Christmas Cookie (Stocking Stuffers 3)

Christmas Cookie
Elizabeth Jewell
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2006 Elizabeth Jewell
An Authorized Excerpt

Every Christmas, Glynna made cookies. Brandt had never figured out why, since vampires couldn't actually taste cookies. The smell, though…

For the first few decades they'd been together, it had made him crazy. All the cinnamon and ginger and nutmeg had made him queasy. But baking made Glynna happy, so after about fifty years he'd finally quit bitching.

Now, another forty years down the road, he'd started to like it. So when he headed into the house with Glynna's Christmas present, the pervasive, spicy smell made him feel more festive than nauseated.

The Christmas present wasn't of the same mind. He grimaced and squeezed his nose shut. "God. What the hell is that smell?"

Brandt smacked him in the back of his short-cropped blond head. "Shut up. Glynna's cooking. You don't want to hurt her feelings."

"Ow." Erik rubbed his head where Brandt had hit him. "Jeez. Whatever."

"Sit down and shut up." Brandt pointed to the couch.

Grumbling, Erik flopped into the chair. He rubbed his neck, where a web of white scars marked his skin just above his jugular. Erik was human, a dedicated bite junkie who wore his habit like a fashion statement. He should like the smell of cookies baking, Brandt thought. If he didn't… well, it had never occurred to Brandt that Glynna might just be doing it wrong.

Glynna bustled out of the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour. She smiled at the two men, then went to Brandt and kissed him on the cheek. She glanced sidelong at Erik. "Who's this?"

Brandt gave the younger man a feral smile. "This, my dear, is your Christmas present."

He got her the same thing every year in some form or another, and had most of the time they'd been together. In the old days, the unlucky "present" rarely made it out alive. But they'd mellowed since then. Now he found willing victims, and more often than not they ended up singing carols or drinking cider together afterward.

This time he'd found an especially tasty offering.

At Brandt's clarification, Glynna's soft hausfrau look changed abruptly. She took the young man in, shrewd gaze sweeping up and down his body. "Really?"

"Yes." Brandt stepped to the couch and looked down at Erik, who was slumped in the cushions, looking defiant. "He comes highly recommended."

"Does he? By whom?"

"Marcus."

Glynna nodded, her smile turning predatory. "Very nice." She stepped to the couch and ran her hand through the young man's short-cropped hair. Her finger moved down the side of his face, touched the scars on his neck. "You'll do anything for a bite, won't you?"

He didn't answer, but hunger flashed in his eyes. Glynna chuckled, then smiled up at Brandt. "He's certainly pretty enough."

Brandt nodded smugly. "I knew you'd like him."