Hearts & Wishes

By Shiloh Walker

At twenty-five years old, Holly should be on top of the world. Rich, pampered and adored, everything she could ever ask for is hers, any wish she makes, granted.
Except for freedom—what she wants the most. Daughter of one of the most famous men in all existence—both real and imagined—she lives in near isolation, stifled by her overprotective father, slowly going out of her mind.

The bright spot in her existence is training with her father’s right-hand man, Rhys, although she doubts he’s aware of her crush.

When he’s sent off to deal with a rising threat in the world outside their protected land, Holly’s claustrophobic need for freedom rages out of control. After a heart-breaking betrayal and desperate for a chance at a life, she flees.

Unbeknownst to Holly and nearly everybody else, that rising threat has been waiting for just this moment. If Rhys doesn’t find her soon, her wish to have a life of her own may very we ll be the death of her.

This book was been previously published. It has been edited, but no new material was added.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shiloh Walker
• Release date: Feb 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463255209

Shiloh Walker

Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more...ah...serious works of fiction. She loves reading and writing anything paranormal, anything fantasy, and nearly every kind of romance. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She writes paranormal and contemporary romance, as well as romantic suspense.

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Hearts & Wishes

By Shiloh Walker

Copyright

© 2008

Reissued 2019

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter One

She hadn’t ever had more than a kiss.

It was a sad, miserable fact and one that she had decided was going to have to change.

The daughter of the Claus was guarded more closely than the daughter of the President of the United States and Holly was tired of it. She was going to get away from the North Pole if it killed her.

At twenty-five, she had determined that it was time to break out of the silken prison her father had unknowingly placed her in. It had been done out of love and a need to protect her from anything ever hurting her but he had protected her and coddled her to the point that while no pain had ever touched her heart, neither had much of anything else.

Her half brother, Bryan, was being groomed as a possible successor to Nikolai, the man known to the world as Santa Claus and he’d made the yearly runs with their father from the time he was sixteen. Whether or not Bryan would decide to toss his hat in when the time came for their father to pass his title on was unknown. But Bryan actually got to go out into the world.

Holly never had.

She’d been born at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Day and it had been a hard delivery for her mother, Chelly. Chelly had nearly died. It was the only year since Nikolai had taken his position that he had passed the yearly run on to another. Rhys, Nik’s second-in-command, had made the journey out into the world and when he got back, there had been a new baby in the Northern Reach—the first child born to a titled Claus in more than eight hundred years.

Considering how close her mother had come to death and considering that no matter how hard they had tried, Holly’s parents hadn’t ever been able to have another child, part of her understood why they were so overprotective. But there was a part of her inside that was dying.

Dying of boredom.

Dying of loneliness.

Dying of nothingness.

That was her life. Nothing. Sad, simple fact. Her life stretched out before her in an endless number of years and thanks to her father being an elf, Holly’s life was going to probably be pretty damn long. Days of working the same old boring job. Nights spent either studying, riding her horse, or reading—most of the time alone.

She worked as a controller, the most monotonous job in the Reach, monitoring the children who were already under the watchful eye of the Claus. Once, she had tried to apply for a field position to locate the children in the world whom they were unaware of and her father had blocked it. It is too heartbreaking a job for you, darling. I will not see you unhappy.

Holly had wanted to go into the mortal world for college. It wasn’t unheard of. Many of the kin went out into the mortal world for a time. Some even made their lives there. But all she wanted was to escape the suffocating, watchful eye of the Claus, even if it was just for a while. With no luck. Both Mom and Da had refused and without their approval, she was out of luck.

They controlled the money. They controlled the environome. At the time, Holly hadn’t perfected the magics that would allow her to come and go at will so unless she could steal transportation, hoard enough money to survive in the mortal world and slip away unnoticed, she had been stuck.

Her magic had come to her slowly. She was only part kin and she didn’t know if that was the reason behind her late-blooming powers or if it was sheer bad luck. But finally, she had perfected them enough that she knew she could slip away. Even hide for a time. It wouldn’t last long, she knew. If she had been wise, she would have made her move in the midst of the frenzied Christmas season but Holly had known her parents had enough to deal with just getting ready for the yearly run and she hadn’t wanted to add to their stress.

But now, Christmas had come and gone. Although the coming Christmas was still more than eleven months away, the kin had already begun preparations. There was only a short period of time every year when the elves of the Northern Reach were not preparing in some way, shape or form for Christmas. That was in the weeks that followed December 25. From the December 26 to January 6, there was no work and all play for the kin. On the night of December 26, there was a ball for Holly’s birthday. Then there was the Winter Festival. For those who weren’t watched like a hawk, there was a great deal of fun to be had.

It wasn’t too far removed from the Mardi Gras festivals that Holly read about in her books and the documentaries she watched on TV. Incessant parties, lots of booze, fun for all.

Except her.

She had attempted to have a little bit of fun at the last Winter Festival, attending the parties with Daniel, one of the men in charge of the electronics division. He was handsome, had a wicked smile and his eyes made her burn inside. But when she had tried to share more than just a simple dance, he had pulled away, given her that bright, false smile and then he’d had the nerve to pat her on the head.

On the head!

Thinking back to that particular moment, she muttered, What am I, a cocker spaniel?

From her window, she could see the festivities. Even this far out from the town center, the streets were crowded. As one got closer to town, the worse those crowds would get, but none of the people seemed to care. The Festival would last another five days and it would be like this every single night.

Desperate to block out even the faintest sound, she turned on some music and blasted it. Itchy, edgy, restless, she turned away from the window and started to pace in circles around her room.

This year, she hadn’t even bothered going to the Festival. For the ball to celebrate her birthday, she had gone in long enough to keep her mother from coming after her—one solitary hour. She’d hated every moment and she’d slipped away as soon as possible. It hadn’t kept anybody else from having a good time and it had saved her the misery of standing on the sidelines and watching everybody else out there actually enjoy their lives.

Worse than sitting on the sidelines was when a few of her father’s men would ask her to dance—polite little dances where they kept a minimum of six inches between them and carried on empty, vacuous little conversations without hearing a damn word she said.

She hated those damn balls. But when she’d tried to convince her parents she didn’t want one, she’d been ignored. Typical.

Holly paced the wooden floors, uncaring of the soft, mellow gleam of the wood, uncaring of the sweet scents of orange, vanilla and spice and hardly even noticing the bluesy, sexy sounds that played on the high definition stereo that was built into the wall.

When it came to material goods, Holly wanted for nothing. Her parents doted on her and she was the proud owner of some equipment that wouldn’t be on the market in the mortal world for a good ten years at least. Then there were the priceless antiques— jewels from a Russian emperor, Ming vases, hand-carved pieces of furniture that had graced the halls of Buckingham Palace. She had jewelry that had belonged to Marie Antoinette. There was an entire bookshelf of priceless first editions—Shelley, Stoker, Keats. Her closet was nearly the size of her bedroom and there were one-of-a-kind designer pieces that her mother had bought in Milan, Paris, Tokyo and New York City. She had custom-fitted leather boots, more shoes than a shoe store and she had a horse that had been sired by a Kentucky Derby winner.

No. She wanted for nothing—at least, nothing material. She was honest enough to admit that she was very materialistic and she loved being able to see something and know that it could be hers.

Everything but freedom.

She would have traded nearly everything in her possession for freedom and she had begged her parents to give her even a bit of it, all to no avail. Four years ago, she’d tried to bribe her brother but he had told that she needed to talk to Da—talk to Da! As if that would work. Since then, she hadn’t asked Bryan again. But she’d tried to barter with the men and women who helped her father watch over her and nothing worked.

Over the past few years, all the jewelry, antiques and fine clothes had begun to lose their appeal. She had fallen into depression and her parents’ response had been to give her more. More to the point, they had been forced to expand her rooms at North Hall, the home of the Claus, because they were running out of places to put all the stuff they bought. Holly was well read, educated and she had received a degree in psychology through the elvish-run University here in the Reach.

But she needed none of that to know that she was depressed.

Depressed to the point that she rarely spoke with a soul. Depressed enough that she had turned in her notice on Christmas Eve. She’d been planning on doing it for the past six months and as her shift wound down, she’d gone to her supervisor and handed over the neatly typed resignation.

You’re quitting?

Holly had glanced at the letter and then back at Bouchard. Yes.

How much notice do I have?

She’d cocked a brow and said, None. Everything is shut down for the next two weeks anyway and January is our slow time. You’ll have plenty of time to find a replacement. Any idiot with half a brain could do the damn job anyway. That was what she’d wanted to say.

Instead, she had assured Bouchard that nobody in the department had done anything to upset her and then she’d cleaned out her desk and left. Holly refused to discuss her reasons with anybody. Not her father. Not her mother. Not her brother. Not even Rhys and there was little she didn’t tell Rhys.

Her father’s second was also her trainer. When her magics had finally started to come, he had been the one assigned to guide her and instruct her and that had been its own little hell. The man was a slave driver, a perfectionist and he was one of the few people in the Reach who wasn’t overly impressed with the fact that she was the Claus’ only daughter.

Two hours a day spent in his presence was enough to try the patience of a saint and Holly was far from sainthood. Of course, it wasn’t just how hard he pushed—that was actually something of a sweet release—but that somebody actually saw her as a person and not just as Nikolai’s daughter and that she was capable of working hard.

No, the biggest part of this little hell was Rhys himself. The man was fast becoming the center of her universe. She was obsessed with him and it was so hard not to let it show. Letting him know would be a recipe for humiliation and one sure way to end her lessons. He’d say something to her father and there was no way Da would let her work with a man if he knew that Holly actually saw the person as a man.

Holly wasn’t allowed to see anybody as a man. She was a sexless, emotionless, pretty, perfect doll—or at least that was how her father made her feel.

So she shoved her feelings for Rhys deep inside where nobody could see them. The only time she even let herself think about him was late at night when she had little control over it. Talk about hell—working day after day with a man she dreamed about, a man she fantasized about, a man she suspected she was in love with—and never showing him any sign of it. Knowing that there was no way he’d ever feel the same way about her.

She had persevered though and now she was damn glad she had.

Rhys had asked her if she wanted some time off for the Festival and she’d told him it was his choice. If he’d wanted the time off, she would have understood—and pouted. But he hadn’t chosen to cancel their classes and last night, while everybody else was out dancing, getting drunk, getting laid, or all of the above, Holly had been in the workroom with Rhys…and she’d teleported. Only for a few minutes—from the workroom in the basement of Headquarters to the Eiffel Tower—and all under Rhys’ watchful eye. The brief taste of freedom had been intense and far too short lived. She’d stood on one of the observation decks and breathed in the night air, stared down at the thousands and thousands of twinkling lights.

Well done, Rhys had said. Then he’d cupped a hand over her shoulder and said, We cannot linger, though. Soon, the security personnel will notice that their monitors are not working and they will come investigate.

Just a few more minutes, she’d wanted to ask. But she had kept her mouth shut. The plan to escape had been formulating for years, ever since Rhys had started working with her on the basics of teleportation. She didn’t want to give him even a moment’s doubt, even a second’s worry that he shouldn’t have trained her.

If he got suspicious and started watching her more closely—was that even possible? But if he did, she’d never be able to slip away unnoticed.

Teleporting was dangerous business. Without proper precautions, one could teleport themselves into a river, into a wall, or on top of a person. Using far-sight to assure a safe landing was essential but the use of far-sight itself required a control and precision that had escaped Holly for years. The past three years, she had worked toward that goal and hoped she had hidden her rampant desire to escape from her too-intuitive instructor.

It had been Rhys who had ratted her out when she had tried to escape at age twenty-one and she had no doubt that he would do it again if he knew what she planned. Perhaps she could have mastered the skills sooner if she hadn’t had to split her focus between hiding her innermost thoughts and learning from the grueling taskmaster.

Don’t worry about that now. It’s over and done, she muttered to herself. Walking to the ornate French doors, she opened them up and stared outside. The environance dome, or environome for short, was a manmade, transparent dome-shaped, climate-controlled barrier.

The environome provided protection against the brutal cold of the North Pole. Before they had perfected the technology for the dome, they had wasted precious magic to keep warm and had lived huddled together in cramped homes while they went about the task that had been set for them sixteen centuries past.

In addition to protection from the elements, the environome also protected them from the prying eyes of mortal man. No magic used there, although Holly imagined they could have used magic. It would be draining, though. No, the environome relied on good old-fashioned technology. Generations ahead of the mortals in terms of tech, the elves had designed a way to cloak their presence using highly advanced meta materials before mortals had even conceived of such a possibility.

Beyond the dome gleamed the harsh white of the frozen world. Outside the environome was the frozen, bleak, barren world of the Arctic. Though native tribes had inhabited the Arctic Circle for millennia, none had settled in this particular area. It was why it had been chosen so long ago—the remoteness, the extreme cold—it wasn’t exactly prime real estate.

With the frigid weather