Christmas Heat

Epilogue

Christmas with Haley was . . . different. For a breed who had never experienced Christmas, it was frankly terrifying. A terrified breed.

He did fine through all the visits, Christmas presents, cookie giving, and more food than he had seen in his entire life.

They went that morning to Sanctuary and delivered cookies. Other breeds smirked as he helped her hand them out. That didn't bother him. Breeds were always smirking. Until they mated.

They exchanged presents with Callan and Merinus, and Haley even gave Jonas a present. After all, she said, Jonas had ensured that plans to rebuild the library were moving quickly.

They visited the elderly, they visited a children's hospital. Not just he and Haley. He could have handled that. No, it was the whole damned McQuire clan, with her father glaring at him and her brothers dropping hints about wedding ceremonies and dates.

Even that damned sheriff got a present, and gave his own version of a warning.

As he had told all three McQuire males: date, time and location were her decision. She was his. No ceremony could make or break that claim. And then the older brother had arched his brow and asked about the engagement ring. Little things, the brother sneered, like asking a woman to marry him.

Hell, he'd heard of it. He just hadn't thought of it. And slipping away from her long enough to find a jewelry store had been hell. Mating a nonbreed was complicated, he decided. It had its perks. Of course, the perk part was being severely limited by family. Thank God the new hormonal treatments he had gotten for Haley were making it bearable for her. Bearable for him was another story.

But when she asked him—she didn't demand, she asked—that he attend church with her, he nearly backed out.

"I celebrate Christmas because of my beliefs," he remembered her saying. "I give gifts in remembrance."

This was her life. This was what made Haley Haley, and he wanted to know all of her. So he went. A breed, his hands stained by blood, his soul in question, and he stepped into a church and found a beauty he hadn't expected.

The entire McQuire clan celebrated. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. They ate and laughed, visited and shed tears, and Haley's tiny mother bustled around everyone with a smile and drinks.

And on Christmas Day, they left. They were all glaring at him. The warnings were coming more often. Hell, he'd faced scarier sights than three red-haired Scottish soldiers in his life. They didn't scare him. Yet.

And finally, midnight came.

The tree was devoid of presents now, but it still twinkled merrily. The fire in the fireplace glowed cheerily, and Noble thought he might have had one too many shots of that homemade moonshine the McQuires had acquired.

There was a definite glow burning in him. And when he looked at Haley, curled on the couch watching him, that glow only heated.

And in her lap she held a small, gaily wrapped present. His present he knew.

In his hand, he held hers.

He swallowed tightly as he moved across the room, knelt in front of her, and handed her the little bag the jeweler had put the ring box in.

"You bought me a present?" Joy lit her eyes as she took the bag.

Noble swore he could feel nerves rising inside him, but breeds were taught never to be nervous. It couldn't be nerves.

"Open mine first." Her eyes were bright with excitement. "I want you to see it. I've been dying of anticipation."

He took her present. He'd watched her unwrap presents all day. She did it slowly, she savored it.

He unwrapped his present slowly and savored her excitement.

The long jeweler's box surprised him. When he lifted the lid, he had to blink back a surprising hint of moisture.

There were few things religious that he knew or understood. But this one, he knew. His trainer had, surprisingly, been a religious man. He'd told them once about St. Michael. That if they were honorable warriors, if they were good soldiers, then the saint would look upon them benevolently. No matter their lack of soul, he seemed to think.

Inside the box was a silver chain and medallion. St. Michael, the patron saint of warriors. To wear his medallion was to call upon his benevolence.

He licked his lips nervously as she lifted the chain from its bed of velvet and released the catch. He leaned into her and let her secure it around his neck before lifting it, turning it.

ALL MINE, LOVE, HALEY. His heart nearly burst at the words, his throat thickening as he stared back at her.

"Open yours," he whispered.

She opened the bag and froze. Her eyes lifted to his, and he saw the hope that filled them.

She drew the little box out, her hands shaking, and opened it slowly.

A single tear fell from her eye.

"Will you marry me, Haley?"

She covered her lips with her fingers as he drew the diamond solitaire from its place, lifted her left hand, and pushed it onto her finger. The fit was perfect. The diamond glowed with a rich cascade of color, just like her tree.

"Are you sure?" she finally whispered. "You want to marry me?"

"Haley, you're mine," he told her softly. "My heart, my soul. Your laughter, your tears, your sorrow and joy. And your beliefs. I want every tie I can put around us, so everyone knows that you're always mine."

She kissed him. A hard, tearful kiss before she jumped from the couch and ran to her room.

Noble blinked in surprise. He stood up and followed her, stepping into her bedroom and following to the open bathroom door.

She was digging through a little cardboard box. Tears were dampening her face, worrying him, until she evidently found exactly what she was looking for.

She turned and held them out to him.

Wedding bands. One thick gold band. The other smaller.

"My grandparents'." She looked back at him uncertainly. "Can we wear them?"

He touched the rings and stared back at her before sighing. "Haley, you could put a collar on me, and I'd wear the damned thing with pride. These? Baby, these I'll wear with joy."

She laid the rings carefully back into place, closed the box, and turned back to him.

"I love you."

And nothing had ever sounded sweeter.

He touched her cheek, lowered his lips to hers, and let himself feel her kiss, the love, the acceptance, the joy she found in him. The joy he found in her.

Haley parted her lips beneath his, licked at his, pressed until he gave her what she needed. What she craved. The mating heat was just a low simmer inside her, but his kiss, his taste was something she would always crave. The wild, hot taste of him fed her senses. His touch as he pulled her dress from her body fed her lust. His need for her fed her love.

She pushed his shirt from his shoulders, tore at his belt, at the buttons of his jeans until she released the weight of his cock into her hand.

It throbbed, fierce and proud, as-she stroked it. The engorged head pulsed at her touch, and his groan fed her need for him.

"The bed," she whispered.

"Not moving." He nipped at her lips. "I've waited too fucking long now."

He turned her, and Haley found herself staring into the mirror, watching his face as he moved behind her. He bent her over the cabinet, holding her hips as he bent his knees and tucked the head of his fierce erection between her thighs.

He'd only pushed his jeans to his thighs, she felt the scrape of the fabric against the backs of her legs. She stared into the mirror, saw the gleam of the medallion she had given him against one of the dark spots across his chest.

Then her gaze lifted to his, and she was caught, snared, trapped within the heated black depths of his eyes. There, emotion swirled. Love, tenderness, sometimes confusion, and through it all was pos-sessiveness.

Her back arched as he moved inside her. Slow, easy strokes, stretching her internal muscles, burning them, raking across tender nerve endings with exquisite pleasure.

His hands slid from her hips to her breasts, stroking them, playing with her nipples as they watched each other, loved each other.

Haley curled her arms behind her, held on to his neck and tilted her head, baring her shoulder. She knew what he needed when he looked at her like that. When the pleasure was growing between them like a ravening hunger, tearing at their senses, at their control.

"Haley." He groaned her name, his head dipping, his tongue stroking over the small mark at her shoulder. His tongue laved it, his lips caressed it.

His strokes inside her became harder, deeper, the slap of flesh, the earth moans that filled the bathroom gaining in volume until Haley felt herself come alive in his arms.

This wasn't a little death, as the French called it. It was life. It exploded within her. It lit her senses with a rainbow hue of colors to rival the brightest Christmas tree and filled her with an ecstasy that she knew she could no longer live without.

It completed her.

And when the barb locked him to her, and his release spilled into her, it finished that completion in a round of fireworks that she knew even the Fourth of July couldn't compare to.

When she could see again, when she could think again, it was to watch his head lift from her shoulder, to see his face relaxed and infused with pleasure.

Merry Christmas, Noble," she whispered, touching his cheek, their gazes meeting in the mirror once more.

"Merry Christmas, Haley," he whispered back. "And thank you."

"For what?"

"For being the most precious present a breed could ever receive."

"Merry Christmas, Noble," she whispered, touching his cheek, their gazes meeting in the mirror once more.

"Merry Christmas, Haley," he whispered back. "And thank you."

"For what?"

"For being the most precious present a breed could ever receive."