Mistletoe & Naughty (Dark Noel #1)
Chapter 1
I, Nicolette Evergreen, have been called every name imaginable except for nice.
I’m what you would consider a thief, a fraud, or, better yet, a con artist. This explains why I prefer to spend my time in my secluded cabin in the woods, scamming people out of money and having it sent directly to one of my many bank accounts, never to be heard from again.
I’m chasing the same thrill that an adrenaline junkie experiences when jumping out of airplanes, except mine is when I drag my victims deeper and deeper into my web of lies and deceit; the massive payouts keep me coming back for more.
The wind rages against the cabin, fiercely rattling the windows, as a blizzard approaches that will probably leave me stranded out here for weeks.
Fortunately, I keep this place well stocked with all the essentials and more, and it’s entirely powered by solar panels, thanks to my big payouts.
I might be a criminal, but I still give a shit about the planet.
Plus, it's entirely off the grid and the perfect place to hide out, whether I need to lay low or keep going in the pursuit of an endless cash flow.
Speaking of which, unfortunately, my latest scam has me lying even lower than usual for a few days, forcing me to go without some of my favorite snowed-in snacks since the family of the man I catfished hired a PI to trace me, and I don’t want to risk getting caught and going to jail for fraud.
I’m too fucking pretty to prance around behind bars in an orange jumpsuit for years. Not to mention, it would clash with my red hair.
The roaring fire fills the room with its warm light and heat, a single stocking hangs from the hearth with my name embroidered on it, and my tiny FM radio plays the 24-hour Christmas station—my only attempts to add some Christmas cheer, which are failing miserably.
I don’t mind spending the holidays alone, since I really don’t have a choice after going no contact with my family years ago.
I don’t have a single real friend because of my profession, and the last serious relationship I had ended last Christmas Eve when my ex decided to drop down his ex’s chimney and crawl right under her Christmas tree skirt.
And the icing on the fucking fruit cake? He had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to join them instead of exchanging gifts, like we originally planned, after he butt-dialed me—or cock-dialed, really—while she was screaming his name.
Talk about an insane game of white elephant.
I gracefully declined his offer before I drove over, slashed his tires, and busted out his headlights and windshield with a metal baseball bat.
I was the embodiment of feminine rage, taking the directive for my revenge from that one country song, while contemplating his “goodbye” as in that other one.
I’ve never intentionally killed anyone, but that night, I was willing to become the subject of a true crime documentary and chase another thrill.
Of course, like any man caught in the act, he tried to play the victim and threatened to press charges, but all it took was me threatening to call his ex’s new 6'5” biker boyfriend and inform him of her extracurricular activities for him to second-guess his decision.
And like the little bitch he is, he folded, and as far as I can tell from hacking into his shit, he’s continued fucking her on the side for almost a year now.
That is, until I just sent screenshots and finally got the boyfriend involved. I have alerts set for any articles mentioning their names, and I expect to see one any day now.
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
Needless to say, the holiday season has been ruined for me more than once by a string of unfortunate events, and I honestly couldn't care less about it all now.
And like any millennial would, I suppress my feelings and busy myself by hiding out here, stacking my bank account with money from assholes who think they can get away with cheating on their spouses.
Is it an honest living? Absolutely not. But, fuck, if it’s not fun.
As a thirty-two-year-old woman who’s been shit on more times than I can count, I deserve the right to fuck with men and their finances by convincing them to be my sugar daddy, all while waiting for it to blow up in their faces—especially when they try to cross a line with me.
I DM their significant others with receipts, starting my plan of revenge and taking down every Chad and Brad who’s begging for attention in my inbox.
Like I said, it’s fun to ruin other people’s lives since mine has already been blown to bits again and again.
I curl up on the couch under my favorite quilt and dive into the latest dark romance I grabbed at the big box store—a little five-finger discount gift to myself—and let the crackle of the fire lull me to sleep.
Outside, the wind picks up, whistling around the house like a cyclone and blowing in every direction.
They’re calling for over a foot of snow tonight, not counting snow drifts.
I plan to be stranded here for a few days, stretched out by the fire, finger-fucking myself to all the smut I’ll read during this little winter staycation.
Hours have passed, and my eyelids grow heavy.
The sound of the roaring wind drowns out all other noises, pulling me toward sleep.
My head sinks into the down throw pillow as I roll onto my side, with the last thing I see before the world fades to black being the flames flickering back at me, licking the edge of the hearth.
I’m not in the darkness for very long before I start to dream.
It’s the same dream I’ve had for almost twelve years, and it always happens around this time of the year.
I find myself walking down the hallway of the childhood home I left behind the moment I turned eighteen.
With every step I take, it seems to stretch longer as I try to reach the window at the end.
Suddenly, I stumble forward, tripping on air, and my hands smack against the windowpane; the cold immediately seeps into my skin.
The temperature around me plummets, frost creeping across the glass and blocking my view, with only the hauntingly dim moonlight filtering through.
Pulling the sleeve of my sweater over my hand, I wipe away the thick layer of frost, where I’m met with more than just the night sky on the other side.
A shadowed face with eyes burning like hellfire stares back at me, baring its sharp teeth in a hungry, lupine smile.
I should be terrified and run away, but I only lean in more, nearly pressing my nose against the glass.
I hear the window unlock; a cold gust of wind swirls around me as it slides up beneath my palm.
My heart pounds with anticipation as a clawed hand, adorned with golden rings, curls around the bottom, lifting it higher.
Just as the creature on the other side is about to climb in and itself, I jolt away.
My eyes fly open, and my heart thunders in my chest, a deafening roar in my ears.
An ice-cold breeze crawls across my skin, drying the sheen of sweat and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Pulling the blanket snug under my chin, I notice the fire has died down to embers, leaving only a faint glow and barely any heat.
I sit up, wrapping the blanket tighter around me as my teeth chatter so violently that my jaw starts to ache, then shuffle over to the stack of wood next to the hearth.
Shadows fill the corners of the room, seeming to press down on me.
The wind whistles as it rushes down the chimney, rogue snowflakes fluttering past and swirling around the room.
The wind has blown a dusting of soot across the floor, where it begins to fade a few feet from the hearth.
My heart races in my chest, and I stand frozen as I examine the footprints lightly etched into the dust. It’s as if someone—or something—came down the chimney and walked right out... except these are no ordinary footprints, but large hoofprints.
What the hell?
I press the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to rid them of sleep, all the while convincing myself that this is just my mind playing tricks on me.
Turning slowly, I look over my shoulder at the rest of the cabin, which is covered in a blanket of darkness—a void that can disguise any intruder who might have broken in.
The temperature in the room seems to drop even more the longer I stand here, my breath clouding in front of me. My eyes scan the room for the culprit, but none of the windows are open, and the door is closed and locked tight.
I must still be dreaming, and this is a new version of it, finally catching up to my adult life.
Just like in the dream, I walk over to the front window and lift the cream curtain, only to find frost coating the inside of the glass, blocking my view.
My hand trembles as I lift it to wipe the window clean with the corner of my blanket, spreading the condensation away, the glass glittering in the low firelight.
Leaning forward, I look out the window, fully expecting to see the same glowing eyes.
Instead, I’m met only with an endless night and the occasional snowflake landing on the glass as the snowstorm continues to roll in.
Letting out a ragged breath, I step back from the window, the curtain falling back into place.
I scrub my hands over my face and return to the fireplace, carefully sliding new logs onto the embers and stoking the flames.
The fire roars back to life, casting a warm glow into the room.
I watch the flames as they lick at the hearth, the comforting heat warming my skin and pushing back the shadows that were inching closer.
But even as my body warms, I can’t shake the chill that prickles at my nape, causing my hair to stand on end, as if I’m being watched.
A shiver runs through me from the cold that feels like it’s seeped deep into my bones.
Sleep suddenly overtakes me and pulls me down onto the white faux fur rug laid out in front of the fire.
The fur is soft beneath me, gently brushing my cheek as my wild red curls weave through it, resembling blood against the snow.
Curling my arm under my head, I listen to the crackle of the fire, like a sweet lullaby, lulling me back to sleep. But just as my eyes close and I begin to relax, I hear a faint click on the wood floor, like the heel of a shoe taking a tiny step into the room.
You’re just hearing things, Nicolette.
That sound was nothing more than the fire crackling against the stone hearth or the wind trying to slip through the gaps under the door, pressing against it with all its might.
My limbs grow heavy, and my eyes close, sending me tumbling back into my dreamscape to once again stare into the fiery eyes looking back at me from the other side of the window of my cabin.
Its gaze consumes me, heating me from the inside out with a flame that threatens to burn me alive… and I just might let it.