Chapter 8 - Gabriel
I hate Christmas.
I hate the forced cheer, the commercialism, and the way it makes people soft. But as I steer the Bentley up the winding, snow-dusted road toward Wintergreen Reserve, glancing at the woman in the passenger seat, I decide I might be willing to tolerate it.
Blair is staring out the window at the passing pines, her eyes wide. She’s wearing a cream-colored coat I had delivered this morning, along with a cashmere scarf that’s almost as soft as her skin. She looks expensive. She looks like she belongs on this mountain, not in the slush of the city below.
She also looks nervous.
She keeps checking her phone, likely waiting for another barrage of texts from her friend, but I’ve already had Jaxon intercept any digital traffic that isn't strictly necessary.
"Relax," I say, settling my hand on her thigh. My fingers spread wide, claiming the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric. She presses into my touch. "It's just a tree."
"It's not just a tree." She turns those blue eyes toward me, and something flickers in them—something young and unguarded. "I've never had a real one before."
"I know."
She stills. "How do you know that?"
"I know a lot of things about you." I move my hand higher on her thigh and she shifts her legs open for me.
My cock starts to thicken. "I know your mother worked doubles every Christmas so you were alone.
I know you had a sad plastic tree from the clearance section with half the branches missing for the last few Christmases. "
Her breath catches. "That's not unsettling at all."
"I’m glad you think so." I squeeze her leg and I see her roll her eyes out of the corner of mine. "You'll have a real tree every year now. As many as you want. One in every room if it makes you happy."
"And if I decide this is insane and I want to leave?"
"The door's unlocked, little bird. You stay because you want to."
She opens her mouth to argue, but I turn the car into the massive iron gates of the Reserve.
This isn't a cut-your-own lot for the masses. This is where the one percent of Emerald Hills come to drop five grand on a fir tree that’s been groomed by botanists for a decade. There’s a heated lodge, waiters passing out mulled wine, and enough security to guard a head of state.
I park the car and come around to open her door. The air is crisp, smelling of snow and pine.
"Come on," I say, offering my arm.
She hesitates, then slides her hand into the crook of my elbow.
We walk toward the rows of trees. Blair’s mood shifts almost immediately when she lays her eyes on the small forest of perfect trees.
She lets go of my arm and walks toward a massive Noble Fir, her fingers trailing over the needles.
For a second, the lines of stress around her eyes vanish. She looks younger. Lighter.
"It's huge," she says, looking up at the twelve-foot monster.
"It’s yours," I say.
She laughs, shaking her head. "We can't just take the first one we see, Gabriel. We have to look. That's the point."
"The point is having the best." I gesture at the trees. “Any of these are the best.”
"The point is the hunt." She shoots me a look over her shoulder—a challenge.
My cock twitches. I like the hunt. I like it very much.
"Fine," I concede, leaning against a wooden post as I watch her weave through the trees. "Hunt away."
I take the opportunity to check my phone, ignoring everything except an email from my lawyer and the closest thing I have to a best friend.
Gabe,
Thought you should know I got word Thornton is moving assets. He’s liquidity-heavy right now. Looks like he’s planning something big. Let me know how you want to handle him.
C
Fucking Thornton. My biggest competitor in commercial real estate and, unfortunately, my son's godfather. A mistake I made twenty years ago when I thought keeping my enemies close was a good strategy. Now, he’s just a vulture waiting for me to fuck up so he can pick at the bones.
I look up to check on Blair.
She’s about fifty yards away now, examining a Fraser Fir.
And she’s not alone.
My blood turns to ice in my veins.
Speak of the fucking devil. None other than James Thornton is standing next to her.
He’s too goddamn close.
I close the distance between us with a stride that eats up the ground, my focus narrowing to a pinpoint laser on the man leaning entirely too close to my woman.
James is wearing a camel coat and a smile that makes my skin crawl. He’s older than me, softer, with a polished veneer that hides a rotting interior.
I’m close enough to hear him now.
"—terrible business about the gala," James is saying, his voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Ryder can be impulsive. But you know how it is, my dear. Men have needs. Perhaps if you had been a bit more accommodating…"
Blair stiffens, stepping back. "Excuse me?"
"I’m just saying," James continues, taking a step toward her, boxing her in against the tree. "You’re a beautiful woman. But you’re damaged goods in this town now. No one’s going to want to touch Ryder Hollis’s leftovers."
I see Blair’s hands curl into fists.
"However," James lowers his voice, his eyes raking over her in a way that ensures his future funeral will be closed-casket.
"I’ve always had a soft spot for strays.
I have an opening in my PR department. We could work out a private arrangement.
You help me relieve some stress, and I help you rebuild your little business. "
The rage that explodes in my chest is white-hot and blinding. It’s not the cold, calculating anger I’m used to. This is the violent, primal urge to tear a throat out.
With my fucking teeth.
"James," I say.
My voice isn't loud. I don't have to yell. The single syllable cuts through the winter air like a guillotine blade.
James spins around. His eyes widen when he sees me standing five feet away.
"Gabriel," he stammers, the oily smile slipping. "I didn't know you celebrated Christmas, let alone picked out your own tree."
I step past him, placing myself directly between him and Blair. I turn my back to her, shielding her, facing the threat. I tower over him. I let the monster I keep on a leash in the boardroom slip free, just enough for him to see the teeth.
"I’m not surprised you never noticed," I say, my voice low and deadly. "Considering how busy you are whispering inside my son’s head."
James’s expression falters for a second but he recovers quickly, straightening his coat. "I’m just offering the boy some guidance, Gabriel. Someone has to. He feels unappreciated at Hollis Properties."
"He feels entitled," I correct. "And if I find out you’re feeding that entitlement to make a play for my company, I will dismantle your life brick by brick until you’re living in a cardboard box in Mulberry."
James chuckles, but it sounds nervous. "No need to be so dramatic. I was just offering Ms. Ashby some employment. She seems to have fallen on hard times since Ryder discarded her."
He glances past my shoulder at Blair.
I step closer, invading his personal space until he has to crane his neck to look at me.
"Blair is handling some private matters for me regarding one of my properties," I lie smoothly. "She’s under my employment. And my protection."
James raises an eyebrow. "Is she now? Cleaning up your son’s messes, Gabriel?”
"Careful," I warn, my hand twitching at my side. "The only mess here is the one you’re about to make of your future if you don’t walk away.”
He holds my gaze for a second, looking for weakness. He finds none. He clears his throat and steps back.
"Fine. Enjoy the holidays, Gabriel. Give Ryder my best. We have a lunch scheduled next week to discuss his future."
He tips his head toward Blair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Think about my offer. The position is always open for a girl with your talents."
I clench my teeth as he turns and walks away, disappearing into the trees.
The desire to see his blood spilled across the pristine white snow that fell overnight is overwhelming, but I’m not one of the Savage Six. I can’t get away with murder out in the open in the daytime the way they can, so for now, I let him go.
I watch him until he’s out of sight. Only then do I turn to Blair.
She’s pale, her arms wrapped around herself. She looks furious and humiliated.
"He’s disgusting," she whispers.
"He’s a corpse walking," I correct. "For the way he spoke to you.”
I reach out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at me.
"Did he touch you?"
"No," she says. "He just… he made me feel dirty."
"You're not dirty." My thumb brushes her lower lip. "You're the oxygen in a room full of smoke. You’re the light in the tomb I’ve been living in for a decade. But most of all..." I lean in, pressing my forehead against hers. "You're mine."
The moment is reckless. Anyone could see us. James could turn around. A family could walk down this aisle.
I don't care.
I push her back against the rough bark of the fir tree. The scent of pine surrounds us. I press my body against hers, shielding her from the world, claiming her space.
"He thinks you're weak," I whisper, breathing in the cloud of air she breathes out into the cold, taking anything I can get of her down into my lungs. Absorbing her into my bloodstream. "He thinks you're a victim waiting for a savior. Are you?"
Blair’s eyes flash. The fire is back. Good.
"No," she hisses.
"Good."
I grind my hips against hers, letting her feel how hard being near her makes me. Violence and lust—they’re wired into the same circuit board in my brain. The need to protect her bleeds instantly into the need to breed her.
"I'm going to buy this tree," I tell her, my voice rough. "Then I'm going to take you home. And I'm going to fuck you until you forget that man’s name. I'm going to put so much of me inside you that there is no room for anyone else."
Her pupils dilate, swallowing the blue.
"Do it," she breathes.
I step back, the cold air rushing between us, but the heat remains.
I pull out my phone and dial the manager of the Reserve, never taking my eyes off Blair. She stares right back at me, mirroring everything I’m feeling right there behind her eyes.
"Mr. Hollis?" the man answers on the first ring.
"The twelve-foot Noble Fir in section four," I say, staring at Blair. "And the fifteen-foot Fraser next to it. Deliver them both today.”
I hang up.
Blair blinks. "Two trees?"
"One for the living room," I say, taking her hand and lacing our fingers together, pulling her toward the exit. "And one for the bedroom. Since we’re going to be spending most of our time there."
She flushes the prettiest pink, but she doesn't pull away. No, she squeezes my hand back.
James Thornton has no idea he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life. I’m going to let him play his little games with Ryder. I’m going to let him think he’s winning.
And when he overextends himself, when he puts his own neck on the line to help my idiot son try to usurp me… I’m going to chop his head off.
But first, I have a tree to decorate.
And a woman to fill.