muscles even loosened—slightly. Very slightly.

“Did you notice I’m wearing my lucky scarf?” She knew he’d recognize it. It kept coming back to her right around when she lost time. It was sweet of him to return her scarf while he was saving her life.

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you know how often you’ve lost your lucky scarf—ergo why it’s not so lucky?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve lost it like two dozen times, and it keeps magically reappearing. I’d call that lucky.” Most of her scarves only lasted a couple weeks before she lost them. She’d had this one a whole year.

He rolled his eyes and went back to looking for bloodthirsty assassins.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Cowper glance back over his shoulder at them. He’d probably report back to his wife. They’d both been only too eager for them to go on this sleigh ride. Mrs. Cowper had been all winks and knowing looks.

The horse’s neigh bounced off the snow all around them. Zeit could ease up. They were in a sleigh in the middle of a winter wonderland. The only thing lacking was privacy. Anything they whispered would sound like a shout in the snow-shrouded landscape.

So, they’d have to be very quiet.

She slid her hand up to his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers. After only a breath’s brush of their lips, he pulled back, and she opened her eyes.

Zeit licked his lips. His face scrunched up in concentration. “Cookies?” he whispered.

Oh, the chapstick. In answer, she grinned. Subtlety was out.

His mouth swooped back down to her as his arm tightened around her, pulling her closer. His lips urged hers open so his tongue could caress hers in what seemed like another taste because he whispered “so sweet” against her mouth before going for another… thorough taste. She had to work really hard not to moan from the liquid heat streaking through her. The flex of his jaw muscles beneath her fingers as he brushed his tongue along hers probably made the pounding of her heart nearly audible. She slid her gloved hand from his neck to cup his cheek—partly to shield them from view. She didn’t want to scandalize poor Mr. Cowper.

Oh, Zeit
. If she backed up a millimeter, he’d take that millimeter—there was no retreat, and the pressure of his mouth as he sucked and tasted and rubbed…
Mmm
. Zeit was a dangerous sort of sexy. If they’d been in one of their rooms, her guardian angel would be taking her to paradise.

Then, Zeit froze and pulled back. The cold air on her lips made the tingling left behind even more intense. She opened her eyes. Zeit gazed into space just above her shoulder with his eyebrows drawn together.

Jerking his arm from around her, Zeit yanked the glove off his right hand. He snapped his fingers and then stared at his hand. His face went ashen as his eyes widened.

“Hell,” he muttered. “Hold on to something!” He leaped across the sleigh right as a rabbit shot under one of the horses’ legs, startling it. The anxious horse kicked at the other horse. The reins fell from Mr. Cowper’s surprised hands just as Zeit managed to grab the lines in the air.

The horses hurtled off in an agitated gallop that knocked the sleigh back and forth. Snow kicked up around them in a miniature blizzard, and the jarring, unequal gait of the horses threatened to toss her out of the sleigh. She hugged the left side in a death grip. Zeit was stretched across the front of the sleigh and slid from side to side, but held tight to the reins.

“Whoa!” both men shouted, and Mr. Cowper grabbed the lines ahead of Zeit’s hands and tried to slow them. Zeit yanked back on the reins, halting them as the side of the sleigh opposite her tilted up in the air, cresting a large rock.

Hannah launched herself toward the raised side to prevent it from tipping.

The sleigh’s runner thunked against the rock, and she expelled a shallow breath. Wow. That was close.

“Are you okay?” both men asked at once, twisting to stare at her.

Her heart was in her throat, and she hadn’t started breathing again yet but, in theory, sure. “Yes,” she squeaked.

“I’ll get us straightened out,” Mr. Cowper said, taking the reins from Zeit.

A screech of metal against rock later, the sleigh was horizontal.

Zeit dropped down beside her and pulled her close. She could feel the pound of his heart against her cheek as she hugged him back. If that had frightened an immortal, she didn’t feel so bad. The crazed ride had probably been only a minute long, but it had scared a lifetime out of her.

“I’m so sorry. Moira’s never done that before,” Mr. Cowper stuttered, gesturing at one of the horses. He put a hand to his chest, which made her heart pound harder. Then, he dropped it as he shook his head. Oh, good, it was just the shock.

“Moira?” Zeit’s lips brushed the top of her head as he said it.

“My horse. My uhh wife liked the name because…”

“It means fate. Yes. I know.”

“Does it? It’s a variation of Mary, too, and she liked the connection to Christmas without it being obvious.” He exhaled. “Well, that was… terrifying. How about we take the short way back and get you two somewhere warm? I might need to give the horses some quiet time while I inspect the sleigh. I hope I can still do a few more rides. Some of the kids were really looking forward to it.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Zeit said. He didn’t loosen his hold on her, though.

“I just have that sort of luck,” Hannah said. Hopefully, she’d be able to breathe normally again sometime in the near future.

Zeit tugged her onto his lap and wrapped the blanket snuggly around her before adding the hold of his strong arms over top, nearly crushing her, but she didn’t care. She buried her face in his cotton sweater and listened to his heartbeat.

Mr. Cowper kept up a constant dialogue of apology and disbelief the whole ride back.

* * *

He wasn’t going to be more than six inches away from her for the rest of her life—especially with his abilities not being what they once were. He couldn’t stop time. He’d tried several times surreptitiously, but he couldn’t freeze the hand of time for even a second. It pushed onward despite how much he wished it otherwise.

For century upon century, he’d been master and now he was as impotent to direct its march as a mortal.

At least he could still summon his necessities—that aspect of his powers was still viable. If he’d lost that, too, he’d think he was in some horrible nightmare. Zeit opened his suitcase to another pair of jeans and the shirt a man from a commercial on TV was wearing. The man in the commercial was giving a mortal woman a locket. Zeit patted the red shirt’s pocket and there was the jeweler’s box. He pulled it out and opened it. There, against a back of red velvet, was the heart on a thin gold chain.