"Is that why you disappeared?" Nick asked with a laugh even as he shook his head in disbelief. "Because you got a visit from a stranger who is notorious for deception?"

Noelle's face flushed. When he put it that bluntly, she felt foolish for believing everything so easily. She shrugged. "I . . . I'm sorry. I had my doubts, of course, but all I could think about was what if I was wrong?"

Nick smiled at her reassuringly. "I'm grateful for your concern, but it's unfounded. Halla revealing herself to you was unexpected, but it makes so much sense that she was behind everything that I'm ashamed of myself for not considering it. Had I done so, I could have warned you against her tricks," he said before pulling Noelle back into a hug. "However, she shouldn't be trusted, so of course I'm not going to willingly give up my claim on Christmas. Why would I? Nothing's preventing me from having both the girl and the holiday. If she wants it that way too, that is."

Noelle sighed and closed her eyes as she snuggled into his shoulder, finally feeling safe. He was right. She hadn't thought it through. Why did it have to be a choice? Who said he couldn't have everything his heart desired?

And was he implying that he wanted her, if she was willing to have him?

"Uhm," she stammered, giving Nick a brief squeeze around the ribs while thinking of a good response. Unable to find the right words, she pulled away enough to look at him. The mild snowburn on his face and the droopiness of his eyelids reflected the effort he must have put in to find her, but his kind smile was as bright as ever. Damn, he was handsome.

Screw it. She didn't need words to tell him how she felt.

Gently grabbing him at the nape, Noelle kissed him hard. Whether it was from the relief of knowing that things were going to be all right or just that she had the hottest guy north of the equator in her bed right now, but she couldn't get enough of him. As they tumbled sideways onto the mattress, they both giggled, but neither let go. Noelle tugged at the bottom of Nick's sweater to hint that he was way overdressed for her liking, but a scratching at the door broke the magic of the moment.

"That'll be Otso," Nick grunted into her neck where he'd been leaving a trail of kisses starting at the base of her ear. "He's the one who found you, so he probably wants to see how you're doing."

Noelle had nothing against dogs, but she was quite enjoying her alone time with Nick. Even so, she didn't want to seem ungrateful to her savior.

"Oh, you have to let him in then," she said before giving Nick another kiss.

He rolled out of the bed and strode to the door, allowing her a great view of his cute butt on the way. Man, he knew how to fill out a pair of corduroys.

"Tulla," he urged the dog who'd been patiently sitting in the doorway to enter.

With a wag of his tail, Otso leapt to his feet and ran into the room. Jumping on the bed, he enthusiastically approached Noelle before abruptly skidding to a stop on the plush comforter.

"Hi, pupper," Noelle said, holding her hand out to pet his thick coat, but he was just out of arm's reach. She smiled to show him she wasn't a threat. "Who's the bestest boy for rescuing me in the forest?"

Slowly baring his teeth, the Husky growled.

"Otso, ei!" Nick yelled, as Noelle quickly withdrew her hand.

Her heart beat frantically as the dog slapped his ears back before bending his back legs and lowering his body. It was clearly an attack position and Noelle instinctively scooted backward on the bed until her shoulders hit the heard board.

Nick, however, moved closer to the dog. "No! Out!" he commanded, grabbing the disobedient Husky by the back of the neck and forcing him toward the door. When the dog's four feet were firmly back on the ground again, he willingly ran out of the room.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into him," Nick said as he shut the door—and locked it for good measure—before returning to Noelle's side. "He was so happy to find you earlier, and now . . .. Well, I'm sure he wouldn't have hurt you," he said, not sounding sure at all.

"It's okay," Noelle said even though the animal's reaction had also frightened her. But he was Nick's trusted companion, and she didn't want to alienate him without giving his actions the benefit of the doubt. "He's probably just a little jealous you're spending time with me instead of him. I think that happens with pets, right?" she asked, trying to recall if Maverick had ever acted in such a bizarre manner. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember that he had.

Nick took a deep breath and rubbed his temple. "Yeah. You might be right. I don't usually have girls over like this, so he probably doesn't know what to think of you," he said.

Noelle pursed her lips in surprise. He was mid-twenties plus however many years he'd lived in immortal-ville Keskitalvi, so the 'no sleepovers' admission was unexpected. She was tempted to ask how the love life of someone who didn't age worked (because navigating romance in one lifetime was hard enough), but then realized she really didn't want to know.

Instead, she reached for his waist and pulled him on top of her. "And you? What do you think of me, Mr. Klaas?" she asked with a hint of mischief in her voice.

Nick wet his lips and smiled. "Well, it is Christmas, so I suppose you could be my gift."

Noelle grinned back at him. That's exactly what she was thinking. The earlier fright had dissipated, and now she was painfully conscious of having to return to New York in just two more days. As long as she was here—and there were no potentially catastrophic repercussions—she was going to make the most of it. "You better start unwrapping, then," she said before locking her mouth on his.

* * *

Just north of Keskitalvi, deep in the woods under the light of a waning moon, a tundra vole scurried out from under a bare willow bush. The small rodent with yellowish brown fur and dainty whiskers ran over the snow in a zig-zag pattern until it reached an equally leafless lingonberry shrub. Raising itself up on its hind legs, the animal's nose twitched frantically as it examined the lowest branch, long devoid of its tart, red berries.

And then it happened.

There was no clap of thunder, no strike of lightning, and no shake of the ground, yet the vole suddenly straightened, stopped everything, and waited. It waited as if sensing a change, noticing a difference, or anticipating an imbalance in the forest, in the region, in the world itself.

Even if the rodent had had a knack for words, language itself wouldn't have been adequate to convey the specific mix of primal fear and impulsive curiosity coursing through its little body. Its instinct to stay still was quickly replaced with the urge to run. And run it did, as its little legs carried it over the snow and through the forest. It didn't know it, but its destination had been predetermined.

Jumping over rocks and squeezing under logs, the vole meandered through the snowy forest until it reached a clearing. The circular glade was empty save for two, low vertical stones holding a flat top made of the same material, like an ancient table left forgotten by time. But this particular pulpit had recently been used, successfully calling forth a pagan spirit who relished in havoc and savored chaos. The remnants of that dark ceremony—thirteen loose grains of wheat—still lay discarded on the tabletop, but as the small tundra vole watched, an inexplicable whirlwind began to gather around them.

The cold, night air swirled counterclockwise, picking up the grains in its exceedingly strong funnel. As the moonlight hit the chaffs, they blackened one-by-one until all that was left were dead, hollow husks spinning above the table. When the whirlwind stopped, a gust of Arctic air blew over the pulpit, sweeping the wheat into the clearing before they had a chance to drop onto the table. As each of the black grains landed in the snow, it melted through to dissolve the ice crystals into water. The subsequent puddles created mud, which further enveloped the grains to allow them to take root in the ground.

When the wicked seeds had been sown, the earth around them turned equally dark, as if life had been literally sucked out of it. This effect quickly spread, like lava pouring out of an active volcano, flowing down the side of a mountain and enveloping all in its path. Branches crackled and charred, while the air smelled of smoke as the blackness unfurled, heading south directly toward a small town named Midwinter.

Author's Note: Merry Christmas! Whew, this chapter was a rollercoaster, wasn't it? Well, the story isn't over yet, so stay tuned.