Chapter 17 Heiress to a Global Breaking-and-Entering Operation
Heiress to a Global Breaking-and-Entering Operation
Iwas flying.
Not the claustrophobic terror of being trapped in a metal tube, but real flying—hair whipping back, adrenaline pumping, heart soaring kind of flying. A sleigh cut through the starlit sky, my small hand gripping the red side.
“Hold tight, Snowflake!”
My father’s laugh boomed across the night, vibrating through the sleigh, through my chest, and all the way to my toes. His silver beard glinted with frost, and his cheeks were flushed.
The reindeer surged forward, powerful muscles rippling beneath thick fur. I felt the magic crackling between them like electric currents, saw the shimmer trailing behind us as we climbed higher than any plane could fly. Higher than logic or reason permitted.
“Look down, Neve! The entire world is waiting!”
I leaned over, clutching his arm, and there it was: a planet wrapped in darkness speckled with glittering lights, each one a home, each one waiting.
For us.
For him.
For Santa.
I gasped awake, but the dream didn’t dissolve like smoke the way my memories usually did. It stayed in a high-definition replay of a moment I’d once lived. My hand flew to my mouth as I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
My dad was Santa Claus. Not “like” Santa Claus. Not “Santa-esque.” Not a festive researcher with unfortunate holiday enthusiasm.
Which made me... what? Some kind of Christmas princess? The heiress to a global breaking-and-entering operation?
The bed beside me was empty, the sheets still warm where Dane and Dash had been. Had they known all along? Of course they had. Everyone had known except me.
I’d spent over a decade of my life running from something I couldn’t even remember. Years thinking I was just a girl with seasonal depression and an inexplicable aversion to candy canes.
Why hadn’t they told me? Why make me feel crazy for years when all they had to say was, “Hey, honey, you’re kind of a big deal at the North Pole!”
The distant sound of laughter filtered through the door, along with the smell of cinnamon and the soft notes of music. I flopped back against the pillows, my chest heaving. I needed answers—real ones, not cryptic reindeer hints or more cookie-induced memory fragments.
After brushing my teeth and hair, I padded to where I’d stowed my suitcase. It was open on the floor but entirely empty. I looked around, my eyes landing on the dresser.
I marched over to it, where there was a matching set of red lace underwear and a bra, a pair of fleece-lined black leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a cream-colored sweater with intricate snowflake patterns.
After looking in all the dresser drawers and the closet to confirm that none of my belongings were there, I snatched up the lace underwear, my eye twitching.
Had one of them picked this out? Had they all discussed my underwear preferences while I slept and conjured them with their magic? I could picture nine magical reindeer men gathered around the dining table: Today’s agenda: Neve’s panties.
I yanked on the clothes, my movements sharp with irritation. The outfit fit perfectly, and the sweater was the kind of cashmere that probably came from a magical goat that shit Skittles. The leggings hugged my curves like they’d been custom-made.
It only made me angrier.
I didn’t want their perfect magical clothes. I didn’t want to be part of a Christmas legacy. I wanted answers, and I wanted them without festive background music and cutesy North Pole nonsense.
The laughter downstairs grew louder and more animated. I squared my shoulders and headed for the door, my jaw set in a hard line.
I stormed down the polished wooden stairs, each step punctuating my fury. The staircase opened into a great room with a cathedral ceiling that could have housed a small herd of elephants, which, considering the size of the men currently occupying it, wasn’t far off.
Eight of the nine men were spread throughout the space in a scene so sickeningly festive it belonged on the front of a Hallmark card.
The open-concept kitchen gleamed with copper pots hanging from a rack and a massive island where Kip and Cole rolled out dough for cinnamon rolls.
Blitz stood at the stove, stirring something that sent clouds of spiced steam into the air.
My Christmas tree from my house in Palm Springs now stood proudly in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a panoramic view of the snow outside and the still-darkened sky.
Don and Pierce were wrapping garland around anything they could, while Vix hung ornaments from a giant wreath above the fireplace.
Dane and Dash occupied part of the massive dining room table, where Dash operated a sewing machine with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before, while Dane hand-stitched a stocking with an ornate “N” across the top.
They were making me a Christmas stocking.
My heart did fifty million things all at once, and some of my anger disappeared. The sight of Dane’s careful stitching of my initial sent electricity skittering across my skin, as unwelcome as it was undeniable.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and planted myself there, arms crossed, waiting for someone to notice me. The laughter, the Christmas music playing softly from hidden speakers, the domesticity of it all grated against my raw nerves like sandpaper.
Blitz spotted me first, his smile faltering slightly at my thunderous expression. “Morning, sunshine.”
All eyes swiveled to me, and their smiles dimmed as they registered my mood. My body suddenly felt tingly with unease. I didn’t enjoy seeing their joy dampened by my sourness.
I scanned the room again, noting the one missing presence. “Where’s Rudy?”
Dane set down his needlework. “Outside. He, uh… likes to run the perimeter in the mornings.”
“Of course he does.” I stepped further into the room, taking in the Christmas bomb that had exploded all over what must have been a perfectly nice living room before.
“So, were any of you planning to tell me that my father is Santa Claus, or was I supposed to figure that out from the cookies and cryptic comments?”
The activity in the room stuttered to a halt. Pierce froze mid-garland hang. Kip’s rolling pin stilled. Dash’s foot lifted off the sewing machine pedal.
“You connected the dots.” Vix’s voice was soft and cautious, like I could forget it at any moment. And maybe I would, but right now it was as fresh as the snow outside.
“I had a dream, and all the other memories have become clear again.” I picked up a glass ornament from a nearby box, turning it in my hand. “I’ve been lied to for years.”
Cole wiped flour from his hands with a towel. “Your parents did what they thought was best after your magic…” His mouth slammed shut, but I couldn’t tell if it was him not wanting to tell me or some magical force preventing him.
“After my magic what?” I carefully set the ornament down, though what I really wanted to do was throw it against the wall. “Meltdown? Explosion? Catastrophe? Fill in the blank for me, since apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t know the story of my life.”
Don stepped toward me, his expression gentle. “It’s complicated, Neve.”
“Then uncomplicate it. I’m tired of breadcrumbs. I deserve the whole loaf.”
Dash rose from the couch, folding the half-finished stocking. “We should wait for Rudy.”
“Why? Is he the designated explainer?” My voice echoed in the sudden quiet. “The alpha of information dispersal?”
I spotted movement outside the living room windows. A massive reindeer galloped with powerful strides toward a small hill that rose from the landscape like a misplaced volcano.
Rudy.
My irritation shifted targets instantly. Everyone had ambushed me with Christmas cheer, each one offering pieces of themselves to rekindle my holiday spirit.
Everyone except him.
“Where is he going?” I pointed toward the window.
Eight heads turned to follow my gaze. The massive reindeer disappeared over the crest of the hill.
Pierce moved beside me. “That’s his morning routine. He’ll be back inside soon for—”
“For what? More secrets? Everyone else has been trying to drown me in Christmas spirit, but your fearless leader can’t be bothered to participate?”
The room fell silent. In the corner, Vix shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a look with Kip that I couldn’t decipher.
I spun toward the mudroom we’d come in through the night before.
No one tried to stop me, though I heard urgent whispers. I shoved my feet into my new boots and shrugged into my jacket.
It was cold as I stepped outside, but it didn’t bother me like it normally would have. Snow crunched beneath my boots as I marched across the clearing toward the hill Rudy had been running up.
As I reached the base of the hill, Rudy reappeared, but not from over the top. He trotted into view from around the side of it, his massive reindeer form covered in snow. His movements were unsteady, almost defeated.
The sight knocked the anger right out of me.
He hadn’t seen me yet, and I watched as he shook snow from his coat, his powerful legs trembling slightly. He looked... vulnerable.
What had he been doing?
I took a step forward, and his head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine. Even in reindeer form, I could read his expressions shifting from shock to shame and then indifference.
We stared at each other across the snow, steam rising from his nostrils in the frigid air. In that moment, he seemed more beast than man, wild and unpredictable and somehow achingly alone.
“What are you doing out here?” My voice came out softer than intended, my prepared tirade forgotten.
He didn’t move, just watched me with those unnervingly intelligent eyes.
I took another step closer. “Everyone else is inside playing Christmas elves while you’re out here doing... whatever this is.” I gestured vaguely at the hill.
Rudy’s gaze remained fixed on me, his massive antlers glittering in the faint light. They looked like a chandelier of ice.
“The silent treatment? Really?” I crossed my arms, fighting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “That’s your strategy? Blitz bakes cookies, Kip makes me skate, Don decorates, and you... what? Run up and down hills ignoring me?”
His ears flicked back, and I could have sworn a flicker of hurt crossed his reindeer features.
I closed the distance between us. Snow caked his antlers, dusting the impressive rack like powdered sugar. My hand reached up before my brain could intervene, fingers hovering beneath the lowest point of his left antler.
“You’re a mess,” I murmured, then brushed away the snow. My fingers trailed along the smooth curve of his antler, mesmerized by the warmth beneath the cold exterior. It felt strangely intimate, like I was crossing some unspoken boundary.
He made a deep rumbling sound, somewhere between a warning and a groan. The sound traveled up my arm, settling somewhere behind my ribs.
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed the gray. Before I could pull away, a shimmer of magic rippled across him, and my hand was no longer touching his antler.
Fingers wrapped around my wrist, holding me suspended in the space between us. Rudy towered over me, completely naked despite the biting cold, snowflakes melting against his skin. His breaths came in ragged pulls, and his face was taut with restraint.
“Don’t.” His voice was rough, like he hadn’t used it in days.
The cold had no effect on his bare chest. No goosebumps, no shivering, just smooth skin stretched over hard muscle. His dark hair was dusted with snow, making him look like some winter deity caught in the middle of transformation.
We stood frozen in a bubble of tension, his hand still wrapped gently around my wrist, my body painfully aware of his proximity and the power radiating from him.
“Don’t what?” I whispered, my eyes falling to his lips.
“Only mates can touch antlers.” His words hit me like a slap. Even naked and vulnerable in the snow, he was finding new ways to push me away.
I yanked my arm free from his grasp, stepping back so quickly I nearly stumbled. “Right. Sorry for the breach of reindeer etiquette.”
My chest burned with fresh humiliation. Everyone else had welcomed me with open arms, while this man couldn’t even bear my touch on his precious antlers. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Afraid I might accidentally become your mate by petting your head?”
His expression hardened. “Neve…”
“Forget it.” I turned away, blinking back the sting in my eyes. “I get it. You didn’t sign up for Santa’s amnesiac daughter.”
I stomped back toward the house, trying my hardest not to let my angry tears fall. Why did I care so much, anyway? I had eight other men who were clearly obsessed with me.
Behind me, I heard his heavy steps following. “Fuck, Neve, wait.”
The raw desperation in his voice almost made me turn. Almost. Instead, I threw up my hand in dismissal, the universal “leave me alone” gesture.
The air crackled, and I gasped, looking over my shoulder right as a wall of ice shot up from the ground between us. I froze, staring at the translucent barrier I’d somehow conjured with nothing but a flick of my wrist.
Through the wavy distortion of the ice, I could see Rudy’s blurred figure. He hadn’t even flinched. Unlike me, he wasn’t shocked by my impromptu ice architecture.
Yet another thing everyone knew about me that I didn’t.
I turned and ran, my boots kicking up snow as I fled toward the house, leaving Rudy and my ice wall behind.