The Bite Before Christmas (21 page)

Epilogue

Christmas Eve

E
ven with the additional leafs added to my dining-room table, we still had to squeeze together to make room for everyone. Only one out of the eleven people here ate food for sustenance, but the table was piled high with all the traditional fixings, and everyone corporeal pretended to be hungry for it.

Bones carved the turkey while the rest of us heaped our plates with side dishes. I would have been happy to cook, but oddly enough—and I refused to acknowledge that it might have to do with my culinary skills—everyone insisted on bringing something. Bones roasted the turkey, Kira made the dressing, Denise baked the pies, Mencheres made a Middle Eastern dish that I didn't recognize, Spade provided the mashed potatoes, Annette candied the yams, my mother baked the green bean casserole, and Ian brought the wine.

I felt one person's absence acutely today. My uncle and I still weren't on speaking terms, but I was glad that my mother was here, spooning dressing onto her plate before passing the container to Denise. Fabian and Elisabeth were here as well, floating above the two chairs we'd left open for them. After all, they were as important to me as everyone else at the table. They just didn't take up as much physical space.

I tapped my wineglass with a fork, the dinging noise getting everyone's attention. “I'd like to propose a toast,” I said, rising and lifting my glass. “To family, whether by blood or by affection. We'd all be lesser people without them.”

Multiple glasses clinked together, but before I could sit down, Ian spoke.

“Another toast, this one to the Honorable Viscount Maynard. Though you were a sod who didn't help your sister Penelope when she was thrown out by her da, at least you were a randy bloke who shagged your serving girl or I wouldn't have been born.”

“Here, here,” Bones said, grinning as he clicked glasses with Ian.

Now I knew why Ian had looked so shocked when Bones revealed that his mother was really Penelope Maynard, the viscount's daughter. Ian was the bastard son of the younger Viscount Maynard, so he'd well recognized that surname. After she was thrown out by her family, Penelope must have called herself by her former lover's last name so Bones would grow up as Crispin Phillip Arthur Russell, the Third—the name that marked him as the firstborn son of the Duke of Rutland to the few people who knew him by that instead of his title. Penelope might not have told Bones about his real father, but she'd left him a clue that had taken two hundred years to unravel.

Life was more than rough sometimes, but not every curveball it threw was a bad one. Case in point: Bones was spending the holidays with family, after all. Even though that family turned out to be a depraved, narcissistic vampire who annoyed the hell out of me on a regular basis, oh well. You could only pick your friends, not your family, and through my marriage to Bones, Ian was now my family, too. That was karma coming to get me, I was sure, but I'd handle it. With Bones at my side, I could handle anything.

I touched my glass to Ian's with a rueful grin. “Merry Christmas, cousin.”

He winked. “You'll never be quit of me now, Reaper.”

That was probably true. And since it turned out that we were related, I'd felt obligated to get Ian a Christmas present. A chunk of coal sat in a brightly wrapped box under the tree, his name written in big bold letters on the front of it.

Ian might be family, but he still had been a
very
naughty boy this year.

For more fun with the Argeneaus, turn the page for a sneak peek at

Under a Vampire Moon
,

available May 2012.

“H
ave fun,” Carolyn muttered, starting up the walk to the lane. “Yeah, right.”

Honestly, the longer she was here the more Carolyn regretted coming . . . and it had only been a little more than twenty-four hours. But so far she'd had an uncomfortable meal with Genie and strangers, gone to bed early, got up early, and sat on the beach alone with a book . . . mostly in the shade because everyone knew the sun wasn't good for you. She hadn't been reading the book, but had basically pretended to, keeping it propped on her chest while she watched the people around her under the cover of her sunglasses.

It had been a depressing exercise, Carolyn thought as she started along the dark lane. Watching all that billing and cooing going on around her as she sat alone without even Bethany for company. She'd found herself lying there wondering what was wrong with her. She was average in looks with a nice face, shoulder-length blond hair and . . . well, all right, she could stand to lose a few pounds, but she was average. Why didn't she have someone to love her too? Of course, then the heckler, the voice in her head that sounded like her ex-husband, had helpfully listed all her faults. It was a never-ending list and had taken up most of the day.

“Depressing,” Carolyn muttered, moving automatically to the edge of the road as she heard a vehicle approaching from behind. Unfortunately, she moved too far to the side and her heels promptly sank into the grassy verge, which nearly sent her splat on her face. Managing to stay upright by doing a little dance that took her right out of one shoe, Carolyn sighed and bent to pull it out of the dirt. She then cursed under her breath when her purse promptly slid off her shoulder and dropped into the dirt.

“Pretty lady, what are you doing walking? You should have called down for a ride. Come, get in, we have room.”

Carolyn froze at that voice and didn't need to look to see that a vanload of resort guests were getting a lovely view of her behind. It just had to be the case. It was her kind of luck. Sighing, she pulled her shoe free and grabbed up her purse and slung it back over her shoulder as she straightened and turned to the van. Her smile was a bit forced when she saw it was Adam beaming at her from the driver's seat. That just figured. With Beth's words ringing in her ear the last person she wanted to see was the first she did.

“Don't they ever let you go home, Adam?” Carolyn asked with a forced smile.

“Two drivers are sick. I am working overtime. Overtime pays well,” he said with a grin. “Come, get in. We will take you down. You can sit in the front with me.”

Carolyn hesitated, but then limped around the van to the passenger-side door with one shoe on and one off. She was running a little late and would get there faster with a ride. Mind you, it was going to be uncomfortable making small talk with Adam while Bethany's words rang in her head. Good lord, he really didn't look more than twenty-one or twenty-two.

Shaking that thought away, she opened the door and climbed in, smiling at Adam as she did.

“There, see? It's all good,” Adam said cheerfully, sending the van forward again as soon as she'd settled in the seat and tugged the door closed.

“Yes, thank you.” Carolyn quickly undid her shoe, slipped it back on and did it up only to frown as her heel immediately slipped out again. She stared at it blankly, slow to realize that her foot hadn't worked itself out of the shoe but that the sandal strap had actually broken.

“Damn,” she muttered.

“This pretty lady is Caro,” Adam announced to the van at large, and then added, “Caro, this is the band. I am taking them down to the main building so they can perform.”

Carolyn briefly forgot about her shoe and glanced around with surprise, her eyes skating over the shadowed faces of the five other people on the van's bench seats behind her. It was hard to see much—the roads weren't exactly well lit. All she could really make out was that she thought one of them might be a woman. Maybe two, she thought next as she noted the long hair on the one in the seat directly behind hers, although, if that was a woman, she was one hell of a big female.

A snicker came from the smaller one she'd thought was a female and Caro glanced at her curiously.

“Say hello,” Adam ordered cheerfully.

“Hello,” Carolyn murmured as the riders in the back did as well. Well, most of them did. The one in the back who had moonlight glinting off his bald head remained silent. Carolyn eyed him curiously, wondering if he shaved his head as some sort of fashion statement, or if he was balding and trying to hide it by shaving his head. Really, that sort of thing fooled no one, she thought. Although he seemed to have a nicely shaped head, the sort that took well to the style.

“Caro is a friend of Genie's,” Adam announced and then glanced at her and asked, “You are sitting with Genie tonight to watch them play?”

“Yes,” Carolyn said, smiling as she settled back in her seat. “Genie and a young couple on their honeymoon, Marguerite and Julius.”

Adam nodded, but the sudden tension in the back of the van was actually palpable, and Carolyn recalled that Marguerite and Julius had arranged for the band to come here. She bit her lip, wondering if she should say something to acknowledge that, but she didn't have a clue what she should say.

“We are all related to Marguerite and Julius.”

Carolyn turned in her seat again to see that the smaller female had sat forward in the second bench seat to peer between the two band members in the first seat . . . and she was definitely female. Not that Carolyn could see her any better, but the woman's voice was a beautiful, husky singsong that could only be female.

“Really?” she asked with a smile. “How are you related?”

“Raffaele, Zanipolo, Santo, and I are all nieces and nephews,” she said, pointing to each dark figure in turn. She then gestured to the second figure with long hair, the possibly very large female and added, “And Christian here is their so—”

“Their brother,” the one called Raffaele interrupted.

“Julius's brother,” the woman agreed, and then jabbed Christian in the arm and taunted, “Put your hair back in its ponytail,
cugino
. Surely you realize you could be mistaken for a woman like that?”

“What?” the man asked, glancing over his shoulder to her with what appeared to be confusion, though it was hard to tell in this light.

The woman leaned to whisper something in his ear, and then sat back with a laugh as Christian muttered under his breath. He turned to peer toward Carolyn then, and she stared back curiously, wishing she could see his face. Like the girl he had a nice voice, though his was definitely all male.

Growing uncomfortable under the man's stare, she slid her gaze to the others, noting that every one of them appeared to be peering from him to her and back almost expectantly, their heads in silhouette as they turned forward, then back, then forward again.

Finding it all a little too strange, Carolyn started to turn back in her seat again, but paused as the big man in the back rumbled, “Since she named everyone but herself, I'll do it. The girl is Giacinta.”

“Giacinta.” Carolyn murmured the alien name with interest. She'd never heard it before.

“Everyone calls me Gia,” the woman said absently, her gaze on Christian, and then sounding somewhat awed, she said, “You can't read her, can you?”

Carolyn was raising her eyebrows at the strange question when Santo growled “Gia” in warning.

“Here we are,” Adam announced cheerfully. Carolyn glanced around to see that they were approaching the front of the main building.

“Thank you, Adam,” she said as he brought the van to a halt.

“No problem,” Adam said as the band began to pile out. “You call for a ride next time. It's a long way to walk and uneven. We are happy to collect you.”

“Thank you,” Carolyn repeated with a smile and opened her door. She turned in the seat to get out, only recalling that her shoe was broken when it slipped off her heel and to the side before she could plant it on the ground. Carolyn immediately grabbed for the door to keep from twisting her ankle or stumbling, and then gasped in surprise as she was suddenly caught by the waist and lifted away from the van.

Clutching at the arms holding her, she stared blankly down at the young man carrying her, noting the long, deep auburn hair, the chiseled features, and the wide, deep-black eyes with flecks of some lighter color in them. Eyes very like Julius Notte's, she thought absently, though this man's were larger with an almond shape his didn't have.

“Grab her shoe,” he growled, never taking his eyes from hers, and it was only when she heard his voice that she realized it was the one called Christian.

Flushing under his intense stare, Carolyn glanced over his shoulder in time to see a man with short black hair bend to collect her shoe and follow them, and then Christian set her down.

He didn't just set her down as he'd picked her up, though. Christian eased her down, holding her close as he did so that their bodies rubbed against each other in a long, slow, full- body caress that left her flushed and breathless and completely flummoxed. When her feet hit the ground, the cold on her bare one was something of a jolt, which had her tugging free and dropping to sit with a little bump on the bench he'd set her in front of.

“Thank you,” Carolyn breathed, looking everywhere but at him. Her gaze slid over the other band members, noting their resemblance to one another and their differences. Zanipolo had long hair like Christian, but his was tied back in a ponytail, and it was black like Raffaele's, whose hair was shorter. She suspected Santo's hair would be black as well if he let it grow—his eyebrows were black, she noted, taking in the thick metal rings on each of his fingers as he ran one hand over his bald head. The rings looked more like some modern kind of brass knuckles in silver than actual jewelry. Her gaze slid to Giacinta then, a pretty, petite blonde and the only one of the group not wearing pure black. Her outfit consisted of a short red skirt and white tank with an opened white blouse over it.

Spotting her shoe in Raffaele's hand as he approached, Carolyn forced a smile and held out her hand, but Christian took the shoe to examine instead.

“It's broken,” he said with a frown.

“Yes.” Carolyn risked glancing his way and felt another flush rise up through her. Biting her lip, she looked away and briefly considered taking the next shuttle back up to the villa for new shoes. But she was already late, and really, she was so flustered and embarrassed all she wanted at that moment was to get away from the man presently holding her sandal.

That left one option Carolyn decided, and she raised her shod foot to quickly remove the still-good sandal. She then stood, snatched the broken sandal from Christian's fingers, murmured “thank you,” and hurried away through the main building on bare feet, aware that every member of the band watched her go. She could feel their eyes burning into her back. They probably thought her a crazy lady for rushing off barefoot like that, but she didn't care. She—

“Carolyn?”

Sliding to a halt, Carolyn glanced around to see Marguerite and Julius crossing the lobby toward her.

“I'm so glad you made it. I was starting to worry,” Marguerite said, giving her a hug in greeting. She then turned Carolyn toward the front of the building, saying, “We were just going to check and see that Gia and the boys made it down all right.”

“They have. I rode down with them,” Carolyn said, resisting her pull.

“Oh.” She smiled. “Well then, come, and I'll introduce you to them.”

“Oh, no, I—” Carolyn grimaced and held up her shoes. “My strap broke and I can't wear them. I'd really rather just go sit down. Besides, they introduced themselves to me,” she added in a babble, beginning to back away. “I'll just go sit down. You two—” She paused and gave her head a shake as the strangest ruffling sensation went through her head. Then she forced a smile. “I'll go save us a table.”

“Don't be silly,” Marguerite said, suddenly beaming. “We'll all go down together. We can talk to Christian and the others on their break. Or perhaps even before they start.”

“Right,” Carolyn muttered, suddenly aware that she'd probably have to meet them all again if she stuck with Marguerite and Julius. The idea made her ridiculously uncomfortable and she found herself frowning and trying to come up with a reason to leave. They were almost to the open-air bar when she suddenly realized she was carrying the perfect excuse.

“You know,” she said, coming to a halt, “I think I should probably go back up to the villa and switch my broken shoes for—”

“Don't be silly, Caro. You're here already,” Marguerite said with a gentle smile. “Everything will be fine.”

Carolyn stared at her silently as her eagerness to escape the possibility of having to again face Christian slid away and a soothing calm slid over her. Then she smiled and nodded and allowed Marguerite to lead her into the open-air bar, wondering what on earth all the fuss was about. Christian had helped her when her shoe broke. She was making a mountain out of a molehill. Everything would be fine.

“S
he is your life mate,” Raffaele said solemnly.

Christian tore his eyes away from the lobby as his parents and Carolyn were swallowed up by the crowds. Turning, he considered the group eyeing him silently, his cousins and bandmates. They'd known one another all their lives, but had only played together the last ten years or so.

“Well?” he asked. “What was she thinking?”

“She thought you were a big female at first,” Zanipolo said with amusement.

“Yes, I know,” Christian said dryly. “Gia giggled that into my ear. It's why I tried to read her.”