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“Lachlan the vampire?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “The cold-hearted, bloodsucking monster vampire was kissing your sister under the goddamn mistletoe.”

“Oh, dear.”

Totally inadequate response. “Your innocent baby sister. There was tongue, and if it had lasted any longer, there would probably have been teeth.”

“You’re hardly a baby. You were born old.”

Grr.“Hah. So I’m not old enough to stay and help fight demons. But I am old enough to be slaughtered and probably much, much worse by a bloodsucking monster.”

“Well… Um…Put like that…”

She pushed her advantage. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Let me talk to Regan. We’ll get back to you.”

And the line went dead. Lola stared at the phone for a few seconds, then punched in the number again. It came up with a continuous buzz.

She did not want to kiss Lachlan MacNair under the mistletoe. Or anywhere else for that matter. Never. He scared her. He was so cold. Devoid of any of the nicer emotions. Those green eyes looked straight through her as though he didn’t even know she existed. Except sometimes, he’d look at her as though he hated her. And other times, she’d catch a look in his eyes. Hunger. And she knew he was contemplating sucking her dry. And probably tossing her drained corpse into the snow.

“Woof.”

She turned to her friend. “You always knew I wanted to go home. I can’t stay here forever.”

“Woof?”

“Because I have a family.” Even if they didn’t want her. She sighed. “Come on, let’s go sing some carols. Get in the spirit of Christmas.”

Lachlan had apparently refused to allow her to decorate the castle. Not that he’d told her in person, because that would have actually involved talking to her. Which he would never lower himself to do. But Sean had passed on the message.

At least one good thing came from that—no decorations meant no mistletoe and consequently no kissing under the mistletoe.

All the same, she wasn’t sticking around. She’d go to her carol service, then back to the castle, pack a bag and she was off. She would walk back to England if she had to.

As they headed down off the moor, the lights of the village came into sight. The snow had eased off, and the sky above was a blanket of stars. The church bells rang out.

She smiled. She loved Christmas. When she was little, she would sneak out, go into town, and peer through all the windows at the decorations and presents. Her family didn’t really celebrate Christmas as such.

As they approached the church, her steps slowed. A sleek black Porsche was parked off to the right. She stopped as a man straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall of the church.

In his long leather coat, with his dark red hair, and not least the sense of menace emanating from his long, lean figure, he was unmistakable.

She had a flashback to the feel of his firm lips on hers. His tongue in her mouth, his hands on her breasts. Her skin tingled, her nipples tightened, and she had to remind herself…

Never going to happen.

She closed her eyes for a moment to give herself strength. If she could, she would open a portal to…anywhere. And disappear.

But she couldn’t.

So suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, she shoved her shaking hands in her pocket. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. He had no right to keep her a prisoner. Sean had mentioned the dungeon comment.

Show no fear.

Chapter Three