The Beauty of Forever Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Elyzabeth M. VaLey

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-498-5

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To everyone who believes in Christmas magic. Happy Holidays!

  THE BEAUTY OF FOREVER

  A Christmas Realm Tale, 1

  Elyzabeth M. Valey

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Christopher leaned against his office chair. He stifled a yawn and ran his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp as he did. He would only close his eyes for thirty seconds.

  Or one minute.

  The sound of his cell phone ringing drilled into his eardrums and lurched him awake. He swiveled in his chair, fumbling to find the machine from hell. With the back of his hand, he smacked it and threw it crashing onto the floor.

  Blessed silence.

  He knew he should be more concerned about the device, but he’d been born in a time when those things didn’t exist and weren’t a necessity. Simpler times. Sighing, he stretched, taking pleasure in the dull crack of his bones. He glanced at the elaborate clock hanging on the wall to his left. The machine, made from large silver gears and black metal roman numbers, clicked and whirred, showing the time.

  “Shit.”

  Christopher sat up straight. Three hours. He’d dozed off for three hours. Damn, it was going to be another night at the office. Not that he needed much sleep, but the job had to be done. Bending over, he retrieved his phone and checked for any damages. The thing was intact. He set it on the tabletop and rubbed his face.

  This time of year always threw him off. Night became day and day became night. Living in the arctic didn’t help and neither did working for Santa Claus.

  Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick, Papa Noel, Kris Kringle, whatever you called him, had created an empire of toys, merchandise, and dreams which sold like dirt. He wasn’t the saint everyone depicted him to be. Behind his burly form, affable smile, and twinkling eyes lay a shrewd businessman who drove his employees with an iron fist.

  Christopher had been under Santa’s employment for more than a century. He enjoyed his job as CTO, Chief Toy Officer, but the hours and demands at this time of the year always got to him. His job was to make sure all toys were in mint condition and ready for delivery before Christmas Day. That meant he also had to deal with other managers and officers in each department to make sure everything ran smoothly. Although they hadn’t had any problems, except for the usual, he was ready for Christmas to be over. Working with other people had become tedious. The endless cheerfulness and good will of his colleagues exhausted him. All he wished for was to be left alone to rest.

  Christopher sighed. His peace would have to wait. He stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. The glass dome shimmered under the artificial light. Snow fell steadily from outside, resting above its surface before vanishing. He lowered his gaze. Machinery and people spread before him. At one time he’d been awed by the views. Now, however, it just implied more work was coming. Fir Elves worked nonstop, loading toys into conveyor belts to be revised one last time before shrinkage so they could fit into Santa’s bag. He could see them below, permanent smiles on their faces, cheerful words spoken as they performed grunt work. Christopher rolled his eyes. How did they stand it?

  He cocked his head, training his vision on the train platform where toys were unloaded. What was that? He squinted. His jaw dropped. Santa. And at his side a woman he didn’t know, but too short to be a Light Elf and too tall to be a dwarf or a Fir. They came steadily closer. Santa’s companion became clearer with each step. He stared at the top of her head and the long locks of hair which tumbled down her back. Ginger. Fiery. The color reminded him of the last rays of sunlight on a summer day, something he hadn’t seen in ages.

  Who was she? A visitor? A new employee? Maybe a relative? What kind of creature was she? Shifter? Vampire? Witch? God, he hoped she wasn’t a witch or warlock. He couldn’t find a single one he could stand. They all thought of themselves above the rest. He huffed and turned from the window.

  Whoever she was, this wasn’t the time to bring in anyone new. Chaos and disorder ruled all over the factory and everyone was too busy to care for much else. The sound of his phone filled the room again. He checked the caller. Andy, his secretary. He slid his digit over the screen.

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. Beaufort, Santa would like to see you as soon as possible. He said it was urgent.”

  Fuck.

  “Do you know what he wants, Andy?”

  “No idea. He said he needed you but this was an hour ago.”

  “An hour ago?” he repeated angrily. “And why the hell didn’t you barge in here and wake me up?”

  “You’re in the office?” Andy asked.

  “Where else would I be?”

  “Well, you had a meeting with Jacobs.”

  Christopher swore loudly. “I totally forgot.”

  He started pacing the room. Jacobs was going to kill him. Christopher’s team had encountered some problems in the last delivery from the faun and had had to return them. Jacobs hadn’t been pleased and they’d agreed to meet to go over the issue.

  “All right. Give Jacobs a call. Apologize profusely and see if you can think of an excuse, although the damage is already done,” he said.

  “I could say Santa called you in for an urgent meeting,” Andy suggested.

  “Which is exactly what happened, except that thanks to you, I’m not with the old man at the moment,” he growled. “You know what, I’ll call Jacobs myself. I’ll let you know when I schedule a new meeting with him.”

  “What about Santa?”

  “I just saw him down on the floor so I’ll go and talk with him. And next time there’s an emergency like this, please, Andy, freaking find me. Take some initiative.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Christopher disconnected the call and dropped the phone on his desk. Could his day get any worse? He crossed the space to the adjacent bathroom and splashed some water on his face. His reflection stared at him in the mirror. Warlocks and witches had one use and this was it. Ever since he started working here, and due to their magic, he could see his reflection in any glass which had the proper enchantment.

  Christopher pulled his dark hair into a tight ponytail. He checked his appearance. Blue eyes, wide and alert. Not a hint of facial hair. His white shirt was clean and pressed. He appeared professional and ready to face the boss.

  He returned to his office, shrugged on his suit jacket, and stuffed his cell in an inner pocket.

  “Let’s do this,” he murmured.

  Stepping into the workroom, he glanced at Andy. Anger slammed into him and he marched to his secretary’s desk.

  “Andy, what have I told you about using your personal phone during working hours? Have you settled my agenda? Made photocopies for the upcoming meetings? Prepared the PowerPoint I asked you to do last week?”

  Startled, the elf dropped his gadget onto his lap.

  “I—”

  Christopher leaned over menacingly. Pale skin turned pasty white and Andy’s gaze held a hint of panic.

  “You’re
treading on thin ice, Andy. Jacobs’s slip might have been my fault but you should have helped me solve it. You’re running behind on your work half the time and when I ask you stuff you should know by now, you never do. I’m getting tired of making excuses for you. Get to work and do it well, or after Christmas you’re fired.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Yes, sir. Straightaway. I’m sorry.”

  Disgusted by Andy’s whimpering, Christopher spun around and started to leave. He stopped.

  “Send a basket of treats to Jacobs, chocolates, cookies, maybe some fruit, but especially a block of that Spanish confectionary he likes.”

  “Turron? The one made with almonds and honey?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  He stormed to the elevator without speaking to anyone else. The elf was going to bring him to an early grave. Clearly, the boy was too young for this. After three months, he should be doing better, but there was no improvement. Granted, he was good at some things, like making blood-coffee, but that was about it.

  Damn, he wished Elga had never retired. She deserved the rest after almost 500 years, but she was efficient like no other. Andy, on the other hand, lacked the maturity. He spent his days doodling on his phone with his head in the clouds. He needed to go back to the forests of Nortckolm and return in a hundred years when he was ready for the responsibility of real life.

  Stepping out of the elevator, Christopher’s gaze immediately found Santa and his visitor. He took in a deep breath and froze. Every cell in him hummed to life. Human.

  The fragrant scent of blood seeped into him. His eyes narrowed and his stomach growled. He licked his lips. How long had it been since he’d sunk his fangs into a living being? In here, he didn’t need to hunt. Santa provided all the nourishment he needed, most of it animal. It was never the same, but it kept him going. But this. He inhaled sharply again. How he’d missed it. The delicious fragrance, coppery, yet sweet, and particular to each person. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. He salivated. His fangs ached. If this was the reaction he had smelling it, what would it be like to taste it? To take his fill of the thick, red, liquid which gave life to all creatures.

  “Christopher!”

  He jumped, his daydream vanishing into a cloud of red smoke. Santa stood before him. At his side, her. The human. He clenched his fists. Something in his chest moved, spreading pain and pleasure alike through him.

  The woman regarded him curiously, without the fear he was used to in those of her species. Christopher grinned. Her pleasant smile vanished.

  “Santa,” Christopher said, returning his attention to the old man. “I’m sorry about not coming earlier. Andy didn’t tell me it was urgent.”

  “Quite all right, quite all right, we can talk now.” Santa said, patting him on the arm in a fatherly fashion. “In any case, my reason for calling you stands at my side. Christopher Beaufort, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Samantha Kraus.”

  He fixed his gaze on her again, feasting on her features. The wide, green eyes, the color of emeralds, framed by dark lashes. The freckles on the bridge of her nose. The pouty mouth, painted with a dash of red. He roved lower. The fitted green dress accentuated her curves. Hunger of an entirely different kind rushed through him, a bolt of desire traveling straight to his groin.

  “Hello, Samantha.”

  Chapter Two

  Samantha held out her hand.

  She hoped the tremble coursing through her wasn’t visible and her cheeks weren’t burning too badly. She didn’t know why she was reacting this way. She’d worked with plenty of good-looking men before and they had feelings, emotions, and problems like everybody else. They were all humans.

  Christopher grasped her hand and she bit back a gasp. His cold fingers wrapped tightly around her, squeezing. Abruptly, the chill ended, converting itself into a warmth which blanketed over her like hot cocoa after a day in the snow.

  Except, the creature before her wasn’t human. He was something else entirely.

  “Hello, Samantha.”

  His sultry baritone wrapped around her. She stared. How could she not? His blue gaze roved over her, holding the promise of a midnight rendezvous. The corner of his lips lifted knowingly.

  Speak, Sammy, speak. Act normal.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Beaufort.” Her voice sounded thin and breathless. Ugh, she was worse than a star-struck teen.

  “You must call me Christopher.”

  She nodded. His smile widened, flashing the tips of his fangs, reminding her of his paranormality.

  Santa clapped, startling her.

  “Wonderful. Now you two have met, let’s head to my office. We need to talk.”

  “Certainly,” Christopher said.

  Samantha watched him. Though he didn’t sound displeased, his set jaw spoke differently. He escorted them to the elevator, which was still on the ground floor.

  “After you, Santa,” he said with a flourish.

  “Thank you, Christopher.”

  Santa accommodated himself at the rear of the small space.

  “Samantha, please.”

  “Um, thanks,” she said, moving into the receptacle. Acutely aware of Christopher’s gaze on her, she entered and turned around sharply, almost colliding into him. He steadied her with a hand to her forearm. A sizzling current traveled up her and she inhaled sharply.

  “Careful,” he said.

  Santa laughed merrily.

  “Good thing Christopher was there to help you. These elevators are quite small. I had them built a while ago and keep postponing their renovations.”

  Samantha smiled blandly. She didn’t know what to say. Christopher was no longer touching her, but the warmth of his grasp still remained. He leaned over to press the button to the last floor and his fragrance filled her lungs. Winter oranges and cloves. She bit her lip. Heat touched every pore in her body, slowly churning and awakening to the presence of the man at her side. She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. Tall, probably around six-foot-four, he was slender with an air of elegance which spoke of times long gone. He appeared to be in his mid- or early-thirties. His features, from the chiseled cheekbones, straight nose, firm lips, to masculine jaw were flawless, sculpted by the hand of a master.

  The elevator lurched to a stop. The doors chimed and opened slowly, revealing a reception area decorated in greens, reds, and whites. To the side, a large fir tree glistened with fairy lights.

  “Welcome to Santa’s office.” A perky, blonde elf greeted them. “Would you like a meeting room readied, sir?” she asked Santa.

  “That won’t be necessary, Hannah. We’ll go into my office, although if you could bring us some water and coffee, we’d appreciate it.”

  “Of course. Straightaway.”

  Santa wobbled down the hall and indicated they should follow. Samantha’s heels were silent over the candy-cane print carpet. She glanced at the pictures of Christmas trees around the world hanging from the wall. Going through a glass door, they reached another area. A Christmas tree, this one decorated in soft pinks and gold, stood shimmering in the corner. Two elves typed away furiously behind a pair of side-by-side desks. One of them, wearing cat-framed glasses, greeted them without looking up from her work.

  “Eluvien, please make sure no one disturbs us. And can you check Samantha doesn’t need to sign anything else? Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir,” the woman replied.

  They crossed through a pair of large wooden doors decorated with an array of Christmas motifs from all over the world, and depictions of Santa. Inside, a fireplace, from which a pair of delicately embroidered stockings hung, crackled with a pleasant fire. Above it, a portrait of Santa and his wife. In front, a cozy white couch with themed pillows and a plaid blanket. A collection of presents rested beneath yet another lavishly decorated tree.

  Samantha strode to the other side of the office where black-framed pictures covered the walls.

  “Is that who I think it is?” she asked.

  “Oh yes, it’s the Quee
n of England. All the human dignitaries know about our existence. I change these every few years.”

  “He means when they die,” Christopher said.

  “Have a seat,” Santa said while giving the vampire a stern glance.

  He waved them over to a pair of gold-trimmed chairs placed opposite a carved, oak desk. Santa settled into throne-like chair upholstered in burgundy. He placed his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of him like a steeple. His twinkling eyes became shrew.

  “My apologies, Samantha, but as I was explaining earlier this is the busiest time of year, so I am going to cut to the chase. Your work has been falling behind, Christopher,” he said drily. “You’re tired all the time, napping in your office, working nonstop.”

  “That’s—“

  “When was the last time you went home and slept?” Santa interjected.

  “It is the busiest time of the year. There’s no time to sleep. That’s for mortals.”

  Samantha winced at the obvious disdain in his tone.

  Santa flexed his fingers and pursed his mouth. His gaze darkened.

  “Although vampires sleep less than mortals, it’s still necessary. As are other things like food, entertainment, leisure. When was the last time you went hunting? Read a book? Watched a movie? Had sex?”

  Samantha’s eyes widened. She’d never had an employer even insinuate anything remotely similar. Christopher didn’t seem amused either, if the way he was gripping his chair was any indication.

  “That’s none of your business,” he ground the words slowly, practically spitting them.

  “I’m afraid it is, Chris. You’re part of the Christmas family. We count on you to do a good job. If you don’t, then the mechanics fail and everything falls apart. You have been working here for over a century and I’d like to keep you on the team for as long as possible. But you’re starting to break. I don’t want that. I want an employee I can count on. I want the man I hired 120 years ago. The one who smiled when I cracked a joke, who was polite and courteous to everyone, and didn’t cringe when a Christmas carol came on the speakers. Your negative attitude is disrupting your work.”