Chapter 2
Sweat dampens my brow and drips down the back of my neck.
My muscles burn as I swing the ax downward, the sharp head whistling past my ear.
It pierces the thick log, splitting the wood into two clean halves.
Throwing the smaller chunks of wood to the side, I place another large piece on the stump and repeat the process.
My big body was built for physical labor. It does my mind good, too.
Already this evening, I’ve braved the nasty weather to empty the sap bags around my property for the final time today.
Under normal circumstances, sap wouldn’t be flowing at this capacity during December due to the harsh temperatures.
But my cottage, and the surrounding forest, used to be the home of a family of pixies.
Remnants of their magic are still evident in the trees, which helps the maples produce sap most of the winter and spring.
I’m not complaining. Quite the contrary. I’ll check the sap bags as many times as I have to each day if it means I get to be outside and earn a steady income.
Smoke billows from the chimney of my small sugar shack. Another batch of sap boiling down into the sweet maple syrup I sell to the locals.
By morning, I’ll have a gallon or two of fresh syrup ready for filtering and bottling.
Before turning in for the night, I want one more row of firewood stacked on my rack. Thick flakes turn the air around me into a snow globe. I doubt it’ll be letting up any time soon, and who knows how long I’ll be stuck here.
Not that I mind the silence and solitude.
Rather, I welcome it.
With a grunt, I bring the ax down again, but a tingle rushes along my spine. The sweat-slicked fur on the back of my neck stands on end, and my ears twitch when the snow crunches behind me.
Spinning to face the back of my cottage, my eyes widen at what I find. “Something I can help you with, ma chère?” Leaning my ax against the stump, I eye the waif of a woman who’s stumbled around the corner of my home.
“I bet you can,” she murmurs.
At the sound of her ethereal voice, goosebumps burst across my flesh. Backlit by the floodlight on my cottage, she’s the picture of un ange. Glowing snowy-white hair. Lithe, willowy body encased in a flowing dress.
Sunshine incarnate. “Mon soleil.”
My heart picks up speed. And there’s movement farther south… in an organ that hasn’t gotten much use in the past twenty years.
…Not since Annabelle.
Crisse. Shut that shit down, Jean-Luc.
Shaking my head, I push thoughts of my past away and lock my heart back in its iron cage.
I return my focus to the angel in front of me. “You lost, ma chère?”
As she steps closer, my eyes drag over her body again. She’s drenched. The thin fabric of her dress sticks to her, and her hair glistens with freshly fallen flakes. Fuck! She must be freezing.
“Actually, I think I just walked into heaven,” she quips. Making a lazy trail from my hooved feet up my body, her eyes finally land on my face.
That’s when it clicks. The deep burgundy of her irises. The fangs peeking out as her full lips curl into a predatory smirk. The familiar pale hair and lithe build. “Vanessa,” I grunt, taking a step back and putting much-needed distance between us.
We’ve only met once—at Maggie’s harvest festival last fall—but the vampire female was relentless in her pursuit of me, following me around like a damn dog with a bone.
If you ask me, that one… she’s trouble personified.
Chaos that I certainly don’t want or need.
“What are you doing here?” My jaw clicks as I grit out the question between clenched teeth.
She rolls her eyes. “Hello to you, too, Jean-Luc. It would seem I’m in a bit of a pickle here and in need of your assistance.
” Hand waving down her body, her gesture draws my eyes to the peaked nipples visible through the soaked fabric of her dress.
“I could use a place to stay for the night. Maybe some dry clothes.”
I cross my arms over my chest, the fabric of my flannel shirt pulling taught. Solitude and privacy are my two favorite things. The last thing I want is to share my space, my home, with this… this woman.
Under a minute in her presence and a part of my body I’d long since thought was dead has woken up. And I don’t like it.
“Can’t you stay next door?” I tip my head toward the property that her brother shares with his mate.
Vanessa rocks onto her toes, cheeks flushing a slight pink. “So the thing is… my car is stuck in a snowbank, and I’m already here, so…” She shrugs. “Would you really turn me away when it’s blizzarding?”
“You’re a vampire. You’re used to the cold, mon amie,” I counter. If I open my home to her, who knows what will happen. Something tells me this female is relentless when she sets her sights on something she wants. And by the way she’s eyeing me like a prime cut of beef, I’d bet she wants me.
“Okay, rude. It’s Christmas Eve, have a heart.” Voice laced with syrupy sweetness, she turns the full weight of her pouting bottom lip and big glassy eyes onto me.
My gaze trails past her to where the snow is piling up by the second, the brutal wind causing it to drift against the side of the house. We’re sure to be snowed in for a day… maybe two. Tabarnak!
I can’t very well let her freeze to death out here—even though I’m not sure that’s actually possible for a vampire. Still, I don’t need that shit on my conscience. My chest rumbles with a sigh, and my head tips back, eyes landing on the starless winter sky. “Fine.”
A squeal splits the air, and she claps her hands. “Yay! This will be so fun! Hot cocoa by the fireplace. Snuggled under a cozy blanket.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“You can stay for one night,” I clarify, bending to grab my ax. “I’ll dig your car out in the morning, and you’ll be on your merry way back to the city.” And far away from me with your tempting little tits and perfect plush mouth.
She follows me into the cottage, sighing as the warm air hits her frozen skin. I wipe my snow-covered hooves on the doormat while she removes her boots. The brown suede fabric is sopping wet. “You’re not dressed for this weather. Why didn’t you stay in your car?”
With a squelch, the boots drop onto my wooden floor, melted snow pooling in a puddle around them.
“And what? Wait for you to come rescue me?” She pushes past me, making her way to the fire roaring in the stone hearth.
Hands extended in front of her, she sighs.
“I don’t need anyone to save me, Jean-Luc. ”
Biting my tongue, I hold in my retort as I lean the ax against the wall and head to my bedroom. From my dresser, I grab an old sweater and some sweatpants, sniffing to make sure they’re clean.
When I return to the living room, I find Vanessa with her back to the fire now, eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face.
“Fresh towels are under the bathroom sink. You can change into these after you warm up in the shower. I don’t need you catching hypothermia,” I say as I shove the stack of clothes into her arms. Chest deflating with a heaved breath, I scratch the back of my neck.
“Merde. I guess I’ll take the couch tonight and keep the fire going. You can take my bed.”
Her mouth opens, then closes, like a bratty remark is dancing on the tip of her tongue, but she must think better of insulting her gracious host, staying silent as she floats to the single bathroom in my small cottage.
The door swings shut, lock engaging, and I’m left in a cloud of her intoxicating scent. Eucalyptus with a hint of rain that has my cock thickening to steel in my jeans.
Snowed in on Christmas Eve with a flirty minx of a vampire… just what my coal-black heart needs.