

Mistletoe & Mischief

Book Seven of the Caprice Chronicles

Selena Page

Mistletoe & Mischief

Copyright © 2016, Selena Page

Copyright © 2016, Selena Page

First electronic publication: December 2016

Selena Page

www.selenapage.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author's permission

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Caprice Chronicles

Love & Accusations

Smoke & Longing

Roads & Royalty

Sin & Redemption

Roses & Haunts

Dirt & Desire

Blood & Wine

Connect with Selena Page online at www.selenapage.com or e-mail her at selena@selenapage.com

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Table of Contents

Of Giants and Pies – Carmina & Jax

Christmas Elves and Other Problems – Amber & Jack

Blanket Fort – Andrew & Kara

Kiss Lights – Alynia & Iowin

The Cock Blocking Fairy – Miriam & Rafe

Merry Christmas, Baby – Miah & Finn

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About the Author

The Caprice Chronicles by Selena Page

Darling Family of Mine,

I am so thrilled that you will all be joining us for Christmas dinner! It has been an exciting year for many of us, and it will do our hearts good to spend time reconnecting with one another.

Christmas Eve dinner will be served at 5pm promptly. Everyone should bring something to contribute to the dessert table.

Additionally, your Grandfather and I would appreciate it if you would arrive in Saratoga Springs a few days early. We have a terrible infestation of faeries, and while we have been able to find some of them, there are still a handful wandering around and wreaking havoc. They're terrible little creatures that seem to just have appeared out of nowhere. Absolutely out of nowhere.

We hope you are all quite well, and we cannot wait to see each and every one of you.

With love,

Grandma and Grandpa

OF GIANTS AND PIES

Carmina & Jax

"Oh shit."

Carmina looked down at the ornate envelope that had appeared next to the bronze bowl on her workbench. She knew exactly what this was. Antique parchment with a faint floral design, her name emblazoned in copper ink, with a blood-red wax seal of her family crest. Just a classic Virginia Caprice summons.

Jackson's head snapped up from where he was carefully carving intricate runes into a medallion. "Oh shit? Don't say oh shit while we're doing ritual work, Cari. What's wrong?"

She sighed, adjusting her hand carefully as blood flowed down her forearm and into the bowl. Of course, an interruption would come in the middle of intense ritual work, a heavy tracking spell intended to hunt down a suspected serial killer. "Um, it's a letter. Probably an invitation. From my Grandmother."

Jackson furrowed his brow, casting a dubious look around their ritual room. She couldn't blame him for his concern and confusion. Their secure bunker, deep underground and fully warded, should have kept anything out. They weren't exactly on the mail route.

"Can you open it for me, Jax? I don't want to get blood all over it."

He carefully set his work down and moved over to the letter, eyeing it suspiciously before carefully picking it up. Well, trying to, anyway. Jackson yelped as an arc of electricity shot out of the letter, racing up his arm and setting his hair on end.

Cari could feel the power in the room swell. She grabbed a stack of gauze and immediately slapped it over the cut in her arm, snatching the letter from the table and muttering, "Jesus, Grandma..."

"Ok, Cari, what the fuck is that?" Jackson's eyes were wide and frustrated, and she could feel the augmenter gathering his power in preparation to fight whatever it was that had attacked him. If she weren't so annoyed at seeing the ancient paper, she'd be laughing at his preparation to fight what looked to be a cheerful Christmas letter.

Carmina laughed, resting her fingers lightly on her boyfriend's cheek, leaning up to kiss him softly. His gathering power fizzled as he leaned into her touch, pulling her closer with one hand on her lower back. She glanced down at the letter, "This is from my Grandmother."

"Yeah, you said that. How did it get here, though? This room's off the grid entirely."

She smirked as she carefully broke the seal on the back of the letter. "We're witches, Jax. Are you really all that surprised? It's a clever little spell that she's had for years--she can send all of her blood family little notes like this. She can't pull messages back out, and no one else has quite perfected the spell, but if you need to get info to someone who is behind enemy wards, it's pretty handy. Of course, she generally only uses it to demand that we come to dinner."

"She already knows we're coming to Christmas dinner, right?" Jackson leaned over, resting his head on her shoulder as she unfolded the letter and started reading. "Faeries? Really?"

Carmina laughed as she set the blood-spattered letter to the side, "Yeah. Well, it sounds like someone let them out, so we probably should help round them up. Hey, did I tell you my cousin married a faerie Prince or something? Or almost married? Something, something, crazy Fae shit. He should be there this weekend...real honest-to-god royalty."

Jackson snorted, "I would say I'm surprised, but with your family, I've come to expect insane antics from all of you. Come on beautiful; let's finish up this ritual so we can go hunt Tinker Bell."

Carmina adjusted her pack, peering out across the frozen arctic wasteland of Saratoga Springs, New York. Record-breaking snowfall was making this hunt an interesting one, but she was sure they'd find their target. It would probably be hard to miss.

"Hey! Jax!" Carmina was rewarded with a quiet grunt as her boyfriend stepped out from behind a tree. "Did you remember to buy a baby card for Miah and Finn?"

He sighed as he picked his way through the branches, "Yup. I even signed your name."

"And the box of presents? That book for Amber was a bitch to find. And you know that Miriam is gonna love the bedazzled gardening gloves."

"Uh-huh."

"What about the pies? Did those get in the car?"

Jax shot her a death glare, whisper-screaming in her direction, "Cari! We're hunting a goddamn giant that is busy eating trees in rural New York, and you're concerned about _pies_? Are you serious right now?!"

"You haven't met my Grandma. She is serious about desserts."

"Cari."

"I mean, I forgot the pie one Christmas, and I thought she was going to disown me."

"Cari..."

"And this year, with everything that's happened--Miah going missing, and weddings, and freakin' Nia meeting the Headless..."

"CARMINA!" Jackson's voice held a tone of real concern, and she stopped in her tracks. She pushed away her familial worries, and felt the energy slam into her like a Mack truck.

"Oh, fuck." She shot a look at Jackson, frowning deeply as she gently pushed her mind into his, catching the tail end of his thoughts.

...woman is gonna get us both killed!

Jax, it's right up ahead of us. I can feel it. It's huge. It feels like a mountain.

His anger faded, replaced with determination and the ballsiness that was one of the things she loved best about him. He grinned, teeth flashing for a moment as he gave her a nod.

I'll go left, you go right.

Carmina murmured quietly, and the wind kicked up around them, swirling heavy snow to obscure their movements. She moved silently through the deep snow, and in the back of her mind, she could feel Jax's steely resolve as they drew closer. Now, she could hear the sound of something crashing through the woods, followed by a gnashing sound that she could only assume was their Tinker Bell on steroids eating another tree.

As she broke into the clearing, she saw it. Hard to miss the giant fae towering over them, its head brushing against the top branches of the trees. It had a greenish hue to its skin, eyes dull and unintelligent. In one meaty hand it held a tree, chewing on the trunk like a stalk of celery.

Uh. This guy is a lot bigger than I thought he'd be.

She watched as Jackson moved into position, a grin on his face. _You know what they say, Cari. Bigger they are, harder they fall, blah blah. Zap him so we can get home--my balls are freezing._

Oh, I'd hate to put your poor testicles out, dear.

Carmina snickered to herself as she closed her eyes. She rotated her wrist, allowing the bladed bracelet she wore to cut deep into her palm and inhaled deeply, grounding herself. She could feel Jackson's power pouring into her, centering her and enhancing her magic. She pulled an ancient stone statue out of her pocket and allowed the magic to flow out of her. She'd stumbled onto the tiny Green Man statue at a swap meet in Bum-Fuck North Dakota. No idea why it was there or how it found a home in the Midwest, but its intrinsic power had called to her, and after some time spent attuning the statue and imbuing it with her own power and blood, she hoped that it would do the trick.

The giant let out an earth-shattering roar as her magic filled the air. It swung its head around toward Cari, its eyes focusing in on her. She watched as intelligence and rage slowly replaced the dull look from before, as though it was devouring her magic and growing stronger. She felt her magic stutter and start to fizzle.

Fucking faeries. Apparently, their little giant had some natural immunity to her magic. Of course. He was part of the earth; he was drawing the magic into him.

The giant lurched toward her, dropping his tree snack. Cari turned, running back through the trees, and the faerie followed.

"Jackson! Plan B!" Her scream echoed through the air and their mental link. Behind her, the creature was picking up steam, and she could hear trees cracking and crashing to the ground.

"We have a Plan B?! Well, what the hell is it!" Jackson was following them, running behind the giant. She felt him drawing his gun, considering if he could bring it down before it got her.

"Don't shoot it, Jax! We just gotta send it back!"

Cari gasped, inhaling deeply as she pulled the magic around her, the wind pushing at her back and pushing her forward. Just a little further.

The giant roared, and she could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck. She wasn't going to make it.

And then it was there, the gaping chasm of the massive coulee swimming in her vision. With a whispered prayer that her magic would hold, Carmina launched herself off the edge of the abyss, flying into the air.

Behind her, she could hear Jackson's tortured scream, "Cari!"

Carmina couldn't help but laugh as the wind buffeted her gently, keeping her aloft even as it drove the giant down into the gorge below her. There was something exhilarating about flying like this, even if it was only a momentary distraction from the creature at hand.

She could hear the giant hollering as it slammed into the ground, the earth shaking with the impact. They were sure to feel that back at Caprice Manor, and hopefully she'd be able to give them a hell of a story to go with their little tremor. The creature drug itself to its feet, shaking its head and grumbling in some language she couldn't understand. A beautiful pile of dead fallen trees caught its eye and it lumbered closer, searching for a replacement snack.

Man, she only wished Amber and her man-hunk Fae Prince were here. One of them was bound to have the ability to talk to the big boy below and convince him to walk home nicely. But they were off chasing something else, leaving her and Jax with the heavy lifting. Literally.

Cari turned back to look at the cliff. Jackson was there, his chest heaving as his eyes scanned the coulee, searching frantically for her. All it took was a gentle push of her magic and the wind directed her back toward the edge. His eyes widened as she came in hot, stumbling into his chest as the wind deposited her unceremoniously in his arms.

He snatched her off the ground and crushed her to his chest, his voice trembling, "Damnit, Cari, don't _ever_ do that shit to me again! What were you thinking?"

She laughed as she leaned up, pressing her hands against his cheeks and kissing him deeply. His body relaxed against her, his hand fisting in her hair as his tongue toyed with hers. Near-death experiences always pushed their libidos to a fever pitch.

"Well it worked, didn't it? He's stuck." Cari murmured against his lips, reluctantly breaking the kiss. She wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against her, but first they had to deal with their little problem.

Jackson eased back with a heavy sigh, kissing her forehead with a chuckle, "Uh huh. All right. Now what?"

Cari pulled the stone statue from her pocket, grinning as she tossed it after him, "Now, you're gonna do the magic."

Jackson turned the statue over in his hand, peering down at the giant far below them. "Cari, are you sure this is going to work? What makes you think he won't be immune to me, too?"

She glanced up from the small copper bowl, tossing in a pinch of ground herbs, "Because your magic isn't like mine. You don't draw from the earth. You draw from people. Hopefully he won't be able to counter that."

"Hopefully?"

Cari shot him a grin and shrugged, flicking some blood into the bowl and stirring it with her finger, "You're on, Jax."

Carmina watched as the love of her life began to chant, drawing magic from her and funneling it out. Soft silver strands twisted through the snow, gliding down to the giant. It let out a roar and twisted its head, looking for the source of the magic. But it was slowing down.

"It's working, Jax! Keep going!" Carmina felt her heart seize as she watched, pushing her magic out toward him.

Jackson's eyes were glazed over, a silver sheen taking over the blue. The strands thickened, wrapping around the giant and tightening around it. The creature let out a pitiful roar as its limbs were bound tight against its body. She heard another crash as it fell to the ground.

Wind kicked around them as the silver strands began to suck into the statue slowly. Jackson's face was white, and she could feel his power faltering. They were both nearing the end of their reserve. Carmina rushed over to him, yanking her gloves off and shoving them up under his shirt, pushing the final vestiges of her magic into him.

Jackson gasped as the color flooded back into his face, and the strands rushed into the statue. With a loud popping sound, they both were tossed back off their feet.

Cari groaned, slowly lifting her head out of the snow. She saw Jackson, 15 feet away from her. He sat up slowly, a crooked grin on his face as he held the statue up triumphantly. "We got him!"

She let out a triumphant hoot, climbing to her feet and pumping her fists in the air, Rocky-Style. " _You_ got him, Jax! Told ya it would work!"

The forest around them was quiet in the wake of the giant's thunder, and she could hear her heart racing. Even from across the clearing, she could hear Jackson's as well. Triumph slowly morphed into need as she prowled across the snowy terrain.

Cari dropped down into the snow next to him, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips as she leaned over him, kissing him softly, "Good job, baby."

Jackson let out a quiet moan, his hand coming to tangle in her hair as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. She melted into his touch, her tongue slipping against his lips and dipping into his mouth.

With a needy growl, he grabbed her hips, swinging her astride him. Carmina moaned at the feel of his hardness against her, her hips moving of their own accord. She shuddered as the last vestiges of magic slipped away, replaced by a driving need to feel his skin and hold his warmth inside her.

She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. He always knew exactly what she needed.

The wind died down around them as he slipped his hand inside the front of her jeans, greedy fingers seeking her heat. She whimpered as he found her clit, his thumb making slow circles around it, teasing her even as she thrust her hips forward in search of more.

Jackson slid two fingers inside her, nipping at her lower lip as he purred into the kiss, "Always so wet for me, love." He moved his fingers slowly, angling them to find that sweet spot deep inside her, the one that always made her squirm and beg for more.

Carmina whimpered again, gasping as she felt him take her to the edge of oblivion before slowing his fingers, holding her back from her climax. "Jackson, please...inside..."

He chuckled lowly in her ear, nibbling at her neck, murmuring against her skin, "Beg, Carmina. Are you _sure_ you want me?"

She whined, wiggling against him, her fingers unzipping his jeans and drawing out his hardness. She stroked him slowly, sliding back and leaning down to tease his tip with her tongue. She glanced up at him, murmuring around his cock, pleading, "Please, Jax."

Jackson groaned as he lifted her, slipping her jeans down before settling her back over him. Carmina moaned loudly into the still winter air as she began to move her hips, setting frantic rhythm.

Carmina could feel her climax building as she bent to kiss him, nails digging into his shoulders through his heavy winter coat. Jackson grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh as they came together, their voices echoing through the thick trees.

Jackson tossed the small statue up and down in his hand, offering Cari a hand up to help her out of the snow, "So, what do we do with this little guy now?"

She grinned, leaning up to kiss him tenderly, "Throw him back through the portal. When the statue shatters, he'll be freed. So you might want to be careful with that."

Jackson grimaced, tucking the statue into his pocket. "Right then. Let's get him home, and give Grandma the good news."

Carmina pulled her bag over her shoulder, turning to start the trek back toward the car. She paused, glancing back over her shoulder at him, "Hey, Jax?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, you did remember to pack our suitcase, didn't you?"

Jackson stopped in his tracks, the smile falling off his face. He sighed, rolling his eyes up toward the sky, "Well, at least I didn't forget the pies."

CHRISTMAS ELVES AND OTHER PROBLEMS

Amber & Jack

"Well." Amber looked at the letter, then back at Jack, then back to the letter. Her grandmother's tidy handwriting concealed any motive, explanation, or end goal and leaving nothing but a couple bare instructions and, of course, her admonition to bring a dish to pass. "Um. Welcome to the family?"

They hadn't been together for six months yet, but Jack had already been introduced to most of her sisters, a handful of cousins, one of her brothers and, of course, her parents. In turn, Amber had been threatened by Jack's Father (The High Court King of New York City), his mother (who also ruled over Vermont and Rhode Island), his younger brother (Long Island and Jersey Shore) and a handful of aging dowagers, too-pretty elderly fae, dukes, baronesses, and the Queen of Goat Island, all of whom were absolutely certain that Jack marrying outside of the High Court (of _somewhere_ , even if it was the High Court of Hoboken) was just the worst thing in the world.

All in all, she thought she'd probably gotten the better end of the deal anyway. Jack's relatives didn't actually bite. Her father, on the other hand — the first time he'd met her sister Calyx's boyfriend, he'd challenged the poor guy to a wrestling match and ended up with a dominance-bite grip on the boy's neck. A little threatening was nothing compared to that.

Jack took the letter from her and read it over her shoulder. "Okay, okay... a dish to pass, really? Wait... _hobs?_ Your grandfather wants us to clean up a mess of _hobs_? Does he know..."

"He'd ask you to clean up hobs if you were the King of England, you know."

"Not that." Jack waved his hands. "I'm not exactly the one for standing on protocol, as you might have noticed."

"Not at all, Jacanamo Tyberius Henry Angoulême." Amber smirked at her husband. "I've never noticed anything about you being a little informal. So what's the problem?"

" _Hobs_. Aren't you the one with encyclopedic knowledge of all things supernatural?"

"Most things. And hobs are nuisance creatures. Little things, they can be super helpful, especially at first, but if you don't pay their price, they start to take it out on your house, your hide, and everything else. Sort of like a free trial that makes you put down a credit card."

Jack snorted. "Good analogy. The thing is, hobs used to serve the High Court. And they are, well, once they've served you, they just don't go away."

Amber quirked an eyebrow. That wasn't what was bothering her, but she could get to that later. "Shouldn't you be an expert on fae things? Being, you know, a _fae_? And Prince of them, too?"

Jack shrugged, not quite looking at her. "They're, uh, they're the help. I know a couple tidbits, but now how to get _rid_ of them.

Amber rolled her eyes. Sometimes he reminded her how much of a prince he really was. "You give them clothes. You give them a new jacket or a new set of shoes or, if they're really difficult ones, you give them the whole outfit. But they have to be made clothes." Amber wracked her brain. There was something else, but it was eluding her at the moment.

"Maid clothes? Wouldn't that defeat the point?" Jack smirked.

"Clothing that's been made, created by hand. You can't just go around magicking up a nice necklace for them, that just annoys them." There was a good chance he knew what she meant, but Amber couldn't help but correct him anyway.

"You tried, did you?"

"Me? No. I can't magic up a piece of string, much less a full outfit." She plucked at her sweater. "Otherwise I wouldn't have dragged us to the outlet mall on the way here."

"The mall wasn't bad compared to the trolls."

"Ha, ha." Amber rolled her eyes. "No, not me, I didn't try. But it's in one of the books I read, a family member way back tried to charm up some clothes to get rid of the hobs and the hob population doubled. And then doubled again. It was a disaster."

"So, we need to find clothes. Made clothes, not housemaid clothes, things that aren't magical and will make a hob happy."

"Twenty hobs happy."

"That won't put _too_ big a dent in my wallet, I suppose. Although..." His eyes widened.

"That means the mall at Christmastime," Amber allowed. "Or...Walmart."

"...Oh may the fates and the stones save us," he muttered. "We're all going to die."

"...and then we have to find the hobs."

"Maybe they shop at Walmart too? Maybe it chased them all away?"

"One can only hope. So, how big is a hob again?"

A High Court Prince in the middle of Walmart, even a Prince who didn't stand on ceremony, was something to behold. Jack stayed pressed against Amber, as if hoping she'd protect him from the angry mothers and panicked fathers and terrifying bargain-shoppers.

"Hobs are the size of a small child, you said." Amber gestured surreptitiously at a couple kids running through the aisles. "About like that?"

"That's a bit tall, but within tolerances. People actually wear these things?" Jack picked something up between two fingers--a shirt with jewels and tassels on it.

"Shh, if you insult someone, you're likely to start a brawl. And it's not like you can--well, I'm sure you can cheat if it comes to that," she corrected. Jack knew how to cheat at _everything._ It hadn't taken her long to learn not to play cards with him. "But it could get messy."

"A store? A brawl?"

"Seriously, where do you shop, normally?"

"I don't, normally. I mean, once in a long while, but usually passing through towns like the one where I found you."

"Ah." She couldn't help a knowing smile. "Okay, we'll move quickly. Come on." She picked twenty identical pairs of pants and twenty very similar shirts off the kids' racks, looking for the ones with the most glitter and gems. "Now we just have to survive the lines."

"Lines?" Jack was looking a little bit pale "You mean... oh, you do. This is going to be like Yule shopping with my mother and my sisters in the city."

Amber had been in the city at Christmastime before. "Worse. Possibly worse," she amended. "Depending on exactly where your mother and sisters like to shop." She took Jack's arm and pulled him toward a line.

"You can't take all those shirts! What do you need them for?" The woman grabbed at her arm, nails cutting into Amber's skin even through her sweater. "You can't."

"What do _you_ need them for?" Jack countered.

"I just want five. For my nieces."

"Well, we want twenty. For our nieces." He was grinning; he was enjoying himself. They were doomed.

"You have twenty nieces? Nobody's got twenty nieces!"

"Well," Amber allowed. Jack had this way of pulling her into his mischief, whatever it happened to be. "I have five actual nieces; the rest are second-cousins, second-cousins' kids, some cousins a couple times removed, you know. I come from a very large family."

"And I get to marry all of them. Aren't you happy for me?" Jack deadpanned.

The woman raised her eyebrows at him. "You're marrying all that?"

"Well, I mean," Jack deflated as his joke failed, "I mean, that is, I'm marrying her, here, but I get all her family in the deal."

"Oh, come on." Amber grinned. "I mean, _your_ father threatened to kill me. I think the extra cousins will be fine."

"You know what? Take the shirts. I can find something else." The woman hurried off, leaving Amber giggling and Jack looking a little stunned.

"She didn't get the..."

"Well, you _did_ say you were marrying my whole family. You can't blame her for taking you literally."

"I am, though, in a sense? Royal marriages and all, your family marrying mine...."

"And our fathers are _so_ happy about that. My mother actually asked me why I couldn't have married an accountant. Or a boggle. Or something."

"I'm so flattered." He looked mournfully at the line. "I don't suppose we could just... hand wave our way through the line?"

"Could count as magicking the clothes. No, I don't want to risk that; the clothes have to be non-magical in every way." Besides, she was enjoying watching him squirm. "This shouldn't take too long...oh."

"What's she doing?" The cashier was conferring with her boss.

"Someone has a check." Amber grinned. "Now you see why Grandpa wanted _us_ to take care of this problem. By this point he'd be muttering imprecations and hexing people's socks off."

"Your grandfather sounds like a lovely man."

"He is...generally." She leaned into Jack until he wrapped an arm around her. "Although, one year he sent me everywhere looking for Swedish cornichons."

"I've never heard of those."

"Neither has anyone else. I ended up finding a Swedish woman and bribing her to buy some and say some Swedish words over them. Not my best moment. At least this one might have some _reason._ "

"Are you sure your family isn't fae?"

"Yes. Of all the things I have questions about, that's not one of them. We are what we are. Curse and all." It felt nice to lean into his arms, even if they were sandwiched between someone buying three laptops and someone with seventeen jars of peanut butter.

"I like you being what you are." He kissed the top of her head. "I might even like your family, given enough motivation."

The woman buying peanut butter smiled beatifically at them. "You two make a lovely couple. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too." Amber felt a little giddy. "I feel like I should put on a Santa hat and wander around bestowing Christmas blessings on everyone."

"Without..." Jack cleared his throat. The peanut-butter woman was still watching them. "With the power of good wishes and your beautiful smile?"

"Hey, it works for some people. It might work for me." She grinned at him. "Or the power of love. That worked for us before."

"That wasn't the power of love; it was the power of... well. All right. There was something like love in there," he allowed.

"Something like love," she harrumphed cheerfully. "If that's what you want to call it. Oh, look, Laptop Guy is almost done. Ready to save Saratoga Springs?"

"If this is what it takes to save Saratoga... absolutely. Certainly. "

"I knew there was something I loved about you." Amber grinned playfully.

"I thought it was my charming smile and enticing smell."

"No, that's just what got you in my car in the first place. All in one bag's fine, thank you," she told the cashier. "...we have a big family," she added, at the cashier's raised eyebrow. "Lots and lots of cousins and all of their children."

"They're gonna look like Madeline," the woman opined, "or Harry Potter, all in their cute little uniforms."

"Well, it'll make fun Christmas photos, and then they'll disperse over the globe again," Amber rationalized. "This way, they can play twins and pretend to confuse everyone. They like games like that."

She shared a look with Jack. Maybe hobs were fashionistas? Maybe they wouldn't like all wearing the same outfit, like the girls in Madeline?

He shrugged helplessly and she stuck her tongue out at him. He might _be_ fae, but it looked like she was still the expert on all things magical.

In the parking lot, he defended his honor - poorly. "What, you think the Hobs are going to be picky? Did you have anything in your books about them being the sort that can't wear the same dress to the same party?"

"I've never run into anyone who's had to deal with twenty hobs at once," she admitted. "Usually there's one or two."

"So where _are_ these hobs, anyway? Camping out at your grandfather's place?

"In the old Mallory house next door. It's technically our land, so Grandpa and Grandma decorate it every year. Their tenants are on vacation for a couple days, hence the hurry."

"Okay, that's do-able. When hobs don't want to be found, they're a devil to find. Let's go, then. The sooner we get them all dressed up in their Christmas finery, the sooner we can go back to, well, other things."

Amber smirked at him, even though she was just as interested in "other things" as her sort-of-somewhat-almost-husband. "You know, I think it took the first time. The first twenty times..."

"The first hundred times," Jack agreed. "But haven't you read, oh archivist, that the five hundred and seventy-fifth time is very significant to the spirits and to the bond?"

"You know, I haven't read it. But you know what that means?" She was already grinning, even as they tossed bags of hob-sized clothing into her car.

"You're not as well read as you claim?"

"Ha. No, it means that if nobody's written it, I'll have to try it. For science and history. And then I'll have to take notes. And then, since we can't quite replicate, I'll have to convince some of my sisters to end up mated with Fae High Court ne'er-do-wells as well..."

"There are no other High Court ne'er-do-wells," Jack mock-huffed.

"I don't believe you. Not in all the land? In all the kingdoms?"

"Oh, well, if you want to go for some _other_ kingdom, I'm sure you might be able to find some cut-rate ne'er-do-well somewhere. But they wouldn't be me, Jack."

"Jack, prince of New York?"

"The one and only!" He struck a cartoony heroic-looking pose, which he just as quickly abandoned. "Anyway, let's go save the day from tiny annoyed housekeepers... just like at home, I swear."

"Onward to a slightly untidy glory!" Amber was already giggling, and once she got started, it took her several minutes of tedious, ten-miles-an-hour, just-before-Christmas-travel driving to stop. "You do weird things to my brain," she complained to Jack.

"It's the hormones. We haven't had sex in at least an hour, and they're all building up. Add that to being in this close of proximity to me since we started this road trip..."

"This one or the one that started it all?"

"Well, much to my dismay, you _have_ been going to work, remember? It's been cutting down on our sex time distressingly. But, as I was saying, now that you're next to me all the time, the hormones have to be doing some fun things to your brain." He was grinning. She was sure he was kidding. Pretty sure, at least.

"You know, I didn't think you were the sort of fae that did that, made people kiss."

"Not _people_ , just you. Mostly just you."

"It'd better be just me, mister... unless you can get by my sister and this guy I want her to connect with and..."

"Do I look like a cupid to you?"

"I was just saying you didn't, wasn't I?" She tapped his arm lightly, hardly anywhere near a punch. He flinched and mock-cowered as if she'd slugged him. "Come on. Clothing for Hobs. Maybe after this, we can do something with an actual charity."

"How do you know they're in the Mallory house?"

"Oh, my grandfather said he was setting things up around the house when the hobs showed up, and if they were in my grandparents' house, he'd be a lot more urgent about the whole thing. Also, see how the lights are flickering in four of the rooms? The current tenants don't have children. And they're not heavy drinkers." It was _probably_ the hobs. If it wasn't... well, not every story about the Caprice family could be true, could it?

"Why's it called the Mallory house, anyway?" Jack pulled the bags of clothing out of the car. "Old neighbors?"

"Actually my grandfather's mother's sister." Amber stared at the cupola on the house. "There's a long story there about how she didn't want to live in the Caprice house and for a long time she didn't want to get married." Amber had heard it more than a few times. "It's long and full of family gossip and the end of it is, she married a — oh, I don't remember, a warlock, I think, or maybe a vampire — and wandered off to live in the deep forests in Maine, I think. Or maybe Vermont."

"So it's not a very memorable family story."

"Nobody agrees on the ending. Some people say her father cursed her to stay here until she married properly. Some people say she cursed him, instead." Amber rubbed her arms. "It's why, when I wanted to hide from the family, I rented my own apartment."

"It's a nice apartment, too," he offered gallantly, if clearly dishonestly.

"It's mine," she countered. "All right, let's go in." The key was where it always was — under the charmed rock in the peony garden, the one that only a Caprice or a legal tenant could lift. She let herself into the house with the same little shiver she always had here.

Whatever the rest of the story, Mallory Caprice had been given this house to age genteelly. Her father had built it with that intention in every stick and brick. It still stuck around - that was part of why nobody else would use the place. There was something to be said for not going against the will of the Caprice family - they could be terrifying when you did.  
She squeezed Jack's hand. He'd gone against the _King of New York City_ for her, and that King had been every bit as scary as an ancestral legend. "All right. In, clothing, out. Hopefully still have time for a little, ah, pre-legal-marital bliss before dinner?"

Before Jack could answer, a voice crackled down the stairs. It sounded exactly like she'd always imagined her great-grandfather sounding. "No Caprice woman would do something like that! Shame, shame on you and shame on your house!"

"...It's not haunted," she muttered, half to herself. She was clinging to Jack's hand, though she'd never admit it. "It's not haunted, it's not haunted..."

"Look," he whispered. The little wizened creature coming down the stairs looked like Grandpa Caprice's picture - and yet not. There was a hint of green skin through the wispy white hair.

"If you don't want to be a proper Caprice girl, then you can live here in solitude for the rest of your days. Locked in. Bricked in." The voice seemed to cut right through Amber's skin and into her bones.

"You know," Jack's voice was loud, strong, and lazy. "I've heard a lot about Caprice girls. I've met a few - mind you, mostly just the werewolf's daughters, but hey - and they're some impressive women. Not the sort you'd want to lock in anywhere.

"I mean," he continued, as the specter stood up straight and looked less and less like pictures of her great-grandfather, "Really, Amber here, not the sort of girl I'd ever try to brick up anywhere. She took on the Palace Guard of the High Court's King of New York City. The _Palace Guard._ Not the sort of people I'd want to take on, and I've got all my powers. She's got her magic locked up, and she's still a fierce woman."

Jack had been by her side for all of it, fighting the Palace Guard while they chased him, though he didn't mention that part and Amber didn't feel the need to correct his story. She stood up a little straighter and glared at the thing.

"Not to mention the troll and the Skin-takers, of course. And here we are, just wanting to bring you some nice clothes, and what do you do? Threaten her. Seriously. That's not very bright is it?"

The creature stepped forward. "Troll?" It croaked. "Skin-takers? This one? The Caprice have no _power_."

"Caprices have _less_ power _,_ " Jack corrected. "That's a lot different from having no power."

The creature cleared its throat. "Clothes, you said?"

"I don't know... We came to give you nice yuletide clothing, and what did you do? You tried to spook my bride to be." Jack stood up to his full height and, for a minute, looked even taller.

It was easy to forget, Amber considered, exactly what a Fae Prince he was. Until he did that, and you were left going _oh yeah._ He was looking down at the hob with a look of regal menace, and the hob was _cowering_.

It was really quite impressive and very hot.

"Clothes?" the hob offered again. "We will, this house, we will make it spotless. The yard, spotless."

"The house," Jack decided, still holding himself full and proud. He looked a little bit like his father, like this. "Clean, tidy, no pretending you mean 'nothing in it' for spotless. Understand?"

"Clean," the hob nodded. "Clothes?"

"And then we may deign to give you clothes, and you can head back to your nice comfy nest on the other side of the Border. Wouldn't that be nice?" Jack's smile was sharp and unkind.

The hob responded with a cautious smile. "A troll, truly? Trolls are mighty creatures."

"She is a mighty Caprice. Clean the house then, spic and span."

"We will do that!" The hob chittered loudly in its own language and several other hobs - _eighteen_ other hobs - came out of the woodwork and the walls, behind the furniture and out from under the lamps.

They moved faster than the eye could track. They dusted and swept, washed and tidied, moving like a line of cleanliness across the house. Amber felt her feet being cleaned and stepped backward, only to find that her shoes were in better-than-new condition and the ankles of her jeans were crisp and stiff.

"When hobs are motivated," Jack murmured, "they can even make rags like new clothes again. You might have to explain how the tear in the couch was repaired, though."

"They're renting from the Caprices. Eventually, they have to figure out something's a little weird. Did they just fix that old hole in the wall? I didn't think anyone knew it was there."

"Like I said, when they're motivated... I feel like we should have gotten better clothes." Jack smirked. "Then again, they _did_ insult Amber Troll-slayer, Affianced of the Prince of New York."

"Oh, are we using your title now?"

"Only when I absolutely have to - hey, look. You're done." He grinned down at the lead hob, and then let his smile fade into something formal, something suitable for Prince Jacanamo. "Your service had ameliorated the offence done to me and to my affianced bride. Now, we give you these gifts of clothing, and suggest you head off to the fair lands quickly, before you give any more offense."

Amber handed the hob a tidily folded pile of Walmart jeans and glittered t-shirt. She watched the creature closely and still somehow missed the moment when it spun around three times and its old rags were replaced by the sparkling new kids wear. On the hob, it looked both ridiculous and regal.

One after another, they handed out piles of clothing. The first hobs were excited; as they kept on handing out the same three shirts and the same two pairs of pants, they grew less and less excited. The last one put her foot down, glaring at Amber and Jack.

"These are not original clothes. These are not interesting clothes. These are boring and copied clothes. I will not take them."

"You'll take them," Jack growled, "or we'll do to you what we did to the troll."

"You cannot." She raised her chin. She was an interesting little hob, smaller than the rest and more pointed everywhere - chin, nose, elbows, ears. If Amber hadn't been hurrying to get them all out of the house and back into fairyland, she might have wanted to take notes. "You, fae prince, you can do nothing to us. The ancient compacts say that clearly."

"I can't," Jack agreed. His smile was all sharp edges, and his hands were glowing. "That's true. But there's nothing saying one Caprice daughter can't."

"Caprice called us. Caprice cannot harm us." The hob stomped. "I am not satisfied and I do not like this. We do not leave unless we have new clothing."

"You're not scared of the troll-killer?" Jack raised his eyebrows in possibly feigned disbelief. "Even if a Caprice summoned you, it doesn't mean a Caprice can't do a world of disservice and discomfort to you."

"And we can stop cleaning and do disservice and discomfort, as well."

There were several other hobs that hadn't left yet, all in the process of trying on and admiring — or fussing over -- their new clothes. All of them had stopped now and were looking between the difficult hob and Jack and Amber.

"Disservice?" one asked. It sounded eager.

"Discomfort?" another offered. It tugged on its bedazzled shirt curiously.

"Destroy!" offered a third, who had already put holes in its new jeans.

"Deal," Jack put in. "As in, we had one. We provided the clothing, you leave."

"No threats in deal," the hob complained.

"No. There weren't. And you threatened, as well."

"How about," Amber interjected quickly, "this Caprice gives you her nice fringe vest in addition to the outfit? The vest is new," she added, "and only worn by me." She shrugged out of the vest and held it out. "It's very nice," she added, perhaps too much in the tone she'd use with a recalcitrant cousin or niece. "It ought to fit you fine, too, it laces on the sides..."

The hob wrinkled her little nose. "It is..." she touched the fringe. "It is nice," she decided.

"Destroy?" offered the hob in the ripped jeans.

"Disservice?" offered the one uncomfortable in its shirt.

"Deal," the hob sighed, sliding on her fringed vest. "The Caprice has made the deal good. We leave now."

The hobs sighed and, one by one, winked out of existence. Amber collected the last Walmart bag and sighed in relief; Jack wandered into the kitchen to assess the damage.

"Well, that was... pretty typical for the Caprices, I suppose. Did we miss anything?"

"They repaired some broken dishware and the sink probably wasn't this clean when it was new. And I think they scrubbed the ghost, too. She's looking awfully shiny."

"Ghost?" Amber wandered into the kitchen. There, floating in the middle of the very-bright tile, a wisp of a woman with the Caprice look to her chin hovered.

"Merry Christmas, cousin." Amber saluted the woman lazily. "Here's to being apart but Caprices together."

"Merry Christmas." The voice was as thin and wispy as the woman in front of them, but it was still clear. The woman curtseyed politely, and vanished into the air.

"She did look clean," Amber mused. "Well, let's let Grandpa know that we dealt with his mess."

"We dealt with hobs, and now I have to meet your grandfather? I'm not sure this seems fair."

They exited, Jack still complaining with his fingers laced in Amber's and his hip nearly bumping hers, out into the chill of the Saratoga Christmas eve. The ghostly smell of mulled cider followed them out into the night, along with the whispery sound of sleigh-bells.

BLANKET FORT

Andrew & Kara

Andrew stared out the window of his Saratoga Springs house with his iPhone pressed to his ear. The window stretched from floor to ceiling and provided a stunning view of the snow-covered valley below. He treasured this view. It reminded him every day of the peace and tranquility that his life provided. He felt blessed day in and day out with the boredom that filled his life; he reveled in its ordinariness.

All of which was about to come crashing down.

His grandfather gave a polite cough on the other end of the line. Andrew chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, dark brown eyes narrowing. He didn't care that his grandfather was waiting for a response. He needed a moment to think and he was going to have it.

A few more moments passed in silence.

"What do you mean it just appeared out of nowhere...?" Andrew asked, his voice sliding into a peevish, sharp tone.

Kara perked up from her place on the couch in front of the fireplace. She knew that tone. It meant Andrew was annoyed. It meant that something was getting on his nerves. It meant something was happening. She arched an eyebrow and quirked a smile. Yes. Something was bothering him. More importantly, something was happening or had already happened--in which case there was bound to be fun.

"There may have been a bit of a spell or something..." his grandfather's dry voice drawled across the line, "Regardless, the fairy is here. She's mucking about the property somewhere and is bound to cause trouble."

"Yes, of course grandfather, she must be stopped. I don't understand why you want _me_ to handle it."

Andrew caught Kara's interested expression and rolled his eyes. Gods that woman would not stop once she got something between her teeth. He knew if he just hung on the line or turned his back for some privacy the whole thing would need to be explained again. Relenting to the argument he knew was coming, he thumbed the speaker icon. Kara clapped and bounced on her knees leaning on the back of the couch.

"Well there was that whole business with the mine and that smoke monster you dispatched," Andrew's grandfather's voice filled the room.

"You're on speaker Grandpa and Kara is with me. She was a large part of 'dispatching that smoke monster'."

"Ah yes. Of course. Good to talk to you Kara."

Kara smiled and rolled her eyes at Andrew. He knew she loved his grandfather; she thought he was gentlemanly, wise, sweet, and kind.

"Good to talk to you, too, Mr. Caprice," Kara said warmly.

"Anyway... you are the perfect person to handle this Andrew. I'm sure you and Kara will be able to track down the little bugger and deal with it accordingly."

"I didn't even use that tracking spell last time and now I have no idea how to deal with a fairy."

"I have full faith in your ability as a warlock to deal with them."

Andrew contained a growl and clenched his fist, knuckles cracking.

"Very well. Where is this errant fairy?"

"Like I said, it's gotten itself somewhere off the property. I'm sure you'll be able to find it."

Andrew rummaged through his workshop, digging through containers of herbs, stones, and even a few crystals. Kara leaned on the frame of the doorway smiling at his backside.

"Come on, this will be fun," she cajoled.

Andrew grumbled something as he moved another container.

"It _will_ be fun."

"You and I have very different definitions of 'fun'."

"It's a fairy. How bad could it be?"

Andrew found what he was looking for and leveled a flat gaze at her, a corner of his mouth twitching toward a frown.

"Fairies are bothersome little monsters. My grandfather should not have been mucking about with them, let alone have them decorating the house for the season and party."

Andrew dropped the cardboard container on the table with a crash and bang.

"Andrew... they are old," Kara said soothingly.

"That is what decorators are for, not fairies. All they had to do was hire someone and the house would've been perfect for the party. What are they going to do for the meal? Summon a minor demon to roast the turkey?"

Kara stepped away from the door and wrapped her arms around Andrew. She felt the tension in him lift at her touch. Despite his petulant tone, she loved seeing him ruffled. He spent so much time trying to make everything perfect that he would get lost in the moment.

"Come on. It's a fairy. You'll find it, we'll go get it or convince it to leave or send it back to Neverland and get home in time for diner. It'll be fun!"

Kara was right Andrew realized. Fuming about his grandfather's inability to deal with the fairies wasn't going to help anything and making a fuss wasn't going to help.

Andrew smiled down at her. Kara always had the best outlook on anything.

"Alright," he said, relenting.

Andrew spent the next hour preparing and collecting the items for the tracking spell. He hoped the fairy was still somewhere on the Caprice property and hadn't gotten itself into town. If it had stayed on the property, his search narrowed to a few acres. Luckily, his grandfather hadn't wasted anytime contacting him. That almost guaranteed the fairy was somewhere nearby.

Andrew and Kara finished packing and loading all of the supplies into the car and they piled into Kara's Range Rover and headed to "the House" as Andrew referred to it.

Raymond Caprice, Andrew's grandfather, greeted them at the door. He was tall and erect despite his old age. He looked much younger than his 85 years, and carried himself like a man half his age. He wore a sensible set of trousers and house shoes, and a neat, light blue-collared shirt.

"Come in, come in. Oh you must be Kara!" He said ushering them in.

"Hello! It's so good to meet you. Andrew has told me so much about you," Kara beamed.

"Oh no. I hope it was good."

"Mostly..." Andrew said huffing under the weight of the cardboard box.

Andrew's grandfather smiled sheepishly. He was very aware of his grandson's propensity as a shut in and felt guilty for dragging him into the mess that the holidays had become.

"Well let's get you in and get you situated Andrew," Grandfather said, leading them down the hall.

Raymond led them through the soaring gallery of the main hall. Dark-stained woodwork framed the room. A tasteful mix of family portraits, Victorian, and modern art adorned the walls of the main hall. Two sweeping stairways arched up to the second floor, the hallways dark. Taking them through the hall and making a short turn down a hallway, Raymond led them to a large salon. The winter sunlight streamed in and lit the room brilliantly.

"Ah. You tried to compensate for the wrong season by doing the summoning in a room that was brightly lit," Andrew observed.

"Yes. Exactly!"

"Well, that's your problem. Winter sun is winter sun, you can't fake summer," Andrew said, fussing about the large room. He began removing crystals and lenses and arranging them about the room.

Kara grinned at the elder Caprice.

"Sorry. He gets so fussy when there is any excitement," Kara said in stage whisper.

Andrew glowered at her, but kept working.

"You should've seen him as boy. Loved school. Abhorred sports. Truly enjoyed his studies."

"Well it has come in handy..." Kara said.

"Yes that business with the mine. So good of him to clear that up."

"Yes. It was," Andrew said flatly, "Now I get to clear this up."

"Don't be so cross. You've only got to track the one down. It's not like you have to deal with all of them," Andrew's grandfather said suddenly finding the curtains to be very interesting.

"What do you mean 'just the one'?"

"Never you mind. Just stay focused on the task at hand," Raymond said wagging his finger.

Andrew sighed and turned back to the work at hand. A few minutes later, he finished and stepped outside the circle of crystals and lenses to view his work. He made a few small adjustments and stepped back into the center. He sighed and put his hands on his hips.

"OK. So you're certain the fairy came through here?"

"Yes... that's the last place I saw it before I chased one off that was getting fresh with your grandmother."

"I don't want to know. _I certainly don't want to know_ ," Andrew said, hands raised.

Andrew sighed, stepping into the center of the circle and sitting cross-legged on the floor in center of the crystal and lens arrangement.

"So what will this do?" prompted Raymond.

"This will help me align with the fairy's energy and help me find her. It will use the residual energy she left behind and fix it in my mind so I can track her."

"So it will connect you and the fairy?" Kara asked.

"In a sense... yes. We will have a small connection that I will use to find her. Hopefully while she is on the property."

Andrew closed his eyes and fixed his mind on his power. It had become much easier in the last few months to control his power. Whatever had happened in the cave with the smoke monster had changed him. He felt his power deep within him and pushed it to the surface and across the circle. He let it envelop the crystals and lenses and let it flow around him. He then let it stream out, sensing and feeling. He found the fairy's power instantly. It was warm like the summer sun. He heard the sound of a babbling brook as he tested the fairy's power with his own. The fairy's energy promised hot days and sultry nights. He heard the rustle of green leaves and the smell of damp earth. He smiled absently and let his power mingle with it. Eventually, the two powers mixed and mingled and his power took on the earthy feel of the fairy's. Andrew let his power sink back into himself and he opened his eyes.

"Well?" Raymond asked.

"I've got it. I've... got a read on her," Andrew said as his eyes drifted across the room, "Let's go."

They left the salon and made their way to the back door.

"Ah, I thought I heard something back here but I had to go help your grandmother."

"Yes. She went out through this door,"Andrew said pointing to the wood- and glass-paneled back door.

"Right into the forest," Kara said as she inspected the view from the back door.

"Yes. We'll have to go on foot from here. Grandfather, I will need the snowshoes."

They made their way to the side closet and Andrew rummaged through the coats, boots, and other winter outerwear. He emerged with two sets of aluminum snowshoes. They made their way back to the backdoor and wrapped themselves in their winter coats and gloves.

"So you think she's gone into the forest?"

"Seems that way. I can't say why, but yes."

"Do be careful Andrew," his grandfather said nervously.

"It'll be fine. It's a fairy."

"Yeah. It's no smoke monster," Kara said playfully. She was bent over, exposing a healthy amount of cleavage to Andrew. He felt a warm rush to the core of his body. He suddenly wanted to take her right there in the hall. He felt his heart pound at the idea of sliding himself into her and taking her on the floor.

Andrew grinned back at her wolfishly. What was getting into him? Of course he was attracted to Kara, but the thoughts running through his head while his grandfather was right there with them were stronger than he'd ever experienced.

He shook his head and finished pulling his winter gear on. It helped that Kara covered herself in her heavy winter coat. As snug as it was, it still hid the curves of her body and helped quiet his libido. They tromped outside into the snow and Andrew helped Kara strap on her snowshoes and showed her how to step into an incline, using the walking poles to help distribute her weight and energy.

They began walking toward the wood line, following the path of the fairy's energy into the trees. The forest was stunning. The bare trees and dry empty bushes rustled as they passed. The pines stood like massive green sentinels over the snowy valley. The air was crisp and clear and the sun made the ice in the trees sparkle. They followed a narrow path up a hill and deeper into the woods.

"Wow. Andrew... it's beautiful out here," Kara said.

"Yeah, it is," Andrew said as he stopped to lean on his poles and smile back at her. He felt the sun on his face and he felt warm despite the crisp winter air. He couldn't help but notice the curve of her hips through the tight black winter leggings she wore. He chewed on the inside of his lip as he thought about laying her down and peeling those leggings off her. He heard her sigh in his mind as he slid his hands up her legs.

"Andrew?"

Andrew shook his head abruptly.

"Yep. Yep. What's that?" He banished the fantasy from his mind.

"I said 'Are you ready to go?'"

"Oh! Yep. Let's go," Andrew said turning back to the trail.

They followed the trail and came to a small hunting lodge on the side of a hill. It looked out over small creek and the valley below. They stopped a few yards away to watch the cabin.

"I think someone has been in there recently," Andrew said, kneeling behind a tree.

"Yeah, the snow by the doors is disturbed," Kara pointed out.

"I think she's in there... I feel like she is very close."

"Ok so what do we do?"

"Let's just go up very slowly and see if she is in there. If not, we'll just wait and surprise her when she gets back."

Kara nodded. They pulled off their snowshoes, creeping up on the house as they slowly made their way down the path. They watched the windows, but saw no sign of anyone. The curtains were drawn and nothing seemed to move.

Crouching down by the door, Andrew tried the knob and was surprised it opened easily with a loud creak. He cringed at the noise; so much for the stealthy approach. He rose and strode into the house, pausing to listen before stepping further inside.

The main room was a grand wood-paneled open space with a huge fireplace in the center of the back wall. Windows lined the pinnacle of the slanted-ceilinged room, letting the bright winter sun stream in. The heat had been turned on, and the warmth washed over them.

"Well?" Kara whispered.

"I don't think she's here, but let's look around."

They made a quick search of the lodge, checking all the rooms, bathroom and kitchen. They checked the main closet in the living room. To call it a closet was ridiculous. It was a room unto itself that could hold the winter gear of the whole Caprice family. They cleaned up the melting snow in the doorway, even though there was no way to hide the tracks they'd left in the snow.

"Alright, we need to hide and when she gets back, we'll surprise her. I can throw a quick ward around her to trap her so she won't be able to get away," Andrew said, pulling out a few supplies from winter coat pocket.

"Let's hide in that huge closet in the living room! I saw some blankets in there. We can put them down and just wait her out together," Kara said brightly, stripping off her coat.

Andrew nodded and was blessed again with the view of her ample cleavage. He felt a hot surge move through his body; the idea of being tucked away in the closet with her sounded like a very good one.

They stowed their gear in the back of the closet on a shelf. Andrew had a sudden thought and spread the blankets across the shelves, pinning it in place with their boots. It formed a neat little fort they could tuck into. They grabbed a few spare throw pillows from the living room to sit on and settled down for what could be a long wait. Andrew leaned sat against the wall and Kara settled on the floor between his legs and pulled his arms around her.

"What gave you the idea for a blanket fort?" Kara asked playfully.

"I don't know. Just seemed like a good idea," Andrew said. He began to feel uncharacteristically fun, loving the idea of hiding in the blanket fort with Kara, waiting for the fairy to show herself. Maybe he was getting into the Christmas spirit or something.

"So what do you think she's like?" Kara asked.

"The fairy? Probably... pretty nice. More than likely a sprite. I've never known sprites or fairies to be bad or anything."

"Wait, there's a difference?"

"Oh yeah. The whole fairy line is broken down by families or types. Except for hobs. They can be awful. Most are benign or protector types."

"Really? Why all the trouble then?" Kara asked.

"Well... they can be troublesome is all. They have way of influencing things. Leaving a bunch of summer fairies around in the middle of winter might screw the natural way things go around here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. See, summer is the time of regrowth, passion, renewed relationships. Traditionally, people get married in summer because the weather is nicer. People have babies in summer because they've been stuck inside all winter and don't have... well don't have much to do," Andrew said with a grin.

"Oh really?" Kara asked, wriggling up against him and pulling him tighter to her; she absently slid his hand across her breast and sighed into him.

Suddenly, Andrew felt the summer sun on his skin, smelled the damp of the forest after a thunderstorm. He felt the deepest need for her and _growled_. This time he didn't hold back. He cupped her breast through her shirt and gently squeezed her nipple. She sighed quietly again and her hips rolled rhythmically against him. He felt himself grow hard against her and his other hand roved across her belly; he spread his fingers just under her waistband. Panting, she tilted her head back.

"We're supposed to be hiding and trying to trap a fairy," she breathed into his ear.

"Damn the fairy. I want you and I want you now," he growled back, sliding his hand under her underwear and over her mound. She gasped as her found her and felt her move against him in a slow roll, egging him on. He kissed her deeply, tongue exploring the inside of her mouth before abruptly pulling back to spin her around in his lap and strip her shirt and bra off in one move.

Kara sucked in a breath of surprise. She draped her arms around his neck and pressed his face to her. He kissed her collar, the space between her breasts and then gently kissed her on the nipple. She moaned quietly and rocked her hips back and forth across his stiffening manhood. She couldn't take it anymore and started to unbuckled his pants. She hastily slid them down then rose and stripped off her thick black leggings.

Andrew sat up and kissed her belly, her hip, and then her center. She shivered and pressed his head against her, sighing with delight. He pulled her down on the blankets and she pulled him to her opening. She held his face with one hand and the other guided him. Kara felt her warmth wrap around him. He thrust himself back and forth inside her. Kara sucked in a breath and felt pure joy running through her at the feel of him inside her. She arched her back as he thrust inside her, climax building.

"Don't stop. Just like that," she said in a husky voice.

In response, Andrew kissed her deeply and rolled his hips into her faster and harder. Kara moaned into his shoulder as she felt her whole body go tight as a bowstring. Waves of pleasure rolled through them both, building into a storm of passion. Suddenly, they burst together in a wave of passion and pleasure.

Breathing heavily, Andrew laid down on the blanket next to her. He kissed her earlobe making Kara giggle. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the warmth fade from him slowly. Wondering where that had all come from. They were used to spontaneous sex. They had a talent for making love all over his apartment or her apartment. A closet? That was new.

Andrew smiled at the thought as his eyes settled in a corner of the closet. He thought he caught a glimmer of something and his eyes adjusted to shifting light. It took him a minute to let his eyes adjust. Suddenly the features of a very tiny, very surprised, feminine face came into focus. He could just make out the eyes and mouth that made a large "O" of surprise.

Andrew stiffened, in Kara's arms his own shock and surprise growing.

"What?" Kara asked, still in his arms.

"Fairy!" Andrew said, sitting bolt upright pointing to the little woman in the corner of the shelf.

Light blasted out of the corner of the shelf and slammed into Andrew's face. His vision was suddenly filled with sparkles and shooting stars. He covered his eyes and rubbed trying to get his vision to clear. He stood at the same time to stumble toward the corner, the roof of the blanket fort wrapping around him.

Kara grabbed another blanket and covered herself, her own shocked modesty taking over.

The fairy blasted out from the shelf in shower of sparks and light. Andrew grabbed at the air in front of him but he was still blinded, partially from the blanket half-wrapped around his head and partially from the sparkles. The fairy shot behind him and skittered back and forth across the back wall of the closet looking for a way out.

"Behind you!" Kara called out and rose to stand behind Andrew.

Andrew spun and got one eye open and fixed on the fairy. He reached out again to grab her but she dodged past him shooting a ray of sparking light. Andrew ducked and made a grab for the fairy, spinning with her move. He managed to get a hand on her before his foot caught on the blanket Kara had wrapped around herself. Unable to steady himself, they all fell forward with a crash.

The closet door burst open and two naked humans and one wriggling fairy fell into the living room. Somehow, the fairy had ended up pressed between Kara's naked breasts and Andrew's chest.

The fairy let out a high-pitched squeal and wriggled against Andrew's grasp.

"Let me go! I'll not be your slave!" She exclaimed in shrill and accented voice.

"Calm down!" Andrew yelled, trying to disentangle himself from Kara, the blanket, and the fairy. He finally settled for rolling off Kara and kicking the blanket away from his feet, holding the fairy in both hands away from his body.

"Calm down! No one wants a slave!"

"Yes you do!" The fairy exclaimed, "The old one said so! He was gonna make me do the 'decorating.' That was his big plan! And... And... After that whole... thing I saw in there I don't want to think what you have in mind for me!"

Now that Andrew had disentangled himself from Kara and the blanket, he could examine the little fairy. She had deep green eyes and slightly green skin. It shone and sparkled in the winter sun. She was completely nude but didn't seem to notice or care.

"What does that mean?" Andrew asked. The fairy was clearly disturbed. The little thing fluttered its wings in frustration and fear against his grasp.

"You! You connected us! You! You warlock!" the little fairy sputtered.

"Nooo, I tracked you..." Andrew said thinking back to the spell. Something was off.

"Yes, and you did it by connecting me to you! I could feel everything from you!"

Suddenly Andrew realized that his feelings over the last two hours had not been _just_ his own. He realized that as soon as he cast the spell his feelings and actions had changed. The connection he had forged was not superficial. He realized that he and the fairy had been connected and their emotions and desires had mingled.

Andrew and Kara both blushed suddenly at the implication.

"Listen... that isn't what I meant to happen. I, I," Andrew stammered.

"You what?" the fairy prodded.

"I just wanted to get you home. To find you and get you back to the land of summer. My grandfather shouldn't have brought you here. It was wrong," Andrew said his cheeks burning bright red.

The little fairy suddenly went still.

"Really? You don't want to make me your slave?"

"No. No! I want to get you home and then I want to go to my home. No offense but this is just too much excitement," Andrew said behind very red cheeks.

"I don't know. It wasn't all bad," Kara said stepping back into the living room. She'd taken the opportunity to put her pants and shirt back on. She sat down across from Andrew and the fairy, hair mussed and face flushed from the excitement.

"What's your name?" Andrew asked.

"Oh! It's Filly. Short for Filigree," the little fairy said.

Kara grabbed her scarf that had fallen on the floor and offered it to the little woman.

"Oh thank you. It's dreadful cold in here," Filly said wrapping herself in the scarf like huge heaping blanket. Andrew and Kara made introductions complete. The fairy and two people relaxed once names were exchanged.

"Right. So let me put some pants on and we will get you home," Andrew said sheepishly.

"Yes that's probably a good idea," Kara said with a wolfish grin.

The ladies made pleasant small talk as they waited for Andrew to finish dressing. Kara was happy to keep the small woman occupied and avoid the embarrassment of the last few minutes. If Filly was embarrassed, she never showed it. She told Kara that she had been mostly worried about being found and having to be a slave. Finally, Andrew emerged from the closet clothed and ready.

"Ok. So my grandfather used a simple summoning spell to bring you here. He didn't get a chance to place any compulsions on you; so sending you back will be pretty simple. Just relax and let me break the spell," Andrew said sitting down in front Filly and Kara.

"Thank you Andrew. I'm sorry about before. I'm sorry about... influencing you the way I did. Though... Kara didn't seem to mind," Filly said.

Kara blushed furiously and stifled a laugh.

Andrew sucked in a deep breath.

"Right. It's ok. No harm done. Be safe," Andrew's own cheeks were glowing red at this point.

He closed his eyes and they all felt the gentle surge of his power. It filled the room and with a slight crack as the spell broke, Filly vanishing with a flash.

Andrew breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank god that's over," Andrew said, his cheeks still burning a bright red.

"What?" Kara asked a mischievous smile spreading across her face, "Like the lady said 'It wasn't all bad.'"

"No, but making love in front of a fairy was not on my bucket list," Andrew said with a chuckle.

"How about just in front of that fire?" Kara asked sliding her foot up his leg and eyeing the fireplace.

"Now that is definitely something we can do."

KISS-LIGHTS

Alynia and Iowin

Staring down the barrel of her own Glock wasn't exactly the way Alynia Caprice-Tintreach expected her evening to end. Doing it while naked in her grandparents' hot tub, while sitting next to her equally sky-clad husband, was like adding insult to wrecked-evening injury. The cherry on top of the crap sundae, however, was the fact that the assailant making with the whole hands-up routine wasn't any bigger than the grip of said 9mm.

Perfectly formed, like a doll come to life, the woman was little more than five inches tall. Though apparently possessed of a supernatural strength outside of her miniscule frame, Alynia noted with dismay. Matchstick thin arms wrapped around the grip of the gun, fingers laced around the trigger like someone hugging a favorite stuffed animal. Her expression showed just as much effort, as if the gun weighed as little as said stuffed-animal.

"Faeries," Alynia groaned aloud. Why hadn't she studied up on faeries when given the chance? Especially since her grandmother warned her about the little deal her grandfather had made.

Oh, wait. She'd tried. Until her husband spied the hot tub in the back of the house, and focusing on anything else with his lips roving every inch of her throat, with his voice whispering within her mind of what he wanted to do to her in the hot bubbling waters was--

\--was not what she should be focusing on at that moment, dammit.

The perp in question's alabaster skin glowed in the moonlight, as if snow had been made into flesh and then kissed by the first of the moon's rays. Strands of deep purple and dark blue hair floated in the night breeze, silver antennae bobbing in that breeze like little islands in a sea of liquid ice. A toga-like gown of filmy black cloth covered her petite frame, though Alynia couldn't tell if it was cloth or shadows stitched together. Come to think of it, the diminutive fairy's build was so slight, so delicate, anything **but** shadows might be too much for her to handle. Aside from the fact that she held Alynia's gun, that is.

The gun was an artifact, a device of pure magic encased in a thin shell of tangibility which happened to resemble a standard-issue police sidearm. A gift from her husband shortly after their marriage, to ensure she'd never go unarmed again and that her own weapon would never be used against her. Point of fact, it shouldn't work for anyone except for her.

Apparently, the fae played by their own rules.

"Your grandmother did try to warn us," Iowin's voice cut through her mental freak-out with what sounded like a helpful tone. "She mentioned faeries running rampant all over the property, and we'd take fate in our own hands going outside."

If she didn't know any better, she'd swear her husband was highly amused with their predicament. Given he wasn't the suicidal type; she quickly chalked up the benefit of the doubt in his corner. Because there wasn't anything amusing about the fact that this Tinker Bell wannabe had somehow managed to do the impossible.

Tinker Bell activated Alynia's gun, the quiet hum coming from the weapon let them both know she'd chosen a setting of pure electricity. One didn't need a college degree to understand electricity plus hot tub plus humans equaled bad.

Yeah, there wasn't anything amusing about the situation in the slightest.

"You humans are so odd," the miniscule creature shook her head, jeweled antennae swaying with the motion. "I don't think I'll ever understand how you can stand being around each other."

"Excuse me?" Alynia snapped. "We're not five inches tall and holding innocent people hostage with their own weapons, lady."

"Nia," Iowin warned. "I believe she's one of the Wee Folk. Best not to ruffle feathers until we know what we're dealing with."

Her teensy doll-like face scrunched up in disapproval. "I'm not a lady. I'd tell you my name, but I don't think your big dumb lips could pronounce it correctly. If you must call me anything, call me Kalariel."

That earned a set of raised eyebrows. "Kalariel?" Alynia shook her head. "Tolkien elvish? Is that the natural language you speak?"

It was Iowin's turn to whip his head around, astonishment plain on his face. "You know Tolkien elvish?"

Alynia shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. "It was offered at my college, okay, and I figured it would be an easy 'A.' So I took it."

"Big mistake believing that. You do realize the language is made up of other lost languages, many of which--"

"I was there, Iowin," she growled, keeping her hands above her head and her eyes on the gun. "I know the history. And it wasn't as big a mistake as you're making right now. Don't you think we have more pressing topics at hand?"

He had the grace to blush faintly. "Good point. You just surprised me. You never told me you spoke elvish. I'm rather put out."

Kalariel floated upward on her crystalline wings, motes of light dancing in the air as she did so. The gun bobbed and weaved in time to her excited bouncing, and Alynia did her best not to shriek like a child. That weapon had a hair trigger on the best of days!

"You recognize my name?" Kalariel giggled in delight. "That makes me happy, and is probably the most intelligent thing you've said all evening. It means 'Daughter of the Light.' Mr. Tolkien was so kind to give it to me when he couldn't pronounce my real name with human lips. Kalariel is close enough."

"Ignoring the fact that you name-dropped one of my favorite authors," Iowin cut in, no small amount of admiration and jealousy peppering his tone. "What can we do for you, Miss Kalariel?"

The polished sapphire chips that served as her eyes twinkled in the moonlight, a fair approximation of a human blinking several times in response. "Oh, yes. That's right. I'm here for a reason. My Queen wants to know why you're trespassing in her Pool of Pleasure."

They shared another glance and Iowin shrugged. "This is new to me. I've never heard of a faerie pool of pleasure."

Kalariel stomped one dainty foot. "The Pool of Pleasure, you giant oaf. The place where you come to share each other by the light of the moon, to take blessings from the Winter Solstice and the Queen. You have to know that, otherwise why would you dive into the sacred waters on such a cold night as this?"

"Okay, Light Lady," Alynia glared. "You're going to have to dumb this down to human standards. What in the name of all that's holy are you babbling about? We're in my grandfather's hot tub, on his property. You're the one trespassing."

Kalariel stared at Alynia as if she were being dense on purpose. "Not on this side of Winter's Veil. Has it even dawned on you why you're not freezing your giant naked selves to pieces in all this snow?"

It was a fair question, and one she hadn't considered but should have. Something had been off the moment she and Iowin rounded the corner behind the private screen. The air itself appeared warmer, clearer, and more comforting than it should have felt. She'd ignored it, though, believing it nostalgia playing remember-when games with her psyche. The sensations taking her back to her childhood when ambient temperatures took a backseat to the fun one had sneaking around in the fresh snow to do forbidden things. Only then, the forbidden thing was making a snowman well after bedtime.

The hot tub itself was little more than a giant barrel cut in half midway up and lined with several layers of ceramics magically fired to hardness. An old-fashioned copper rod heater beneath the barrel kept the waters piping hot, and a motor that had seen better days in the 1950's swirled the water to frothy little waves. Climbing into it felt a bit like diving into a hot mug of beer. But it was deliciously relaxing, and Iowin couldn't resist the idea of a 'soak' before bed. And by soak, he'd meant sex. A plan to which she'd been all about until now.

The last thing on her mind at that moment had been the freaking weather.

Iowin's eyes swept to the left and right, a fluttering of magic dancing through their shared bond, and his shoulders sank a bit. "Kalariel's right, beloved. This looks like our home, but it doesn't read that way magically. By all accounts, our hands should be red and burning from the cold. Mine aren't."

"Neither are mine," Alynia groaned through clenched teeth. "Don't tell me we've time traveled again. We just got back to our time."

"No, not time traveled," Kalariel supplied with a smile. "Dimension jumped is more accurate. Or dimension walked, rather. And, might I add, you came here willingly. When your grandfather asked for our help with the Christmas decorations, he didn't realize the price he paid. To help him, we thinned the Winter Veil between the Fae realms and the human. So where your grandfather's hot tub is now..." she trailed off.

"Is the exact same location of the Queen's pleasure palace," Iowin finished.

"The Queen's Pool of Pleasure," Kalariel corrected primly, the crystal of her wings tinkling with aggravation. "The Queen sent me to inform you that you are trespassing on her private domain. As such, she demands a payment from you."

"What kind of payment?" Alynia eyed her carefully.

Kalariel flashed them a devilish smile. "Nothing more than you've already come here to do."

She and Iowin exchanged one final look. Oh, this had bad written all over it.

So Kalariel and her people weren't pixies, weren't Tinker Bell's kin, or anything of that sort. They were Will o' the Wisps, a sort of faerie creature made of pure light. Wisps, as they called themselves in the human tongue, had a history of either guiding the pure of heart to safety or the sinful to wander forever aimlessly between the worlds of faerie. Kalariel was kind enough to provide that fact first, just in case Alynia and Iowin had the foolish idea of trying to run the hundred or so feet back to the main house. In the realm of faerie, distance was in the Eye of the Magic Holder, rather than the eye of the beholder. Meaning that if Kalariel wanted there to be a million miles between the hot tub and the back door to the house, then a million miles would simply exist there.

Alynia bit her lower lip to keep from screaming in frustration.

Kalariel giggled, and signaled for two other wisps to come and join the merry conversation.

"I am called Crystal," the first of the newcomers announced herself, living up to the name by appearing to be constructed from nothing but clear crystal.

"And I am Golden Boy," the last greeted as he landed, the solid thunk sound of his feet on the lip of the tub giving credence to his name, too.

As in, made of nothing but solid gold.

Alynia eyed the glowing trio of wisps currently perched on the lip of the tub, staring back at her. They stared at her expectantly, waiting for her answer to the Queen's proposed 'payment' for trespassing as outlined by Kalariel.

"Nope, not doing this," Alynia snapped.

"Nia," Iowin sighed. "We won't get home without their help. We'll never make it across the Winter Veil if they won't guide us."

"I'm not letting this walking air freshener," she jerked her thumb at Crystal. "Take over my body so she can screw her husband."

Kalariel made a faux-retching sound, and even that sounded cute coming from her.

"Don't you puke on my gun!" Alynia growled.

Kalariel coughed instead, and Alynia gasped in horror as a shower of iridescent glitter exited the wretched creature's lips and all but embedded itself in the grip. "Sorry," Kalariel tilted her head to the side, patting the gun affectionately. "Or is that sorry-not-sorry?"

Alynia rubbed her hands over her face. What she wouldn't give for a can of Raid and a giant fly swatter. "Is there really no other way?"

"No," Crystal sang, lacing her fingers with Golden Boy's. "My husband and I are fascinated by humans."

"Barf," Kalariel groaned.

Crystal ignored her, taking flight and hovering before Alynia's eyes. "We want to understand the pleasure humans have with each other. You are married to your human, so I am not asking you to do anything you haven't done with him before."

"Forgive me for asking," Iowin interjected. "But do your people not... share yourselves with each other?"

"That isn't something your puny human brains can handle," Kalariel smirked.

"It's a fair question, mother," Crystal smiled gently. "I will answer them."

"Your mother may have a point," Golden Boy interjected, his lips curling away from the words as he spoke. Almost as if he didn't enjoy agreeing with Kalariel, either. "It may be easier to show them."

"If their dumb brains can process the information," Kalariel floated back to the rim of the tub, tipping the gun on its side and using the triggers and trigger guard as a seat, nearly causing Alynia to leap out of the tub and swat her. She propped one perfect elbow on one adorable knee and looked absolutely, utterly bored. "Remember, my daughter, they think in limited three dimensions."

Will o' the Wisp or not, Alynia recognized the soul-deep expression of exasperation with a parent when she saw one. "Mother," Crystal rolled her eyes. "Please let me do this on my own. It's my favor from our Queen."

Kalariel held up her hands in a pose of surrender. "I'm only here to offer advice."

Golden Boy coughed into his fist, in a way that sounded suspiciously like 'meddling mother.'

That almost earned a grin from Alynia. Almost.

Crystal floated backward, Golden Boy rising to join her in the air. They hovered inches apart, doing little more than staring at each other. Until light emanated from the center of Crystal's chest, mirrored in Golden's. Pure white light, unfiltered by clouds or atmosphere or human pollution. The most beautiful manifestation of unadulterated light she'd ever witnessed.

The light pulsed with its own heartbeat, growing brighter and larger with each proverbial pump until it was too bright to stand. Alynia shielded her eyes, turning away and taking with her the final image of the light consuming them until it was impossible to tell where one wisp ended and the other began.

"Like watching stars make love," Iowin whispered in awe.

"It's beautiful," she agreed.

"I don't understand," Iowin glanced over to Crystal.

"Called it!" Kalariel interjected. "Told you human brains couldn't get it."

Everyone ignored her.

"What's there not to understand?" Crystal blinked.

"If that's how you share yourselves, why would you want to... do it our way?"

"Why not?"

"That's not an answer," Alynia tried, the words falling lame even to her own ears.

"I am the daughter of the Queen's Light. It is my right to speak when and to whomever I want, however I want. If I deem it an answer, so it is."

"And let me guess," Alynia deadpanned. "The Queen's personal night-light is Kalariel."

"Guilty as charged!" the night-light in question smiled broadly. "Now are you going to agree to this or not? I do have other responsibilities to tend to, other than deciding the fate of two hapless, helpless humans trespassing in the Queen's own--"

"I get it, I get it," Alynia slid down beneath the bubbling waters, letting out the scream of frustration all but burning inside her belly. She surfaced, brushing her hair out of her face. "Fine, I agree."

"Wait!" Iowin cried. "What happens to us when our bodies are--?"

"Too late," Kalariel sang, springing into the air and blowing a handful of what looked like more glitter straight into their faces. "The dumb one agreed. Deal is done."

Reality vanished in a shower of silver sparks.

"I have wings."

Alynia wasn't certain she heard that last part correctly. "Wha..."

"I have wings!"

It sounded like her husband, although the near childlike zeal in his voice was beyond confusing. The last time he'd made sounds like that had been during the release of the new Star Wars movie. Given what they'd just agreed to, the last thing she expected was joy coming from him. There was a crazy, spiteful little sprite out there with her gun and her body, doing only god knew--

Wait. Did he just say he had _wings_?

Alynia cracked open one eye slowly, adjusting to the wickedly bright light of the moon. It was so huge in the sky that it had to be faked. A prop. Somehow, she'd been transported to the set of another made-for-TV Christmas movie, and any minute now an animatronic Rudolph was going to pass right across that imitation moon. But it wasn't Rudolph, it was her husband.

Only he was made of gold. Not golden in color, but made of pure elemental gold.

And he was flying.

Well, doing somersaults in the air, really. Grinning like a child.

"Nia, I have WINGS!"

She sat up swiftly, staring around at the sea of unbroken snow all around her. They were no longer in the hot tub, that was evident. Judging from the tops of the tree branches visible to her eyes, she was willing to bet they were on the roof of the house. From below, sounds filtered up toward them. Iowin's voice, she was certain, though she didn't understand the words... until she understood the second voice answering him wasn't making words with that mouth. No, the sounds the pair were making, which sang out above the sloshing of hot bubbly water, were never meant to be words.

"I do _not_ sound like that while having sex!" she blushed

Iowin executed a perfect double flip before landing next to her and peering over the edge of the roof. The grin that lit up his face was a thing of pure beauty. Alynia peered, too, and wished to god she hadn't. Was that really her face when she orgasmed?

"I do not sound like that when having sex," she tried again, faintly.

"Yes you do," he laughed. "Those two are pretty fast learners. I wonder if they have our memories if they know how your body loves that position. Especially when I get your leg up and stick my--"

"If you finish that statement, Iowin Tintreach, I'm going to knock your tiny block off with my tiny little fist. I don't know what strength we have in these bodies, but I'm willing to bet it's substantial as compared to our size, given how Kalariel was able to handle my gun."

Nothing could diminish the smile from his lips, nor tear his eyes from what he was watching. "They certainly didn't waste time. You do look sensational, my love, when spread out across the snow, steam still rising from your skin due to the soak in the tub. You glitter with snowflakes, and when they melt, they look like tiny diamonds sliding across your body."

"That's it. You and your wings--"

Iowin grinned, flying out of arm's reach. He pointed at her back. "You have wings, too, beloved."

Alynia froze, lifting a single hand to her back. Yup, there were protrusions from the area right beneath her shoulder blades, delicate projections that went up and up above her head, extending down past her knees to sweep at her ankles. They were clear crystal and etched with some sort of design. Like snowflakes under a microscope.

Come to think of it, so was her entire body.

Alynia stared down at her hands, trying not to panic. They were the same shape and length as her human form, all her fingers present. Same scar on the upper wrist where she'd had to fight her way out of her own handcuffs. She was still herself, only made of crystal.

"I don't understand," she blurted.

"I think I do," Iowin took her hands in his. "The wisps make love by merging the light within themselves, which leads me to believe that they are nothing but pure light. The forms they take are more for our benefits than their own."

"Are you saying they made these bodies just to host our souls?"

"It appears that way," he nodded. "So when our souls entered these shells, they took on the forms that we're most comfortable with. Namely, our own bodies."

"Because we only think in three dimensions."

He kissed her forehead. "Exactly."

"I really hate that flying cockroach."

He kissed her forehead again. "No you don't. You like Kalariel. Admit it."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but still smiled gently. It was hard not to smile when he was smiling. "I admit nothing."

"Then fly with me. Nia, tonight we are not cops or witches or anything other than ourselves. Let us find the joy. It's Christmas."

"If I were to say 'Bah, Humbug?'"

"Then I'd have to do... this!"

Without a word, he pulled her to him and literally dropped off the roof of the house.

Getting the hang of flight wasn't all that bad, once she got over the initial screaming and flailing, that is. The wind in her wings, in her hair, across the glass-like surface of her skin, felt like nothing she'd ever imagined. Amazing was the only word that came to mind as they dodged fat globs of falling snow, taking hold of a single snowflake and spinning it toward each other. They zipped through the air, through the night and the sleepy little town, to the sound of their own laughter and the music of their wings. Playing tag with the wind and the shadows, dancing from streetlight to streetlight.

She glowed in the starlight, and his golden skin reflected her light back until he glimmered.

When they kissed, their luminescence remained transfixed in place, like a piece of love left behind to decorate the street until dawn.

"You realize what this means," he smiled, holding her as they hovered beneath the latest bulb of what he'd called kiss-light. "We need to let love light up the night."

"You really want to travel around the town and kiss in all the unusual places?"

"You really want to do something other than kiss in all the unusual places?"

"Touché."

"I love you, Alynia Caprice-Tintreach."

"Back at you, Iowin," she grinned wickedly. "Now, let's go spread some hot love across this town."

"As my lady suggests."

"No, as she bloody well demands," Alynia laughed.

And realized that maybe there was something to the way stars made love after all.

It was in one of those unusual places that they found her.

Her name was Kathleen, or so the nametag on her uniform read, and she sat on a bus bench outside a rather dingy looking diner. Tears made messy track marks down her face, smearing her already smeared makeup. In her hand was a single piece of paper on official looking letterhead, and the words on that page tore right into their hearts.

The Administration for Child Services of the great State of New York regretted to inform her that she'd failed her last home inspection. The state had no choice but to take her children away. The power had been cut far too often, the water bill unpaid, and while they understood her deadbeat of an ex had gone AWOL and refused to send one red cent of government-mandated child support, that did not excuse the living conditions in which the children currently languished.

Languished.

As if the love of a parent wasn't enough. The fact that she worked two jobs to keep food on the table and roof over their heads wasn't enough. Recycling cans to make laundromat money so they always had clean clothes and clean faces wasn't enough. That she went without eating days in a row so that her children had full bellies wasn't enough. All those memories were as plain as day to Alynia, floating like clips of a horror movie in the air above Kathleen's head. A byproduct of the new wisp body, or a magical side effect from her recent time travel incident? Alynia shook her head. It didn't matter now.

All that mattered was Kathleen's raw, ragged grief.

The state decreed her children languished in below-poverty levels, and it couldn't, in so-called 'good conscience' allow this to continue.

Miss Kathleen had lost the war, the casualties being her children's future.

The exact day after Christmas, a police officer and a social worker were going to speak polite words to her and take her children away. She was expected to have the children packed and ready to go, and to smile and not cause a scene while these two well-meaning jackholes stole away the lights of her life.

Kathleen's hands shook from more than just the cold, and she doubled over in her grief, sobbing soundlessly into the snow.

"Dammit," Alynia whispered, peering down from the shelter of the bus stop overhang. "Sometimes I hate our government."

Iowin no longer glittered, his light dimmed with the shared grief. "Sometimes the system works. Most of the times it doesn't."

"When I was with law enforcement, I used to believe in that system," she murmured, scrubbing at her eyes. Tiny jewel-like tears clung to her fingers. "That if the laws saved just one child from real danger, it was worth all the other instances where it failed."

"Now you're not so sure?"

"Now I'm not so sure," She echoed. "No wonder the wisps don't understand us, especially when we let things like this happen."

"Are we?" he asked, meeting her bejeweled stare.

"What do you mean?"

"We're wisps right now, right? With a full lineup of wisp powers and a duty to lead the pure of heart out of danger. Maybe we don't have to let this happen. Maybe," he vowed, peering down at Kathleen and her misery. "Maybe what we need to do is think in more than three dimensions. Maybe that's what Kalariel was trying to tell us."

"I... don't follow."

"Think about the light in you, the joy of flying, and try to make it touchable," he explained. "I mean, if the real Crystal and Golden Boy created these bodies out of nothing, maybe we can create items, too."

"What do we want to create?"

"What would help Kathleen the most?" he paused, and tossed a lopsided grin in her direction. "Besides booting the system in the proverbial head."

Alynia didn't bother hide her smirk. "Well, that would make me happy."

He sighed again, the sound more amused than exasperated. "Concentrate, please?"

More than snow fell across Kathleen's hair and they watched her blink up at the large paper-like items cascading from the roof of the bus stop. Denominations of tens and twenties fluttered through the air, as if some football star was 'making it rain' across his favorite dancer at the strip club. She jerked away from the money at first, staring around the street with wide and terrified eyes. Searching, they knew, for the owner of said money to come screaming around the corner. Minutes ticked by and nothing but snow and money disturbed the quiet street.

"I don't think she understands," Iowin frowned.

"No, she gets it," Alynia countered. "But she's terrified of taking it. What's worse than having her kids taken away when she's tried her best to keep them?"

"Having them taken away because she actually did something wrong," Iowin supplied, frowning anew. "So now what?"

Alynia concentrated again, gathering another handful of snow and blowing it, much like Kalariel had done with the glitter.

A note floated down to land next to a random twenty. It read:

You deserve this, Ms. Kathleen. Take the reward for always doing the right thing.

Kathleen clutched the note to her chest, sobbing anew as she bent down and started collecting the money.

Iowin puffed out a sigh of relief. "Now onto phase two."

They lead her through the streets by way of kiss-lights, illuminating her path to the last open Walmart in all the town. They hid in the flopped back hood of her jacket as she picked out toys for her children, and filled her cart with food. Alynia nodded appreciatively as a few clothing items made their way into the cart, and Iowin pouted. Apparently, her husband had been the victim of 'clothing for Christmas' one too many times as a child.

"You're enjoying this way too much," she accused.

"I love Christmas. I thought you understood that by now. Just wait until we have children. Toys for days is what our Christmas day will look like."

She blinked at him once, and again, and again. "You... want children?"

"Don't you?"

She slipped back down her side of the hood, the soles of her feet touching his at the point. "I never really thought about them," she replied honestly. "I mean, after we broke up, I never really thought I'd be able to have any."

"We're not broken up anymore. I believe we're fairly permanent now."

"No, we're newly married and still hip deep in supernatural trouble."

He laughed, shoving a hand to his lips to hide the sound. "I didn't say I wanted any right this instant, beloved," he whispered around his fingers. "I agree that we aren't ready to start a family at present. But I must admit, it fills me with joy to hear you say you're open to the idea."

"Someday," she clarified.

"Someday will come," he promised, blowing her a kiss.

She caught the kiss and pressed it to her mouth.

The late-night patrons of Walmart didn't think twice about Kathleen's suddenly glowing hood so close to Christmas.

True to the Will o' the Wisp creed, they escorted Kathleen home via the kiss-lights, choosing the safest paths through the less than ideal neighborhood she called home. They sat with her as she wrapped gifts by the light of her modest Christmas tree, swinging on the branches like ornaments come to life and ensuring the tape never ran out. They sprinkled faerie glitter onto an old busted-up cassette tape/radio combo, coaxing it to life for her. 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' played softly within the tiny two-bedroom apartment.

They sat with her until she fell asleep, sitting on the floor of her kid's bedroom and clutching the remains of the money that had fallen from the sky. It wasn't enough to catch up on her bills, nor to find her a better living arrangement.

But it bought her one good and last Christmas with her babies.

"Thank you," Kathleen whispered. "Whoever was my angel tonight, thank you."

They covered her with a blanket before escaping out a window and into the lightening sky.

Alynia blinked eyelids somehow too heavy to be her own, and sat up with a gasp that bordered on a shriek. Beside her, Iowin jerked awake and nearly slid under the bubbling waters. Dawn broke the horizon to the east, the sky all shades of fuchsia and orange, creeping fingers of sunlit yellow declaring the Night of Wisp was over. They were back in their own bodies at last.

"At least the little creeps didn't let us drown," she groused, pushing protesting muscles into action. She ached all over. "Jesus, what did they do in our bodies? I feel like I just ran a marathon."

"Agreed," Iowin murmured, rubbing at his neck.

A perfect imprint of her teeth stood out in stark contrast. She winced. "Sorry."

He grimaced and smiled at the same time. "Not your fault."

"No one in the family is going to believe that."

He grinned. "No, they won't. But it'll be fun watching you blush every time someone points it out."

She splashed water at him. "Brat."

He splashed back. "Beloved."

"Don't try to butter me up with pet names."

"Then don't be so wonderful."

She drew back her hand to splash him again, and felt something not made of water settle into her palm.

"For big oaf-like humans, you didn't do too badly."

Alynia closed her eyes tightly. "Hello, Kalariel," She gritted between clenched teeth. "Am I to assume you're now standing on my hand, pointing my gun at my head?"

"What? Oh, no. Though that would have been hysterical," she tittered. "Would you be willing to let me try my entrance again with that little gag instead?"

"Do I really need to express how much 'no' that statement requires?"

Kalariel sighed dramatically. "Ah, well. So much for showmanship. Look, I'll be swift since neither of us wants to be part of the other's world for too long. You did what most big oafs wouldn't when gifted with Fae powers for the night. You kept with the creed of the Will o' the Wisps and guided a good person out of danger. So, I suppose you deserve the other part of our duties. We're also the guardians of treasures. Vast amounts of treasures, if you must know. I've taken the liberty of bestowing a small portion into your hand. If you choose to guard it, the Wisps will grant you the right to become one of us forever."

Alynia swallowed hard, and dared open her eyes. A plain white envelope rested in her palm instead of a bitchy Fae night-light. What was in it had her nearly shrieking anew.

"This is a bearer bond for over a million dollars!"

"I know," Kalariel sighed, rolling her eyes again. "It's a pittance, really. Personally, I think you both already proved yourself more than competent to be one of us. You really deserve to guard more than just that itty-bitty slice."

"And if we don't guard it?" Iowin asked, reading over the terms that came with said bond. "If we choose to spend it?"

"Then our deal is done and the wisps will leave this land in peace. You've already provided me with something more than a favor."

They both paused. "How so?" Iowin dared ask.

"I'm going to be a grandmother now! Oh, relax, you two. The looks on your faces!" She cackled, nearly rolling over in mid-air. "Sometimes we use mortal bodies to conceive children, but it's not like you think. The child inside Crystal now has nothing to do with either of you. It's more a, hrm, how do I dumb this down for you three-dimensional thinkers?"

"We were a ritual representation for the act of conception," Iowin finished for her.

"Exactly!" Kalariel beamed. "You have some good will coming your way for perpetuating our kind."

"Let me make certain I have this correct. We can take the money and run?" Alynia asked carefully.

"Yup," Kalariel answered, floating down to run her fingers through the bubbling water. "We will leave your land now that the debt is paid. Well, we of the Will o' the Wisps will leave you. The other Fae have their own conditions for payment for services rendered."

They didn't need to exchange glances this time. Their decision echoed through them faster than a blink.

"Mistress Kalariel, the Queen's Light, we formally reject the offer to become wisps and take the money as payment," Alynia spewed so fast the words practically ran into each other.

"Thank you most humbly and kindly for the offer," Iowin added just as quickly. "We are honored."

Kalariel looked disappointed at that, but nodded. "Answer me this, then. Are you really going to keep the money?"

"No," Alynia answered honestly. "We're going to give it all to Kathleen and her family."

"Then my work here is done," Kalariel dusted her hands of the water, excess drops turning into puffs of glitter. She drifted back into the air. "You still have a favor from the wisps if you honor your word to Kathleen's family. If you ever need a light in your darkest hour, call my name and it will be granted once."

She vanished in a shower of silver glitter, leaving them alone with the means to make someone else's life better.

A very blurry-eyed Kathleen answered the door, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. Seeing the man in the suit who practically screamed the word 'Lawyer' nearly had her screaming and slamming the door. "Too soon," she muttered through pale and stiff lips. "I have until the 26th to spend with my kids. You can't take them yet!"

The man held up one hand in a non-threatening gesture. "Oh no, ma'am, I'm not with Child Services. I'm a lawyer representing a client independent of any government entities. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Noah Caprice, and whether you believe it or not, you've been selected for a very generous donation from my client. May I come in and discuss it with you?"

Wordlessly, Kathleen stepped back and let Noah in.

Up the street, Alynia and Iowin watched from beneath a broken street lamp. "It was a nice touch, convincing your brother to do this on his vacation."

"Noah's a big-time Chicago lawyer," Alynia shrugged. "Trust me, he welcomes the break from faerie hunting to come here and spread some joy."

"How many times do you think she's going to faint when he tells her how much money we've given her?"

"Enough that it's a good thing his special talent is in healing."

Iowin laughed, pulling her in close. "Merry Christmas, my darling wife."

"Merry Christmas," she returned. "And god bless us, everyone."

He kissed her deeply and took her hand. As they walked away, neither one noticed the single flash of kiss-light drifting up from where they stood, casting aside the early morning shadows with love.

THE COCK BLOCKING FAIRY

Miriam & Rafe

Miriam and Rafe tumbled onto a wire frame bed in the Caprice family attic. The mattress creaked and released a plume of dust. But they didn't care about dirt or cobwebs. They only cared about being with each other. He grasped for her hips. She found his lips and promised never to let them go.

This was their first sliver of alone time since arriving in Saratoga Springs, and they weren't going to waste it. Cousins had picked them up at the airport. Her aunts hovered around Rafe, ferreting out whatever they could about what it might mean to be an angel. Her uncles kept a watchful eye on her. Every meal was a gaggle of Caprice they could never escape. Until tonight--Christmas Eve--when twinkling lights and glitter wrapping kept the rest of the house preoccupied with all the other shiny things of the season.

After dinner was their only chance to have each other for dessert. Miriam buried her tongue into Rafe's mouth. His lips were still sweet from molasses-glazed ham and cranberry sauce. "You kind of make me want to go downstairs for seconds," she said.

Suddenly, he grabbed her thigh and flipped her onto her stomach so he could get behind her. The bed rocked, knocking over a lamp precariously balanced between a box and the frame. It clattered onto the floor.

"Shhh!" Miriam froze.

Rafe swatted her ass.

She yelped. "I mean it."

"No one can hear us."

"I don't want to get caught."

"Or we make getting caught worth it, Liebling," he said, letting the pet-name drift off his German tongue.

He nuzzled his face into the back of her neck as he pressed his hardening cock against her ass. She liked the weight of him. How it pinned her to the old bed. How it gave her the excuse to struggle against him without any real chance of escape. The attic clutter only added to the arousing feeling of entrapment. Boxes stuffed with the memories of Caprice pasts shielded them from the present, and formed a refuge where they could be themselves while they fumbled through the first steps of their relationship.

Rafe's hands slipped under her shirt to drag his fingernails lightly down her sides. She squealed, wiggled and grabbed a pillow to hit him. But, when she lifted it, hidden underneath was a mess of torn magazine pages. Each one was similar to the next. Blond bombshells and oversized silicon tits covered the pages. A platinum centerfold with a girl-next-door smile spread wide for the camera. A honey-haired secretary lay on a desk with a pencil clenched between her veneers and pair of glasses balanced on her surgeon-approved nose

"What the shit is this?" Miriam asked as Rafe's hot lips left a trail of kisses along the small of her back.

His tongue flicked across a patch of skin at the base of her spine. "A man with a profound need to get these jeans off of you." He gripped her ass again.

She tried to twist around, but couldn't. He wouldn't let her. So, she rattled one of the pages over her shoulder to catch his attention. "I mean this."

He snatched it out of her hands. "Nice face."

"You're so not looking at her face."

Again, he swatted her. The sting was delicious. "I have no interest in too skinny and all fake. Not when I can sink my teeth into this big, beautiful ass." He bit her left cheek. Her jeans kept it from being more than a pinch, but she yelped anyway from the pleasure of it. The page skittered across the floor.

"There is a whole stack of them," she said.

"So? Ignore them." He massaged the backs of her thighs, inching his way toward where they met.

She loved when he teased her, and it was almost enough to pull her attention away, but it was so weird. Each girl looked so much like the next. "Who do you think--"

Suddenly, Rafe gripped her between the legs. "Stop. I don't care. Neither should you."

It sent a rush of heat through her and forced a lusty moan from her. Miriam arched into his palm with the hope he'd give her more. His fingertips moved in circles with such strength she could feel them against her clit even with a layer of denim keeping her chaste.

"Squeeze her cheeks!" A tiny voice exclaimed.

Miriam whipped a glance over her shoulder at Rafe. He was still all sexy smirk and stroking fingers. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

He froze. "I thought it was the voices." He may have staved off Hell by binding himself to her, but his connection from its denizens hadn't snapped completely. The voices pushing him to darker deeds hadn't gone away.

"Give 'em a jiggle!" There it was again, that tiny voice.

Rafe's head turned, scanning the space.

"There," he whispered, nodding toward a garden flower print hatbox atop a tower of steamer trunks. Lounging on the curved edge, as if resting on the petal of a rose, a pixie with dragonfly wings waved at them. He wore ill-fitting red long johns made for a doll. The sleeves were too short and legs were too long. He also had them on backward with the flap in front.

"Get out of here," Rafe hissed at him.

Miriam balled up a centerfold and threw it at him like a baseball. He flapped his wings and zipped out of the way. She tried again, crumpling another page. "Go annoy someone else." The ball soared wide, missing him completely. "Dammit."

"Here. Count of three. One." Rafe grabbed a four-panel spread of a coed in her dorm room. "Two." He crushed the page into a tight ball.

The pixie shrieked. "No! Not Pamela!"

"Three."

They threw at the same time. As the pixie juked right, Miriam's toss beaned him in the head, sending him into a tailspin. His momentum took him smashing past a coat rack where he crash-landed out of sight.

The attic fell silent. It was the longest minute of their lives as they listened for any sign of him.

Miriam leaned in close, whispering, "I think he learned his lesson."

Rafe turned a hot gaze on her and pushed her back down on the bed. "But have you learned yours?"

She pushed the magazine pages to the floor. "My lesson?"

"Which list will I find your name on?" He lifted her shirt so he could kiss down her stomach.

"Tonight?" She snickered. "Definitely naughty."

He tugged at her jeans like a man who couldn't wait to bury his face, going immediately for her button and zipper. The button came loose easily, but when he tugged on the zipper, the pull-tab broke off. "Guess I don't know my own strength," he said.

Hooking her fingernail into the broken slider to push it down, she tried to help. It wouldn't budge.

He shoved her hand away. "Let me do it."

"But--"

"Hush. I have this." He fought with her zipper and still nothing.

"Just use your finger."

"I plan to use more than my finger."

"That's not--"

"Zip it." His green eyes narrowed on her.

She grinned. "Unzip, Rafe, un-zip."

But, he couldn't manage it. "Fucking Hell, I am going to tear these pants off you."

"Let me."

"No. You're getting a new pair." He gripped both sides of her waistband and ripped the zipper open. The slider snapped and popped off. The denim crotch tore open, and just as he was about to give her the kiss she had wanted all night, out popped the red pajama-ed pixie from between her thighs.

"Die Arschmade!" Rafe swiped at him, but the dragonfly wings buzzed past his hand.

He twirled and laughed as he soared through the air. "Gimme a show! Don't be so slow!"

Miriam shrieked. "That little asshole! Get him!" While Rafe leaped from the bed, she kicked off her pants to join the hunt.

The pixie dove into a pile of old dolls next to a set of vintage golf clubs.

"Grab the 9 iron," she said.

Rafe paused, knowing the effect iron could have on wee folk. "That escalated quickly."

"The pervert was in my panties."

"9 iron it is." He snatched the club from the bag. It was vintage but showed no signs of rust. Quickly, he closed on the pixie, swung and connected solidly. His swing sent the tiny creature sailing across the attic to smack into an electrical combiner box and fall onto a stack of books.

"Parlay!" he yelled feebly. One of his wings was bent, and he cradled his shoulder and arm. Tears poured from his eyes as he curled into a ball. Seeing the small guy in pain sent a pang of guilt through Miriam even if she wasn't interested in feeling it.

"Alright, little guy," she said. "You got a name?"

"Joe," he answered.

"Joe?" Rafe's eyebrows pulled together. "Not Mustard Seed or Tinker Bell or some other pixie name? Just...Joe?"

The fairy nodded, and Miriam sighed.

"Alright," she said. "Why don't you just go, and we'll pretend this never happened. No one else needs to get hurt. Deal?"

Joe extended his good hand toward Rafe who frowned warily but placed the iron golf club under his arm, sticking out a finger to shake on it.

Except, Joe didn't take his finger. Instead, he let forth a maniacal cackle and flew full tilt into Rafe's crotch. "If you aren't going to use it, I'll abuse it!"

Any ounce of mercy faded from Miriam as Rafe doubled over. "Oh shit. Are you alright?"

He waved her off as he slowly and very, very carefully straightened. "I'm fine." He recovered, but only with teeth clenched and rage to fuel it. Lifting the club again, he swung wide and hard, knocking over stacks of books and boxes.

Miriam called to the power of air. "Force of wind, you will grow. In a tornado, you will blow. I bind your gusts to this role, and place you under my control."

Motes of dust lazing in the beam of the attic light bulb stirred. The air in the enclosed space roused to a breeze. As she repeated the incantation, the whirlwind grew in strength. A few smaller swirls pulled into a dust devil. "Force of wind, you will grow," she chanted as she lifted her hands to control its growth. "In a tornado, you will blow." The miniature twister sucked an assortment of loose trinkets, old newspapers and even the torn magazine pages into itself. "I bind your gusts to this role, and place you under my control." Every piece of cardboard box Rafe ripped through with the club became part of Miriam's storm.

"Get ready," she called over the rush of wind. Then, Miriam shoved both her hands in the direction of the fairy. The tornado spun across the attic, hurling itself toward the pixie, and flinging everything that wasn't nailed down. But even with a broken wing, Joe had the advantage.

Quick and lithe, he zipped around Miriam's brute magical force and whizzed by Rafe's head. Rafe, working on pure adrenaline, swung the club on reflex alone. Missing Joe, he connected with an antique clock. It exploded in a spray of shards and metal gears. Joe flew into the rafters.

Miriam winced and froze. The wind died in a sigh of settling pieces of paper and debris. "That clock had been in my family for five generations."

"I was trying to hit him, not it," Rafe said defensively. "Why isn't it on a mantle somewhere?"

"Because witch reasons."

"Should we tell your family?"

"Absolutely not," she declared.

How her family had yet to hear the ruckus was anyone's guess. Though, listening closely, she was pretty sure she could hear the faintest strained caterwauling of _Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,_ her grandmother's favorite carol. She stared at the shattered clock in defeat.

"Gimme a show and no one will know. Fix a clock, avoid a shock," Joe sing-songed from his hiding spot above them.

"What do you mean, fix a clock?"

Joe peeked at Miriam through a cobweb, his expression grave. In a low voice, he said, "I have a very particular set of skills. Skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you."

Miriam looked to Rafe. "Hit him."

Rafe wound for another swing.

Joe cried out. "No! Wait! I'm sorry!"

She held up a hand to Rafe. "Alright, Joe. You have one last chance to explain."

He puffed his chest proudly. "I can fix the clock."

"OK. Then--"

"For a price."

Miriam sneered. "What price?"

"I want to giggle while he gives you a jiggle." Joe grabbed the air in front of his hips and gave it a good thrusting to bring the point home.

"Oh my God, no. "

"Why not? You want to do it. I want to see it. We all win when we live in sin."

Rafe interjected, "Now, I've had enough."

But, the mention of living in sin sparked an idea. If he was obsessed with big-breasted blonds, there was one company that made pixie-sized girlfriends. That was Mattel.

Miriam wrapped her arms around Rafe from behind. Sliding her hands under his shirt, she caressed his abs. "Prove to us you can fix the clock, and maybe we'll consider it."

Rafe did a small double take over his shoulder. "We're considering this?"

Miriam kept her focus on the pixie. "Prove it, and we'll think about letting you watch while this hunk of man-cake jiggles the fuck out of me."

Joe's eyes popped with all the gadzook-drama of a cartoon. Then, with a flourish of his hand, he released a sparkling shower of pixie dust. The bits of glitter floated gently down to collect on the broken gears and wheels. The parts trembled, vibrating with a high-pitched, metallic sound. They took on a life of their own rolling back into each other as if reversing in time. Wheels reconnected to cogs, shattered glass reformed, and the case released the dent Rafe had put into it. But, the process stopped just short of completion. The face and hands laid helplessly still on the floor.

"You slob his knob, and I'll finish the job."

"I really want to hit him. Very hard," Rafe said, maintaining a tight grip on his wrath.

In response, Miriam tightened her grip on him. "I got this, baby." The next comment she directed at Joe. "Go make yourself a comfortable viewing space." She jerked her head toward the bed.

No one had to tell Joe twice. He made a beeline for it.

Once the pixie was out of earshot, Miriam tugged Rafe in the direction of the doll pile near the golf bag. "He's obsessed with sexy blonds," she whispered. "Blonds with proportions that make zero sense." Reluctantly, she slid her hands off his stomach so she could kneel next to the pile. She pushed aside Cabbage Patch Kids and Holly Hobbys. There, at the bottom, was the perfect Barbie doll.

Rafe crouched. "I'm not sure I follow."

"What if we gave him his own girlfriend?"

"He's a pervert, not a moron. It's a doll."

"Could you bring her to life?"

His brow furrowed as he gave her a hard look. "No. But, even if I could, that is not something I would do. Let us set aside the moral and ethical implications of animating a doll so a fairy can grope her. Using my powers invites the legions to discover my location. I will not put your family at risk."

"We don't have a choice," she retorted as she liberated the Barbie from the bottom of the pile. "My family is already at risk."

"Because witch reasons," he said eyeing the broken clock.

"Yes. I need that clock in working order again."

"Why?"

"I really don't want--"

"Tell me."

Miriam sighed. "Because as long as it keeps ticking, it keeps a beast asleep."

Rafe scrubbed his hands through his dark hair. "Then why is it in the attic where I can smash it with a golf club?"

"We're witches. Not psychics."

He muttered under his breath. "So my choices are live sex show or phone call to Hell."

She shrugged. "Yeah? Kind of? Like seriously, if you're down to fuck in front of this little asshole, I am there with you. We will do this. But then what? He's not going to leave on his own accord. What if he follows us back to Texas? No, we need to give him his own happy ending. His own girlfriend."

"By calling on the denizens of Hell."

"Yes." She glanced over her shoulder, lowering her voice. "And as soon as his tiny face is in her tiny tits, we send him back to fairy land."

The wariness never left Rafe's features as he turned to where Joe had positioned himself on the wireframe bed. The pixie already had his hand stuffed into the front flap of his red jammies. "What's taking so long? I've prepared my dong!" His high-pitched squeak cut through the attic.

Rafe turned back to Miriam grimacing. "A warding circle."

"Absolutely. I'm sure there's a mirror around here to trap him."

"Find one," Rafe said as he took the doll and stripped off the pink dress it was wearing.

Miriam wasted no time searching through the rest of the clutter, eventually coming across a broken jewelry box with a mirrored lid and some children's sidewalk chalk. She brought the mirror back to Rafe who was pricking his finger with a needle from an old sewing kit. She set it down in front of him, and he laid the Barbie on it.

He closed his eyes, whispered in a foreign, guttural tongue, and placed a smear of blood upon the doll's chest. The temperature of the room rose sharply. The smell of rotten eggs stung their noses. Just as Miriam's eyes began to water, the doll sprang to life. Plastic limbs flexed and stretched. The doll moved with disturbing grace with a perfect smile and bright blue eyes remaining forever fixed.

"Holy shit, what did you do?" Miriam steadied herself.

"Just Hell things," he said with a devilish smirk.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Touché." Looking past him, she called out. "Hey Joe. New deal. What would you say about having a girlfriend of your own?"

He leaned back from his perch, trying to see. "What do you mean?"

"We made you a Christmas present."

"A present?" He gasped excitedly. "For me?"

"Yeah. Come take a look."

Joe pulled his hand out of his pants and jumped down off the footboard. He trotted toward them, avoiding the scattered debris along the way. As he came into the line of sight of the Barbie, he stopped, stunned. She twirled seductively, and his whole pixie body exploded with joy. "It's a Christmas miracle!"

He broke out into a run toward his prize, but smacked into Rafe's boot as he put his foot between him and the Barbie. "Fix the clock," he said.

"But--"

"Fix the clock. Get the girl."

"It's a trick! I've been tricked!"

"Joe, this is going to go one of two ways. Either you can fix the clock and have your very own very personal happy ending. Or you can stubbornly refuse, at which point I will destroy her. Now, if I were you, I would count my blessings."

"But--"

"She will let you touch her breasts."

"Deal!" Joe let loose a flourish of pixie dust. Sparkles swirled around the clock, and when they dissipated, the clock was as good as new. It began to tick again.

Miriam sighed in relief.

Rafe stepped out of the way.

Joe tackled the Barbie, burying his face in her chest. Her animated arms and legs wrapped around him. The sound of the teeny-tiniest motor boating nearly distracted Miriam from her next step.

"He's not," she said to Rafe.

"He is."

Miriam shook her head. But with the lovebirds on the mirror, she drew a circle around them while Rafe used his bleeding finger to make warding symbols on the floorboards.

Joe looked up from between the Barbie's boobs just in time to see what was happening. "Hey waitaminute!" he shouted. "That's not very nice!"

"No," Miriam said. "Nor is it very nice to interrupt folks who are trying to have a good time in peace. So, here's the deal, Joe. You leave us right now, and in return, you can take your new girlfriend with you."

Rafe gripped her arm. "You can't do that," he whispered.

"Why not?"

"It's a possessed doll--"

"Deal!" Joe declared.

"...in Fairyland." Rafe finished his thought, but it was too late.

Joe grabbed his plastic lover, and with a devious cackle, phased through the mirror and back from whence he came. Before the pixie could change his mind, Miriam used the golf club to smash the mirror.

"Demon doll in Fairyland is a tomorrow problem," she said.

Rafe crossed himself.

Chaos surrounded the pair. Pieces from broken mirrors and family heirlooms littered the floor. Book and boxes were tossed about. Dust and fragments of paper were scattered everywhere. Rafe reached over to pull Miriam into a kiss, his tongue encircling hers. As she melted into his arms he lifted her off her feet, and with a few short steps, planted her safely on the bed.

"Where were we again?" he asked.

"You were a man with a profound need to put me on your naughty list."

He smirked devilishly... "You do realize if you rearrange the letters in Santa--"

Miriam kissed him quiet, and this time nothing was going to stop her from having a very happy Christmas.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABY

Miah & Finn

Saratoga Springs at Christmastime was her favorite place in the world. Particularly when it came to the shopping. Miah Caprice trailed her fingertips over the antique bassinet, her other hand resting on the swell of her stomach. She was reveling in the peace and joy of her beloved home at the holidays, a break she deserved after the hell year she'd experienced.

Strong arms encircled her from behind, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filling her mind. She smiled as she leaned back into her boyfriend, Finn McKinnon, relishing in the safety she found with him. His low baritone voice, touched with an accent from his homeland of Ireland filled her ear, "Now, what is this, Little Bird of mine? I thought we were supposed to be hunting fairies for your Grandma."

Miah laughed, turning to face him and draping her arms over her shoulder. She leaned up to kiss him softly, "We are!"

"Mmhmm." Finn chuckled, his hips swaying slowly to the Christmas music playing in the upscale Antique shop she had dragged them to, "I don't see any sprites around, just lovely baby furniture."

"Well, since we're moving into the north wing, I figured we should start talking about the nursery! Six weeks and counting, and baby girl is going to need a place to sleep."

"Don't I know it." He rested his forehead against hers, exhaling slowly. In the month since Finn had returned to her, Miah had seen a new side of the man she had fallen helplessly in love with while convalescing from a vampire attack in Europe. The werewolf former Alpha had taken to smiling more, his eyes and hands always showing her his love and affection. He was relaxed and calm. Happy.

When he had walked through the door of Rosie's Diner in San Antonio, where she was hiding from her family, she was sure that he would be furious over the fact that she was pregnant. Instead, Finn had reentered her life, filling a hole deep inside her. He had convinced her to return to her family home in Saratoga Springs, New York, and had even been the one that suggested she move back in with her family. His gentle words and soothing demeanor had helped to heal her broken heart. He had even started talking with a local pack about potentially joining them. Life was perfect, if you ignored the little fairy problem currently plaguing their quaint little village.

Finn lifted his head, peering down at the beautiful bassinet. A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes twinkling as he considered the piece. It needed work--a fresh coat of stain, and some of the pieces needed to be tightened, but it would be the perfect bed for their child.

"I'll make you a deal, darling. We'll buy the bassinet, and then no more shopping until we find our little monsters and get them home."

Miah beamed up at him and nodded her head once, "Deal."

Miah watched as Finn loaded their new bassinet into the back of the small SUV. She felt a chill run up the back of her neck and she turned to look back at the store, frowning.

"What's wrong?" She hadn't even heard him approach, but she was used to that. Wolf super powers and all that.

"Something feels...off...about this place."

Finn quirked a brow and lifted his chin, sniffing twice at the air. He grimaced and shook his head, "It smells like sour milk."

Miah groaned quietly, and Finn looked down at her, worry in his dark eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"You know the fairies we were supposed to be hunting? Well, I think we found them. Or, rather, they found us."

Miah settled onto the tailgate of the SUV, frowning deeply as her eyes moved around them, her voice pitched low, "Boggarts are little mischievous fae that tend to wreak havoc. Doing things like spoiling milk. Grandpa said he thought he saw one running away from the house. I bet they're holed up here."

Finn nodded once, a grave look in his eyes. He reached into the back of the vehicle, pulling out a bag and strapping it onto his back, "How do we deal with them?"

"They're notoriously difficult to get rid of. They find a dark hole, and they hate to let themselves be seen. Some people can drive them away by being more annoying than they are, but we might have to take a more direct route. I'm not sure we have time to wait them out, and I'm pretty sure Mr. and Mrs. Andrews don't have the time or knowledge to deal with the little beasties."

She frowned slightly, closing her eyes. She could feel the energy of the world around her, and the slight waver that came from the Antique store. Miah nodded once, fingertips drumming on her belly, "Yeap. I'm pretty sure that they're holed up in there somewhere."

The werewolf grinned viciously, "Brute force it is, then."

The basement of the antique store was in ruins, the only light coming from the flashlights Finn had produced from the back of the SUV. Miah felt a twinge of guilt at breaking into the store, but at least Finn was handy enough to pick the lock on the backdoor, and they'd been able to gain entry without breaking anything. Still, she hated the thought that the Andrews would have to find their beloved family business in shambles like this.

Miah laced her fingers through Finn's, both of them staring in wonder at the wreckage of the place around them. Miah knew this store well--she'd worked here for two summers as a teenager, her love of old things beating out her desire for the higher wages offered at the movie theater.

"You know, I expected it to be cluttered. Maybe full of boxes or crazy old magical mirrors or something. But this?" Finn gently nudged a fallen box that was spilling its contents of old comic books across the floor as he whispered, "This is fucking ridiculous."

Miah shook her head, frowning slightly, "It probably was like that, before the boggart moved in. I mean, I have a hard time thinking that Mr. and Mrs. Andrews would let anything like this slide in their store...they're both kind of neat, tidy, and full of perfectionism."

"Hm. Neat, tidy, and junk store don't exactly mesh well."

" _Antique_ store, thank you very much!" Miah smiled up at him for a moment before squinting into the darkness of the basement, lowering her voice, "I could probably create some light in here, but I don't want to scare it off.

Finn turned, his mouth stretched in a toothy grin. His normally dark eyes glowed slightly in the dim lighting, yellow wolf eyes set in his handsome face. His voice was low and guttural, more growl than words, "I can see for both of us. Stick close behind me, Little Bird."

He turned and moved silently into the depths of the basement, carefully picking his way through the debris of antiques. Miah watched as he prowled into the darkness, appreciating the line of his shoulders as he moved. After a moment, she hoisted her bag further up on her shoulder, following him into the wreckage that was the Andrews' basement. As they moved further away from the stairs, the dark began to press in around them, and Miah felt a shiver of unease.

The ancient stacks of treasures were in disarray, but she could still identify where items should have been. A section for books, the section for dolls, a wall dedicated to mirrors and clocks. She swallowed a small cry as she stepped over the shattered remnants of a beautiful porcelain doll. Even if they sent the boggart back to his hole, the Andrews would still have to deal with the loss of their treasured items.

Miah shuddered as Finn led them deeper into the basement, through the small space between stacks. Her breath caught in her chest as her field of vision narrowed around her. The world was closing in on her, and she struggled against her fight or flight instinct. It was too small here, too dark, and all of a sudden--too hot.

The world felt like it was closing in on her. The basement, once a place where she had felt safe and filled with wonder, felt all too much like the holes that the vampire had kept her in.

Miah swallowed her fear as she groped blindly for Finn's hand. She couldn't stay here longer without risking a complete breakdown, and she had suffered through enough of those over the past nine months. He would understand, though. He always did. She would just call Andrew and ask him to come help; big brother always knew how to make it all better.

As she opened her mouth to admit to her fears, a pair of tiny hands that reeked of peat moss clamped over her lips, stifling her cry. Miah struggled against the many hands that had appeared on her limbs and face, trying to draw a breath to scream around the block. As she tried desperately to surge away from her assailants, she heard a brief, soft tune, and the world around her went dark.

"We could take her to Him! He would be so very pleased!" A whiny, nasally voice whisper-screamed next to her head. Through a haze, she could hear hundreds of small creatures moving and shifting around her. Terror struck her as she tried to wiggle, only to find out she had been firmly tied down.

"He doesn't want that, stupid! He only wants the baby!" The high-pitched, feminine voice sounded excited and anxious.

"Why don't we cut it out, then? She's big! It would be easy!"

At that, Miah began to wiggle in earnest, her chest closing up as she immediately thought back to her time with Thaddeus. She tried desperately to draw a breath, but terror from her previous ordeal threatened to swallow her whole.

"Shh!"

"She's awake!"

"Shove a sock in her mouth!"

Hundreds of hands seemed to roam over her for a moment, as tiny fingers shoved something that tasted like dirt and time into her mouth. Miah gagged around the rag, whimpering pitifully behind it. Her eyes began to adjust to the dim light, and she saw at least a dozen creatures around her.

Short and squat, they looked almost like toddlers, if you could get past the ugly squashed noses and the heavy jowls. They were dressed in what she assumed were clothes they'd found here in the basement--one had taken what appeared to be an antique ivory wedding dress adorned in seed pearls, and a glittering tiara completed the ugly creature's look.

The largest of the bunch squatted down, peering at her with oversized, intelligent eyes. He grunted at he poked at her cheeks, "You. You're one of 'em, aren't you?"

"She can't talk, Pole! I shoved a sock in her mouth!"

The leader grumbled, and Miah pleaded with him with her eyes, mumbling around the sock. She was pretty sure she was resorting to begging, but her mouth seemed to be trying to move without her brain's input.

Screams echoed through her mind, her senses suddenly flooded with pain and the sharp tang of copper. Blood. Her blood. A memory of her time with the vampires.

"Yer a witch, aren'tcha? Like the old ones that let us out?"

It took a moment for the boggart's words to set in. Her mind raced as she struggled to remind herself that she wasn't in Europe, and that she was at the hands of a relatively non-threatening group of faeries rather than a fearsome ancient Vampire intent on possessing her.

Miah groaned around the sock as she shook the fog of terror from her mind. She should have guessed that Grandma's letter was leaving out some very important details about how these creatures got here.

"Yup! The old man-thing wanted helpers for his sparkles and baubles!" The creature giggled and shook his head, looking around at his motley crew of monsters, "We showed him, didn't we! We don't work fer no one!"

Giggles. Faeries, right. Not vampires. She sucked in a deep breath around the rag and closed her eyes, counting to ten slowly. The fear didn't subside completely, but she hoped that it would be enough to get her out of this mess.

Miah hazarded a glance around. It looked like the creatures dragged her into some kind of old tunnel system. But Finn, he could find her anywhere. He could track her.

She had to tell herself that, had to hope she was right.

The creature grumbled again, sounding annoyed at her lack of response. He ripped the sock out of her mouth, hissing, "You! You speak when I talk to you, little witch-girl."

Almost as if on cue, a vicious growling filled the tunnel she was in, and at the end of it, she could see the yellow glowing eyes of her boyfriend.

Miah grinned, feeling all of her fear melt away. Finn was here. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. She turned to eye the leader, "You're in deep shit now, Mister."

The wolf slowly stalked closer to the boggarts, and Miah was once again struck at the beauty of his beast. Nearly 200 pounds of sheer muscle, Finn seemed to fill the mouth of the tunnel. Around her, Miah could feel the boggarts trying desperately to devise a way out. Apparently, their little hidey-hole only had one entrance.

Their leader drew himself up with a scowl, and Miah had to give him credit. The damn boggart had a pair of solid brass balls on him. Or he had no idea what kind of pain the werewolf in their midst would rain down upon them. "Begone, foul beast! This is our tunnel, and you are unwelcome!"

From the corner of her eye, Miah saw several of the boggarts scrambling to bring their weapons up. She would have laughed at the comedy of hideous toddler-like people waving varnished butter knives and dull scythes, but she knew that at least some of it was probably silver. While they likely wouldn't kill Finn, they would piss him off enough that none of them survived, and although the little cretins had kidnapped her--apparently, it was just her fucking luck to get snatched _again_ \--her grandparents wanted them returned to their place relatively unharmed.

Miah inhaled deeply, wiggling against her restraints again. She closed her eyes, reaching deep inside herself to where her once-dormant magic now lived. She had spent the last seven months working to harness and control her magic, and now, she felt the ropes binding her slowly starting to smolder and burn away.

The leader turned to stare at her with wide eyes, and his companions suddenly seemed torn as to who was the greater threat--the growling monster with glowing eyes, or the small witch with glowing hands. She drew herself to her full height, pursing her lips and looking at the creatures. They all backed away slowly, and Miah did the same, backing toward where Finn was. It was a tight fit, but she could only imagine the picture they painted. A witch with fire licking up her fingertips snuggled up to a monster wolf. Classic.

"Now, you little bastard boggarts. You have two choices. We can escort you back to where you belong, and no one will get hurt. You can return to your homes and live out your days in Faerie. Or my wolf friend here can rip each and every one of you to shreds and lick the gristle from your bones. The choice is yours."

Finn's responding growl echoed through the tight space as the diminutive fairies exchanged looks of pure terror.

Miah watched as the last of the boggarts tromped back through the small portal that her grandfather had apparently opened in the backyard of Caprice Manor. The leader of the troop turned to Miah and Finn and gave them a jaunty wave with everyone's favorite finger before leaping through.

Beside her, Finn let out a quiet groan as he slowly returned to his human form. He stretched, his joints cracking as they settled back into place, before reaching into the bag on her back to retrieve his clothes, "Well. I suppose that could have gone much worse."

Miah laughed as relief flooded her veins, turning to him and leaning up to kiss him gently, "It could have. I didn't expect an entire truck full of them."

Finn frowned softly as he pulled his shirt over his head, his fingers lightly stroking her cheek, worry in his eyes. "Are you ok, Little Bird? When I heard you, and then I turned and you were gone, and I..."

Miah shook her head, wrapping her arms around her waist and sighing softly, "I'm ok. They didn't hurt me. I'll be ok, Finn. I knew you would come for me."

He tilted her face up to him, leaning and kissing her tenderly, his tongue sliding into her mouth. Miah moaned softly into the kiss, sliding her cold hands up under his t-shirt. She giggled softly, murmuring, "You're always so warm."

Finn laughed, pulling her closer, an impish look in his eyes. "Don't worry, Little Bird. I'll warm you up." With a wild grin, he grabbed her hand, leading her into the house toward the rooms that they shared.

Miah paused as they crossed the threshold, her eyes glancing up. She looked back at Finn and pulled him to a stop, "Mistletoe..."

Finn looked at the plant and laughed, shaking his head. He gathered Miah into his arms, cradling her as he kissed her deeply. Miah sighed softly into the kiss, her fingers lacing into his hair as she tugged him closer.

He pulled back slightly, smiling softly as he gazed down into her eyes, "Merry Christmas, baby."

Up Next:

Taya Caprice gets her story

Available January 2017

About the Author

Selena Page is the author of the Caprice Chronicles, a paranormal romance series centered around a family of cursed witches and warlocks. Her heroes are hot, her heroines are sassy, and the spellbinding chemistry that results will blow your mind.

A foodie, knitter, and lover of daring bodice rippers, Selena writes from her beachfront home in Galveston, TX, and spends her spare time relaxing in the sand and playing in the waves with her viking husband and her three corgis by her side.

Please visit Selena's Author Page and leave a review if you've enjoyed this book!

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Carmina Caprice is a witch on the hunt. When her old flame is accused of murder, she wants to be the one to bring him to justice, but even after a decade apart, the sight of him rekindles a love worth fighting for.

Jackson Lane was always a good guy, until he became a wanted man. Now he's on the lam and the woman who broke his heart years ago is trying to take him--to jail or bed, he isn't sure which. To add to his problems, something is speaking inside his mind, something he can't control.

Together they will need to tap into their scorching past and powers they didn't know they possessed to prove Jackson's innocence and stop the real murderer--a being not of this world.

Andrew Caprice is a warlock enjoying his rural life in Saratoga Springs. When a gorgeous woman starts digging into the disappearances of some locals, he wants to help her. What he doesn't bargain for is how deep his attraction to her becomes.

Kara Powers is a small town journalist hunting a story she can't resist. Her investigation into the missing people leads her to legends of the supernatural and the arms of the only man who can save her from being trapped in a world of monsters.

Together in the Saratoga woods, they find adventure, danger, and desires that neither of them had expected.

Amber Ellis-Caprice wants to live a quiet life away from the supernatural and her family's curse. When a sexy stranger arrives in Finger Lakes and enlists her help to track down the woman of his so-called dreams, he doesn't mention the fae hunting him.

Jack is a fae prince bound by duty, searching for the perfect woman to save him from his father's royal decree. Following the trail of an elusive fae consort to a tiny town, he finds few clues and an enchanting, if stubborn, librarian.

A high-speed chase across the countryside isn't what either Jack or Amber wanted, but fate and desire conspire to give them a wild ride.

Alynia Caprice is the officer you call when you need to stop the bad guys, both magical and human. When her former partner and lover resurfaces as the leader of a South Florida drug cartel, she's the first one in line to bring him in. Regardless of the yearning igniting her soul when their eyes meet once again.

Iowin Tintreach made a choice to stand with his family, even as it cost him the one woman he'd ever truly loved. Knowing she's hot on his trail sets off all manner of emotions within him he thought long buried.

On an island paradise, the two will need to reconcile their shattered past if they are going to survive an enemy more explosive and dangerous than the passion between them.

Alynia and Iowin Caprice-Tintreach thought they'd survived enough horrors in their lifetime. After finally laying to rest the soul of Sean Shadowblack, the dark warlock that nearly killed them a month prior, the trip to Upstate New York for a quick honeymoon sounded like paradise.

Until strange pauses in time started to occur in a little town known as Sleepy Hollow, and a certain Headless Rider marked Alynia as something special.

Delving into the mysterious time stops and the equally mysterious rider triggers a chain of events leading Alynia and Iowin back into the past of the ionic town. Back to a time before legends were born, to the moment when the love of a woman for a foreign warrior forever altered the flow of time, of family lines, and the bonds that shape the heart.

Miriam Caprice is on the verge of bankruptcy when a Von Brandt landscaping project offers her the chance to hit pay dirt. But, with a mysterious disease plaguing the plants and her green-thumbed brother trapped in a psychiatric ward, nothing is coming up roses.

Rafe Von Brandt is a millionaire standing on the precipice of Hell until he meets Miriam and, for the first time, imagines a little bit of Heaven. Torn between his past with Hayden and a future with Miriam, he risks his own fall from grace.

On the Gulf Coast of Texas, the two will need to trust in their hearts and each other or else their fiery passion could lead to Hell for the both of them.

Miah Caprice is far away from her family--and their magical talents--on a dream Parisian vacation when she decides to take their protection into her own hands. The disastrous consequences could lead to her untimely demise.

Finn McKinnon knows pack comes first, followed by keeping close the secrets of werewolves. But when he discovers a gravely injured young woman in a Vampire's lair, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to her.

Together they must destroy the Vampire who is searching for Caprice family secrets without losing sight of what has become the most important thing in the world--their love for one another.
