Page 77 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
Dad’s in full Santa mode. Red coat and red hat trimmed in white fur.
“Photo before we take to the ice,” he says and heads over to the gate.
Next to me, Iris finishes tying on her skates. Hex, on the otherside of Iris, has his skates on, and analyzes the way Kris is standing by his bench before he pushes up.
He wobbles and immediately sits back down.
I hear the quickest gasp from him, a husky, “Oh, no.”
Iris reaches for Kris. “Up.” And she throws me a knowing bob of her eyebrows.
That leaves me to walk over in front of Hex.
He sighs to my legs. “Just like walking?”
“Sure.” No, not at all.
“Gather,” Dad calls from where he’s standing near the opening to the rink. Photographers wait.
I suppose I couldtell themwhat my father has done. Overtaking other winter Holidays. Blackmailing people, Halloween included. They’d report it, wouldn’t they?
Even if I did, what would happen? All the thousands of people of Christmas would rise up against us in a furious tirade of revolution? Plus, I seriously doubt Halloween and the other Holidays would appreciate me hinting at something blackmail-worthy, because the first thing any reporter worth their salt would do is dig into that story.
Nothing good would come from involving the press in my dad’s secrets.
Another sigh from Hex. He extends his hands like a man being led to the gallows.
“Bum-bum.” I make the noise deep in my chest.“Bum-bum—”
His eyes raise to mine and he squints. “Is that meant to be an execution dirge?”
I grin. “Just matching yourthis is how I dieenergy.”
His annoyance is almost,almost,seething. But one side of his mouth pulses up and he noticeably has to bite his lips together.
I curl my fingers around his thin wrists. “Come on. It’s bad form to murder guests via ice skating. I promise to keep you alive.”
He lets me haul him to his feet. His ankles sway, but he braces on me, hands grasping tight to my forearms, and I’d stand here forever to feel him letting me take his weight as he orients himself.
I see the moment he realizes how close we’re standing.Feelit, more like, a shuddering ripple that makes his fingers palpitate on my arms.
That grip tightens. Each fingertip through his gloves, through my sleeve, pushes down, ten pressure points that turn my entire body into a wound wall of muscle.
After a strung-out moment of him just making me feel this, he whispers, “What is your preferred form of murdering guests, then?”
Sexual tension,I want to say.
But I grin again, effusively charming. “I can’t tell you that. Christmas has to havesomeelement of mystery.”
Hex shakes his head, a smile playing at his mouth, and glances back to his feet. “All right,” he says, to himself, to me. “Walking.”
I hook his arm through mine. It doesn’t feel like enough, though, how he wavers with each step, but his face is pure determination as we make our way over to the gate.
Dad starts to reach for Hex. To pull him in front, because that’s the best photo, the one everyone wants to see.
Headline:Halloween Princeforcedoverjoyed to participate in Christmas traditions.
But I don’t surrender him. I twist my shoulder and pretend I didn’t see Dad reach for him and my heart lodges itself in my throat.
