Page 54 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
“Fair. You don’t trust me, and you don’t have to. I get that you’re here for shitty reasons and this whole situation is fucked up.” I try another smile. “I’m not asking for us to swear fealty to one another above king and country, Prince Hex.”
There’s a spark in his eyes, a burning ember of amusement he can’t fully smother under his annoyance.
My grin widens. “I’m saying we can take it one moment at a time.”One by one by one,I almost add, almost repeat what he said to me all those months ago, but I can’t,can’tlet him know I think about that conversation as much as I do. “Start by letting me help you into the sleigh.”
Hex’s gaze goes to my gloved hand. “And then?”
I wait until he looks back up at me. The impact of his eyes is quickly becoming a necessity, a tangible, violent connection that feels predatory and consuming, sends a shiver walking dazedly down my spine. Does he look at everyone with this level of intensity? How does he not have trailing worshippers foaming at the mouth for him to glance at them?
There’s a moment where I think maybe he realizes the effect his attention has on me. The power he wields, unintentionally or not.
He watches me, a muscle jumping on his cheekbone.
“And then,” I echo, “we take off on a merry little death race.”
He rolls his eyes.
“I’m kidding.And thenwe take a lovely, brisk sleigh ride that might go fast at points. We don’t have to think too far beyond that. Just right now.”
My voice lowers, the pressure of his eyes pushing down on my volume until I’m trapped under that destructive intensity. Hex sways closer to hear me, so I hear when he swallows, a sharp click in his throat.
He sniffs. Straightens. “Fine.”
He takes my offering. He’s wearing black fingerless gloves, totally inappropriate for being in the snow, and I grip his hand and haul him up next to me. He lands in the sleigh and sways as it rocks and I don’t get a chance to move, worried he’ll topple back over the edge—so he’s close, as close as he was in the alley outside the bar.
His body presses the full length of mine, warm and solid in the chill air. He’s shorter than me, my chin at his temple, and it puts me at the perfect angle to see the palpitation of a vein that runs down the side of his neck.
I linger. Just enough tofeelthat I linger, and awareness rips through me in a serrated torrent.
My hand spasms around his fingers and I release him with a lurch backwards, putting space between us so abruptly Hex’s eyes burst wide in alarm. He doesn’t say anything, though, just jerks his hand to his side.
He’s made it clear; he doesn’t trust me. Doesn’t evenlikeme.
I will not make his time here harder than it has to be. That includes but is not limited todrooling on him.Obviously.
The other sleighs are rolling towards the starting line and I grab the reins and snap to follow.
Hex comes up alongside me. There’s a bench seat, but he stands like I do, balancing against our sleigh’s curved front with a good foot of distance between us.
Fucking hell, I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of the space between me and another person in my life. For something that is technicallynothing,it sure is taking up a lot of room in my thoughts.
Hex breaks the silence first. “So what’s the reindeer’s name?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sven,” I say.
There’s a pause.
Then helaughs.
I’ve always been hypnotized by seeing joy on people, and I thought it was because of who I am, a Holiday prince and all, and so I don’t usually question it, and just revel in it. When Kris laughs. When Iris laughs. When I crack a joke and they roll their eyes but I know they’re grinning.
But the shattering crash of Hex’s laugh demands every ounce of my attention so urgently, soaggressively,that I have a full-on crisis. It’s as deep as his voice, husky and warm, but there’s an added layer of roughness to it like he doesn’t do it enough and his throat is unfamiliar with the motions.
Every single one of those instances when I thought I was hypnotized by seeing joy on other people, I’d beensearching,searching specifically forhisjoy. Because now that I’ve experienced it, it renders all past joy obsolete.
Hex wipes a hand down his face and settles, but a smirk remains on his lips, a slight curl, just there.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, winded.
