#house lochan | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

julemmaes · 7 months

Text

Stuck

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre modern au

A/N: idk wtf this is, I got an idea and then it spiralled into something completely different and considered how I ended I might write a second part where they fuck it out of their system, just for the sake of it

Enjoy!:)

Word count: ~2300

"No. Nonono, fuck no. Not today, please!" She cried, running her fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots until it hurt.

Elide groaned, shutting her eyes closed.

She tried to draw a deeper breath in and when the tight skin dress didn't stretch enough for her to do so, Elide felt anxiety crest.

"Fuck me," she whined, running to her living room, where the biggest mirror in her flat leaned against the wall. Maybe the problem was that she couldn't see properly and something was obstructing the way.

Turning with her back to the glass, she started slapping at her back, trying to reach for the zipper. Once her fingers closer around the tiny chip of metal, Elide yanked the thing down.

Nothing.

She closed her eyes in despair, breathing through her nose. When air got stuck in her throat again she blew it from her mouth.

Her eyes started stinging.

"Please, not today."

She had had the longest day at work and she needed to get out of this dress, so she could decompress after the tiring shift. But no, she couldn't. Of course not. The universe hated her and she was cursed.

And she was stuck.

She tried again, slower, gentler. The zipper didn't even shift.

Elide never really considered herself claustrophobic, she easily got into elevators and toilet stalls without windows. She never felt any kind of panic whenever she was in tiny, crowded spaces and such.

But she was starting to doubt how much she truly knew herself at this point.

She clutched her neck with a hand, forcing herself to take small, slow breaths, trying to calm down and think of a solution.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was out of her apartment and striding down to the only other one she was sure wasn't vacant.

She couldn't waste any time checking which neighbor was home or not and the music coming from apartment E24 was proof enough someone was in there.

She reached the door in the blink of an eye and started slamming her palm against the flat wood surface, so hard that her skin tingled with pain.

"Fuck!" A clearly masculine voice came from inside, “The Police!”

“Shut up, Fenrys, it’s not the Police,” another male voice came through. Whoever it was, they were immensely calmer than the former speaker.

“Fuck you, Ro, you can’t know!”

Elide called out, “I’m not the Police, please open the door!”

“You open it, Dorian."

“Are you for real?” Another person.

"You're closer to it—"

"It's your house."

"—and I'm scared."

"Hellas above, I'll get the door."

Elide didn't have time to step back that the door unlocked and a second later a guy larger than life stood in front of her.

She sagged, leaning forward. She couldn't help the relieved whisper that escaped her. "Thank gods."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already turning her back to him.

"I'm fucking stuck and if you don't help me right now I might collapse."

Dramatic much, she could hear her best friend's words in her head.

"I've been trying to get out of this hellish trap for twenty minutes and I–" she paused, panting as if she'd just ran a marathon, "–I can't really breathe."

When her plea was met with silence she turned her head enough to look over her shoulder and she only then realized how tall the man standing there was.

He towered over her, by two heads.

He was staring at her with parted lips and a furrowed brow.

"I'm sorry what?" His voice was rough, scratchy in a way that made Elide blush.

She whined, not above crying in front of strangers if it came to it, "The dress, it won't come off, I need you to zip it down. Please."

A loud, barking laugh came from inside the apartment and then a chorus of various voices started.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"No one will believe us when we tell this story."

"Lucky bastard."

"I can't believe it myself and I'm living through it."

Elide ignored the others and focused on the giant guy, looking him straight in the eyes, "Listen I just need you to pull it down, I can't do it myself and I live alone, please I…"

"Okay," he murmured. He stepped forward, lifting his hands toward her dress. He looked at her back before his eyes flitted to hers, "Can I?"

"Please," Elide repeated.

She tensed when his fingers brushed her skin, and held her breath when he brought the hems of the dress together and tried to pull the zipper down.

"It doesn't work," he stated.

"No shit, Sherlock," someone said from inside. "She literally told you that."

Elide brought her hands to her face and groaned for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

When he stepped back, she turned and eyed the others—there were seven guys, plus the titan standing next to her, in total. They seemed to be in the middle of some kind of videogame tournament. Snacks and joysticks lay everywhere and they were all wearing some kind of comfy clothes.

She had to hold back her smile when she realized she'd walked in on a slumber party.

"Do any of you know how to fix zippers or am I destined to die in this?"

"I heard using soap works, come inside."

Elide's attention shifted back to the guy next to her. She had to bend her head back to look him in the face.

He was wearing black pants and a black sweater, and he had his arms crossed over his chest. He was eyeing her curiously, as if he was studying her. Elide couldn't say she minded the attention.

He was pretty good on the eye, too.

Another one of the guys shot up, "Sure, let the stranger in, it's not like this is my house."

"You're right, I'm so sorry," Elide looked back at the room. She stepped inside nonetheless, "I'm Elide. Lochan. I live in E27? I think we crossed paths a couple of times?"

"Oh, maybe." The owner of the house came up to her, extending a hand and flashing her a shit-eating grin, "Fenrys, Moonbeam."

"Nice to meet you, where do you keep the soap?"

He seemed taken aback for a second and slowly lowered his hand. A few surprised snorts sounded in the room. He pointed a finger down the corridor, "Bathroom."

Someone brushed past her, murmuring a curt come as they passed.

She didn't have to be told twice and followed the Wardrobe-wide Guy into the flat.

He moved around the bathroom like he owned the place, and Elide would probably be embarrassed later when she realized she'd literally just barged into someone's house and demanded their help, but she needed to get out of this dress and couldn't really think of anything else at the moment.

"Turn around."

Elide did as told without a word.

She hissed as a few droplets of cold water slid down her back.

"Sorry," he grumbled. The soft sound of the soap bar grating against the zipper was the only audible thing. And she was growing aware of her surroundings.

"What's your name?"

"Lorcan."

"Cool," she cleared her throat. "Cool, cool."

He huffed a breath. His version of a laugh, perhaps?

She felt the dress being pulled down, but nothing unzipping, then he clicked his tongue.

"It's not working, is it?"

"Nah," he said, putting the soap back and washing his hands. "I could try with some oil."

Elide let go of a shuddering breath, she just wanted out of it.

When she said nothing, Lorcan rounded her and stood in front of her, glancing down at her face. His chin jutted out, "You okay?"

She nodded swiftly, offering a tight smile.

Now that she knew someone else was taking care of the issue at hand, she was feeling calmer. And she could think more clearly.

The guy in front of her was stunning.

He had long, black hair that reached his waist. Eyes just as dark and a white, deep scar that ran from the side of his forehead down to his temple that appeared even paler in contrast with his dark skin. She wondered how he'd gotten it.

"Are you claustrophobic or some shit like that?"

That question brought her back to reality and made her aware of the fact that he'd been watching her just as closely.

She shook her head, "I'm just exhausted and I want to sleep. But I can't sleep in this."

His lips curled on one side and after a few seconds where they just studied each other, he jerked his head toward the living room before silently heading back.

She was on his heels in a heartbeat.

The moment they stepped into the full room, Elide dared looking at the crowd. She stopped in the hall when one of them talked.

"Lorbear, I see you're no good at undressing ladies in distress."

Lorbear. This group was close.

Elide snorted, rolling her eyes back and then fixing her stare on the blue-eyed prince charming that sat on the only armchair. "You think you could do better?"

A white-haired guy chuckled, addressing her directly. "Our Dorian here hasn't seen a single dress in his entire life, he wouldn't know where to start."

She smiled knowingly, enjoying the distraction as much as the friendly banter between the boys.

"Do I need to remind you how you met your girlfriend, Rowan?" Dorian grinned back, lifting a foot to poke at the other's leg.

Rowan—she supposed—tensed and clenched his jaw, slapping Dorian's foot away, "Please, don't."

Elide's interest was piqued, so much so that she wanted to ask questions, but Lorcan's voice called for her from the kitchen.

She waved at the others, "Wish me good luck."

A chorus of good luck rose from the couches.

"Sorry," she said as she sauntered in the small kitchen, "I got stopped."

Lorcan gestured at her to turn around, "Don't mind them, they're all jerks."

"I like them," she shrugged as she positioned in front of him. "Plus, you're the one hanging out with them, if you really thought that, I don't think you'd be here."

His fingers slipped under the fabric on her back and something coarse scratched at her skin.

"It's paper, so you don't get oily," he warned.

"Oh," she was surprised. By the small kind gesture, and by the reaction her body was having to the infinitely unimportant brush of his touch. "Thanks."

"No prob," he drawled, his voice traveling over the back of her neck.

Elide scrunched her nose. What was she doing?

"Would you mind leaning forward a bit for me, 'lide?"

'Lide.

She was going to die.

You're not, Manon's voice sounded amused in her head as she obeyed.

They went through the process again, just for the zipper to not even budge.

He cleaned the metal, wiping it until it was dry enough that it wouldn't dirty her.

She turned to face him again and he bent his head to the side, scratching his jaw.

"Can I cut it?"

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, "No, it's my work uniform, you can't cut it."

He stared at her for the longest time, then went, "Are you wearing a bra?"

What?

Someone laughed from the other room, "Smooth, Slavaterre. Really smooth."

Lorcan huffed, running a hand down his face, "I was wondering if we could take it off from the head. You know, like a shirt."

Elide suddenly felt stupid. She blushed lightly and muttered, "I didn't think of it."

"So?"

It was her turn to stare at him, in silence, contemplating her next move.

The way his gaze didn't falter for half a second gave her a kind of confidence she rarely possesses these days.

She shook her head, "Yes, I am."

"Do you think you can do it by yourself?"

She nodded.

Lorcan hummed, "I guess my part is done here, then."

"I guess," she replied, never stepping back from the staring contest.

When his eyes slid lower, slowly, to her mouth, she smirked. He mimicked her, and his tongue came out to wet his plump lip.

It wasn't her style, not really how she found hookups, but Lorcan was attractive and seemed to be really appreciative of whatever he was seeing in her.

"What if," she added, speaking so softly that only he could hear her, "I get stuck?"

Something glimmered in his eyes, and he took a step forward. The movement forced her head further back and when his hand lifted to play with the hem of her sleeve, her arms covered in goosebumps.

"I could help with that," he rasped, caressing her shoulder. He ran a finger down her collarbone and Elide took a sharp breath in.

Their eyes met again and she swallowed.

"Then I'll make sure to call you, if it comes to that."

Lorcan's lips curled again, tempting, "I would love that."

Fenrys' scream came sharp as a needle, bursting their bubble of tension and longing.

"Don't you dare make out in my kitchen!"

Elide averted her gaze, pushing her tongue against her cheek to avoid laughing. She really liked these people.

Lorcan stepped back until a good two meters distanced them and then inhaled, extending a hand toward the living room.

She walked out of the kitchen first, heading directly for the front door.

She spared a long look at Lorcan, letting him see the sincerity behind her next words, "You know where to find me, Salvaterre, if you ever need company."

She loved the taste of his name on her tongue.

He smirked, taking his stance next to the kitchen door. He nodded his head once, clearly letting her know he would take up on her words.

She didn't even look at the rest of the guys as she said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

She was halfway down the corridor when shouts and cheers exploded from Fenrys' flat.

Oh, just how fast things had changed.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @gwynethhberdara @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @tangledinmysoul @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @imagine-me @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #tog fic #meet cute #ill try to write some smut as a second part i swear

169 notes · View notes

momolady · 2 years

Text

It's Orctober on Patreon!

Once again, I am able to be on theme! And luckily for all of you, it's Orctober! We've got orcs on top of Orcs on top of Orcs. There's stickers, a magnet, a print, and something brand spanking new! A static cling!

$10 gets the print, static cling and magnet by @belle-the-witch and one of the random stickers (Lochan by @blossomready and Silvestrov Romance Cover by @artcelestial)

$20 and up will get one of absolutely everything!

Come and enjoy my Patreon now!

Also this month you'll be getting a bunch of new stories including:

Silas, an Incubus butler in an enchanted house

Alard, a terrifying fae knight and his human maid

The Pooka, a story I had lost for over two years and recently found

Brody, a minotaur traveling with his childhood friend to deliver furniture

Ben, a werewolf returning to Hearthway Hollow who reunites with his former rival/secret crush who is also Rowan's little sister

Marek, an ancient vampire on an island that floods for half the year

Luka, a half orc who, despite his appearance, enjoys cute things

Plus lots of special previews, rough drafts, and once you join you'll be able to join my discord server!

#exophilia #teratophiia #terato #monster romance #orc #orc romance #orc boyfriend #orctober #personal

218 notes · View notes

theladyofdeath · 1 year

Note

Elide and Lorcan having an angsty fight. And when they see eachother again they're standing under a mistletoe. Maybe they make up or maybe they don't who knows.

I never asked a prompt before... I Just really want to read some Elorcan so this is the first thing that popped in my mind😅

A/N: I love this prompt! I hope you enjoy this drabble and had an amazing holiday season! x

T/W: language

A winter storm was brewing outside, but inside of Elide and Lorcan’s living room, a holiday party was thriving.

It was difficult to plan and throw a party when you’re hardly speaking to your significant other…which Lorcan hadn’t in nearly two days. Every time he passed his fiancé, they barely acknowledged one another.

Their fight had been the worst one yet. Although both of them were stubborn, Lorcan’s temper was a little harsher than Elide’s. He knew it was a character flaw, but he was too stubborn to work on it. When he got angry, he didn’t want to fix it, he just wanted to stay pissed off.

And he had stayed pissed off for two days.

It didn't stop them from hosting their Christmas party. It didn't stop Elide from cooking all day, and it didn't stop Lorcan from cleaning the house to perfection. He always cleaned better when he was pissed the hell off. He was an angry-scrubber.

Although their friends seemed to be having a great time, the tension between the two of them was evident. Aside from lingering glares, Lorcan hadn't bothered to say a word to Elide, and she didn't bother saying a word to him.

It was ridiculous.

He knew it.

And he didn't care.

Planning a wedding was stressful.

It was even more stressful when a date could not be set.

Lorcan asked Elide to marry him a year ago. Last Christmas, he had gotten down on one knee and popped the question. When she had said yes, it had been the greatest moment of his life. Every hardship he had endured didn't seem so bad, because they had led him to her, to her saying yes to becoming his wife.

But even a year later, Elide didn't want to set a date.

Lorcan didn't get it. He didn't understand it. He knew that Elide loved him, which only made him that much more confused on why she couldn't settle on a day to marry him, to take that final step. It confused him so much that he picked a fight, had started yelling at her and acting a fool when he asked her about setting a date again, and she said that she didn't know.

Their fight had ended with Lorcan saying the awful words: Then maybe we shouldn't even get married.

Since those words left his mouth, silence was all that laid between them.

Now, the room around Lorcan was filled with holiday cheer but he felt none of it. Every minute that passed with that tension between them just felt off, awful, not right.

Lorcan lifted his glass to his lips only to find it empty. He hadn't even realized he'd been drinking that often, but he supposed that misery loved company, and whiskey was the best company of all.

Pushing himself off the wall by Fenrys and Connall, who were bickering about something ridiculous, Lorcan strode to the kitchen with his empty glass.

And nearly ran directly into Elide.

The thing about Elide Lochan was if she was in a crowd of people, you probably wouldn't be seeing her right away, considering Lorcan had almost two feet on her. So when she came around the corner of the kitchen with her own recently filled wine glass, he had barely stopped himself before his shirt had a big red stain on it.

They both froze and stared at one another.

Lorcan cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Elide gave him a nod, her lips in a straight line.

"It's about time you two lovebirds were caught under the mistletoe."

The fucking mistletoe.

Lorcan had nearly forgotten about it until they both looked up and, surely enough, they stood underneath the neatly trimmed and hung greenery.

A sigh left him as he looked back down at Elide, who shrugged and, with a roll of her dark eyes, rose on her toes.

Lorcan leaned down and kissed her, softly. It was nothing more than a peck on the lips, but the second their mouths touched, Lorcan tasted the wine and cherry chapstick. Their kiss deepened, as every kiss that had ever occurred between the two of them had. It was something that should have only lasted a second but lasted much longer as they melted into one another.

When that kiss finally broke, they didn't part too far from one another. Lorcan brushed her hair behind her ear and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Elide's eyes softened. "No, I'm sorry. You have every right to be frustrated with me. I just know that as soon as we set a date, the wedding planning is going to be so stressful, and I never imagined that I'd be getting married without my parents there-"

"Hey," Lorcan breathed, lifting her chin so that she met his gaze. "You don't need to explain."

"Yes, I do," she whispered, "because I don't want you thinking that I don't want to marry you. I do. Of course, I do. I love you. So much."

"I know," he said, taking her hand. "I love you, too, and we'll set a date when we set a date. As long as you're here every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to bed, that's all that matters to me."

Elide's lips slowly twisted into a small smile. "Such a softie."

"Mhmm," he said, eyes narrowing as they always did when she would tell him how romantic he was being. He kissed her, once more. "Don't tell anybody."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Good."

Using his empty glass as an excuse, Lorcan pulled Elide into the kitchen with him and kissed her again and again, considering he had two days worth to make up for.

Sometimes he scolded himself for being so stubborn and for falling in love with such a stubborn woman. Yet, every time they fought, they sure as hell knew how to make up.

88 notes · View notes

manontrashbeak · 1 year

Text

Elide Lochan is the queen of Big Boy by SZA. Girl is like 4’11 with a 7’1 gargantuan

#throne of glass #manon blackbeak #manorian #dorian havilliard #crochan witches #tog #asterin blackbeak #elide lochan #ironteeth witches #rowaelin #aelin ashryver #elorcan #nessian #crescent city #house of sky and breath

384 notes · View notes

writtenonreceipts · 2 years

Note

Idk if you're open for prompts but if you are then could you write something in which Rowan has to go to some fancy dinner and knows remelle is gonna be there so he asks Aelin (who he barely knows through elorcan) to accompany him

Rowaelin Month Day Ten: An Unconventional Way to Get a Date month master list @rowaelinscourt

not gonna lie, i ended up writing half of this as soon as you sent it in. thanks nonny!!

Warnings: mentions of cheating (nothing explicit or shown, only briefly mentioned/discussed), holiday cheer in mid-september, slight angst ~11k words

...

The Perfect Act

Rowan Whitethorn had never been one to enjoy the holidays. Not the social customs that came with them, not the excess of sweets and food, not the commercials and ads, and most especially not the parties. None of it was natural. This time of the year was always forced—whittling away will and want until there was nothing left.

As soon as September first hit and straight until January fifteenth (for safety) Rowan did everything he could to avoid anything that had to do with celebration and the mere suggestion of pumpkin spice. He’d done so since the age of sixteen and his parents first got sick. And then when they both passed mere weeks after his eighteenth birthday, it was only natural to perpetuate the avoidance into his own ritual.

And it had worked. Most of his relationships never lasted long enough to reveal his holiday aversion and if they had—it was easily passed over and forgotten.

His last relationship had been something different, though. He’d met Remelle at work on a whim after needing to visit the legal team for whatever reason. After a few weeks of flirtation led to a date—they’d somehow been labeled as a couple. HR document signed and all. Rowan had no idea how it had actually happened, one day they’d gone out to lunch in July and the next they were headed into Fall, apartment keys exchanged and everything. From start to finish it all just felt like a storm waged through his life. Though, really, there’d been nothing he could do about it.

And then September first hit.

And so did the Holiday Shmear.

Perhaps it was depression that wove through his mind and soul at this time of year. Perhaps it was nothing more than his mind being stronger than his will. But by the second week of September, Remelle had racked up a credit card with inane purchases, cheated on him, and blocked him on all social media platforms.

He still didn’t know if it was the refusal to try a pumpkin spice latte or asking her not to steal his credit card that did it. Now, early November, Rowan still had no idea what had done it.

“Hey, Rowan!” The greeting was a welcome from his thoughts and Rowan entered the small house settled just outside the city.

Elide Lochan was a strange person, he’d long ago decided. Stock full of sarcasm and ire, her wide brown eyes combined with soft, gentle features of innocence. When he’d first met her nearly six years ago now, Rowan had thought she were that innocent little thing. Until he introduced her to Lorcan. And the floodgates had opened.

“Hey,” he said, offering as near a hug as could be managed.

The three-month-old baby in her arms had just discovered he had fingers and loved grabbing anything and everything in sight.

“C’mon in,” Elide said as she already walked through the house. The small entryway was cluttered with shoes, boxes, and piles of Tupperware with sticky notes designating the proper owners. “Sorry it’s a mess.”

Mess wasn’t the word Rowan would use. Especially not when Elide had only been cleared for heavier work after the baby being born. The pregnancy and labor had been difficult and Rowan had taken on several of Lorcan’s responsibilities at work so he could be with Elide throughout the recovery.

The house was lived in—pictures decorated the walls highlighting a whirlwind romance that had Lorcan and Elide meeting, dating, and marrying all within a year. There were university degrees interspersed with awards from various organizations as well. Elide’s humanitarian work for a non-profit had been her greatest accomplishment.

“Elide, you just had a baby,” Rowan said, following her to the kitchen. “Relax.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder as she kept a hand on Tavish’s head. “I’ll relax when I want to, thank-you.”

Rowan sighed. No, Elide would relax when she’d inevitably collapse from trying to do too much too soon. And since Lorcan was still at work getting caught up on a few projects, Rowan was left to convince the woman to sit down and let him order out.

“Can I at least hold my godson?” he asked. They entered the kitchen—stacked with even more Tupperware to find its rightful owner. A pressure cooker was set out with a myriad of ingredients ready to be added.

“Fine,” Elide relented. She passed the baby over and Rowan took him.

Tavish had been born five weeks early with his fair share of medical issues. But over the last few weeks and months, the little guy had gained his strength and was now home where he belonged. He was still tiny and wrinkly and a strange sight to see.

“Hey bud,” Rowan murmured. He kept the baby tucked to his side, fully supported. Elide had gone through several tutorials of how to properly hold a baby. He’d graduated three times over before being able to hold the baby for the first time. Fenrys was in retraining.

Tavish blinked wide, black eyes at him and snatched a hand out towards Rowan’s face.

As Rowan paced the kitchen, Elide muttered curses at the pressure cooker.

“Why don’t I order take out,” Rowan suggested casually. He grabbed a burp rag from the table as Tavish spit up.

Elide glared at him. “I can make dinner perfectly fine. I don’t need more casserole dishes, I don’t need more pity brownies, and I don’t need—”

The pressure cooker let out a loud shriek that made Tavish whimper. Rowan shifted and Tavish settled, but the baby passed his eyes about in search of the miserable noise.

“I hate this thing,” Elide muttered.

“There’s a Thai place right down the street,” Rowan said, “best phad-thai in the city.”

Elide scowled at him, but Rowan could see the tiredness to her eyes and how she was already eyeing the nearest chair.

“I hate you,” she said.

“I know,” Rowan said. He passed back her baby and took his phone out of his pocket.

Forty minutes later, the order had been placed and delivered, Tavish was in a milk coma after a feeding, and Rowan sat at the table trying to beat her at a round of cribbage. Given that Elide had just rounded up fifteen points with a damn queen and set of fives, it was not going well.

“You’re terrible at this,” she told him.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’d gotten in the habit of coming to the Lochan household even before Tavish had been born. Lorcan was one of his oldest friends and Elide was always eager to open her house to others. Plus, if there was anyone who hated the holidays as much as Rowan it was Lorcan. Though, by the sight of a few Christmas decorations oozing out of a box in the living room Elide was slowly chipping away at Lorcan’s brooding persona.

“I promise I won’t make you sing Christmas carols to Tavish when he can’t sleep,” Elide said, following his gaze to the decorations.

“It’s barely the second week of November, Elide,” Rowan groused, “who wants to be listening to Rudolph this early?”

“Grumpy,” Elide mused. On the floor beside them, Tavish slept in a little hammock style swing that Elide gently swayed with her foot every once in a while. “But you should be warned, this is Tavish’s first Thanksgiving and Christmas, I will be pulling out all the stops for him.”

“Of course you are,” Rowan said. He reshuffled the deck of cards and dealt the next hand.

“You would make an excellent Christmas elf,” Elide said. Humor burned in her eyes as he scowled.

“Remind me why I bother visiting you anymore?” he asked.

“Because you like me,” Elide declared as the front door opened and Lorcan finally arrived home.

Lorcan quietly entered the house, gave Elide a kiss, knelt before Tavish’s little swing, and then grabbed his own plate of food.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Rowan with narrowed eyes.

Rowan scowled. “I can’t visit my friends?”

“Hm,” Lorcan grunted.

“He didn’t bring any more casserole dishes, he can come whenever he wants,” Elide told her husband.

Lorcan snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. When are we getting rid of all that stuff?”

“Well, half of it is from Aelin,” Elide replied. She took a bite of noodles and shrugged. “I think she’s stopping by later tonight. She even offered to return the other containers. Do you remember Aelin, Rowan? She was my maid of honor.”

“You hated her,” Lorcan supplied.

It had been two years since the wedding and in all honesty, Rowan had spent most of it drunk when at all possible. Though, he’d been best man and…he remembered walking down the aisle with the woman who had promised him that if Lorcan did anything to hurt Elide she’d murder Lorcan, then him.

“The blonde with the death threat?”

“See?” Lorcan said, he stood to refill waters and grab napkins, “she’s demonic, ‘Lide.”

“And I love her for it.” Elide smiled at her husband. It was a happy, soft look that Elide only had for Lorcan and now Tavish.

Ever since knowing Lorcan, Rowan had never seen anyone react to him the way Elide did. Hell, the way Lorcan had changed and grown since knowing Elide too--Rowan honestly couldn’t see one without the other.

“How was work?” Elide asked Lorcan.

The man winced and cast a look at Rowan. “Well.”

“Oh, hell,” Rowan cursed. He knew what was coming. It had been something he’d been avoiding for weeks now.

In his little hammock, Tavish let out a whimper. Lorcan immediately dropped his eyes to his son, but Tavish quieted down.

“What happened?” Elide asked, already reaching to the small armoire behind her for Tavish’s binky.

“The holiday party is happening,” Lorcan said. He shoveled piles of rice and noodles in his mouth to avoid saying any more.

Rowan cursed again and sat back in his chair. He’d always been so careful in how he approached the Holidays and planning vacations and doctor’s appointments around the major parties and events he didn’t want to attend. This year was different. Not just because of Remelle and that mess. But Rowan had also been given a major promotion. He was in charge of an entire department and as such would be expected to attend work parties such as this.

“Remelle was very insistent,” Lorcan added.

Rowan knew what that meant. He sighed. Hell.

Another whimper sounded from Tavish and Elide was quick to swing him up in her arms and rock him. When he still didn’t settle she stood. Lorcan reached out a hand for the baby.

“Do you want—?” he began, but Elide shook her head.

She dropped a kiss to Lorcan’s forehead and headed out of the kitchen. “It’s fine, he just needs a change.”

Lorcan watched as Elide left down the hall, a gentle look on his face. Once he turned to Rowan, however, the look hardened back to his usual scowl.

“While you were busy putting out fires for Graves, the other department heads pushed the party forward,” Lorcan said. “And Remelle wasn’t subtle about it being in December and as Christmas-y as possible.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew he shouldn’t have been, but Rowan couldn’t help but feel the jab. He’d thought Remelle had understood and accepted, in part, his aversion to gatherings and socializing at this time of year. But then he thought of her quips and coldness. The way she’d tried to fill his apartment with seasonable candles and slip pumpkin spice creamer in his fridge.

“Why the hell did you let me date her?” Rowan asked.

“I tried to warn you,” Lorcan threw up his hands in defense. “You’re the one who made a pros and cons list.”

Lorcan began cleaning up the takeout containers and plates. He made sure anything extra made it to the fridge. When he returned to the table, he passed Rowan a beer.

“I didn’t make a list,” Rowan muttered as he opened his beer.

Lorcan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. But you should also know that Remelle…well she mentioned bringing her boyfriend.”

Down the hall, Rowan heard Elide murmuring softly to Tavish. Other than that, there were only the few sounds of cars rushing by outside and the heating system kicked on sending a rumble through the house.

He hadn’t loved Remelle. Nowhere even close to it. In fact, Rowan was glad to have gotten out of that relationship. But he’d been hung up on it. Had thought about it. Had wondered why she’d cheated on him instead of talking to him about where they stood. He didn’t care about the credit card; he’d gotten most of his money back in that. It was in the idea of being used by Remelle that still clung to him like a shadow.

“Three weeks,” Rowan finally said. He drank nearly half his beer in one go. “Glad she’s doing so well.”

“She’s a bitch, Rowan,” Lorcan said. His already dark scowl went darker still. “She knows exactly what she’s doing. I can try and speak up on Monday and get you out of it—”

Rowan shook his head. “It’s the first major get together since the promotion. I know how Nesryn is, she’ll want me at that party.”

The CEO of the company was usually understanding, but Rowan didn’t want to get on her bad side.

He and Lorcan sat in the near silence. Lorcan, never one for words anyways, remained quiet. Though, Rowan had known him long enough to recognize how irritated his friend actually was.

“We could insist on no plus-ones unless it’s a spouse,” Lorcan said, “even if health restrictions have been more lenient.”

Rowan just shook his head. “I’m a grown man. I can handle myself.”

Though, he could already see the way Remelle’s eyes would spark at seeing him alone. At least he had a month to prepare. Still, he felt a bit of panic rise in his chest. Not just at the thought of dealing with the holidays, but at dealing with that subtle judgment Remelle was sure to dish out.

There was a knock at the door and Lorcan rose to answer it.

“Well, well,” a woman’s voice crooned. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

“I’m not old,” Lorcan muttered. There was the sound of footsteps, the door closing, and Lorcan’s sigh.

“You have a child and are officially over thirty,” the woman said happily, “Safe to say I can call you old.”

The woman who entered the kitchen next was nearly impossible to look away from. Despite it being the bare beginnings of November, she already wore a dress decorated in gingerbread men and candy canes, a pair of bright red tights, and black flats. Her hair was styled with little bits of tinsel and her make-up was a wild collection of red and green eyeliner. She was a walking ad of Christmas. And still, Rowan was struck by her.

She walked with confidence, a grin in place at successfully teasing Lorcan, and she simply had a bright openness about her. Despite the Christmas vomit she’d covered herself in, Rowan could see her beauty. Her blonde hair framed sharp features and bright eyes.

“Take your casserole dishes so I can have my kitchen back,” Lorcan said. He walked around to his chair and sat.

“Where’s your better half?” the woman asked. She glanced around and finally seemed to notice Rowan. She paused and frowned, just barely. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Rowan greeted, tipping his beer as a sort of wave.

“Aelin?” Elide’s voice came from down the hall and then she appeared with a freshly bundled baby in her arms.

“Hey!” Aelin tried, and failed, to hold back her happy greeting, leaning into a slight shriek as she hurried to Elide.

Immediately, Elide passed the baby over and Aelin took Tavish in her arms. If she’d been happy before, that paled in comparison to how she cooed and awed at Tavish who seemed captivated by the sparkles in her hair.

“Oh little man, look at you and your new pajamas,” Aelin said.

Rowan watched as she came into the kitchen, Tavish in arms. The baby wore footed pajamas that were nearly as festive as Aelin herself. Santa’s and reindeer pranced along the fabric merrily.

“What did you do to that kid?” Rowan couldn’t help but ask. “Elide, Thanksgiving hasn’t even happened.”

Before Elide could reply, Aelin gave an affronted gasp and turned to Rowan.

“You’re one of those Anti-Holiday people, aren’t you?’ she asked.

Rowan only shook his head. He didn’t need to respond. Particularly to someone he didn’t even know.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” Aelin continued when Rowan didn’t reply. She really looked at him then and Rowan could see the flash of recognition in her eyes. “Oh, you’re the Buzzard.”

“The what?” Rowan nearly spit out his beer. He looked between Elide and Lorcan, but they proved to be useless. Elide was failing at stifling laughter and Lorcan was up and grabbing another beer.

“Buzzard, buzzkill,” Aelin shrugged a delicate shoulder and grinned down at Tavish who grabbed at her hair. “If I remember correctly, at the wedding, you were hardly any fun. Though, I guess it makes sense if you’re friends with Salvaterre.”

“Thin ice, Galathynius,” Lorcan grumbled. He opened his second beer.

Aelin only hummed as she swayed side to side with Tavish. “I pray your child is better company.”

“Knock it off!” Elide ordered, though she had a smile playing on her lips. “Rowan, can I get you anything else? What do I owe you for the take-out?”

Rowan shook his head and stood. He’d only half finished his beer, but he needed to leave. It was already getting late and he knew that Tavish already had a messed-up sleep schedule.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he said, “my treat.”

Elide looked ready to throw her purse at him and demand he take some money, but he was already headed to the door. His friends had done more than enough for him in the past and they were still struggling with adapting to having Tavish back at home.

“Rowan!” Elide called after him.

“Bye Buzzard!” came from Aelin.

He made it to his truck, a stark contrast to the rest of the lifestyle he lived, and settled in. He’d barely drunk any beer and with the heavy dinner he was more than able to drive. Still, he waited for an extra moment. As Rowan glanced up at Lorcan and Elide, he could just see a sliver into the kitchen. Aelin had passed Tavish to Lorcan who swooped his son into his arms, beside him Elide was laughing over something that had been said.

Rowan shook his head at the simple sight. He’d never had expected Lorcan to settle down before him. Especially not so quickly and happily. But Lorcan wasn’t looking back.

Rowan started the truck—the old engine roared to life and slowly the radio came on. Static curled over the station and gave way to Mariah Carey’s penultimate Christmas triumph.

He turned the radio off and made his way home.

…

The cool autumn air wrapped around Aelin as she trudged into work. It was too early to be awake, even for her. She’d been picking up more shifts at the cafe since her piano lessons had filtered out recently with the season and school year in full swing. Kids didn’t have time during the day, so her nights were usually chaotic.

Still, the cafe needed to function for the sake of downtown traffic and workers. So she opened up and got lights on and music going. It was early in the season, but she’d already organized a new playlist for the year full of new Christmas and holiday songs she’d curated over the year.

It was her favorite time of year. Despite how miserable she’d been recently; she would let herself enjoy the Holidays. She was dressed in another thrift store find—an obnoxious red jumpsuit paired with combat boots that had seen better days.

This last year had been the worst of her life. Her father passing away combined with needing to drop out of school to help her mother in her grief had only added to Aelin’s burden. She’d never speak ill of her mother but after sidelining everything about herself, Aelin was ready for a little bit of brightness.

As the day picked up, she was joined by her coworkers. They didn’t quite understand her exuberance for the season, but they were better than grumpy men who couldn’t even appreciate a baby in a cute onesie.

She shook her head. Why was she thinking about Lorcan’s grumpy friend? Despite the fact that Rowan Whitethorn was, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’d ever seen—he was an ass. And she had no need for that, not now.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that Aelin saw a small reprieve in the flood of customers. For which she was grateful. She was just finishing a drink before heading on break when the door of the shop opened and a familiar figure entered.

Tall, broad shouldered, silver hair that coiffed easily off his face—Rowan.

It had been a week since Aelin had seen him at Elide’s and just like the days following the wedding—Aelin hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Like a lunatic.

“Well, well,” she said as he approached the register. “The Buzzard.”

He paused, finally realizing who she was. His green eyes widened and a delightfully perplex look crossed that stupidly handsome face.

“You—” he began.

“Me,” she said with a wink. She called out the name for the drink she’d finished and returned to him. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

Well, that was the most ridiculous thing she could have ever said.

Rowan only blinked. He seemed to be more distracted by her outfit than anything.

“Right,” he said slowly, “Um. I got off a late lunch and this was the closest place for caffeine.”

Aelin shrugged. Decent enough answer. “Well, what can I get you? Something with extra caramel and pumpkin spice?”

She said it as a joke, leaving plenty of teasing in her voice with a happy smile. But Rowan’s confused look turned to a scowl.

“No.” He fingered a link of garland Aelin had strung up just yesterday and pure disgust practically bloomed across his face. “I don’t do that stuff.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Aelin told him, trying to urge a smile, Rowan however seemed to not know what the hell a smile was. “It’s Christmas in a cup.”

“No,” he repeated. “Just a latte with raw sugar and oat milk. Iced.”

“Alright,” Aelin said. She rang him up and started on the drink. “So you’re a Christmas denier, then?”

“More like an ignorer,” Rowan replied.

Aelin could only stare. How could—? Even with everything in her life, the holidays had been her saving grace. She loved this time of year, loved the wonder of it all, loved feeling just a little bit of hope.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Rowan growled. He grabbed his finished drink from her before she could set it down.

“Like what?” she challenged, feeling her good mood of the day draining.

“Like you pity me,” he said. “I don’t like the holidays but that doesn’t mean—” He bit off his words so suddenly that Aelin thought he’d had a stroke. Rowan turned away from her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“Just because you don’t like the holidays doesn’t mean you have to be an ass,” Aelin said.

His jaw flexed again and Aelin watched as he took a long breath. Those deep green eyes of his flared with something she couldn’t quite read, but with the way they bore into her, she began to wonder if maybe he could see into her very soul.

Before either of them could say anything, the door of the cafe jingled open. Aelin watched as Rowan turned to leave and then froze. His attention had caught on the new patron, of course. The woman was a few inches shorter than Aelin with platinum blonde hair that hung perfectly straight without a hint of frizz. Her pale skin practically glowed pearlescent in the lights and her slender frame was emphasized by a form fitting black dress. She was beautiful and perfectly composed.

“Rowan?” the woman practically purred. “This is a surprise.”

At that moment, with no real way to explain it, Aelin decided she didn’t like this woman. She didn’t often make such rash or quick judgements, choosing instead to gather more information about someone. Yet, the woman moved with catlike grace and a feral sort of smile bloomed on her perfect, full lips.

“You hate cafe’s,” the woman continued, eyes still trained on Rowan.

To his credit, Rowan hadn’t moved an inch since the woman appeared. Aelin could only see the bare hints of his profile, but she could already see the hard set of his jaw, the flash of his eyes.

“Remelle,” Rowan said, his voice dropping several degrees cooler than the tone he’d used with Aelin.

Hell. Aelin had seen interactions like this. The post-break-up meet that was awkward and miserable for everyone involved. She wondered if turning up the music and letting Michael Buble cry out would solve anything or make it worse.

“Is that all I get?” Remelle laughed and came closer, her heels snipped sharply on the tiled floor. She reached Rowan and placed a hand on his arm, her long fingers curling a bit too tightly for a casual brush. “You know I’m surprised that you aren’t fighting the Christmas party this year. Though, you’ll probably blow it off right? It’s always hard to come alone to things like that. Cairn and I—”

“Remelle,” Rowan spoke loudly, his voice cleanly cutting over hers. And then to Aelin’s everlasting horror, he turned to her. And for the barest of moments, she caught a look of both desperation and effective calculation flash across his eyes. “I would love to catch up, but my girlfriend and I are about to enjoy her break.”

Oh hell no.

Aelin was too surprised to react directly and she very nearly burst out into a fit of giggles if not for the look in Rowan’s eyes and the sneer on Remelle’s face.

“This is your girlfriend?” Remelle scoffed.

“Aelin,” she said brightly. She pulled the ties of her apron and folded it neatly in her hands. “Nice to meet you. Ronda, was it?”

From the back room, Luca appeared. Bless him for actually being on time for his shift for once. She nodded to him and waved. He nodded back and got to work setting up for the afternoon.

“It’s Remelle,” the other woman said. Her pale blue eyes bore into Aelin as she came around the back counter. With the full effect of the jumpsuit and her combat boots on display, partnered with the snowman socks peeking over the tops of the laces, Aelin sidled into Rowan’s side and slipped her arm into his—effectively dislodging Remelle’s hold.

“I’m ready when you are,” she told Rowan, wondering if the psychotic look in her eyes was enough to burn him alive on the spot. Maybe if she added enough Christmas references in the next five minutes.

Rowan looked over her outfit and shook his head. “You look for any chance you get, don’t you?”

“It’s Christmas, I’ll wear what I damn well please,” Aelin said happily.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

He seemed to be forcibly holding back a smirk as he turned back to Remelle. “I’ll see you around, Rem.”

The other woman said nothing only narrowed her eyes and shot another sneer to Aelin before moving past them to the register.

As Rowan took Aelin’s hand, he practically yanked her out of the shop. His grip was impossibly tight that even if Aelin wanted to—she wouldn’t have been able to pull away.

…

It wasn’t until they were out on the cold streets of Terrasen and walking a full block away from the shop that Rowan finally stopped and let go of Aelin. He pulled away from her quickly, breathing hard. Curses and other expletives raged through his mind as he gripped his stupid ass drink and tried not to throw it at the building next to them.

Aelin only stood, hands in pockets and watched. Hell. He hadn’t even let her grab her jacket, had he? And it looked like it was going to snow.

“Do you want my jacket?” he asked, already trying to pull it off one handed. His mother would kill him if she knew what he’d done. Let alone for how he was wrecking her favorite time of the year.

“It’s fine, I can just sing Nat King Cole lyrics, it always helps,” Aelin replied with a shrug.

Rowan stared.

“Dean Martin’s song too,” she continued. “You know what’s a great Christmas song—”

“Stop.” Rowan ran his free hand over his face and shook his head. Why was he such an idiot? He straightened his suit and tossed the latte in a nearby trash. No way he’d be drinking it now. “I’m sorry I dragged you into that. But I appreciate you for playing along.”

“She was absolutely delightful,” Aelin said, “you two seem like you could make a wonderfully spiteful couple. What happened?”

She said it all with that bright, happy undertone as though she were still talking about her favorite Christmas songs. Blonde hair spilled loose from a low bun. Unlike Remelle’s hair, Aelin’s had depth and color with thick waves that gave it body. Even those few tendrils framed her face with subtle lines that emphasized her features.

He blinked and looked away. “It’s not important.”

Aelin crossed her arms over her chest but said nothing. She was probably freezing. Rowan was freezing and he had his suit jacket. At least she had long sleeves on though.

This was all a mess. Rowan looked up the street where a light turned red and four cars still ran through the intersections. A few horns blared halfheartedly. The sky darkened and the clouds appeared denser than before. The shadows that fell over the city weren’t cruel or menacing, rather a promise that something was coming.

“Do you,” Rowan began. He cut himself off and cursed. “Can I get you anything? This is your break, right?”

“I usually just go to the book store and read,” Aelin replied. She shrugged. “It’s usually playing my favorite holiday songs and they have a display of pumpkin candles they sell. Best purchase you will ever make. Aside from the books.”

This woman was unlike anyone Rowan had ever known. She was easily confident and brazen, lighthearted and genuine. Even if she were a walking billboard for Christmas. He didn’t know now whether to appreciate her a little more and throw it all up and walk in the opposite direction.

A flash of Remelle’s cocky smile flashed in his mind and he knew he couldn’t be done with Aelin just yet.

“The question is do you need anything?” Aelin asked. “Girlfriends of Christmases past aren’t my specialty, but I do find sufganiyot, these awesome jelly-filled doughnuts from Israel, to be a great start to the healing process of any situation.”

In her attempts to be a bit more culturally minded this time of year, Aelin had discovered the doughnuts from a friend.

“I don’t eat sugar,” Rowan said automatically. He really couldn’t be having this conversation, could he?

Aelin stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You really are the Grinch, aren’t you? No, you’re Krampus. I don’t see you having a change of heart. You look more likely to eat children.”

Mother of—Rowan sighed wondering if he really was about to ask his next question. “I need a favor.”

Aelin cocked her head, her blue and gold eyes sparkling. “A favor? I hardly know you and you just referred to me as your girlfriend. As much as I love the giving side of this season, I think I’m nearing my limit.”

Rowan was starting to see how she might actually get along with Lorcan.

“I know you don’t owe me anything,” he said, “but if I show up to my work holiday party without you now, Remelle will never let me hear the end of it. My life in and out of work will be a living nightmare. There’s no way of escaping her without moving out of the country.”

Aelin’s mouth opened and closed. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and rubbed at her pink nose with even pinker fingers. How was she not utterly frozen?

“You want me to play your fake girlfriend?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

Letting out a bark of laughter, Aelin shook her head. “You want me to be your girlfriend? We would kill each other. Don’t think I don’t know murder eyes when I see them. You hate me Rowan Whitethorn and my love of the Holidays would drive you insane within the span of five minutes.”

Rowan nodded along to her words, hardly offended by her laughing at his request. She had a very good point. He really didn’t know if he could withstand her brand of cheer for even a night.

“I haven’t self-imploded yet, have I?” he asked. He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, really, he did. But he thought of seeing Remelle at that damned party dressed in something far too suggestive with her arms around another man. She’d so perfectly moved on without a care in the world. And here he was, trapped in his own miserable past.

Aelin’s mouth pulled to one side. “Did Elide put you up to this somehow?”

“What? No.” Rowan shook his head. “Why would she?”

Instead of answering, Aelin stuffed her hands in her pockets and bounced on the balls of her feet. “I can’t tone down the personality, you know. This is who I am.”

“Alright,” Rowan said. At this point he didn’t care.

“Free food?” she asked.

“And drinks,” he confirmed.

“Well,” Aelin finally sighed. “I do love a good party.”

…

From that blustery day in November, straight until the Holiday Party in December—Rowan was on edge. Despite the fact of talking with Aelin every once and a while over text, he was still filled with utter dread about this whole thing. Being forced into a room of lights and music and socializing aside—he just didn’t know if he and Aelin would pull off being an actual couple.

When he’d told Lorcan and Elide about what happened, Lorcan laughed in his face while Elide tried the kinder route of oh, are you sure about this?

Suffice it to say that Rowan was fully expecting his own self destruction.

When the day of the party finally arrived, a Saturday, Rowan sent Aelin one last text to ensure she was still on board. She replied with a middle finger emoji and Christmas tree. A few seconds later she sent him her address and confirmed when he’d be there.

Rowan dressed in slacks and a dark green button-up, it really was the only shirt he had somewhat relating to Christmas colors. He didn’t bother with a tie, hoping that after a brief appearance he could leave with Aelin and they could breeze past this night without looking back.

The party was set to begin at seven, so giving himself a little over forty-five minutes, Rowan headed over to Aelin’s place. She lived fairly close to Elide and Lorcan, on the south side of the city that had a little more suburban feel than constant roadwork and city life. He found her apartment easily and had no question as to which door was hers.

Facing the inside of the complex, the door was lined with red and green lights, a holiday sign on the front step that sported a snowman, and plastic snowflakes dangled from hooks in the eaves of the stoop.

When Rowan knocked it took a few minutes before she answered, though, he wouldn’t begrudge her for it in the slightest. Not when he caught his first glimpse of her.

He’d known Aelin was attractive, beautiful really. But seeing her now stole the breath from his lungs. She wore a dress of shimmering gold fabric that fell to her knees, clinging to her curves perfectly. The swoop neck was modest, leaving enough skin on display to tantalize anyone who looked her way. Hair twisted to one side in a half-done twist, her elegant features were impossible to look away from.

Gone was the woman who wore outlandish holiday paraphernalia. Gone were the combat boots and jumpsuits. She was almost an entirely different person. It was a thought that left him a little unsettled. She’d said she wouldn’t change for him and he hadn’t expected or wanted her to.

“Rowan,” she greeted. Her smile was warm, playful. On one arm she had her thick wool coat, the other her purse.

“You look beautiful,” he told her. There was no way he could deny that and if it wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth, he’d probably never forgive himself.

Her smile broadened into a grin. “I know.”

She locked her apartment behind her and let him lead her to his truck. While the truck was old and had more than enough miles on it, Rowan couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. It still ran well and he’d put enough work into it that it had new leather seats and even a somewhat updated stereo.

He opened the passenger door for Aelin before slipping over to the driver's side.

“I do appreciate this, Aelin,” he said as he pulled out onto the main road.

She shrugged. “Well, you really are a walking Hallmark movie waiting to happen, how could I say no?”

He shot her a look and she winked.

“Elide told me she would be there, I’ll sneak off with her if it gets too dull,” Aelin said, “that’ll free you up from whatever other gossip is circling about you.”

“There’s no gossip,” Rowan said.

It was a lie; he was sure elevators and lunch rooms were full of little commentaries on Rowan and Remelle. No one knew the truth, not really, only that it was Remelle who had dumped him. Not that Rowan really cared about that particular detail, just that there were some judging eyes following him around now. He could only imagine what Remelle herself had contributed to the whole mess of this.

He needed to change the conversation. “Not that you don’t look great, I was expecting something a little more…exuberant from you.”

“Would you like me to wear a Santa costume?” she drawled. “Please Rowan, I’m a grown woman. I know what is appropriate to wear to company parties, I’m not a kid or whatever you think of me. Though, I have to admit a Santa costume would require less spandex than this dress.”

That certainly put an image in his mind.

“That’s not,” Rowan cut himself off. Why bother denying it? He really had expected her to be in something bright red and decked out with cartoon figures.

“The truck is not what I expected from you, either,” she said. She fingered the wood carving that hung from the rearview mirror. “Mister Corporate Job in the city doesn’t have an SUV or sleek corvette?”

Rowan chuckled at that. It wasn’t the first time someone asked him about his choice in transportation. Fenrys had tried on multiple occasions to get something newer and Lorcan teased him whenever he had to get something fixed in the engine.

“This was my dad’s truck,” he admitted. The words were a strange admission to make. No one had ever really asked him about the truck because everyone who knew him also knew about his parents. “I helped him restore it all while growing up. When he and my mom died, I couldn’t get rid of it.”

“Oh,” Aelin murmured.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye and the array of thoughts flashing across her face. It was already dark outside that the only real look he got of her came from passing headlights or streetlamps. She looked like something out of a movie with her hair and lipstick, the thin gold earrings dangling nearly to her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment. “I didn’t know.”

“It happened a while ago,” Rowan said. “Besides, it’s not something I talk about.”

By the time they made it to the event hall for the party, Rowan was already wondering if he should just back out and take Aelin out for ice cream and pumpkin spice or whatever girls like her enjoyed.

Seeming to sense his hesitance, Aelin reached over and touched his arm as the approached the entrance.

“I won’t judge you if you want to leave,” she said. “Hell, just the fact you made it this far is impressive enough.”

Rowan sighed. “I have to do this. My boss’ll be here and supposedly going to parties is a part of my job description now.”

“Well,” Aelin said, linking her arm with Rowans. She raised a perfectly manicured brow and grinned. “I think we both deserve to get drunk on eggnog and eat our weight in cookies.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so Rowan let her pull him along and into what was sure to be his living nightmare.

The venue was located downtown in one of the older buildings that sported marble floors, glistening chandeliers, and plenty of wide-open windows that offered a look over a sprawling park. Terrasen was known for its hills and the fact that the streets were often on a difficult slope. It rendered plenty of opportunities for buildings such as this to have remarkable views over the city.

Perhaps Rowan could take comfort in the fact he could escape for a reprieve as needed. If not for the way everyone in the room seemed to turn to him and Aelin as they entered the room. Oh it was subtle, of course. The music was loud and there were still dwindling conversations that kept the room abuzz. But there was no mistaking the change in the room and slight looks that came his way.

Beside him, Aelin practically glowed. She easily slipped out of her coat and handed it to a waiting checker before she ushered Rowan further into the room. He should at least pretend. He should dig out that same frail mask he put on every day and let it take over. Maybe if it didn’t smell like cinnamon and spice and pine. Maybe if holiday music weren’t blaring overhead. Maybe if it actually felt like he was supposed to be enjoying himself. Maybe if, for whatever reason, he didn’t expect to see his parents out of the corner of his eye.

And then, as though a switch had been flicked, everything resumed as it had been. Eyes shifted away, conversation picked up, and Rowan felt a little tug of peace that he could act as himself.

“What kind of a marketing office is this?” Aelin muttered beside him. “It’s like Mean Girls in real life.”

Rowan snorted laugh and directed Aelin to the refreshments. “Everyone likes being in each other’s business. And…well Remelle hasn’t been to kind to me in our break-up.”

Aelin hummed as she selected a few treats. “You really do know how to pick them.”

“I hate the holidays,” Rowan said in response.

He chose a drink, wine by the looks of it, just as Nesryn approached. She wore a simple black dress highlighted with a gold choker necklace. Mingling behind her was her husband, Sartaq, who owned most of the stock trade of Terrasen.

“Rowan, you actually showed up,” Nesryn said looking him over. “And wearing green no less.”

“That was my idea.” Aelin, to Rowan’s horror, was not going to stand idly by tonight. Instead, she leaned into Rowan and grinned up at him with amusement burning in his eyes. “I told him he had to wear at least one festive thing tonight. It was either the shirt or the Rudolf tie I got him. He chose the shirt.”

“Of course I chose the shirt,” Rowan replied automatically, not knowing where exactly the words had come from. He had no idea if said Rudolf Tie existed, but he could only imagine. “That damn tie lights up.”

“That’s what makes it so great!” Aelin looked as though she were enjoying herself far too much and Rowan began seriously questioning what the hell he’d done by bringing her here.

“Nesryn, meet Aelin Galathynius,” Rowan said, “Nesryn, this is Aelin.”

Nesryn blinked in surprise before taking Aelin’s proffered hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m glad Rowan brought someone.”

He’d never thought Nesryn would be one to fall into the wiles of gossip, but with the way she appraised Aelin and nodded, smile of approval flashing across her mouth—he knew that she was privy to at least some of the rumors going around the office. What she thought of them Rowan had no idea. But with the nod and repeated pleasantries, maybe Nesryn was as on his side as she could be.

“Wow, is it a miracle or something that you’re being social?” Aelin asked him as Nesryn left.

Rowan ignored the question. “Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll grab us some more drinks.”

With a pretty little smile that assured him of more teasing to come, Aelin straightened the lapel of his jacket and slipped away. When she was finally a few steps away, Rowan felt like he could breathe. Why had he brought her? He barely knew her outside of Elide and Lorcan. She was far too attractive for his own good. And he knew that something would go wrong tonight. It always did with this stupid season the desperate need for love and attention.

He watched Aelin blatantly disregard all the open seats and instead go to Elide who had just shown up with Lorcan. Elide looked good in a flowing dress of silver and blue, her hair falling in long curls. Lorcan, like him, looked miserable to be there.

As Aelin dragged Elide to one of the tables, Rowan felt a strange sense of relief at the small gesture. He didn’t know whether it was Aelin going to her friend for company, that he’d be surrounded by more people who actually liked him, or what.

Lorcan approached him with a muted curse. “How long do you think we have to stay?”

“You can leave whenever you want,” Rowan laughed, “you’ve got a baby at home.”

“Marion and Cal are babysitting,” Lorcan said, “if we go back to early and interrupt grandparent bonding time, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Ah. Elide’s parents were much like their daughter—stubborn, caring, and utterly infatuated with Tavish.

“I can’t believe you actually came with her,” Lorcan continued. He nodded to where Aelin and Elide were giggling madly over something, ignoring anyone and everyone that cast them strange looks. “Galathynius is a menace even on a good day.”

“It’s a long story,” Rowan sighed. One that he didn’t even know where to begin. Because if he tried to explain it to Lorcan he would have had to go into the fact that Aelin was unlike anyone Rowan knew. That she was the complete opposite of anyone he’d dated before. That she, somehow, had managed to actually crack a smile out of him for the first time in a long, long while.

…

Aelin was trying and failing to not burst out into another round of laughter as she and Elide sat at one of the tables of the event center. Whoever the party planner for the event was, had done a brilliant job at making everything tastefully lovely. With the hanging lights, silvery table cloths, simply holly table centers—it was a big money and high society event. One that Aelin would usually never have attended.

Back when her father had been alive, Evelin attended every party dutifully. Aelin only ever went when the even had been at a bowling alley and she could get away with wearing leggings. This was something different. And it was a little intimidating if she were being honest. This was a grown-up world. One where everyone actually finished college, had real jobs, and knew what they were doing with their lives.

“Okay, okay,” Elide giggled, stealing another cookie from the plate Aelin had loaded. “Seriously though, he’s being nice right? I’ll kick his ass if he isn’t.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. She had no doubt her friend could put Rowan in his place with just a look. “He’s a gentleman, Elide. Grumpy as ever, but yeah, nice.”

Really though, nice was not the word Aelin would use to describe Rowan.

“Well, even if he doesn’t say it,” Elide said, “he’s glad you’re here. He hates stuff like this. Doesn’t help that it’s a Christmas party. Or that Remelle will be here. I can’t believe she’s bringing a date. The bitch.”

Aelin paused as she fingered a cookie. Elide rarely swore. Oh she could manipulate words to insult someone perfectly, but blatant cursing like this was strange.

“Yeah, I met her a few weeks ago when Rowan asked me to be his date,” Aelin said. She then explained what had happened at the coffee shop and the way Rowan dragged her out into the chilly afternoon.

Elide snorted. “I’ve never liked that woman. Even before she cheated on him.”

“She what?” Aelin struggled to keep her voice low as she registered Elide’s words. Remelle had cheated on Rowan? And had the audacity to act the way she did?

“Oh,” Elide murmured. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Oh damn.” Elide winced. “Well, then I’m a terrible person. I shouldn’t have said anything. He’ll kill me for telling you that. I thought he would have given this whole mess.”

Aelin sat back in her seat and looked over her shoulder to where Rowan was still talking to Lorcan. Rowan appeared to be a little lighter as he talked with his friend, he stood relaxed and at ease, his usually harsh face softened just enough that Aelin could almost see a different side to him.

“Is that why he hates this time of year?” Aelin asked. She could understand that the holidays weren’t for everyone, but there had been something different about Rowan’s blatant hostility to anything Christmas related. Even when she tried to find the joy and fun in everything, some people had old wounds that ran deep.

Elide shifted in her seat, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Well, his parents died in December. It was years ago and he doesn’t talk about it much, but it’s always affected him for as long as I’ve known him.”

A pit formed in Aelin’s gut. She knew all too well what grief could do to someone. With careful scrutiny, she observed Rowan. His carefully styled hair, the neat button up, flashy watch on his wrist—she wondered what he might be like if he pulled down the walls he’d constructed around him. Would he be just as cold and bitter? Would he be softer, gentler?

She would never find out, however, not as Remelle chose that moment to show up. She was just as beautiful as the first time Aelin met her. She wore a black dress of lace that barely hit her knees, the deep drop of the neckline emphasized her well-endowed cleavage. Her blonde hair was swept in a sleek, high pony-tail that left her sharp cheekbones and narrow face on display. The man beside her wore a suit, a silver button up, and an unholy sneer that matched Remelle perfectly.

Aelin’s heart gave an unhealthy squeeze as Remelle’s eyes locked on Rowan and she made a b-line to him.

“Pray for me,” Aelin muttered, “I might have to kill a woman.”

She didn’t hear Elide’s response, though it sounded a great deal like encouragement.

Aelin knew she was attractive. She’d had past boyfriends that praised her for her looks (more than anything else about her, but that was a different issue altogether) and she had a friend that often called her up to have her model for stock photos in their portfolio. And while she was confident with herself--she couldn’t help but feel as though a knife were digging into her back at the sight of Remelle. Not just for the way she’d treated Rowan, but the haughty gaze she held over everyone she came in contact with.

As she approached where Remelle was already speaking with Rowan and Lorcan, Aelin wasn’t sure what she was going to say. Or do. She might end up making this even worse for Rowan. But she was already moving and knew she couldn’t back down now. She was never one to walk away from a problem in any case.

“You remember Cairn?” Remelle was saying, leaning all too closely into her date.

The look on Rowan’s face said that he had no trouble with remembering the other man. Even at a distance, Aelin could see his entire body tense and see the way his eyes shaded over with dissociation.

“Rowan,” Aelin said happily. She angled herself at his side so her back was to Remelle, hopefully blocking the woman out when he looked at her.

As if on instinct, one of his arms went around her and pulled her closer to his side. She tried not to think about the little thrill that went through her body at the way she practically molded against him. The hard planes of his body met each of her curves point for point and made Aelin already regret having to pull away from him when the time came.

“Aelin,” Rowan replied. His eyes narrowed as if already sensing that she was up to something. And she was. She had no idea what that would be, of course, but she would make something happen.

So, Aelin offered up a slow, dangerous smile as she turned to Remelle.

“Ronda! Oh, wait, no. It’s Remelle, sorry.” She tucked herself just a little closer to Rowa, giving his arm a quick squeeze. Whether an apology or assurance that she was there--she didn’t know. The other woman did not appear amused at all over Aelin’s antics and neither did the sneering Cairn with slicked hair and too polished suit. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Remelle’s eyes narrowed. “I’m surprised you managed to drag Rowan here. He’s never been one for Christmas.”

“We reached a compromise,” Aelin said sweetly, “he willingly participates in a Christmas activity and I willingly—”

Rowan’s hold tightened against her, cutting Aelin off with an oof.

“No,” he warned, eyes ablaze.

Cackling, Aelin only winked at him. When she returned her attention to Remelle, she was delighted at the hatred burning in the woman’s eyes.

“If you’ll excuse us, Rowan owes me a dance,” Aelin said. She then promptly pulled Rowan after, leaving the seething Remelle and Cairn behind.

The dance floor provided was nothing special. Aelin suspected that Nesryn or whoever has the control over the party’s set up never actually expected anyone to dance. But this was the best out of getting away from Remelle so Aelin took it.

They were soon joined by Lorcan and Elide and another couple though it certainly appeared the no one had actually expected any dancing.

“You really don’t believe in subtlety, do you?” Rowan asked as he pulled Aelin closer so they could dance instead of just standing there.

“I thought it was obvious from the beginning?” Aelin teased. Perhaps she should have just excused Rowan without the fanfare and just asked him to dance. Or even just ignored Remelle entirely and dragged Rowan away from her. Oh well. “Besides, I couldn’t miss the golden opportunity that so perfectly fell into my lap.”

“No,” Rowan seemed to reply automatically despite not knowing what she was talking about and Aelin just laughed.

Pointing up, she gestured to the string of lights overhead and the small sprig of mistletoe there.

“C’mon, Buzzard you promised one holiday related tradition, we can’t pass up the mistletoe.”

Rowan sighed as one hand curled around her waist. “She’s still watching, isn’t she?”

“She’s being very obvious about it,” Aelin said. “I hate to say it and hope it doesn’t sound as bad as I think it does—but you dodged a bullet with her. And she doesn’t deserve you.”

Rowan didn’t respond and Aelin worried she’d crossed a line or made things between them even more terrible than before. When she met his gaze, however, there was no animosity or cruelty there.

“You’re a menace,” he informed her.

Aelin grinned, noting the way the corners of his mouth twitched and how his lips pressed together. He was trying his damndest not to smile.

“Thank-you,” she said, “it is my greatest achievement to date.”

Rowan shifted, drawing one hand slowly up her side, skirting her hips and waist before gently running up to the curve of her neck. Could he feel how her heartbeat picked up with his touch? Could he hear the stutter of her breath as he tilted her chin up just a little bit?

He finally did break into a smile, something small and meant just for her as he dipped down to kiss her.

It was brief, bare, a whisper of a touch against her lips. But even that simple touch was enough to light a fire deep in Aelin’s belly and spread out through her entire body. He pulled away far sooner than Aelin would have liked, but dragging him back down to her would probably not be the best thing to do after everything else she’d put Rowan through that night.

“See?” Aelin whispered. “Some traditions aren’t so bad.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and spun Aelin in a simple dance move. She laughed and let herself enjoy what was left of the night.

…

There was something to be said about Aelin Galathynius, Rowan decided. Something that he couldn’t quite describe. She was someone who lived for herself and herself alone. She had a perpetual bout of joy surrounding her in everything she did, even when she was left alone at the party while Rowan went around to everybody in his department.

And despite the fact that he could feel Remelle’s eyes on him the entire time he moved around the party hall, he could rest easy on the fact that he wouldn’t be leaving with her. And that she hadn’t approached him once since Aelin’s not so subtle interlude. So, surprisingly enough, it had been a good night.

Still, as soon as the two-hour mark of their arrival approached, Aelin eased to his side and gave him a silent look that he had no trouble interpreting.

Do you want to leave?

Even if she was obsessed with the holidays, she was turning out to be one of his new favorite people.

After they left, Rowan promised Elide to bring her ice cream the next time he stopped by, they headed out along the near freezing streets to the truck.

“You take Elide ice cream?” Aelin asked.

Rowan chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. It was a cold night; the sky was overcast with the threat of snow. His breath condensed in a pale fog when he spoke next.

“I lost a round of poker with her a few months ago,” Rowan explained, “and instead of taking my money, she wanted unlimited access to ice cream for the rest of the year.”

“Sounds like her,” Aelin laughed. She tilted her face up to the sky as if she too could sense the impending snow. The street lights danced off her face, illuminating her soft smile. “She once tricked me into a cheesecake tasting contest. Turns out that she just had mad cravings when she was pregnant.”

They remained in comfortable silence as they returned to the truck—Rowan helped Aelin into the passenger side before getting in himself. There was a single thought nagging him, but he didn’t know if he should even bother bringing it up.

When they were just a few minutes out from Aelins, he let the question slip.

“Elide told you about what happened with Remelle, didn’t she?” He didn’t look over at her, knowing that couldn't handle the pity that was sure to be in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was all Aelin said.

They drove in silence, heading back outside the city to Aelin’s little apartment. It wasn’t long until it started raining. Though, as the droplets splattered against the windshield, Rowan noted how thick it was coming down. Soon enough, there would be snow.

When Aelin spoke again, there was a far-off note to her voice. “My last boyfriend made me pay for everything, just because I made extra cash teaching piano lessons. Then, when my dad got sick and I dropped out of school, he dumped me. Apparently, I was abandoning him. For my own father.”

“He sounds like an ass,” Rowan commented mildly.

“Oh, he is. Sam Cortland doesn’t have a chivalrous bone in his body,” Aelin said.

Even though she laughed, Rowan could still hear the vapid bite to her words.

“And your dad?” he asked.

“He passed, just barely a year now.”

Snow fell outside, whipping by as Rowan drove. The trucks headlights illuminated the road and made the stream of white flakes dance with light. It was strangely beautiful, the change of scenery. Even if he hated this time of year—snowfall added something different to the world. Unlike rain that fell in sheets and doused everything in gray; snow offered a fresh blanket of newness. It was a simple, subtle change, but Rowan appreciated it.

“My parents died right around the time I turned eighteen,” Rowan said. He didn’t know why he was telling her; they barely knew each other. “On Christmas Eve.”

Aelin cursed beside him. He felt, more than saw, her shift to look at him. He felt her eyes on him. Felt the way she seemed to reexamine everything about him.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose I can’t begrudge you for hating this time of the year anymore then.”

Rowan shook his head, unable to help a small chuckle.

“My mother would be mad at me,” Rowan admitted. He pulled off from the highway. They were getting close to Aelin’s place. “She loved the holidays and loved collecting traditions. Anything to make this time of year happier. We’re a small family and I think she just wanted a little bit more…flare to the season.”

“I don’t think she’d be mad,” Aelin said. “Maybe sad or hopeful. Sad that this time of the year isn’t the same, hopeful that you're still here. But, Rowan, it’s miserable being alone. It’s the damned worst. Especially when there’s no one we can really be with, that understands us. Instead we have to pretend, because who in their right mind would hate the Holidays?”

Rowan pulled up along her apartment. The snow still fell. Streetlamps illuminated the night as flakes passed in a relentless flurry.

“I mean,” Aelin continued as if she didn’t notice they’d reached her place, “I don’t want to go through the holidays. I don’t want to endure Christmas dinner without my dad. I don’t want to tell everyone I had such a great holiday season. I don’t want to lie and tell everyone I’m fine. But it’s what we do to make everyone else feel better.”

“So you dress up in red jumpsuits and reindeer stockings,” Rowan said. He finally caught Aelin’s eye and she barked out a laugh.

“If I didn’t, I’d be forced to talk about it with someone,” she replied.

Rowan too had to laugh at that. How many times had a well-meaning friend tried to get him to talk when he wasn’t ready? Or insist he just suck it up and be in a good mood?

“Let me walk you to your door,” he said. He jumped out of the truck and hurried over to her side. The ground was already covered with a thin layer of snow and would only collect more. Aelin’s shoes did not seem to be the most functional in weather like this, but he wouldn’t dare say anything.

Still, she navigated the slushy sidewalk and the small steps up to her door quite well.

“Thank-you,” Rowan said, “for tonight and the cafe with Remelle. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

Aelin, with that breathtaking beauty of hers, tilted her head and smiled. A few errant curls fell from their pins and there was a smudge of mascara beneath one eye. Rowan hardly noticed, didn’t care at all, as long as she fixed him with that look.

She rose up onto her toes and kissed his cheek softly. “Thank-you for the night.”

And then she pulled away, unlocking her apartment. Good, he needed that space between them. Needed that cool, biting air to blow up around him. He stepped down from her little porch to head back to his truck.

“Rowan,” she said slowly. He paused, turning back to her. A wave of warmth flooded over him from her open apartment door. “I hope you never taste a single bit of cinnamon or pumpkin the rest of this year.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Good night, Aelin.”

“Buzzard,” she said. And the smile she gave him was enough to keep him warm the rest of the night.

...