Afterward, they collapsed together in a limp, boneless pile, breathing hard in happy exhaustion. “I don’t think I can move,” Kat moaned.
“You don’t need to move,” Ridge murmured, sounding thoroughly sated. “We’ll just lay right here and pant.”
Kat smiled, watching sparks of magic swirl dizzily around them, as if dancing on the air currents they’d stirred up. She followed one particular bit of glittering green with her eyes. Something about it reminded her of something she hadn’t thought about in years. “I’ve got this memory. I must have been really young.”
Ridge turned his head to look at her, surprised at the remembered image in her thoughts. “A Christmas tree? I didn’t think you had any good memories of Christmas trees.”
“This was . . . before. I must have been eight or so, because all I remember thinking about is how beautiful it was. A green Christmas tree light shining on the surface of a ball. One of those old-fashioned ones, cut out in a faceted mirrored shape in the middle. I thought it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.”
Acting on sheer impulse, she spread her hands and concentrated. Magic flew from her palms, spinning into the empty corner beside the fireplace. The corner that needed something.
The swirling magic formed a column of green light, flashing and glittering. When the blaze of energy disappeared, a live fir stood in the corner, decorated with colorful balls, striped candy canes, and long strings of silver tinsel. Magic flickered and swirled around the tree’s limbs in bright reds, greens, yellows, and blues. Christmas colors.
At the very top of the tree stood a blond angel dressed in white robes, with feathered wings spreading from her slender shoulders. Her delicate face looked just like Karen’s.
Looking up at the angel’s serene and lovely features, Kat felt her eyes sting. She’d always felt pain at the sight of a Christmas tree, but there was a sweetness to the ache now, a weary satisfaction. “I got him for you,” she told the angel.
“Yeah, you did.” Ridge’s fingers threaded with hers as he looked up at the tree. “It’s beautiful.” For a long moment, they lay silent, watching the light flicker off tinsel and fragile, gleaming balls. “I spoke to that healer at Mom’s clinic,” Kat told him at last. “Petra said I can go see Mom tomorrow.
She’s . . . healed.” Kat smiled up at the angel. “Just in time for Christmas.”
“That’s wonderful.” Ridge sat up and reached for his discarded jeans, dug around in a pocket.
“Personally, I’ve been thinking about how I want to celebrate New Year’s.” The box he produced was small, covered in dark blue velvet. When he flipped its top open, the ring’s central ruby glittered in the light of the Christmas tree, surrounded by a circle of smaller emeralds. The Truebond told her he’d asked Grace to create the ring for him while Kat had been busy with the healer.
“Will you marry me?” His lips curled up even as he asked the question, his green eyes glowing with the love he felt.
She went into his arms with a low laugh of delight. “God, yes!” Christmas was never going to be the same.
A Little Night Magic
Allyson James
PROLOGUE
I am Coyote. I run on the wind; I invade your dreams. I know your darkest secrets, your most depraved desires. I know what it is you crave deep in the night.
The gods call me Trickster. They laugh at me but they fear and distrust me.
They are right to fear. I have no boundaries, no restrictions. I do as I please, screw whom I please, bestow bounty or terrible misfortune, as I choose.
I am Coyote. I am Chaos.
Enjoy your dreams.
ONE
I’m here to stay,” Jamison Kee said.
“Naomi stared over rows of red and white poinsettias at Jamison, who’d walked back into her life as suddenly as he’d walked out of it. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans jacket, dark eyes quiet, easy as you please.
She’d woken not half an hour ago to the sound of hammering on her roof. Wrong time of year for a wood-pecker . Her deaf daughter, Julie, bouncing up and down excitedly, had nearly dragged Naomi out of bed and out of the room, too excited to stop and sign.
Throwing a coat over her sleeping shirt and exercise shorts, Naomi had picked up a baseball bat and marched outside.
She’d looked up to see Jamison Kee on her porch roof, hammer in hand, like he belonged there. Julie pointed up at him and yelled in joy.
“What happened to your roof?” Jamison had asked, holding a nail to another shingle. “It’s a f**king mess.”