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A tongue. Someone’s penis.
A wave of jealousy washes over me. No, there can be no other. No one must touch her from here on out. She’s mine. Ivy is mine.
“What’s wrong with you?”
My gaze snaps to hers. “Nothing.”
“You had a weird look on your face.”
I take her teacup from her and sip, showing her that there’s no poison in it.
“What sort of look?” I ask when I hand it back to her.
She hesitates, then finally sips her tea. “Murderous.”
“Oh,” I say dumbly.
Ivy hands the teacup back to me. “And it needs cream and sugar, thank you.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, puffing my chest out. “The North Pole makes the finest teas in the world.”
“I would never joke around with an elf,” she says, her wide eyes glimmering with what I suspect is sarcasm.
Put the milk and sugar in the tea, Cyran. She wants it, she’ll get it one way or another. Play nice until you can send her back to America, somehow.
Of course that will involve stealing a sleigh, and there’s no way for me to do that undetected. Vixen and Comet are terrible gossips.
Right. Tell the truth. It’s all you can do.
After adding the cream and sugar, I hand it back to her, trying not to make a face.
“I should have told you everything in greater detail from the beginning. As I said, my name is Cyran, a Christmas elf. You are in my home at the North Pole, and it is Christmas Day. You are here because…because I saw you sleeping on the floor on Christmas Eve and I didn’t think. I reacted. I liked you, so I took you. And now we are here, together. Preferably forever. That is, if Nicholas grants you the same special dispensation he was granted so he could keep his human.”
By the time I’m finished talking, Ivy is finished drinking her tea.
“That is quite the story,” she says, setting down her cup against the wooden table. Her tone indicates that she’s placating me, as if trying to play nice with a villain. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and find the Frosts. I’m sure they’re wondering where I am.”
I’ve frightened her; I can feel it. She’s telling me that people will be looking for her as a way to warn me that I should send her back.
“Wait,” I say. “Don’t go.”
“Good luck with everything. I promised I’d meet the Frosts five minutes ago. I’m sure they’re looking for me.”
Her hand is on the door, and she pushes it open.
She won’t get far.
“Wait!”
“Bye now,” she says, stepping outside and disappearing into the blowing snow.
ChapterFive
Ivy
Who in the hell builds their house inside the rock face of an ice mountain?
The second I stepped outside into the biting wind, I knew I was in trouble. There’s nothing but snow and ice and a snow-packed narrow path winding precariously back and forth down the cliffside.
