60. Vincent
Vincent
“DO YOU REALLY EXPECT ME TO WEAR THIS?”
CHRISTMAS EVE
“Oh, Vinny, it’s beautiful!” Briella gushes over the sweater I knit for her.
Proud heat pulses through me when she removes her long-sleeved shirt, giving all of us a nice view of her pretty breasts in the thin, lacy bra before she pulls the sweater over her head, tugging it down to her thighs.
Delicious thighs in those red leggings. It’s more of a sweater dress.
The black brings out the purple in her curls.
Seth snaps his head to me with a sly smirk. “Hey, Vincent, you got any more sweaters she can take off and put on?”
Briella laughs softly, then settles between us on the plush rug in the family room again. The fire in the hearth casts golden light across her cheeks. Thanks to Seth, her braid is intricate and lovely as he’s become a master.
The big and obnoxiously bright Christmas tree glows in the corner near the window, decked out in pine cones from the woods, bows she crafted herself, and countless ornaments. She carefully unwrapped each one like sacred treasures. Especially the box of hand-carved ones Seth surprised her with.
It seems like another cabin, another world, with the garland coiling around the mantle and the stair railing. Her touch is everywhere, like she stitched the whole damn holiday into the bones of this place.
She gave us each a present.
New axe for Seth, but she carved her initials on the side.
Jude loved the new leather medical bag with a few books inside.
Rory was certainly impressed when she found his clan crest. Seth helped her melt down a little of the gold bar, which she used to make a crest pendant. He’s still wearing it on the chain.
New knitting needles and yarn for me. But most meaningful was the hoodie. A new hoodie, much like the old one, but brand new. She said it might bring me more luck because she bought it for me.
She’s right.
Seth lounges on one side of her; I’m on the other.
Jude is sitting in his chair behind me, closer to the fireplace, occasionally turning a page in his open book.
Rory’s half-asleep with his head tipped back on the couch, and I’m sitting cross-legged, just watching her gush at the sweater like I handed her the damn moon.
And maybe I did.
Because this is the first real Christmas any of us has ever had. Not just the decorations or the tree or the smell of cinnamon and pine—but the joy. Her joy.
It was in the way her face lit up when she decorated.
Or the sword fight battle she challenged Seth to—with candy canes.
Or made paper snowflakes with Jude since he’s as good with scissors as he is with a scalpel.
And eating Rory’s shortbread cookies, maybe stealing a few too many, leaving nothing for him.
He bent her over the counter, flipped up her skirt, and spanked her bare bottom while she finished eating the last one.
Most of all, the way she laughed when Jude and I lifted her onto our shoulders so she could place the star on top of the tree. Like she’d been waiting all her life for that exact moment—and somehow, so had I.
And now she’s here, warm and glowing in my sweater, in our home, wrapped in us.
Wrapped in everything we never knew we needed, never believed could happen.
All because of Raphael, who’s sitting in his usual chair, dressed in his finest suit, swirling what looks like brandy, but it’s just Christmas punch since Raphael doesn’t drink, just like me. I’m a mean fuck when I drink.
Seth just gets more Sethy. And we let Rory drink whenever he wants because he ironically gets nicer, more relaxed, and more normal. As normal as Rory can get.
“Open mine next, Briella Darling,” Seth urges, handing her a long but narrow box with a gold bow.
She blushes with excitement and tears off the bow, removing the lid. Her hands freeze.
I peer over her shoulder. Holy mother of lumberfuck.
This could go one way or the other.
Inside lies a hand-carved cane. It’s rich wood, so polished, it practically gleams in the warm light all around us.
He even took the time to carve intricate patterns of spiraling chains and flowers all over the shaft, winding together like something both bound and free.
The handle curves into the shape of a queen’s chess piece—strong, regal, and unmistakably hers.
She gazes down at it, breath caught, and I know Seth didn’t just make her a gift. He gave her a fucking monument. Raphael doesn’t tense in his chair, but he does fixate on her.
At first? Silence.
Seth sighs, trailing a hand through his hair. “Shit, I’m sorry, Briella. I thought you could use it for your leg instead of hobbling around all the time or leaning on us. I probably should’ve checked first. Not trying to treat you like a granny or—”
“I love it.” Her voice cracks, her glistening eyes not leaving the cane.
I could swear a boulder falls off Seth’s chest. “Really?” He leans closer, practically crouching before her as she takes out the cane, her slender fingers tracing the flowers and chain designs.
“It’s beautiful, Seth.” She turns to him, practically glowing. “More beautiful because you made it.”
Seth pounces. Good god almighty, I shift out of the way as he rolls her onto her back and kisses her neck again and again, with her laughing the whole time. Rory snaps his head up from his semi-nap, then shakes his head, chuckling.
“Still gonna marry you, woman.” Seth rubs his nose along her cheek until she shoves his face away, her cheeks redder than ever.
“Ok, lover boy.” Rory kicks his partner in the ass.
“It be my turn now.” He gestures for Briella to come closer, but she raises a brow until he takes a small, bright red box out from behind the couch pillow.
“Come to Red now, Lass. I got ye the best gift. One ye can use every day. And let’s not forget how I was the first to give ye the best gift. I said ‘You know what’ first.”
“We know!” we all say in angry unison because he likes to rub it in every chance he gets.
“Now, that’s a mighty fine sight,” Rory remarks when she starts to crawl toward him. “Be even finer with what I got you.”
And now I can see where this is going.
He dangles the box above his head, legs spread, making sure she gets as close as she can. And she does until she’s pressed up against him, making the puppy dog face, her fingers idly stroking his beard. Too curious.
After caging her in with his legs, Rory hands it to her, copping a feel of her ass at the same time.
I grunt and back up closer to Jude, crossing my arms over my chest. His hand wanders into my hair, idly stroking.
As long as he doesn’t have some weird hair fetish, I don’t mind him playing with my brown waves.
Not like he’s got anything more than his military cut.
Be a crime to cover that polished, perfect obsidian head in any way.
“Oh, good grief, Red,” Briella mutters, shaking her head in disbelief. But we can all see the crazy big grin on her face. The one she gets only with Rory. Like she’s about to bite him just to teach him a lesson before humping him.
“Don’t ye be rolling those pretty eyes at me, Firecracker.”
When Seth gets curious and leans over to look, he laughs, falling onto his back.
“Go fuck an axe, wood boy,” Rory spits out.
“Come now, Babydoll. Don’t keep us in suspense,” adds Jude, fingers still in my hair.
With that cute grin still on her face, Briella holds up a matching lingerie set.
Should’ve known. But I’ll give him credit.
The set is homemade and handcrafted from leather he tanned himself.
Not a crude leather either. The rich auburn hide is soft but sturdy, showing hours of work.
He stitched the bra and thong with a lot of care, rough in all the right ways. Just like him.
“Do you really expect me to wear this?” Briella takes another item from the box—a matching throat collar. He even etched tiny flame motifs on it. Firecracker, of course. Like his brand of ownership…and worship.
Hungry, he seizes her hair, yanking her head back and trailing his mouth down her throat. “I expect to put it on ye while ye’re kicking and screaming and tied to my bed.”
“No need.”
Seth guffaws when she lifts the collar and fastens it around her throat.
Rory loosens his grip as she asks, “Can you hold up my hair?”
Even he gets twitchy, a muscle bouncing in his jaw with his surprise, but a second later, he’s twisting her braid onto her head.
“Velcro,” she chirps, her eyes shimmering. “Fancy.”
Just after securing the collar, she arches her neck and kisses his cheek. He drops her braid, and his mouth is still open when she slides off his lap and says, “Who’s next?”