Bad Santa (Paranormal Christmas elves Romance) (Paranormal Protection Agency Book 13) Read online

  Curiosity filled her. “If you’re not a pixie, what are you?”

  His lip quirk broadened to a grin. A dangerous one. “Something that can play chicken with a pixie army and come out the winner.”

  Riiiiiight. Joy just nodded, not offering comment, and transferred her attention to Iliona. They’d been talking on the phone since Joy’s husband—Andri—had died, and she trusted the woman, even though she was human.

  “Honestly,” Iliona was quick to assure her, “Nick is one of our best operatives. He’s successfully protected many high profile targets.”

  Joy slid into the seat the newly named Nick held out for her with a small smile of thanks. As dangerous as he looked, she wasn’t convinced. “High profile is one thing. I’m sure rock stars and actors, even paranormal ones, have their fair share of nut jobs, but the pixie world is different…”

  She paused for a moment to indicate the room around them, pointing out the fact they met in secret in the back room of a brothel in the sleazy part of the city. “For us, might makes right, and believe me, my enemies will not hesitate to slaughter anyone who stands at my side.”

  That was the crux of it. The death of her husband, which was a gods-given relief, had caused a whole new set of problems. All his warriors had had an eye on her bed since before his corpse had cooled, looking to take his place as warlord. She wasn’t so naive to believe that once they’d secured his widow and his title, she would survive long. That wasn’t how things worked. Apart from a few notable exceptions, women in the pixie world were commodities to be used, bartered and sold. Then disposed of when no longer needed.

  Her lips compressed into a thin line. She planned to change all that, for the Krasniqi women at least. If she survived, that was… something she wasn’t entirely sure of, not even with this hot pseudo-pixie by her side. He couldn’t be nearly as dangerous as he appeared, but she sure as hell hoped he was. Or they were both dead.

  “Cards on the table. I need to take this operation apart from the inside before they get to me. It’s a one shot deal. Once I’m… gone, leadership of the clan will pass on.” She paused for a moment, a shudder running up her spine at the thought of who would take over after her. None of the options were good. “And when that happens, the shit will really hit the fan. You think it’s bad now? It will get worse. Much worse.”

  Silence followed her dire warning and she levelled a direct look at the two of them. “I understand the PPA’s position on wanting to clear up crime in the city, but you need to think long and hard about whether you want to get into bed with me… It will be dangerous, and it’s more than possible you could die, Nick.”

  For an answer he stood, rising from his chair opposite with the sort of grace that was nowhere near human, or pixie, or anything she’d ever seen. The lights in the room dimmed as the shadows gathered around him in a chaotic maelstrom that was hard to look at, and a breeze kicked up from nowhere to whip her hair back from her face. It made her think of feral nights and flying through the darkness.

  Then it was gone as soon as it had arrived and Nick dropped back down into his seat with a shrug. “Don’t worry. I can handle anything they throw at me.” A wicked little grin curved his full lips. “And any time you want me in bed with you, just say the word, darlin’ and I’m there…”

  Iliona coughed softly. “Yeah, about that. It might be sooner than you think, and purely platonic,” she added, shooting a glance sideways at Nick.

  “Excuse me?” Joy blinked in surprise, wondering what the woman was talking about now.

  Iliona smiled, but the expression was professional as she opened the file on the table in front of her. “You called in the PPA and this is what we do, deal with sticky situations like this. And in this case, I think it would be best if Nick posed as your new from-out-of-town lover. Now, let’s talk specifics, shall we?”

  Joy nodded silently, reaching out for the papers Iliona handed over, but her attention was all on the tall, handsome as hell, guy on the other side of the table. He was posing as her lover…

  Oh shit. She was so screwed.

  Frost’s daughter was ohmygod fuckable.

  Nick slid a sideways glance at her as they drove back across town to the Krasniqi mansion. She was silent now, but her drive and determination in the meeting with Iliona had impressed him. More than impressed him. He didn’t know of many women who would willingly put themselves on the line to bring down a criminal empire… even a human one, never mind a pixie one. Especially when doing so would paint a fuck-off big target on her back.

  Beautiful, sexy, intelligent… Any other job and he’d have been thanking any gods that were listening, but this wasn’t just any other job. For her, this was a life or death thing, and he could sense her nerves and agitation the closer they got to the Krasniqi place.

  Unable to help himself, he reached out and put a hand on her arm, squeezing it reassuringly. He might be a hard-nosed pain in the ass most of the time but he wasn’t a complete asshole. Her distress didn’t sit well with him, protective instincts poking their heads up from where he’d buried them to insist he take her in his arms and make everything better.

  He told them to fuck off, but his hand stayed where it was.

  “You’ll be fine. I promise,” he heard himself saying. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She nodded, releasing her breath on a shuddering sigh. The pulse in her neck beat frantically, and for an instant, all he could think of was leaning over and covering it with his lips.

  Shaking his head, he banished the temptation. It was a bad idea. For one thing he was driving and for another, she’d probably freak the hell out and try to batter him to death. Or stab him through the heart. He hadn’t missed the fact she was carrying a blade. A spelled one by the feel of it.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, covering his hand with hers. A tingle whispered over his skin, bringing him instantly to attention. He smothered his gasp, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. It was like every cell in his body was suddenly attuned to her. How the hell had she managed that?

  “You’re not just a pixie, are you?” he asked gruffly, easily maneuvering the big car through traffic. Truth be told, it didn’t take a lot of driving. His transport throughout the ages, it had been many things… more recently a sleigh and a car… and it was perfectly capable of driving itself should it need to. Many times it had when he was too drunk to safely get himself home.

  Ironic. Santa could, and did, get pissed. On a regular basis.

  She shot him a sharp look. “How did you know that?”

  He let go of her arm to tap the side of his nose. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

  “Hmm, the PPA’s investigative techniques are better than I’d thought.” She shrugged. “I don’t go advertising it but no, I’m only half pixie.”

  The car took a fast turn left, forcing her to grab for the oh-shit handle. Nick suppressed a little smile at the irritated look she shot him.

  “What’s the other half?”

  The question sounded innocuous, but he already knew the answer. She was that bastard Jack Frost’s kid, so she was half-old, old magic… actually, he wasn’t even sure what kind of creature Frost was. He was like Nick himself, a being formed through myth and legend, and he’d had many forms over the years.

  “I have no idea,” she replied, her tone saying she was bored with the conversation. “My bio-dad didn’t stick around long enough for Mom to find out, so I’m assuming plain old human.”

  The fuck was she human…but he didn’t let her in on the fact he knew that. Quite what she was playing at, pretending she didn’t know who her real father was, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter though. She was still his way in.

  “I mean it though. Thank you.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t catch it as they swung into the driveway of the Krasniqi Mansion.

  “For what?” He kept his eye on the building ahead as they approached. Mansion was the right word for it, but he was
more interested in the guards at the door, on the roof, and what kind of security system was in place.

  “For putting your life on the line to protect me. I don’t think your boss quite gets how dangerous it is walking into a pixie barrow.”

  He smiled at her as they pulled up outside the main doors and then cut the engine.

  “It’s my job to keep you safe, my lady…” at least long enough to draw your bastard of a father out of hiding.

  Keeping the last part to himself, he levered himself out of the low-slung vehicle and rounded the hood to open her door. Extending a hand, he helped her out, murmuring, “Game face on, darlin’. Remember, I’m supposed to be your new lover.”

  “As if I could forget,” she whispered and swept past him in an imperious movement. From one second to the next, she transformed from the driven and compassionate woman he’d glimpsed at the meeting in the brothel into a hard-faced pixie lady. Head held high, she sashayed through the double doors into the mansion, leaving him high and dry.

  Watching her for a second, not bothering to hide the lust on his face, he straightened up and followed her. He tossed his keys to the pixie guard on the door.

  “Put it away,” he ordered, his voice hard. “And make sure she doesn’t get a scratch on her, or I’ll have your head.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he followed Joy into the building.

  As soon as he stepped over the threshold, he felt it. The tingling of magic as the barrow noticed his presence. All pixies lived in barrows like this, little pieces of Faery-land attached to the human world. Semi-sentient, they were loyal to the ruler of the clan and protected their occupants from all who wished them harm. Like Faery itself, if the barrow didn’t want him here, it could and would shut him out.

  He held his breath as it studied him. If it did that, shut him out, his cover would be totally blown. Silently, he reached out to soothe it as he would his car. They were similar constructs of magic, so they should respond in the same way. Should. Nothing was ever certain when dealing with wild magic.

  What was even more surprising was the whisper he felt from his car, the magic within reaching out to communicate directly with the barrow. Shit. He hadn’t expected that. Not able to work out what they were saying, his concern began to rise… there were way too many pixies here in the entrance hall for him to be certain of getting Joy out safely. Shitshitshit.

  Then he felt the shiver as the barrow accepted him, and he let go a tiny sigh of relief. That had been close.

  So close that Joy, registering his pause, had turned, a finely arched eyebrow raised. “Are you coming or not?”

  He growled, striding forward to haul her into his arms. Without warning he dropped his mouth over hers, his kiss hard and demanding. He didn’t ask, he took, parting her lips with a hard sweep of his tongue to drive it deep within. His hands spread over her back, one dropping down to cup her ass and pull her up against him as he bent her backward.

  It was meant to be a display, a show put on for those who watched them to prove that he and Joy were lovers, but it quickly turned into much more than that. As soon as his lips touched hers, he forgot all about their ruse, and when she softened against him, sliding her tongue against his, he was utterly lost. With a groan he crushed her against him, the kiss going from hard to hot and open-mouthed in a heartbeat.

  At the shuffling of feet and a cough, he managed to get it together enough to pull away and growl, “You might be clan lady here, but you’re my woman. Never forget that. And I don’t tolerate disobedience from my woman…”

  She nodded, her hands bunched into the lapels of his cutoff leather as she clung to him satisfactorily. She was a picture image of the perfect pixie woman, but he knew her secret. He’d caught the fire as she fought him for dominance in the kiss. Just for a second, but it had been there. He hid his smile as he straightened up, his Joy had fire hidden under that ice.

  Looking around the room with pixie arrogance, he dared any of the warriors present to take issue with the fact he held their prize, their lady, snugly in his arms. One of them would. He knew men and he knew pixie politics. They had a carefully ranked pecking order, fighting amongst themselves, and the one who came out on top would expect to take both the woman in Nick’s arms and the title of warlord.

  They wouldn’t take kindly to him swooping in and stealing all the glory.

  Sure enough, it didn’t take long for one of them to step forward. As tall as Nick himself, he was heavily built with vivid lime green hair left long on top and buzz cut at the sides. A long plait of the stuff fell down his back, swinging gently from side to side as he twirled a battle-axe in inked hands.

  Nick didn’t need to read the symbols to know this man was dangerous. The hard look in his eyes and the little gasp Joy gave as he put her from him said it all.

  “Delin.” She gave him the name softly as she backed up a couple of steps. Nick nodded, keeping his eye on his adversary.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Delin growled, keeping the axe moving. The other warriors moved to flank him in a not too subtle threat. Nick ignored them. Pack tactics were always the same. They crowded around the warrior they perceived to be the strongest. So basically, all he had to do was take down the biggest asshole in the room and he was onto a winner.

  “Claus. She’s mine.” He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder to where Joy stood, watching the display as though bored. “Mine in bed, as my blades are hers to command.”

  Delin’s eyes widened a little at the words. Rather than claim the title of warlord for himself, with one sentence Nick had thrown his weight as a warrior behind Joy’s own claim for the title. There were female warlords out there as capable with blades as any warrior, but Joy was not one of them. Even though she carried a spelled blade, she wouldn’t be able to hold the position on her own. No, she needed a consort strong enough to act as her champion.

  And that was where he came in.

  “Not. Happening. The bitch and the title are mine,” Delin grunted and attacked.

  Nick sighed, already bored with this, and sidestepped the attack. Within a heartbeat, blades appeared in his hands, called from the part of him that was ancient. The part of him that had ridden the skies at the head of the hunt before anyone had even thought of that fucking red suit. The part of him that had once worn a blue cape and had carried another name…

  Delin’s blades clattered against the floor as, his target suddenly not there, he almost stumbled. With a roar of frustration, he whirled around, swinging wildly to try and cut Nick in two. Nick danced out of the way, needling Delin with the points of his twin blades. Not enough to seriously wound, but more than enough to piss the guy off. He wanted him good and mad. Then he would start making mistakes.

  And he did. He dropped his guard on the left side enough to let Nick slide in and tangle up the guy’s axe arm. He saw the fist of Delin’s free hand heading toward his face but opted to let the blow land. Pain exploded through his jaw, his head rocking back, but he ignored it in favor of jamming his blade through the asshole’s ribcage. The hilt of the short-sword kissed the skin on one side even as the point emerged from somewhere in the middle of the pixie’s back.

  His dying gasp filled the room. Nick shoved him away, off his sword, and watched the warrior crumple to the floor with a hard look on his face. Looking around, he clocked the shocked faces as they looked at their fallen champion.

  “Anyone else?”

  3

  No one moved. Every warrior in the room suddenly found something more interesting to look at, their gazes sliding away from Nick’s like water off a duck’s back. He nodded, adding an arrogant grunt before turning and walking toward Joy. Stopping just in front of her, he made a show of sliding his short swords into sheaths across his back. Then he released them back to where they’d come from.

  Joy watched him, her eyes widening a little at the blatant display, but it was the gasp and deep murmur behind them that said what everyone in the room was thinking.


  “Magic user.”

  Creatures from Fae themselves, Pixies on the whole didn’t use magic, keeping to the abilities and tricks being born of the stuff granted them. Those that did, though, were very, very good at it and universally feared. Which was exactly the feeling Nick wanted to tap into.

  “Aye. And if anyone’s got a problem with that, they can take it up with me.” He lifted his voice so everyone could hear him but kept his gaze firmly on Joy’s. For some reason he wanted her to see him at his best. Wanted that little look in her eyes as she looked at him and found him worthy…

  “You’re hurt.” Ignoring the warriors all around them, she moved closer. A little frown of concern between her brows, she reached up, a handkerchief in her hand, to dab at the cut at the corner of his lips.

  “It’s nothing, woman. Leave it be,” he grumbled in a low voice and used the opportunity to pull her closer again, as a pixie who’d just laid claim to a woman in front of her own clan would. Might made right. He had to make all these assholes believe that Joy was his, and he’d kill to keep her. He couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

  She ignored him, as he knew she would, wiping the blood away and reaching up to place a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips. The picture perfect act of a woman in love. She had to lift up on her tiptoes, though, which brought home how tiny she really was.

  His hands tightened around her waist as a wave of protectiveness washed over him. How the hell had she survived here for so long? She was too tiny and delicate to be thrown into any pixie clan, and the Krasniqis in general. Nick had never had dealings with them himself, but word on the street had them to be as ruthless as any human mafia.

  “Well… if you put it that way,” he kept his voice low as though between the two of them. “Your room or mine?”

  Oh, hell, Nick could kiss.

  Unable to stop the shiver that rolled down her spine, she took his hand and led him out of the entrance hall. She didn’t spare a glance toward Delin’s body sprawled out across the granite. All her late-husband’s warriors watched them go, their expressions hard but wary, as though they watched a dangerous beast that might turn on them at any second.