Not His Christmas (Not This Series Book 4) by Annie Nicholas

Author:Annie Nicholas
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2017-11-25T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Eoin had antique, half-lit lights that were temperamental at best and a bare Christmas tree. The Christmas spirit was not strong with him this morning. But after Angie’s confession last night, he was more determined than ever to make this holiday special. However, finding his Christmas tree decorations would be helpful.

This was the third and last attic Eoin had torn apart this morning. They had to be in here. There was nowhere else to search.

He opened a cracked leather trunk. Thick velvet suits were nicely folded among some ruffled white shirts. His old squire must have packed this one. It was too neat for it to have been Eoin. Soft material rubbed over his rough palm. Mmm…it felt good, but he did not miss the foppish style. The jeans and T-shirts of this age were much more convenient and durable. He moved to the next box, this one made of cardboard, and yanked it open. More clothes. He lifted the box and tossed it over his head against the wall. He really needed to donate some of this stuff.

The flashlight beam landed on a wreath with holly leaves at the back of this tower’s attic. Now that had possibilities. He jumped to his feet and shoved his way through discarded boxes and furniture he’d collected over the years, toward his goal. A silken spider web pressed against his face and he stumbled back in surprise. He brushed the impressive construct off his face and noticed the large eight-legged arachnid slowly lowering from the ceiling. It was easily half the size of his hand.

The queen motherfucker of spiders.

“I didn’t mean to destroy your home.” He allowed the spider to land on his palm. As one predator to another, he offered it a piece of advice. “We best find you a new home. If Angie spots you, she will introduce you to her boot.”

Eoin carried the spider all the way out of the castle into his stables—AKA, the garage. He set her loose on the windowsill.

The bite of winter was in the air but everything was brown. It looked like Halloween, not Christmas. The bare tree limbs reached up to the clear blue sky as dead leaves swirled among the trunks and across the courtyard. Christmas was tomorrow and there was no snow. The unusual warm weather dampened his own enthusiasm. As a hatchling, he had learned to use his fire with snow to create ice sculptures for the winter celebration his clan held every year. Dragons didn’t call it Christmas, but the heart of the holiday was similar. The three Fs—family, fun, and food.

Maybe he should respect Angie’s wish and skip Christmas. He didn’t want her to revisit bad memories or cause her further grief.

The dancing leaves settled against the wall of his garage.

No.

Angie had a family to celebrate with now. She needed to create new memories. For that to happen, they needed snow. A white Christmas. He could make that happen since he knew who to bribe.

He grabbed the

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