Page 7

7

Shaw

T he fire is roaring, and the room is beautifully warm. I’m on one end of the sofa with Pixie’s head in my lap. Archie is curled up on the other end. His eyes are closed, and his hands rest on her ankles.

Dorian sits in his favourite armchair, watching the flames as he sips from a glass of amber liquid.

As she sleeps, I run my fingers through the long curls of pure silver, and I read one of the many books we brought with us.

Pixie twitches. I look down at her, and she releases a little whimper.

‘Nightmare,’ I sigh, my hand resting on her head. I feel it. Her mind ripples with misery, and it tastes foul.

My poor girl.

‘Again,’ Dorian groans, his eyes narrowing as she twitches more violently. ‘I would have thought they would at least ease up. But it’s almost every night.’

‘No…’ she mumbles. ‘No. Please… no!’

‘Shaw,’ Dorian encourages.

‘I’ve got it.’ I rest my hand on her head, ready to steal her terrors. The same as I do every night. Over and over again before the house trembles and the ground churns, threatening to bury us all alive.

I fall into her nightmares and pluck her from the grip of her many horrors. Instead, she finds herself in an endless field of white. The hills roll on and on, coated in a thick blanket of pristine snow. Straight ahead is a great fir tree towering over us. One so big, I can’t see the top. Her head tilts back as she takes it in, and she relaxes as a robin flies past her. I make the bird circle her head a few times until she giggles. And when my arms wrap around her from behind, she sinks into me. Her hands grip me tightly as she holds me close.

‘Hello, you,’ she says with a heavy sigh of relief.

‘Hello,’ I reply, kissing her cheek.

We face the great fir tree. Archie described what a Christmas tree looks like, so I decide to give her my impression of one.

I make candles appear on the branches. Their flames flicker a beautiful orange. More and more swirl into existence, circling around and around until they reach the very top. Golden ivy swirls around it, and coloured pinecones grow in the branches.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she says softly. ‘I can’t wait to decorate one of our own tomorrow.’

I begin to hum and sway. My memory of a song I heard played in the king’s court starts to play all around us as if a harpist were at our side.

Tomorrow is Christmas day, and I find myself excited. All of it will be something new and different. The finding of the tree. The sharing of gifts. All cooking the meal together.

And we get to share it all with one another.

I dance with my witch beneath our great festive tree, feeling the snow land on our skin and our ears filled with the sound of music.

I don’t have nightmares when I walk with her. She keeps my mind on a peaceful path. And often, a naked one.

I spent the night dancing, walking and fucking. A perfect way to pass the time.

I wake to her in my arms, still lying on the sofa. She’s atop me, her entire form so small compared to mine.

Her lips turn into a smile.

‘Good morning,’ she says happily, wriggling a little so her legs settle comfortably between mine. ‘Oh. A verrrry good morning, I see.’

Her stomach nuzzles into my erection as I stretch myself out to rid my limbs of the clicks and stiffness.

Her wriggling does nothing to ease the stiffness in my cock. And when her hand slides beneath my trousers, I have zero complaints. I rest my hands behind my head as she opens my trousers and shimmies down.

‘Seeing as you spared me a night of horror, maybe I can give you a morning of pleasure.’

Her sly little smirk disappears between my legs, and she takes my cock into her mouth. Her tongue swirls as she sucks and moans. I watch her head bob up and down and resist the urge to grip her hair and fuck her throat.

But she has a sensitive gag reflex in the morning, so it’s best to let her lead the way and take control. Behind her, in the doorway, Archie suddenly stops to watch. I reach over, grip her skirt and lift it around her hips, nodding to her raised backside.

He doesn’t need to be told more than that. He never does.

She jumps and yelps when he grips her hips and thrusts his tongue inside her pussy.

Her moans get deeper as he works her, and I fill with the need to watch her. I scoop up her hair and look as she sucks my cock.

Her eyes widen in surprise as Archie starts to chuckle. The way her body has clenched, I’m guessing something has gone up her arse. A finger or a tongue, most likely, but with Arch doing as he pleases down there, who the fuck knows.

‘Oh yeah,’ Dorian grumbles as he stalks past us. ‘You three just relax and get laid. I’ll get this fucking bird cooked, shall I?’

I laugh as he carries the plucked and prepared bird into the kitchen, ready to put over the fire.

She yelps again and lunges forward.

‘What the hell are you doing down there?’ I hiss, gripping her hair firmer when she goes to look back at him. I will not lose the feel of her mouth on me for a second, so she’s staying fucking put.

‘What I am doing to her is of no concern to you,’ Archie replies. ‘You just focus on your end. I’ll focus on mine.’

He disappears with a grin. Moments later, her fists clench as she grips onto my shirt before screaming her release around me.

I cum hard, filling her mouth as she writhes and climaxes between us. I yank on her hair, lifting her head.

‘Open wide. Let me see,’ I order.

The little minx not only opens her mouth, revealing what I left in there, but lets it spill back onto my cock. Her gaze is firm on mine as my cum seeps past her chin and hits me with warm little splats.

‘You’re making a mess, Pixie,’ I warn. ‘You better be willing to clean it up.’

With a devilishly devastating smirk, she laps up every last drop. Her tongue runs the length of me, and she moans in delight as she swallows every bit.

Her head falls forward, and she lets out a deep moan. Sitting, I see Archie with his face buried between her legs still. And he has three fingers in her backside. He sees me looking and wags his eyebrows.

I lean over and spit, giving her some more lubrication, and watch his fingers ease in and out of her.

She has the cutest little fucking arse. And it’s so much more beautiful when full of fingers, cock or tongue.

I can’t resist and start to play, adding three fingers of my own, and together we fuck her hole.

He circles her clit with his free hand, and her muscles clench around us, trapping us inside her as she cums again.

‘I could use some help in here!’ Dorian complains.

Archie stands, slaps her backside, and goes into the kitchen.

‘No, Dorian! You don’t put it in the oven like that like, you fucking heathen! It will taste like arse if you don’t season it properly.’ He glances back at Pixie and winks. ‘Not yours, of course.’

‘You better wash your fucking hands before you touch my bird, Arch,’ Dorian warns.

‘Yeah, yeah. Alright.’

She slumps face down on the sofa with a very satisfied little grin, and I sit on the floor beside her to sweep the hair from her face.

‘Merry Christmas, Pixie,’ I say.

Her hand rests on my cheek, and I lean into it.

‘Merry Christmas.’

There’s a crash, and Dorian swears as Archie laughs.

‘That tray is for the fire, Dorian. Not the floor.’

‘One more word, I’ll prepare you and put you on the fire.’

‘I might let you. The way your hand is up that turkey's arse makes me think that I might enjoy it immensely.’

‘I’m stuffing it like you told me to!’

‘Well, you look like a mighty fine stuffer, Dorian. No wonder Pix was walking with a limp last night.’

‘You better go and make sure they don’t try putting each other on the spit instead of the turkey,’ Pixie says as she sweeps the hair from my face. Her finger trails along my lower lip, and I kiss it as it passes.

‘We’re getting the tree in a bit, so when you get dressed, wear something warm,’ I tell her.

‘Yes, My Lord,’ she coos.

In the kitchen, Dorian is doing unholy things to the rear end of the turkey as he stuffs it with herbs. Archie is gathering the vegetables on the table, ready to peel.

‘Where’s she gone?’

‘To wash and dress,’ I tell Dorian. He looks upwards, and a flicker of fear washes across his face. The same as every time there’s the slightest possibility that she’ll wander off alone.

‘She’s not going anywhere today, Dorian,’ Archie assures him. ‘No need to shrug off your mortal flesh suit and go into stalking mode.’

We work as a team and swiftly get everything organised. The bird is cooking. The veg is prepared for boiling or roasting, and the smell it all makes is an absolute delight.

I don’t need to eat. Neither does Dorian. But we can, and we do. Archie has the cooking skills. His pack taught him how to use everything in the forests, and he hasn’t forgotten a thing. He made the oven with stone and slate, and we eat well and often.

Mainly, I just enjoy watching Pixie eat. She was a half-starved little thing when we first found her. It’s good to see some curves on her now.

Soon, we’re all set. The food is cooking, and everything is tidied away, so we prepare ourselves for the day.

Pix is ready and waiting for us at the front door, wearing a stunning deep red woollen dress. She puts on her black gloves and slides on her cloak, watching us join her.

‘So where to?’ she asks.

‘It’s a few miles away,’ Archie says, opening the door and stepping through. He swiftly starts stripping and tosses his clothes at me. He shifts with a leap and a flourish, landing before us in his great wolf form. Pixie promptly climbs atop him, and he leads the way.

She’s still the only one he allows to ride him. Shame. It was enjoyable when he let me that one time.

There’s a soft thud. I look back to see Dorian in his shadow master form, his body discarded on the armchair.

The floors groan beneath his weight, and he has to duck at the waist to fit through the front door.

We walk together.

A great wolf being ridden by the earth witch goddess.

A gigantic black monster made of solid shadow.

And me. A man of nightmares.

A strange sight, I’m sure.

A constant ambience of chatter and laughter surrounds us as we travel through the forests to a patch where pine trees grow. Dorian makes light work of hacking the tree Pixie and Archie declare their favourite, and we make the trek back, the tree tossed over Dorian’s shoulder.

Now, I understand his need to be in his larger form. He makes the tree look like a walking cane resting on his shoulder.

When we reach the cottage, it smells incredible and all our mouths water. Inside, I help Archie get the tree in position. We place it in the corner of the lounge and decorate it together.

This is by far one of the strangest customs I have been a part of.

But yet, the most enjoyable.

We place candles on the branches and sprigs of holly and berries around it in garlands. There’s a rustle and a squeal. Tentatively, I look inside the branches and grimace.

‘What is it?’ Pix asks me.

‘Poppy found her dinner,’ I tell her. ‘A squirrel.’

She scrunches up her face and steps back.

And then we see what Archie wanted the coloured caterpillars for. He returns from outside with a macabre piece of twine. Attached to it are chunks of chopped-up caterpillar. He places it around the tree and steps back, looking proud of himself.

Dorian and I share a look.

Dorian shrugs, clearly no deeper in the know than I am.

Then, slowly, those little chunks of coloured caterpillars start to fucking glow.

‘When they’re warm, they shine,’ Archie says, watching them with a sad smile. ‘My sister and I would hunt them for days before Christmas and make meters and metres of these. Our house was smothered. The walls. The door frames. The tree.’

Tears glisten in his eyes as he remembers celebrating this day with the family he lost.

‘What do you think, Pix?’ he asks, his voice dry and unsteady.

She takes his hand in hers and grips it tightly.

‘I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.’ Her arms wrap around his middle, and we all take a moment to enjoy the beauty of our hard work.

‘Let’s do gifts before food,’ Archie says, clearing his throat and swiftly wiping his eyes. He looks down at Pixie, cupping her face in his hands and beaming ear to ear. ‘I can’t wait to see your face when I give you mine.’

‘If it’s any bigger than what you got her for her birthday, I think she may pass out,’ I scoff.

‘Ahh,’ he dismisses, waving his hand through the air as he starts towards the stairs. ‘She’s had Dorian’s trouser snake in its entirety. She can handle anything.’

Pixie slowly turns to look at me, a pleading look on her face.

‘It’s a spiked dildo or something, isn’t it…’

Laughing, I shrug.

‘I’m going to get my gifts.’ She heads to the front door.

‘Where are you going?’ Dorian starts.

‘I had to hide them outside. Archie kept trying to find them.’

She leaves, and Dorian looks ready to crash through the wall after her.

‘Get your gifts, Dorian. She’ll be fine.’ I head to the kitchen, where I stashed my rather shitty present up on the highest shelf. We never use those shelves because Pixie can’t reach them, so they’re always empty.

I swallow my nerves as I return to the lounge.

Archie is placing his gifts beneath the tree, so I follow suit, placing mine beside his.

‘Just one?’ he asks.

‘Yes. Problem?’

Archie shakes his head.

Dorian tosses his gifts under as he storms towards the door, determined to find Pixie. She rushes in, shakes off the snow, and is beaming as she places her gifts under the tree.

And we sit.

‘Now what?’ I ask.

‘Hats.’ From inside his jacket, Archie pulls out four bright red hats with white trim and hands us each one.

When he puts his on his head, Pixie stifles a snigger. It’s a floppy, pointed hat complete with a white tuft at its tip. Like a rabbit's tail.

I look at mine.

It is a rabbit's tail. And the trim is rabbit fur.

‘It’s part of the tradition,’ Archie insists. ‘We have to wear them.’

Pixie puts hers on first, swishing the bobble around her head with a grin.

Dorian puts his on and looks at Archie like he wants nothing more than to shove it down his throat.

Pix shuffles over to me and puts mine on my head, taking time to place the tip and bobble to the side.

‘We all look ridiculous,’ Dorian grumbles.

‘Ridiculous but festive,’ Archie smirks, very happy that we’re all here looking like prized idiots. ‘Gifts!’

Archie pulls out his and hands one to me. Another to Dorian. And a third to Pixie.

‘Merry Christmas, guys,’ he says.

We open them up.

Dorian and I each have a bottle of some purple liquid that shimmers when it moves. I open it and sniff, catching the scent of honey and liquorice.

‘It’s a little like whiskey,’ Archie says. ‘My pack used to make it. But it has the same effect as that leaf we smoked once a few years back. Do you remember that? When we got the giggles for hours. I started making it when we got here. Takes months to get it right.’

I take a sip, and surprisingly, it’s absolutely delicious. It makes my body tingle, and ease settles over me when it hits my stomach.

‘Shit,’ I moan, admiring the bottle. ‘That is incredible, Archie! I have never tasted anything like it.’

Dorian looks just as surprised as he sips his. And Archie is beaming.

‘You really like it?’

I offer it to Pixie, who takes a sip. Her cheeks flush pink, and her eyes widen.

‘That’s strong,’ she says, her voice straining against its heat.

She opens her gift.

‘Oh my…’ She whispers. ‘Archie… is this…’

She lifts up a necklace. On the end hangs a single pearl and a wolf fang.

‘Is this yours?’ she asks.

‘It is. Taken from the back, so it won’t affect my bite too much. Don’t worry.’

I love how he knows to settle her fears straight away. Probably a Mate thing. He heard her or something. That bubble of jealousy pops up again, and I wish I could hear her as he does. That I could feel her. He takes the necklace and places it around her neck. ‘It’s a custom in my pack. We give one to our Mate as a gift. It’s a promise that I will always be there to defend, protect and adore you. You will carry me with you everywhere, and I will be with you always.’

The fang settles between her breasts, and she looks ready to cry.

‘You pulled out one of your fangs for me?’

‘It’s also poisonous,’ he adds.

That makes me feel exceptionally uneasy. I’m not too keen on having something that could kill her dangling around her neck.

‘Not to you. You’re immune from it because you’re my Mate. But if the need arises, you can use it to scratch or pierce your enemies’ skin, and it will paralyse them for an hour or so.’

‘What, because a lethal snake, a dream walker, shadow master and a wolf isn’t enough protection?’ Dorian laughs. ‘Never mind the fact that she’s a powerful earth witch?’

‘She can never be too protected,’ Archie shrugs.

Very true.

‘I love it, Archie. Thank you.’ She throws her arms around him and kisses him over and over.

He’s beaming.

Dorian hands out his next. I get an oak bookmark hand-carved with an incredible night sky design. Archie receives a pouch with an adjustable string so he can carry his clothes on his leg when he shifts. And Pix gets a hairclip.

She examines it, admiring the detail he’s added. And then she pulls out a hidden spike-looking thing. A tiny weapon hidden in the beauty.

‘You made her a hidden dagger in a hair clip?’ I ask, almost too amused at his overbearing protectiveness.

‘You just teased me because I gave her a poisonous fang!’ Archie scoffs indignantly.

‘It’s mainly a hair clip,’ Dorian shrugs, sitting back and enjoying another sip of his gift. ‘But if she gets in a tight spot, she can also jab it in someone’s eye.’

‘I love it, Dorian,’ she smiles, allowing him to offer yet another form of protection. She sees his need to control and keep her close, so she scoops up her silver curls and secures it all in the clip. She then swiftly pulls out that silver needle and rests it at Dorian’s throat.

He grins up at her, utterly brimming with pride.

‘See? A secret weapon,’ he says. ‘Much like you.’

She leans down to kiss him before sitting between his legs.

‘Your turn,’ Archie says, holding out his hands expectantly in my direction.

I have been dreading this. I’m utterly shit at gifts.

‘I made one gift for all of you,’ I reply, hating that I feel myself start to redden under their gaze. I nod at the rolled-up piece of parchment under the tree.

Archie pulls it out and opens it up.

I wait for the teasing. For the mocking.

He holds it up for Dorian and Pixie to see, and they both lean forward to get a better look.

I seriously dislike their furrowed brows. They hate it. It was a stupid, last-minute idea. Then they all look up at me.

‘Did you draw this?’ Pixie asks.

I nod and offer a shrug.

‘It’s shit, but I couldn’t think of anything else. So there you go. Merry Christmas.’

Pixie takes the parchment, walks to the wall, and presses it against it. Branches emerge from the thick bark and twist, knot and swirl around the image, framing it perfectly. She steps back and admires it. Tears are in her eyes when she turns back to face me.

‘I love it,’ she says. ‘It’s the one thing I always wanted.’

‘It’s just a picture.’

‘A picture of us,’ she replies, turning to look at the picture I created once more.

It’s of all four of us. I think I captured our faces quite well. Ashe is smiling sweetly. Archie has a troublesome grin. Dorian is a sultry kind of happy. And I’m looking at her. Content and proud.

‘It’s a picture of something I have never had and always wanted,’ she continues, her hands clasped together and resting over her heart. ‘A family of my own. Proof that I am loved. That I belong. That we all belong.’

They all look at me now. Soppy fucking lot.

‘I just drew a portrait,’ I reply. Damn, my blushing! I’m a living nightmare. Not a schoolboy.

She’s in my lap and hugging me in a second.

‘I love it.’

I hug her back as the two others admire the picture some more.

Perhaps I’m not as bad as I thought at this gifting shit.

She sits up and claps her hands together.

‘My turn!’

I’ve never seen her scurry across the floor so quickly. She gives Archie his. He’s bouncing on his knees like a kid. She gives Dorian his, which he holds as though it’s the most fragile thing he’s ever held.

They’re two little parcels that fit in the palm of their hands. Then she turns to me and stands.

‘Up!’ she orders. I take her extended hand, and she pulls me to my feet before positioning me by the fire.

We stand facing one another as she looks up at me nervously.

The two others aren’t opening their gifts yet but instead watching us.

‘My gift is kinda, especially for you,’ she says. ‘I spoke to them about it, and they agreed.’

Archie and Dorian are watching with grins.

‘What is it?’

Slowly, she kneels.

‘Oh. Okay then.’ I go to undo my flies. I’m good for her to suck my cock again if she likes.

But she slaps my hand away and tuts before pulling out my gift. It’s the same size and shape as theirs.

I open it.

Sitting in the leaf wrapping is a ring made of deep gold wood. In the band is glowing amber, swirling like waves washing upon the shore.

I look from the ring to her. On one knee.

All I do is frown down at her. That’s all I can think of to do.

Because… I’m confused.

She takes a deep and readying breath. ‘I share a link with Dorian. Part of me lives in him, and it always will. He feels my emotions, and we’re connected in a deeply spiritual way. I’m Archie’s Mate. We can speak with our minds, and we’ll need one another until the day one of us dies.’ She takes the ring from my palm. ‘In my coven, there is a way to share magics. To create an eternal connection with another. To belong to a person. A wiccan vow slightly differs from the one the king would have made us do. It’s less a legality and more of a connection. You would be able to feel the earth a little like I do and tap into it a fraction. Not as much as me, but a little. There’s also a way to remove the pain from the other if you want. It was supposed to help share the burden of childbirth,’ she giggles. ‘But that’s not exactly a problem we need to worry about. So I wondered if maybe…’

I swallow dryly as she finds her words.

‘Maybe, what?’ I ask.

‘Will you marry me?’

‘Pixie… I…’

‘I know the first time we were engaged, it wasn’t ideal. I didn’t want to marry you, and you didn’t want to marry me. We were being forced to by the king and you had no intentions of going through with it. I had a crazy ex, and you were secretly planning to kill me or whatever.’

‘Pixie…’

‘But now all I can think about is being connected to all three of you in every way possible. So, although I love all three of you, I want you to be my husband.’ She rests the ring on my finger. ‘Will you marry me?’

Of all times, now is the moment I lose the ability to fucking speak. Now is the time I forget to breathe. To move. To tell my face that I’m not about to slaughter a threat.

She looks up at me, growing upset as I glare at her.

Silently. Like a psychopath.

‘You can say no. I just thought…’ She gets up, and I continue staring at her, frozen in time. ‘I’ll give you a blow job if you prefer. It was a stupid idea.’

She goes to take the ring back. I grip her wrist in a quick motion that startles her and hold it so tightly that it would have snapped if she were human.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, the hurt in her voice making it tremble. ‘It was a terrible idea.’

‘If you take that ring back, Pixie, I will break your fucking hand.’

A strange and unsuitably violent statement to make to the woman who is asking you to be her husband, but that’s what comes out. And I mean every word. I will tear her arm off rather than allow her to rescind her offer. But she’s my Pixie through and through, and she smiles at my violent threat.

‘Put that ring on me right fucking now, Pixie. You’re my wife in every way but this anyway, so make it official. You’re not leaving this spot until you do.’

I ease up on my grip and her smile blossoms.

‘And I want the lot. I want to take your pain. To tap into your magic so I understand how you feel. You don’t have a choice now you’ve asked. I’m a “Give me everything I want, or I’ll take it anyway” kinda monster.’

And I know that she’s delighted that I’ve made that perfectly clear.

She places the ring on my finger and mutters some words in her witchy dialect. A deep purple light begins to glow between our palms and travels up our arms, shimmering in our veins. Dark lines spread around her eyes, and their blacks glow a vivid purple.

It reminds me of Athir. An unsettling thought, considering that the last time a powerful witch like this existed, he was captured and trapped by a coven so they could steal his magic. And he went mad and swore to destroy everyone.

But she lifts her gaze, and anything from Athir is gone. Sure, she’s still glowing and veiny, but she’s mine.

‘Do you accept me as your eternally bound wife?’

‘Always.’

She waits, her brow raised.

‘You need to ask her, Shaw,’ Archie adds.

‘Oh. Right. Do you accept me as your eternally bound husband?’

‘Always,’ she replies.

When our hands part, the glow fades. But the power lingers like pins and needles under my skin. Pix takes my hand and rests it on the wall of our home. She waits, looking at me expectantly.

Then I feel it. Warm and tingling. Like a force or movement under my skin.

I look at the bark, and tiny buds start to grow around my hand.

Now I understand why she loves her earth magic so much. I am envious if this is what she feels every time she connects to it, and this is just a fraction of what she feels.

‘How does it feel?’ Dorian asks.

‘Like life.’ I lean into her, my forehead resting against hers. Finally, I own a piece of her no one else can touch.

She is my wife.

Mine.

Dorian and Archie open their small gifts. They, too, have wedding bands.

‘We’re official side pieces,’ Archie says, showing me his. ‘Look. She carved a little wolf into mine. And a giant shadow dick into Dorian’s.’

‘I carved wings into his,’ she scoffs. ‘Maybe I should have done a dick.’

‘I’m good with wings, Poppet. Thanks,’ Dorian grunts back.

‘And on that note, I think it’s time to eat.’ Archie heads into the kitchen. Dorian follows.

And I kiss my wife by the fire, standing beneath the picture of our family, with our Christmas tree glimmering with hacked-up caterpillars just off to the side.