The elves frown upon the idea of falling for humans. But Ivy makes me ache for a companion. The moment I spotted her asleep by the tree on Christmas Eve, I knew I had to keep her forever. Perhaps I was too hasty when I magicked her away in my toy sack. Certainly, Santa Claus won't approve when he learns what I've done. Let the law come down on me. Ivy is mine. She’s simply ... mine.
As much as my humdrum life sucks at the moment, I never asked to be spirited away in my sleep by a weirdo who thinks he's a Christmas elf. Well, Cyran can go peddle his North Pole baloney somewhere else, because I'm not buying it. His brooding good looks, chisled jaw, cozy cabin, comfy bed, and delicious food have NO effect on me whatsoever. I'm getting the heck out of here ... right after I have another snack.