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The Bite Before Christmas.doc
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I didn’t glance behind me to where we’d stacked the guns, but they were within easy reach. “I won’t, but let’s not talk about that now. You should try to get some sleep.”

“No,” he said at once. “She wants me to sleep so my resolve will be weakened and she can take me over again.”

Anger burned through me, fueled by my love for Bones and the territorialism that was passed down from every vampire before me. This demon wasn’t going to win. She was going to pay for picking my husband to possess. I’d chase her all the way to hell and back if that’s what I had to do to get my revenge.

“Well, then she’s got a long damn wait,” I said, forcing my rage back enough to smile. “You rarely sleep as it is, and that’s when you’re not trying to squash a hell-bitch.”

He touched his forehead to mine, closing his eyes. “You sleep, Kitten. You know I love holding you while you dream.”

He couldn’t touch me with his hands, but further waves of power cocooned me, somehow more intimate than flesh. I hated that he thought this might be the last time I fell asleep next to him, as the emotions brushing mine told me. With the demon lodged in him, Bones felt like every moment between us had an expiration date if he wanted to keep me safe. But I was equally stubborn about saving his life. This demon didn’t know it yet, but she’d picked the wrong couple to fuck with.

I slid my arms around his neck, shifting until I was draped across his lap instead of straddling him. Then I closed my eyes, sighing as I got as comfortable as possible. I wasn’t afraid to fall asleep next to him, demon-possessed or not. Nothing in this world or under it would make Bones drop his guard and endanger me while I was vulnerable.

“I love you,” I whispered, tucking my head under his chin.

Something teased at my subconscious right as I felt myself drift off. Balchezek, talking about the intricacies of simultaneous possession of vampires. The upside is that if you pull it off, you’re not limited to only possessing your anchor’s human family. You could also go up to the third or fourth generation of your anchor’s siring bloodline. . .

Wraith was the female demon’s anchor, but that meant she should only have been able to possess Bones first. Once in Bones, she could have split off into the other vampires when they fell asleep; everyone at the cabin except Denise was within the required first four generations of the same vampiric bloodline. But it wasn’t Bones that the demon had mutilated in that hotel room in order to force her first simultaneous possession. That had been Annette, yet Wraith and Annette weren’t related as he and Bones were, so that shouldn’t have been possible, unless. . .

I bolted upright, startling Bones. “What?” he demanded.

“Bones. I— I think Annette might be the person who changed Wraith into a vampire two centuries ago.”

The sun was just starting to set when Balchezek suddenly appeared in our underground hideout.

“Got some news,” he announced. He might disparage ghosts, but he had a lot in common with them when it came to unexpected entrances. “Let’s talk topside so we can have some privacy.”

“Go,” Bones said when I hesitated, hating the need to treat him this way because of the enemy inside him. But I pushed that back and threw on some clothes, then met Balchezek outside by the side of the road, where it was impossible for Bones to overhear us. Ian was there, too, eyeing the demon expectantly.

“I did some digging about how you boot the demon from your pals,” Balchezek started. “I was right! There is a way aside from the bone-knife-to-the-eyes approach, and the only person who has to die is the demon’s main anchor.”

“Wraith,” I said, feeling torn. “We’d have to kill Wraith?”

Balchezek beamed. “Who’s your favorite demon, huh? Told you I’d earn the revoltingly high check you’re going to give me.”

“But you said before that you could save Bones and all the others without killing them,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, your other friends.” A shrug. “Didn’t think you considered Wraith your friend.”

“I don’t, but if he’s possessed, an innocent man who happens to be my husband’s brother is still in there somewhere,” I replied sharply.

Balchezek sighed. “If you believe in the naïve idea that anyone’s innocent, then that’s true. Look, I hate to use a cliché, but you can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs, okay? You have to cem"hoose between the lives of all your friends or the life of one stranger you just happen to be related to.”

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