Chapter 11 #2
“Uncle Damen!” The girls yell and run at my man as if to tackle him. I worry they might succeed if they bash into him all at once.
He lets go of me and scoots down in time for the kids to clash with him. A second later, he’s sprawled in the snow, and they’re swarming him like piranhas out for his blood.
“Merry Christmas, girls,” he chimes while I stand there, like a fifth wheel. But that’s to be expected. Small kids ought not to trust strangers, and that’s what I am for this happy—if murderous—family. A stranger invading their idyllic Christmas.
And yet, I wonder if there could be a chance for me to become a part of all this.
I’ve not had family for many painful years, and watching Damen with his nieces opens a wound I thought was healed.
Now it bleeds all over my boots and the snow.
I just hope no one can see how badly I want this.
Him, and everything he comes with, even if it’s murder.
The girls yell and they must have inherited voices from their mother, because she’s also getting louder over the phone.
“Did you get us lots of gifts?”
“What did you get us, Uncle Damen?”
“Is he a gift?” The youngest-looking girl points at me and my eyes widen in bewilderment.
The others pipe up, like two wolves smelling blood. “He has green hair! Like a Christmas tree! Can we keep him?”
Damen looks up at me, his lips crooking into a grin. “No, he is mine, but maybe you can play with him sometime, if he agrees.”
My heart leaps like a little bunny, and I’m about to kneel to join them when the snow crunches under a pair of elegant boots.
“So you are the one I heard so much about since morning,” Alexandra says, adjusting the fur collar of her jacket.
She’s tall, pale, and looks almost too perfect to be real, but she does have the same nose as my Damen, if a bit smaller.
“Only good things, I hope,” I say with a smile and introduce myself even though I cringe on the inside at the cliché line. Especially since she’s undoubtedly heard bad things about me getting drunk and swearing at their father.
“Only,” she lies. “I heard that you’re a bold young man, which is only appropriate for my brother’s husband. I wish Damen would have told us about his struggle sooner.”
A shadow passes through Damen’s face as he stands with the two younger girls in his arms. “I assure you, there was no struggle,” he says dryly. “I was just fed up waiting for my trophies.”
Alexandra rolls her eyes. “You men and your trophies. Can’t you just have fun with the hunt like I do?” she asks as her husband, Victor, joins us.
“Merry Christmas, Damen,” he says in a smooth baritone before offering me his hand. “And the same to you. These events can be a little bit insular, so I’m always happy to see a new face.”
I don’t know what’s a lie and what isn’t, but I try to take the kindness he’s offering me at face value. “And I’m happy to be part of the family. It’s been such a whirlwind since the proposal.”
Alexandra zeroes in on me despite her son pulling on her coat and trying to whisper something. “And when did you get married? It’s all so sudden. And don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you and my brother. I just need to know what date to mark in my calendar for the anniversary.”
Damen puts down the girls and wags his finger at her. “It’s our sweet little secret, so we can celebrate it without the family.”
I laugh and hide my mouth behind my hands. “Oh my God! I almost spilled it. My lips are sealed.” Not that there is anything to spill.
The little boy gets his mother’s attention at last. “No, Finn, no maze until after lunch. And that goes for you three as well,” she says to the girls. “Off you go, to the house. The sooner you change, the sooner you eat, the sooner you can enter the maze.”
Victor smiles and adjusts his glasses. “You heard your mom.”
There’s some whining on the kids’ part, but they follow their father toward the mansion.
Alexandra exhales. “If you want to explore the maze, now’s your chance, because it will be mayhem when the kids are done eating.
It’s pretty magical.” She even leans in and pats my shoulder.
“I’m so happy you made my brother an honest man.
He’s had a hard-on for the Christmas hunt for years.
I, for one, am looking forward to some healthy competition.
” There’s a bit of a wild glint in her eyes when she faces Damen.
I’m not sure if she’s trying to make me self-conscious by suggesting Damen’s only married me to take part in the hunt, but I try to interpret her words positively and we exchange a few laughs before she joins her family inside.
That’s when I remember I’m not really married to Damen and that he recruited me precisely due to his obsession with the hunt.
I don’t let it get to me and turn to him.
“So that went well too. Their kids are cute. Wanna give them a show if they’re watching through the windows?
” I wink, and step close. Damen’s eyes glint like two butterfly knives, and their sharpness sends excitement straight to my groin.
Something tells me that if I said the right thing now, he might be able to go again, out in the snow, in the middle of this maze. But I should let him catch me first.
I turn my face just as he goes in for a kiss, and I lick his newly shaven cheek. “Find me.”
When I step back, his teeth are digging into his lower lip to stifle the hunger I’ve awakened. “Better hurry then, I know this maze like the back of my hand,” he tells me in a voice so low its timbre rolls down my spine like a chain about to close around my wrists.
He gives my ass a pat, and I run off feeling so…
joyful. I never got to experience a magical Christmas as a kid, and now here I am, traversing this winter wonderland.
It’s not too visible in the sunshine, but lights are woven into the neatly trimmed bushes, decorating them, along with red ribbons and tiny baubles.
On the lower branches, where the kids can reach, there’s also hard candy and little chocolate bars.
It feels naughty, but I steal one regardless, to eat along the way.
From the look of it, these kids will get more sweets than they can possibly eat anyway.
It only takes me a minute or two to get lost. I don’t know where I entered or where the exit is.
How big is this maze anyway? I couldn’t see the whole thing from my window, but at this point I’d even believe that it’s a magical place that extends into a different dimension where I’m going to be trapped forever.
Which I might be okay with, if Damen gets lost alongside me.
I make several wrong choices that send me into dead ends, but after retracing my steps, I face a long straight passage and spot a little turret way ahead. Surely, that place might be at the center of the maze, and if my fake husband chases me down, it should provide the privacy we need for—
The ground opens under me. I reach forward, certain I’m just tripping, but gravity wins. The gap swallows me whole. Breath catches in my throat as my knees crash into tiles… Tiles? I fold forward and slam face-first into the floor.
My forehead throbs, my knees scream, but I still look around the deep well I found myself in. The fuck is this death trap? There’s nothing festive about this sunken prison opening up in the ground.
“Calm down, Killian,” I whisper to myself. “Maybe it’s a challenge, a puzzle, a type of escape room for rich people.”
When I leap up, I can’t even almost reach the upper edge of the wall with my fingertips, but climbing out feels like an impossible task. No ladder. No rope. No helpful elves.
Just black slits in two of the walls, too narrow for even my hand to fit in. Still, I inch closer, hoping to get myself out of this mess without calling for help and becoming the laughing stock of my man’s family.
First, I hear a strange hum from inside the walls.
Then, two large circular saws slide out from the openings, making my eyes bulge.
They’re steel covered in specks of what I can only hope is rust, not the blood of their last victim.
They spin slowly at first, but then pick up their pace, as if they’re two predators zeroing in on me. They know I have nowhere to run.
This is no game. And no test either.
I’m trapped, and this trap will turn me into mincemeat for this year’s Christmas pies.
I scream for help as I claw at the wall too smooth to provide any traction.
With each desperate jump, I envision slipping and falling on one of the saws.
My heart is in my throat, and I’m already crying, because each time I’m about to reach the edge of this death pit with my fingers, I end up slipping back down.
This place is designed to be cruel, to tease and torture.
To rip me apart at a languid pace, so I have the time for regret.
I see them all too clearly—all the wrong choices that have led me here.