Nothing Says Christmas Like A Vampire
Secret Vampire Society 02 Page 2 of 51
pine boughs, reflected back from the shiny surface. Her hands trembled against the lid as sheclosed it, hiding her gran
dmother’s beautiful face. “Goodbye,” she whispered into the silence,the funeral home empty but for her. “Tell Gramps Merry Christmas.”
The elderly couple had loved the holidays, and each other, so much. They would be so happy tobe together again. Sienna blinked back tears, refusing to feel sorry for herself over being alone.Nana had made Sienna promise to celebrate Christmas. Of course, at the end, her grandmother
had said a lot of things that hadn’t made much sense. Had to have been the drugs talking….
Maybe the painkillers had been the reason she’d insisted Sienna keep the ring. She stared down
at her right hand, and the finger onto which Nana had slid her engagement ring the day thatshe had died. The diamond twinkled more brightly than the Christmas lights. Sienna hadwanted to bury it with Nana, but the older woman had been adamant that Sienna wear it
onher right hand until she met the man who would slide it onto her left hand.
“You will meet him,” Nana had promised. “You’ll meet the man who loves you with all hisheart.”
“Yeah, right…” The last thing Sienna expected to find under her tree this Christmas was a man.
A pile of bills, an eviction notice, probably, but not a man. Chuckling to
herself over Nana’s
romantic notions, she turned away from the casket, and collided with a tall, hard figure. Herhands trembled as she lifted them to his chest to brace herself. The heat of his body penetratedhis black silk shirt, warming her palms and making her skin tingle.He lifted his hands to cup her shoulders. His deep voice was a low rumble as he warned her,
“I thought everyone had left,” she said. Even the funeral director had gone, with instructions to
pull the door shut behind her and it would lock. The holidays were fast approaching, so he hadprobably wanted to get home to his family.
So this strange man wasn’t an employee of the mortician, and he was too young to have been afriend of Nana’s. Yet something about him was eerily
familiar. The deep-set dark eyes, thefinely chiseled features and the black hair that hung just past his broad shoulders
all of itstruck a chord in her memory. Especially the small diamond-shaped scar near the cleft in hischin.Her heart hammered again
st her ribs, and fear cracked her voice as she asked, “Who are you?”
“I think you know,” he challenged her.
Beneath her palm, his heart pounded hard. Realizing she still touched him, she curled herfingers and pulled away her hands.
“I’m sorry.” She sho
ok her head, her mind muddled with confusion and exhaustion
distracting nearness. “I don’t know you.”