Page 46 of Dirty Little Christmas
He won't hurt her again. I'll be damned before I allow that to happen. Even if she never forgives me for the insult she thinks I paid her last night, I'll protect her. I'm mad as hell that I wasn't doing it long before now.
She's needed me for the last six years, and I didn't know. I should have. She'll never need me again. I'll be there every damn day, whether she wants me there or not. I don’t think I could stay away if I tried.
It hasn't even been twenty-four hours and I spent half of the day stalking her on the security cameras. She seemed sad. All day, she smiled in all the right places and laughed at all the right times, but her smile faded too quickly. Her laughter died too soon.
She left early.
It's taking all my patience not to say to hell with my plans and drive over to her place. But if I'm going to win her heart by Christmas, I've got shit to do. Like figure out how the fuck to make it snow in Los Angeles.
I drop my head back against my chair, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe I should just kidnap her to my house in Big Bear for the holiday. There's plenty of snow there.
The doorbell rings while I contemplate the merits of my plan.
"What the fuck?" I tip my head forward, glancing at the clock on my desk. It's after ten. Who the fuck is at my door?
December.
Christ, please let it be December.
I jump to my feet, practically jogging through the house to the front door. My damn heart catches in my throat when I see my angel through the frosted glass.
I practically rip the fucking door off the hinges trying to open it.
"December?"
Something is wrong. She's pale and shaking, the knee of her leggings torn.
Her big blue eyes meet mine, welling with tears. My heart cracks as she chokes on my name.
"H-hold me, p-p-please," she whispers.
As if she even needs to ask.
I scoop her into my arms without a word, dragging her up against my chest. She burrows into me, clinging to my shirt like she's never going to let me go. Her hands are like ice even though it's not cold out.
"Jesus, December." I kick the door closed and carry her straight through the living room and up the stairs to my bedroom. I barely pause long enough to hit the dimmer switch on the lights before stomping to the bed and placing her in it.
She fights me, refusing to let go.
"Easy, angel," I croon. "Easy. I'm just going to start the fireplace and get a first aid kit." I rain gentle kisses across her face, trying to soothe her. She reluctantly loosens her grip, letting me pry her frigid hands from my shirt.
I bundle the slate gray duvet cover around her to warm her up and quickly cross to the fireplace opposite my king-sized bed, lighting it with the touch of a button. The logs inside ignite with a soft whoosh of sound.
I hurry into the bathroom and grab the first aid kit from beneath the sink before returning to her. She's right where I left her, still pale and trembling.
Tossing the kit on the bed, I pick her up before settling against the headboard with her draped over my lap.
"Who hurt you, December?" I ask, my fuckingsoulscreaming for blood. If it was her stepfather, it'll be the last goddamn thing he ever does. They won't even find his body.
"I f-fell," she says, her teeth chattering. "At the w-warehouse."
"The warehouse?"
"You have to call the p-police." She shivers, and a tear leaks from the corner of her eye. "I didn't c-call. I came s-straight here."
"From the warehouse? Why do you need the police, angel? What happened to you?" I ask, running my hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her up. Because I can't stop touching her. Because I'm two seconds from losing my mind with worry.
"N-nothing happened t-to me. Oh, Alaric." More tears spill down her porcelain cheeks. "I went to d-double check the warehouse for Sariah. Three m-men broke in while I was t-there. They s-stole s-so much."