Taking Down Mistletoe

By Arlene Webb

Parties everywhere, but Alek—security and all-around handy guy—is stuck at work in the department store taking down the holiday decorations. Just when he thinks he’ll escape in time for a little celebrating, fate takes a deadly turn. A thirsty leech doesn’t mind going down, as long as Alek joins him.

Tired of sucking on candy canes, Loki is sick of the tall security guard ignoring him. He’s determined, one way or another, that Alek will find himself lying flat. Unfortunately, a man dressed in black enters the scene and interrupts him.

When the parasite-exterminator, in the form of a dark, handsome hunk, arrives and latches onto Alex, things go from weird to downright bizarre. Did Alek really find love under the mistletoe, or has something beyond sinister taken hold of him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Dec 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781613331750

Book preview

Taking Down Mistletoe

By

Arlene Webb

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Arlene Webb

ISBN: 978-1-61333-175-0

Cover art by Angela Anderson

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

Look for us online at:

www.decadentpublishing.com

~DEDICATION~

I’m forever grateful to Barbara Elsborg, my main crit partner and friend, and to my peers, Dawn Jackson, Laurie Green, so many others, along with the dedicated staff at Decadent Publishing.

Chapter One

Bursting with fruit, he dangled above a smorgasbord.

Dark eyes filled with lust glanced up at him—ravenous—hanging over them, and then giggles, silly smiles, and tongues had at it.

Nutmeg and cinnamon saturated his pores, and the thick scent of hormones tormented his appetite. Skittering about the bustling retail store, mammals grabbed each other and groped beneath his heavy balls. Tongues rammed into mouths, arms wrapped around shoulders, hands cupped backsides while he shed impotent spores upon intertwined heads.

They called him Mistletoe.

He called them food.

The day of celebration passed a week ago. The humans had clutched their perfect crimson- and gold-wrapped gifts, shoved plastic cards at exhausted cashiers dressed in archaic costumes, and departed. December 25th had been a blessed day, minus the tormenting aroma of sustenance out of his reach, and they’d ceased playing that wretched music. Twenty-four hours of silence and then the buffet had returned.

Angry and dissatisfied, the cruel herd didn’t pause to titillate him. Breasts remained lonely, groins ignored groins, and no saliva was shared. Humans dressed as elves had been yelled at, and items were exchanged beneath him in a materialistic show of greed that didn’t involve kissing and fondling.

Opportunity needed to present itself. The hour when he’d be forced into confinement drew close, and if the sack of food he’d been seducing for days didn’t reach up, he’d starve past the permanent wilting point.

A symbiotic relationship between mammal and planta must commence on this last day of the year.

Six-foot-five inches of strong succulent flesh would bare his neck to him.

He’d drain the man—almost—dry.

***

Nutmeg and cinnamon—two scents Alek would hate for the rest of his life. He stepped away from the large, fake gingerbread house surrounded by a moat of potpourri. Many moons past, he’d made a real gingerbread thingy with his cousin. They’d used their little plastic army men to guard it, and no one dared to touch it, let alone eat the slobbered-upon construction created by a couple of deranged eight-year-olds.

Alek resisted kicking the cardboard creation that could hold at least a dozen upright coworkers screwing around after hours. Those same coworkers who expected him—the big guy handy with a screwdriver—to dismantle Party Central, along with everything else.

Well, first things first. He headed for the creepy plant hanging just within the reach of the tallest schmuck here, strategically placed in the corner by the lingerie section. The germ-nut who’d hung the mistletoe had made Alex stand there, holding the bin with décor that disturbed him more than any frickin’ circus clown, while she’d grabbed some latex gloves.

She’d giggled as she perched on his shoulders, hooked the stupid ornament to a ceiling tile, and then squirmed to face him as he swung her down. She’d planted a wet one on him, and he’d yelped in shock. Not at her, but Alek could have sworn the garland stretched