Holiday Magic

By Alexa Piper

Charlie, the only non-witch in a family of witches, has resigned herself to the role of the black sheep who doesn’t fit in. She lives a normal, boring human life, interrupted only by the occasional family visit over the holidays.

But even a normal, boring human can run into a vampire. Hugo might just be the caring, protective, blood-drinking boyfriend Charlie never knew she needed, even if her family will disapprove.

Before Charlie and Hugo can even go on a proper date, Fae try to ruin Christmas, and Charlie finds herself confronted with her vampire boyfriend’s very hot Elven friend. The three of them will have to take a trip to Faerie to save Christmas before they can figure out who gets to kiss whom first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Dec 11, 2020

Book preview

Part One: Thanksgiving

Excerpt: Millennium Brothers

First Draft

By Charlotte Bisset

The air inside the chateau was beginning to ignite with metaphorical sparks.

You cannot be brothers, Laurel said to the two vampires standing on either side of her. You look nothing alike.

Étienne ran his hand down Laurel’s forearm. It was the first time he had touched her since she and Émile had arrived at the chateau, and it made her feel like she was about to explode with lust.

We were turned by the same sire, around the same time, though we grew up on opposite sides of the same country, Étienne said. His French accent was thicker than Émile’s, different, and Laurel wondered whether she would be able to hear their different places of birth in the language, if she knew it. In any case, it was sexy. The way we were turned made us as close as anyone of the nightblood can be.

Émile, on her other side, had been watching Laurel, more so in this moment than since he had first introduced her to his ‘brother.’ Now, he pulled her to himself for a kiss, reeled Étienne in as well, and let him take over Laurel’s lips. Émile moved to stand behind Laurel and massaged her shoulders as she circled Étienne’s neck with her arms. She had to tilt her head back and almost stand on her toes. They were both so tall!

Let me taste you, Émile whispered in her ear. He brushed her curly hair out of the way, and with a familiar movement broke the skin of her neck.

The small, initial pain was soon replaced by intense desire that overtook Laurel like a tidal wave. She fidgeted with her top, wanted it off so she could feel Émile, feel how he touched her, his fingers tender and teasing. Étienne grazed her jaw even as Laurel began moaning in pleasure while Émile drank her blood. Étienne, his dark hair a contrast to his brother’s golden curls, unbuttoned her blouse and slid the fabric off her shoulders. Laurel couldn’t quite tell if it was him or Émile who unclasped her bra and freed her breasts, but she watched as Étienne first sucked then squeezed them even as Émile pulled his teeth from her neck and closed the two small puncture wounds with his lapping tongue.

Émile had not taken much of her blood -- he rarely did -- but Laurel felt a lightness wash over her, a warm feeling that made her want to get lost, body and soul, between the hands and teeth of these two. Oh, she wanted them.

You rush, chérie, Étienne said and pulled back her hands from the hardness in his pants. That would be a shame. Let’s make this last all night. His fingers intertwined with hers, soft yet strong.

All night… Laurel breathed.

He does mean it, Émile confirmed. He was still behind her, and in the process of getting her skirt and panties off.

Yes, but you seem in a hurry also, brother, Étienne said. He pulled Émile’s head toward himself by the other’s golden hair and kissed him, gently but for a moment before he suckled Émile’s lips and worked those lips with his teeth until they were red as sun warmed cherries. It took a moment for Laurel to realize that Étienne could probably taste her blood as he kissed Émile this eagerly.

That is hot, Laurel said, and the vampires stopped, turned to her. Étienne smiled hungrily, Émile greedily.

It is good that you think so, Étienne said, for I have not seen my brother in a long time, and heard him talk much about his human lover, more in fact than he told me how much he misses me. He moved to kiss Laurel now, with the same harsh eagerness he had kissed Émile with. And I might be moved to jealousy if it weren’t for the way you taste, the way you tremble now.

Laurel sucked in breath. Her lips felt swollen. But you haven’t tasted me, she said, even as Émile finally got her out of the rest of her clothes. Laurel stood between the two, naked, and very aware that she wanted them, wanted them both.

All night, Laurel said. She was looking forward to it.

Chapter One

Charlie pulled on the neckline of her Thanksgiving dress, a dress she knew looked good on her, a dress that should make her feel good. Its failure to do that this Thanksgiving was due to an issue no dress could fix. I hate dresses, she thought. I hate wearing dresses while visiting home. The dress really wasn’t to blame for Charlie’s discomfort. She had tried it on before she bought it, and the knee-length dark copper sheath fit perfectly. Had she been going anywhere else, it would have made her feel confident, but Charlie was going home.

The tram was climbing the part of New Elvenswood that had spread out over the sloping hills to the northeast. New Elvenswooders called it the Hills, Hillside, or even Upside. The valley, on the other hand, was usually just the Valley.

Charlie looked out the tram’s window. The November sky was hidden behind a lace-like veil of fog that gave the world a magical look. It pulled her mind toward fairy tales, toward Fair Folk on iridescent wings that made the holiday forests come to life with light and icy ornaments. Charlie looked away, looked down to the casserole of caramelized pears she had prepared for the Thanksgiving dinner. Magical. Though not for her.

Charlie had tried to worm her way out of spending Thanksgiving at her parents’ house, but her father and her mother had mounted a combined assault on their youngest daughter strong enough to render any lie of prior plans null and void. They had appealed to her emotions.

We hardly get to see you anymore, and you live just down in the Valley, her mother had said. You never come visit.

I’m almost done restoring that cabinet finally, and you promised you would help me, remember? Let’s do that over the weekend, her father had said.

In the end, Charlie had caved and agreed to come home for Thanksgiving dinner. She had determinedly not brought an overnight bag because she had no wish at all to stay the night, let alone the weekend, and spend it in her old room, her old bed, feeling like she had when she still lived at her parents’ house.

Charlie put the casserole down in the empty seat next to hers, fussed with her scarf and the suddenly itchy and too tight dress under it. Mom and Dad never make the twins feel that guilty, and they actually moved out of town.

The tram was almost empty, and Charlie got off at one of the last stops on this line, Oak Eaves. She readjusted her scarf again, pulled on her gloves, and stepped out of the warmth of public transport into the icy November air. It had started snowing just a couple of days ago, and here on the Hills, there was still a good amount more snow than back down in the Valley. Charlie crunched her way through the whiteness as the tram started speeding away past her. Her sighs turned into icy clouds.

Miss! Excuse me?

Charlie turned, and stared. Ah, my pears! One of the other passengers had her casserole dish in hand and was walking up to her.

Sorry -- you left this on the tram, he said, and handed her the dish.

Oh, thank you. You just saved me from embarrassing myself. She looked after the tram, which was moving farther up the Hills. Was this your stop?

He had no cap on, no gloves either. His hair was dark and thick, already catching snowflakes like icing sugar, and there was laughter in his eyes. No, not quite. But I’m afraid I had to get off to catch your attention. He grinned. Your mind seemed elsewhere.

I’m really sorry. The next tram is in ten minutes --

No worries, he shrugged. It was just the one stop, and I don’t mind the walk. Are you going this way as well? He pointed along Oak Eaves, and Charlie nodded. May I accompany you?

Uhm, sure. I mean, really, I owe you. For the pears. And for saving me from becoming tonight’s running joke. She fell in step next to him.

I can’t believe that. At worst, this makes a good story. Unless this -- He pointed at the casserole. -- is the highlight of the feast.

Charlie laughed. Oh, hardly. But it is the centerpiece of general criticism. I’m headed for my parents’ house, you see.

Ah. A good old Thanksgiving tradition. His voice sounded educated, warm. Bearing the criticism of our elders.

That’s right, Charlie said, sighing out more icy breath. The man’s eyes were intense, in a good way, and she enjoyed them on her. So are you visiting family as well?

He looked right to where the Hills fell away to reveal the Valley, though today, that part of New Elvenswood was wrapped in fog. I’m afraid I have none left to visit, but I am visiting a friend.

Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to come across as insensitive. Shoot, that was rude of me. And he seems like a really nice guy.

He looked back at her, blue eyes like the sky that was missing from the day. That’s all right. It’s not like you could have known. And it was a long time ago. He shrugged. The present is still here to be lived.

Charlie stopped at Ashwood Avenue and turned toward the man, who also stopped. His broad shoulders had collected a dusting of snow just like his hair, and a kind smile still lit up his face.

Charlie took a deep breath. Look, if you want to, I mean, would you like to join my family for dinner? I know it’s sudden, but it is Thanksgiving, and so they can’t really object. Especially since you saved the pears.

His smile brightened. That is very kind of you, but I have to decline. He nodded farther up the hill. I am expected, for one thing. For another, I wouldn’t dream of crashing the family feast, even if it does mean I’ll miss the centerpiece. He tilted his head, pulled his right hand from his coat pocket, and extended it toward Charlie. My name is Hugo, by the way.

Charlie balanced the casserole on one arm to get her hand free and shook his with her glove still on. Charlie, she said. And it really is not the centerpiece. This is where you walk off, Charlie thought, but her feet didn’t move. Can I buy you coffee, though? she blurted out. For the pears, you know. For coming after me -- to say thank you?

He chuckled again. Well, I was just about to ask you the very same thing, Charlie. I would love coffee, but you did thank me quite enough with your company and pleasant conversation already. So how about we just call it a date?

Despite the cold, Charlie felt heat flood her cheeks. Hugo looked miles out of her league. Apart from the blue eyes, he was the tall, dark, and handsome specimen her sister Vic, the straight twin, had always fantasized about and successfully chased down a few times already. Not that Charlie had any idea what either of the twins’ current relationship status actually was. Uhm. Sure? I mean, yes, absolutely. The pears felt so much lighter than they had any right to be.

Great. He dug his phone out of his inside coat pocket. What’s your number?

Charlie gave it to him, glad the digits hadn’t chosen just that moment to slip straight out of her mind. She watched Hugo’s fingers in fascination. Charlie had always liked men with beautiful hands, and his certainly were beautiful, and well groomed. They looked like a surgeon’s hands.

A muted ping sounded from Charlie’s jacket pocket. There, now you have mine. He beamed at her.

Okay. Well. I’d best go now. They expect me, you know. I don’t want to risk a search party.

He chuckled. "Have