Christmas Delights 3 (3 page)

“You didn’t listen.” Now the man of timber started talking.
“You tried to ssssslay and you mussssst pay.”

“Oh God! I’m sorry.” James’ terror all but choked him, even
as his brains boggled. Either he’d wake up soon, or Phin’s studies concerning
tree spirits were more than mythology, in which case, he was done for. Damp
seeped up from the earth through his clothing, and he gazed into the creature’s
eyes—merciless black hollows. Was it going to kill him? Eat him? He’d hardly
achieved anything in life, let alone spread enough knowledge and happiness to
be worthwhile. He’d even been fool enough to run away from a night of passion
with the man of his dreams, and—

The creature reared up and lashed a spiky branch across his
cheek, the strike of pain a stark awakening. Fighting shock and fear that
crippled him nearly as destructively as his enemy, James bucked and squirmed.
Twigs cracked and he slammed his knee to the unyielding hardness of its trunk-like
body. The being rattled out a hollow laugh, even as another limb—
not fair!
Trees have so many
—fastened thorny talons about the front of his throat.
With an effort, he managed to jerk one hand free to grab the rough lumber that
now constricted his windpipe. “Gnnng! Get off!”

The squeeze built. He ground his teeth and struggled to drag
in air, failing to pry away the choking grip. The inhuman face above him
contorted with malice, deep crevices warping across the craggy facade—and then,
all at once, the creature released all pressure, loosened the foliate shackles,
and retreated.

James gasped raggedly. His heart thudded so fierce he
worried his chest might explode, because the action unfolding in the murk
proved no less terrifying than his ordeal. A second tree monster had dragged
his assailant from him, and now manhandled the thrashing creature of pine with
two thick limb-like boughs. His attacker had been big, its body broader than
his torso and at least seven feet in height. It must’ve propelled itself along
on spindly stalks, which now flailed like the tendrils of a netted squid. His
rescuer—if that’s what this other thing was—was larger still. It towered three
yards toward the canopy above them, walked using its meandering roots, and
exuded the strength and solidity of granite.

The clouds thinned. Soft moonlight delineated a human-shaped
head and silvered bold features and a high bridge nose. The newcomer’s wild
mane of frilled oak leaves shone as verdant as the first shoots of spring.

James raised himself on his elbows, still half-disbelieving.
The newcomer pitched the pine monster through the air like a Scotsman hurling
the caber at some highland games. A thud resounded, echoed by a pregnant
silence. Then slowly the man of oak swung about and stretched toward him.

James fixed upon the oak’s palm, hewn from calloused timber,
and his racing pulse calmed. This great creature’s presence somehow soothed him
and he reached out, irresistibly lured. The man of oak clasped his shaking hand
and drew him to his feet. Charcoal-colored clouds parted and stars brightened
above them. He gazed into soft green eyes flecked with gold, curiously
reminiscent of…sweet heavens, no, this creature could never be Phin.

James felt giddy, his senses reeling. Something else bizarre
was happening, for his skin glowed, as if warmed by a midsummer sun. He rubbed
his bruised throat. “I…I should thank you.”

“No need. You’re welcome.”

Even in the few words, the delicious brogue was
unmistakable.

“Phin?”

His astonished panting misted the air. Yes, this was a
dream. He must be fantasizing.

In the wooden mask looming above him, a gray mouth
transformed into human lips—slender, wine-red, and as familiar as they were
appetizing. James’ jaw dropped. Gnarled bark smoothed into bronzed flesh,
unblemished beyond the crinkle of laughter lines and a dusting of stubble on a
chiseled jaw. Frilled leaves dissolved into raven-black tresses.

The anomaly pulled James tight to a bare and very masculine
chest, embellished with crisp hair. Wherever this being touched him, his skin
smoldered. Stunned, James didn’t resist. In the arms wrapped around him,
knotted wood transmuted into flawless skin, well-defined muscles shifting
beneath. Enfolding his rescuer tentatively, he grasped a gym-sculpted backside.
He smothered his face against the ridge of a broad shoulder, relishing an
herb-infused musk he’d savored before.

This
was
Phin. Well, this creature had better be
Phin, because the closeness of such a hot, hard, and naked male form set
arousal pooling in his stomach. Each point of contact between them ignited a
ferocious heat and he could scarce breathe, this time in a good way. James
glanced up, and Phin cupped his chin, wiping blood from his smarting cheek and
then tracing his jawline with a very human thumb. Phin softened his glower to a
mien of affection, and the man who’d been a plant leaned toward James to claim
a kiss.

James parted his mouth, welcoming the thrust of Phin’s
tongue, the crush of Phin’s embrace. He splayed his hands across Phin’s back,
savoring the ripple of sinew, and their lips fused tighter, soldering like hot
metal. He worked their union with all the energy left to him, while the power
that radiated from Phin intoxicated him, more potent than any cocktail.

In the back of his mind, alarm bells chimed and a dozen
awkward questions swirled. He’d gone mad. Or he was dead. Or his would-be
boyfriend had just shifted from the form of an oak back into a devastatingly
handsome human with a massive hard-on. But as Phin plunged to the depths of his
mouth, he found he no longer cared. He rubbed his aching cock against Phin’s
log-like thigh, appreciating the grind of Phin’s answering erection along his
core. Damn his thick winter clothes. He wanted to defy the weather and get
naked with Phin. He needed this beast inside him. He wanted to be fucked,
though a strange fuzziness spread through him, muting the sharper edges of his
desires. His legs began to tremble, and his bones melted like butter, till he
sprawled helpless in Phin’s clutch.

Phin broke the kiss, and that grave face, brow furrowed, was
the last thing James saw before darkness flooded his vision.

Damn, why does this have to be over?

“Merry Christmas,” whispered Phin, whose hot breaths lulled
James toward the midnight realm of slumber.

* * * * *

James awoke with a mild hard-on and the innate and wondrous
knowledge that somebody he cared for lingered close. He didn’t feel alone.

Except of course he was, though he’d experienced a surfeit
of weird dreams last night. When he opened his eyes, bright winter sunlight
streamed between the drapes, the only sound the squawk of a friendless crow. He
inhaled a familiar herby scent, spiced with peaty undertones.

Phin!

James sat bolt upright. Ruffling his hair in disbelief, he
stared across his queen-sized bed. Even sleeping solo, he always kept to the
left. The right hand pillow was squashed out of shape, and the duvet had rucked
up, as if somebody had recently crawled from beneath it. James slid a shaky
hand across the under sheet and his blood jumped. It was still warm.

It can’t be. Last night couldn’t have happened. This is
still a dream.

Sod it, he felt awake, and when he rose from the bed, the
thick pile of the carpet tickled the soles of his feet. Yup, that seemed real
too, as did the scratches on his cheek and throat, which smarted when he
touched them.

Oh God! No way.

He was wearing clean pajamas, the shirt unbuttoned, and he
had no recollection of dressing in them. His befuddlement was killing his
morning wood, which tented the cotton. He considered pinching himself but
instead padded to the bedroom door and opened it.

Phin kneeled near the hearth—where a coal fire burned—and
beside the base of a potted Christmas tree. He was shirtless, clad in a pair of
tailored work trousers that clung to his neat butt. He’d been draping tinsel on
the tree.

James didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath till he
let it all out in a rush. “What…? How…?”

“James!” Phin smoothed sleep-mussed locks and offered an
uncertain smile. “I, uh, thought I’d get this decorated for you.”

James gaped like a goldfish.

“I’ll tell you something interesting,” continued Phin, his
tone increasingly frantic. “Uh, most people believe the tradition of bringing
trees inside originated in Germany in the early nineteenth century. That’s not
strictly true. The custom goes much further back in some cultures, as a tribute
to Yggdrasil, the tree of life. The decorations we hang on the branches
represent the stag, eagle, and squirrel who made their home on the—”

“This is all fascinating,” murmured James, leaning back
against the door and pinching the bridge of his nose. “But, uh, please. Just
tell me how you got here.”
Did you strip me naked and dress me in these
pajamas?
“Um, and about last night—”

“I’m sorry. I owe you enlightenment.” Phin closed the
distance between them with three long strides.

James narrowed his eyes to a glare. He might just forgive
Phin anything, but he needed explanations.

“I’m a little nervous,” said Phin. “This is new territory
for me. You see, I’ve never shared my secret with…a mortal before.”

Eh? What?

Did that last admission imply Phin
wasn’t
mortal? Had
the previous evening really happened as he remembered it? With Phin looming
over him, larger and more striking than ever, he couldn’t bring himself to deny
the reality of the moment. He snapped his mouth shut and licked dry lips.

“Let’s go sit down in the kitchen,” said Phin. “I put the
kettle on a few minutes ago. Would you like some tea?”

James let the man lead him into the adjoining room and
slumped down on one of the chairs. “I need coffee,” he muttered. “Two sugars.
Lots of milk. The mugs are in the cupboard by the sink, right by the coffee
plunger. And please answer me truthfully, Phin. Yesterday evening, were you a
bloody tree?”

“Um, yes, I was.” He winced. “Kind of.”

Phin brewed a delicious cup of coffee, which somehow
exceeded the quality of the supermarket beans. James sipped the drink, letting
the caffeine fortify him, while Phin pulled up a seat beside and unleashed a
wild and fanciful tale, which shouldn’t have been in the remotest part
plausible.

Phin wasn’t a tree as such. He was, in fact, a kind of
forest warden, one of an ancient tribe who could shift to assume arboreal form
and act as both guardians and policemen of tree spirits.

“Every living tree has a spirit that animates it,” explained
Phin. “Most are placid enough, and we give protection to as many as we can,
though it’s a tough fight in this day and age. Occasionally, you get some
rogues among them—like that vicious fellow you encountered last night—and it’s
the humans who need protecting. Pines, spruces, and firs get particularly
frisky at this time of year for obvious reasons, and one of my team sensed
trouble down this way.” Phin’s eyes blazed with sincerity, his countenance so
open and guileless James squirmed beneath the onslaught. “I really did want to
be with you last night, but I had to patrol the area. And then, when I realized
a malevolent spirit was at large in your part of the woods, I parked a mile or
so off. I didn’t want to reveal myself yet, but—”

“You came to help me,” murmured James. “I, uh, I
understand.”

Well, sort of.

“You’re taking this very well.” Phin placed his mug back on
the table, and shifted a little closer. Their knuckles brushed then their knees
rubbed beneath the table, the friction kindling an electrifying heat—which
zinged straight to James’ groin. Man and fairytale, James had fallen for both,
hard.

He managed a shrug and resorted to a cliché. “All good
historians know fact is far stranger than fiction.” Indeed, at this moment, he
found a more mundane unexplained phenomenon vexed him. “This Brian guy. Is he
part of your team?”

“Yes. Actually, he’s my little brother.”

James couldn’t contain a grin. He enjoyed guessing right.

“He’s a talented warden,” explained Phin, “and can sense any
restless spirit within a hundred mile radius. He doesn’t usually get in on the
action of patrolling, mind, which is partially why…I kissed you. A kiss was the
quickest way to put you under a spell, and I needed to get back to work.”

Huh? James pressed his mouth tight, anxious again. Phin
frowned into his mug, and James’ nerves ratcheted up another notch, exacerbated
by the irritating buzz of the light bulb above them. Despite the man’s
earth-shattering revelation, perhaps Phin would’ve helped anybody in his place
and was about to tell him he meant nothing.

Phin looked up, that earnest green gaze quelling his fears.
“I planned to take you back here and hoped you’d wake up and think it was just
a dream, but…”

“But…?”

Phin slid a hand over his, leaning so close their breaths
mingled. The thunder of James’ rushing blood drowned out the humming light.
Despite talk of enchantment, all he could think about was how desperately he
needed to hold this man naked again.

Phin’s sigh was heartfelt. “I intended to give you a little
more time before I revealed myself. But I wanted to be with you so much, and
Brian said he could cope with any more trouble alone. After all, I’ve not had a
Christmas off since 1871.”

“1871! H-how old are you?”

“Oh, not that old,” replied Phin, then he laughed, deep and
gravelly. “I’m only three hundred and seventy-six. And I’m sorry I made you
fall asleep last night, but…I wanted that kiss. It was what I should’ve offered
you earlier.”

James swallowed, but couldn’t subdue the hot pulse of desire
in his throat. Everything was forgiven—if there had ever been anything to
pardon. True, he had a doctoral viva’s worth of questions to interrogate Phin
with. All could wait. He needed another kiss right now.