Monsters Under Mistletoe

1. Elise

Chapter 1

Elise

“ T urn left now,” the smooth voice of my GPS commands. I comply, but as the tires spin on the slick and snowy mountain roads, my heart lurches into my throat. Luckily for me, it’s just a small spinout and I regain control pretty quickly.

Thank god I have this heavy beast of a four-wheel-drive SUV under my ass. Is my car pretty? Absolutely not—but it fits all my photography gear and doesn’t give me too much trouble when I shoot in more secluded locations. She’s reliable, and a bit of a workaholic, who really could use some time off. She’s just like me.

I’ve been slammed since late August at my photography studio. A never ending list of clients wanting to schedule a boudoir session for that special someone by Christmas has me beat. I’m dead fucking tired. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and how I get to lift up each client’s body image, turning them into some fantasy supermodel version of themselves. But I give a lot emotionally to people in the process, and holy hell, am I burnt out.

This little getaway seemed like the perfect escape. No cell service, no internet, no work…no distractions at all. Just me, a scenic overlook, a cabin with a crackling fire, and a good spicy book.

Sure, it’s a splurge. An ubermodern luxury cabin up near the ski resorts isn’t usually in my budget. I really don’t have anyone else to buy gifts for besides the odd business acquaintance, so it’s not really selfish of me to blow it all on a long weekend for myself—is it?

What I didn’t account for was the weather, and honestly, that’s on me. What part of “winter wonderland cabin” on the vacation rental listing didn’t clue me in to the possibility of some serious snow? The ever ascending road has given me more jump scares than I would have liked to admit, but it all seems worth it when I see the log structure illuminated by the warm glow of my headlights.

The A-frame cabin’s roof looks iced in white frosting. A lamp inside, I assume left on by the owner, floods a shaft of light over the porch. The stream of light highlights the fat clumps of snowflakes as they flit and float merrily to the ground. It looks warm and homey behind the giant sheet of glass that makes up nearly all the front wall of the building. Homey and modern is a hard blend of aesthetics, but whoever designed this place knew what they were doing.

This is exactly what I need.

I follow the roundabout driveway until I’m directly in front of the door. The wheels slide a bit as they settle into the heavy snow. Grabbing my weekender bag from the passenger seat, I sling it over my shoulder and zip my black parka up to my collarbone. With a glance at the screenshot on my phone for the door code, I open the car door into the bracing night air. Instantly, I feel the sting of the cold in my lungs as I race for the front steps, my feet slipping ever so slightly with each step.

I punch the four digits to open the smart lock and turn the handle. It clicks and unlatches without issue, but stops abruptly as soon as I attempt to open it, as if stuck on something heavy.

“What the fuck?” I mutter, throwing my shoulder into the heavy wood.

Without warning, the door swings open, and my legs collapse from under me with the effort I’d exerted on the formerly stuck door.

My chest slams against something solid, and I stiffen as I’m sure I’ll soon hit the ground, but I don’t. Cool, powerful hands wrap around my back and head. When I look up, I stare into the golden eyes of a stranger.

The man who stands before me is one of the most exquisite looking people I’ve ever beheld. His sienna skin is smooth and perfect, not a blemish to be seen. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closes it. His full lips are utterly mesmerizing in their motions, and I can’t help but be drawn further into his beauty as his tongue darts out to lick them.

But that’s when I see it, the glint of something sharp in his mouth, the briefest glimpse of monstrous fangs.

“Oh fuck, you’re a vamp!” I push at his chest, which does little to move his body away from mine. The beautiful vampire gently sets me down right outside the threshold of the doorway.

“Indeed I am,” he says with a hint of amusement, as if my observation is painfully obvious.

I crane my neck to take him in. He’s incredibly tall. The lustrous robe he wears is loosely tied around his waist, and a defined hairy chest peeks out from the slip of exposed dark skin. I don’t think he’s wearing anything underneath, and I do my best to keep my eyes above the belt.

His face is so shockingly alluring I don’t really have words to describe it. Chiseled and somehow kind— which is a trap to lure you in , I remind myself.

He’s the perfect predator.

It’s only been a few years since the supernatural made their existence public. A Minotaur, the representative of whatever government the monsters abided by, had done a press release and said that they were simply tired of hiding. Sure, I’d seen the occasional fairy or witch in passing…but never a vampire, never something so dangerous. Most of the scarier creatures still clung to the shadows, and that was fine by me.

“What are you doing here?” His voice wraps around me, commanding but smooth as silk.

“Me? This is my vacation rental,” I hold up the screen cap of the reservation on my phone. “I’m supposed to be here,” I bark, getting defensive. “I believe a better question would be, why are you here?”

He steps over the threshold as soon as he sees my phone. I try my best to keep my cool in the face of what is surely a dangerous man—no monster . I also don’t want to offend him, because I’m not an asshole speciesist that thinks all monsters are inherently bad. There is the tiny fact that vamps need the very blood pumping through my veins to survive. That alone should be a good enough reason to keep me on edge, right? He takes a step toward me, over the threshold.

“Hmph, well, we have un léger problème then, don’t we? My familiar manages my investment properties and assured me that no one would make it through this storm tonight, which is why I’m here.” His eyes drag down my body, and then back up again, his gaze settling on my throat.

“Unfortunately, I’m not scared of a little snow,” I mutter, zipping my parka up just a little higher, over what I’m sure is a frantically pumping jugular. It breaks his concentration.

“Yes, it appears the cabin has been double booked.”

I turn around, looking at my car, already covered in an inch of snow. I was lucky to make it up here at all, but with how heavy it’s coming down now, I won’t be able to make it back safely.

“Why don’t you stay here tonight, and we can figure out what to do tomorrow?” he says, as if he’s reading my mind.

Fuck, can vampires read your mind?

I arch my brow, thinking hard about the video of the husky who howls with an Italian accent…and he doesn’t laugh.

We’re in the clear.

“There’s only one bed,” I squeak awkwardly, remembering the sleeping arrangements from the listing. No matter how unsafe that drive home is, I don’t think it’s any more dangerous than sharing a bed with a vampire.

“Good thing for you, I don’t sleep,” he retorts with chagrin.

Duh, of course, he doesn’t need the bed. God, could I be more stupid? I look again at my car and the quickly icing road. My tracks up the drive are almost completely covered with snow in the short time I’ve been standing here. I don’t really have a choice, do I?

“Are you sure? I mean, this is your place.”

“I insist. You are the one with a reservation, after all. The cabin is yours.” He steps around me, his hand urging me inside.

Collecting my bag from where it’s fallen on the ground, I scramble in. The room is open, with a second massive glass wall that stretches from the ground to the tip of the roofline along the back of the house, offering a panoramic view. The view is so expansive and unobstructed that it takes my breath away.

The craggy mountains rise majestically into the sky, their peaks hidden by heavy snow clouds and fog. We’re nestled about halfway up the peaks, and off the wooden deck is a sheer drop into the river valley below. To my left, a roaring fire crackles in a large hearth, its inviting warmth drawing me closer. I shed my puffy black parka into one of the modern, womb-like chairs in front of the fireplace.

I’m just about to sink into the plush looking leather sectional when I hear the vampire behind me clear his throat.

“Would you mind inviting me in…?” He pauses, waiting for my name.

“Elise, my name is Elise,” I straighten. “Kind of an odd request since this is your place, isn’t it?”

“Normally I’d agree, but I’m not able to cross the threshold unless you invite me inside. Remember, you have the reservation, not me, ma chérie. ”

“Shit, yeah, my bad. Sorry, you’re the first vampire I’ve ever met. Please, won’t you come in,” I say with an awkward smile and corny hand gesture.

“It would be my pleasure, Elise.” Somehow he says my name like it tastes good, like he’s savoring a fine wine, as he steps through the doorway. “My name is Felipe, let me know If I can make your stay any more comfortable. I’m incredibly sorry for this inconvenience.” He sounds like some seasoned hotel worker or a professional server at some bougie restaurant. The accent doesn’t help that illusion. I hate to admit it, but his kindness puts me at ease.

“Thanks, and shit happens. No worries.” As someone who deals with the public, I’m a sucker for exemplary customer service.

When he smiles and sits in the chair matching the one my coat is thrown over, I take it as my cue to relax. But my anxiety goes into overdrive when I see the growing wet spot under my parka on the woolen upholstery. I try to be nonchalant and kick off my boots, dropping them back off by the door, grabbing my jacket and hanging it on the hook too. Hopefully, the chair dries quickly. Despite being only melted snow, I don’t want to let him think I’m some slob that will trash the place.

Because part of me suddenly cares very much what the handsome vampire I’m staying the night with thinks of mousy little Elise.

“I have little to offer you in the way of sustenance, but I have a full bar you’re welcome to. Veux-tu une boisson? ” he asks me as I double back.

“Oh, well, I actually have a cooler out in the car, but I’m not too hungry. I think it’ll be alright to leave it out in that deep freeze, anyway. My French is rusty, but I’m like seventy-five percent sure that you’re offering me a cocktail right? A drink sounds lovely, thanks.” I’m kicking myself for my shitty reaction earlier. Felipe seems nice.

“How about an old fashioned? From what I remember, bourbon is said to be quite warming.” He moves to the bar with a graceful, yet unnatural, speed.

“Yeah, bourbon is good,” I affirm, taken aback again by the very ‘not human’ movements he possesses.

Before I can even sit, he’s made the cocktail and is handing it to me.

“W-wow, you’re, uh, quick.”

“Let me know if you want me to slow down. I’m often alone—sometimes I forget what it’s like to move as mortals do,” he says, a trace of melancholy in his voice.

“Don’t worry about me, I mean, whoever complained about a quick cocktail.” I laugh as I slump into the overstuffed sofa, spilling a bit of the amber liquor onto my ribbed white sweater.

He smirks at my clumsiness, and I swear it relaxes me even more. There’s a part of my brain that is begging me to be on my guard, but it’s quickly drowned out with a sip of one of the most delicious old fashioneds I’ve ever had.

“Oh my god, this is hella tasty,” I tell Felipe. The brown drink burns in the best way down my throat, and my shoulders sink deeper into the plush leather sofa.

“ Bon sang! I should hope so. That’s twenty-five year-year-old Pappy Van Winkle.” He chuffs.

“Is that good?” I smirk, not wanting to let him know I know nothing about alcohol beyond which box wine is the best.

“ Bien? It’s the best.” He grins at me, his lips tugging over the spot I know those lethal looking fangs are.

I stretch my arm up over my head. It’s an excuse to adjust the vee of my sweater a bit lower, to show off my best assets. If these boobs are going to give me crippling back issues for the rest of my life, I can at least use them to get an undead man’s attention, right?

Why are those teeth getting me worked up? Maybe I’m getting some kind of fear induced lady-boner?

All I know is that the more I stare at Felipe’s face, the closer I want to get. Despite being complete strangers, and the fact that he’s an honest-to-god vampire, I feel weirdly comfortable with him.

“You should have one too!” I suggest, hoping maybe a nip of something brown will relax him as much as it has me.

“I can’t imbibe anymore, but thank you. The bar’s here mostly for the renters. A few bottles stay locked up for special guests, the Pappy included.” He points to my glass.

Duh, vamps drink blood, not fancy bourbon.

“Oh, so I’m a special guest?” I play at coy, but really hope he considers me so.

“Of course, you think I’d let just anyone in here with me?” A deadly grin spreads across his face.