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A hand stroked his hair, and he closed his eyes.

“Happy Christmas,” she murmured.

Chapter Ten

He was heavy.

Had he passed out? Was he asleep? Did vampires sleep? Didn’t they just die?Ugh.

She had a dead body on top of her.

She shoved hard, and he groaned, then rolled off, and she managed to scramble out from under him. She was naked and sticky and moreUgh.

Except it had been magical.

She grabbed the duvet from the floor and wrapped it around herself, then sat on the chair opposite and studied him.

She could feel herself softening again. How did he do that? She hardened her heart. It was no good sitting here, thinking sappy thoughts about happily ever after. She wasn’t sure such a thing existed. And she was convinced Lachlan didn’t believe in love. And if he did, he’d made it very clear that she was everything he did not want in a woman. Except for sex.

Needy!

She sniffed.

She was so not needy. Well, maybe she was a little bit needy, but she did not needhim. He was, in fact, everything she did not need.

But she had wanted him. Desperately. Just once, before he found a way to rid himself of her entirely. She blamed it on the vision of them kissing under the mistletoe. It had fixated her brain on the very thing it should have warned her about.

And there was no point in going all soppy and pretending she’d given herself as some sort of Christmas present.

Besides, it wasn’t Christmas.

And maybe it never would be.

How long had it been since she’d stopped the world? Hours. Midnight would have passed, and it should be Christmas day. But it wasn’t, because she had used the Earth magic and stopped the world. If Christmas never came, then that would be down to her. Because she had no clue how to start it up again. Santa Claus was probably frozen in time, stuck forever, halfway down someone’s chimney.

That was sad.

She needed something to wear. Lachlan had dropped her clothes in a pile where he had stripped her. She shuffled over. They were still damp—he was so undomesticated. So was she; another reason they would never suit. One person per couple had to be housebroken. She picked them up, shook them out and lay them on the back of the chair to dry before putting another log on the fire.

He was still lying, unmoving on the sofa. Naked and beautiful, like a marble statue. Though he wasn’t perfect; he had scars. A slash across his chest. A puckered hole in his shoulder. Had they been made before he was changed? He’d had such a hard life. She remembered the little boy from the vision. Too thin and terrified, yet trying to pretend he wasn’t so his sisters wouldn’t be scared. Providing for his family when he was only eight. She sniffed again.

She’d had too much wine; it was making her emotional.

She shuffled out of the room into a hallway. An open door at one end led to the kitchen. She went the other way and peered into a bedroom. The duvet was missing. A big dark wood wardrobe stood against the far wall, and she opened it. Men’s clothes. A big man. She selected a black shirt. It felt like silk, and she dropped the duvet and pulled it on. It reached to her knees. She buttoned it up. Next, she went to the kitchen. She stared out of the window, but nothing moved. Red and silver lights twinkled on the trees lining the path from the wooden gate. She’d been in no position to notice when Lachlan had brought her in here. They were pretty.

Who lived here? A man obviously. A big man who liked Christmas decorations and good red wine. Maybe, if the world ever started again, she should introduce herself.

In the kitchen, she turned on the coffee maker. Found bread and peanut butter and made herself a sandwich, then wandered back into the sitting room. She came to a halt. He was awake. Standing by the window, peering out, he’d pulled on his jeans but was otherwise naked. He cast her a wary glance.

She swallowed. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to ask you to marry me or anything.”

He raked his hair back from his face. “Good.” But he didn’t sound happy. His gaze dropped down over her, lingering on her breasts under the thin silk and her nipples tightened. Again.

She hurried across, sat down and pulled the shirt over her knees. Took another bite and chewed while Lachlan paced the room, all half-naked pent-up energy. A…sulky expression on his face.

“How old were you when you were…changed?” she asked.

He stopped and turned to look at her. Hands shoved in his pockets. “Why?”