Read Christmas Spirit Seduction Online
Authors: Eve Langlais
Christmas Spirit Seduction
A Paranormal, MFM, Short Story
By
Eve Langlais
(Formerly titled, Taken By The Christmas Spirits)
Copyright © 1st Edition, December 2011, Eve Langlais
Copyright © 2
nd
Edition November 2014, Eve Langlais
Cover Art by Amanda Kelsey © October 2014
Edited by Devin Govaere
Produced in Canada
Published by Eve Langlais
1606 Main Street, PO Box 151
Stittsville, Ontario, Canada, K2S1A3
ISBN: 978 1927 459 62 1
Christmas Spirit Seduction
is a work of fiction and the characters, events and dialogue found within the story are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to digital copying, file sharing, audio recording, email and printing without permission in writing from the author.
Author’s Note:
This short story was originally published by Cobblestone Press as
Taken By The Christmas Spirits
from December 2011 until May 8th of 2014. Published anew in November of 2014 by Eve Langlais, this book features a new cover and title. Enjoy
~Eve
Waking up alone always sucked. Waking up alone Christmas morning or, judging by the darkness around me, in the silent hours before dawn sucked even harder. But I discovered that emerging from a sleeping pill-induced slumber to find myself spread eagle, naked and tied to the four corners of my bed most disturbing of all.
“What the fuck!” I shouted, not even attempting to curb my annoyance or language. If ever a moment merited a cuss word, I’d say it was now.
In vain, I tugged at my restraints, but whoever had bound me obviously knew their stuff because the knots didn’t loosen.
There was something disturbingly vulnerable about my position, almost as if I was on display. Panting harshly, and I’ll admit slightly panicked, I peered around, seeking any sign of the pervert who’d snuck into my apartment and managed to truss me up.
Nothing moved except for my curtains. They fluttered lightly as if a breeze stroked them, which made no sense. I kept my windows firmly shut in the winter and even covered them in plastic to prevent drafts. On my salary, I couldn’t afford any extra expenses, especially given electric heat didn’t come cheap. Despite all my precaution, apparently, a new air leak had popped up. Great, another thing for my nonexistent boyfriend to fix.
Contrary to what some folks would have you believe, single life bit the big one. Sure, I got to keep the remote and watch whatever I wanted. I could sprawl across my bed and hog it to sleep. Just like I could live on frozen dinners and not care what my breath smelled like in the morning. However, at times like these, when life bitch-slapped me, I really wished I could find a man who satisfied my needs and would make me want to change my status on Facebook from single to in a relationship.
As my mind babbled to itself, bemoaning my single state, I took stock of my situation.
Dire and FUBAR-ed came to mind, but as always, bad odds or not, I hated giving up. While not a ray of optimistic sunshine, I also wasn’t a wuss who would give up without a fight.
Straining my eyes, I peered around to see anything at all in the murkiness of my bedroom. A camera manned by a celebrity waiting to scream “Surprise!” would have worked nicely. Maybe this was an elaborate joke.
If it was, someone was asking for a lawsuit.
Seconds ticked by, and no one appeared. Not matter how much I stared, only darkness and vaguely recognizable shapes were visible.
Since I wasn’t about to suddenly develop night vision, I was about to shut my eyes to better listen when a single flame popped up from a candle I kept on my dresser.
I blinked at the sudden brightness and wrinkled my nose as the stench of wick and dust came to me. As part of my emergency candle collection, one for every room in case of power outages, the candle in my room had never found itself used and, as such, didn’t burn or smell as pleasantly as it should have. But with it lit, I discovered one important thing, other than the fact it needed replacing.
I was not alone.
Ha, Mother! And to think you said I’d never spend Christmas with anyone because I am such a picky bitch.
Of course, when I later recounted this story, maybe I’d leave out the part where I shared this holiday moment with a possible rapist and murderer. Then again, maybe I’d find myself lucky and my invader would prove to be only a cat burglar with a strange fetish for bound and naked women.
A part of me wondered that I didn’t scream and thrash. Panic like every damsel ever portrayed in a horror flick. Not happening because that smacked too much of cowardice. But that wasn’t the only reason. If there was one thing I knew as an officer of the courts, predators loved the smell of fear. Reveled in it even.
I wasn’t about to reward the bastard who’d trussed me. No matter how frightening the situation, I wouldn’t let despair turn me into a whimpering and whining victim.
Or so I hoped.
“Who’s there?” I asked, my voice wavering despite my inner confidence.
No one answered, but a chill breeze floated over my body, pebbling my nipples in its wake.
“Great. Whoever it is left a door open and is wasting all the heat,” I grumbled. Look at me being practical even amidst a crisis.
Again, I tugged again at my restraints, annoyed that the inconsiderate prowler would not only rob me but cause my gas bill to skyrocket. Energy companies. You had to hand the award to them as the biggest legal thieves of all.
Another rush of cold air swept through the room, and it was then I noticed something freaky. The candle flame didn’t waver one bit. That made no sense, but then again, neither did the cloaked figure floating above me.
The impossibly suspended figure did what my current situation couldn’t.
Fear clutched me, and I screamed like a bloody girl, a shrill, piercing sound that hurt even my ears.
“Would you mind not doing that?” The silky masculine voice came from my left, not above me, and I whipped my head sideways to see another robed figure at my bedside.
I’ll admit. The sight of a second dude, even one who didn’t float, made he squeak.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? And I will bloody well scream if I please, dammit!” My terror coalesced into anger, a burning emotion more familiar—and welcome—to me.
The person at my bedside, his features buried within the cowl of his robe, cocked his head. “When I said don’t do that, I wasn’t talking to you but my friend hovering above you. He always has to be a bit of a show-off. Go ahead and scream if you want, although try and not make yourself hoarse because we’d really like to hear your cries once we truly begin.”
Begin?
I gulped. “What— I—” Another first. Words escaped me.
“Speechless already? And yet we haven’t even started.” The weird dude, who had to be a guy with that low voice, stole any rebuttal with his threatening statement.
Deciding not to dwell on how he and his accomplice intended to make me shriek, I turned my attention back to the floater above me, only to see the ceiling free of freaky, levitating guys. Not exactly a relief because I was still tied to my bed with two guys—who apparently planned to make me scream—in my bedroom.
Wait, make that three guys, and they all stood at the foot of my bed, a trio of Grim Reapers in their long robes with the hoods pulled down low on their faces so only their chins appeared. Nice chins too. Square, clean-shaven, much more attractive than any serial killers or burglars should own.
There was only one conclusion to draw from the situation.
“Begone, you worshippers of Satan.” I would have signed myself with the cross if I could, my atheist status not an issue when faced with obviously deranged religious whackos.
“Um, while we know of Satan, we certainly don’t worship him,” said a dark, melodious voice.
Despite myself, I couldn’t help a shiver from coursing through me. It made my already pointed nipples harden farther.
Dammit. I didn’t want these nutjobs to think I was hot for them. I couldn’t help my body’s frightened reaction.
I strove to sound brave. “What do you want with me?”
“We are here to help you change your life.”
“No thanks.” I was so proud of myself for staying polite. The Jehovahs didn’t fare so well when they tried the same spiel.
A figure approached and pushed back his hood. The flickering candlelight made shadows dance over his face, but what I could see went well past good looking.
Rugged planes to go with that firm chin, sensual lips that quirked at my regard. Dark hair, which curled slightly at the ends. And lashes a woman would kill for.
Figured a psychopath would have the face of a god, a visage that would make any girl drool and stutter under normal circumstances, and yet it wasn’t his perfection that made me shiver. No, super hot looking I could handle.
What I couldn’t wrap my mind around were his eyes.
What the hell is wrong with his eyes!
They glowed, inhuman orbs whose depths swirled, a striated mist of gray that coiled and churned much like storm clouds before a brisk wind.
I’d either lost my mind or I dreamed. Given I certainly lacked the imagination to create such a scenario, it had to mean I’d gone nuts.
Look at me/ I now have something in common with Mom’s side of the family. I finally lost my marbles
.
“You’re not crazy,” the stranger whispered, freaking me out further as he read my mind. He leaned down until our noses almost touched. “What you see in my gaze are the shadows of the past.”
Or really advanced contacts that had yet to make a splash in the media. I disregarded his odd statement and strove for understanding. “Who are you?” My question emerged low and breathy, and I really hoped, if he did reply, he wouldn’t say death.
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past, here to remind you of the mistakes you’ve made before.”
Seriously?
My pent-up breath whooshed out, and I couldn’t prevent a snicker. “The Ghost of Christmas Past? Hold on a second. Are you implying I’m a Scrooge? I resent that. I’ll have you know I give to charity.” I huffed indignantly, all too aware of how close he was to me, so aware that a part of me wondered if he’d bend down farther and touch me with those lips.
So sue me for having inappropriate thoughts. It had been a while since I’d last gotten laid. Besides, I’d obviously drifted into some perverted dreamland, and I wondered where it was going. Hopefully straight from crazy into orgasmic.
Past pinched the tip of my nipple, and I yelped. “This is not a dream. We’ve been watching you. Such a greedy girl. Going through men like candy. Never satisfied.”
My reply emerged defensive. “It’s not my fault none of them can keep up. That they bore me.”
“True. The men of your past were but boys.”
“But what of your present?” A different voice presented itself at my side. The one calling himself the Ghost of Christmas Past moved from my line of sight, and I shifted my head slightly to keep him in view, but a new speaker took his place, his eyes the swirling frenzy of a green hurricane.
“And you are?”
“The Ghost of Christmas Present of course.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, so obvious. Care to tell me why you’re all here Scrooging me? Where’s the camera?”
Green Eyes pinned me with his stare. “We’ve been watching you.”
“So you keep saying, which I might point out is considered stalking. You know there’s laws about that. And I know people. Pretty boys like you won’t do well in prison. Unless you put out.” I couldn’t help but smirk at his grimace.
“You find this amusing? Your current life is nothing to laugh at.”
“What are you talking about? My life might seem a little empty at the moment, but that’s just because I dumped my boyfriend.” Mostly because, once again, I’d gotten bored.
“Exactly. How long will you keep making the same mistakes?”
“The mistake was obviously mixing my sleeping pill with that peppermint schnapps last night. But I’m feeling a lot more alert now, so joke’s over. Untie me right this second, and I’m telling you right now, if any of this ends up on the Internet, I am suing your collective, robed asses.”