My name is Nathaniel. What’s yours?”He crossed himself with his spare hand. “You should never tell a demon your name. Mother Mary and all angels... protect me.”If his accent hadn’t given him away, I’d know now he was a good French Catholic boy. I mused that I was one once, over a century and a half ago.I stepped forward slowly. I wasn’t worried about his axe; I’d already given him the suggestion that he wouldn’t hurt me. It would be practically impossible for him to override that instruction. I. Mila burrows into her pillow.“Merry Christmas, my love.” She hums to his whisper. Sleep slowly seeping away, making room for the night to come back to her. When it does, she sits up so quickly it startles him.“Whoa, are you okay?” Mila blinks. The view of their cozy rented cabin background to his handsome, worried face. “What is it?”Mila blushes darker than a holly blossom. Emmett raises an eyebrow.When his confusion doesn’t turn into a smirk, she grows worried herself.“You okay?” he asks. More

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