``down the rabbit hole

You hated the run up to Christmas. It’s started earlier and earlier every single year, November, October, September. And for the last two years your parents dragged you through awkward conversations bringing up your single status time and time again. You had come to resent Christmas, well all holidays but mainly this one. Hating the sparkles and bright lights and gift giving? Who the hell invented that? Only for all of this awfulness to be followed up by New Year. What a curse it was to be single at this time of year.

Every weekend in December your parents threw festive parties for clients and families of clients, your mother called it “bringing the holiday season in with style.” You called it “trying to set up my divorced daughter with a wealthy man.” This Saturday was one of those days. Standing outside the large house you squinted as the twinkling lights blinkered never endingly at you. Christmas music was flowing softly from the speaker by the door and it made your skin crawl. The dress was constricting your body, the heels already making your feet hurt and the bad mood settled on you like a black cloud.

“Let’s get this shit over with,” you mumbled to yourself. Balancing carefully over the gravel drive, music pumped dully from inside the house thankfully drowning out your arrival. You were late, your mother would be fuming but the idea of running upstairs and locking yourself in your old room was clouding your thoughts.

“Oh good I thought I was the only one who was late!” A voice said as the door opened behind you, allowing a gust of crisp air to rush in from outside.

“You won’t incur the wrath of my mother,” you told the newcomer, picking at the green pre-lit garland that had been wound round the bannister. A huge tree stood in the curve of the stairs covered in different sized baubles and bows the size of your face. So many over the top decorations this year, probably celebrating the new deal your father had invested in.

“This is your house?”

“Trust me, I moved out as soon as I could,” you confessed with a wry expression. Turning you saw a man in a black trench coat. He was slipping it from his shoulders looking up with an awestruck expression on his face. His short hair flopped over his brow and as you watched he swept it out of his eyes revealing an almost boyish expression besides the facial hair that dusted his top lip. He was in a pristine suit and from one look you could see he was drenched in wealth, not your kind of bloke at all.

“Darling you made it!” Smiling through gritted teeth you let your mother wrap her arms around you.

“Hi mum.” She smelled of mulled wine and oranges throwing you straight back into your childhood which you didn’t expect.

“Assumed you had got lost you're so late,” she scolded as her gaze slid to the man by the door.

“Hvitserk!” She exclaimed, giving him the same welcome she gave you. “Just leave your coat with Frank,” she turned on the spot just as the family butler appeared. Her eyes narrowed slightly and a sly smile crept over her face. “Did you two come together?”

“No mother, we arrived at the same time, that’s all.” You dumped your coat in Frank’s arms giving him a swift smile before marching into the dining room where people milled around drinking and eating. Lights and music flashed from a side room that had been transformed into some sort of 90s disco room just, a very expensive one. Waiters walked around with trays of food and drinks, you gratefully snatched a flute of champagne off a tray, downing half of it in one go.

“Go easy darling, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.” Inwardly groaning you rolled your eyes. “I saw that,” your mother chastised you. “Stand up straight, smile, look pretty here he comes.” Look pretty? The ache in your jaw had already begun from withholding your attitude but all of that had to be shoved to the side as your latest unwanted suitor approached. “Alfred!” Instantly you clocked his black hair, the terrified look in his eyes, the suit that was slightly too big for him and the fact he looked younger than you.

She gushed in the same voice she’d used on the other guy who’s name you’d already forgotten. “This is my daughter,” she told him, dragging the poor bloke closer to you. Lifting your chin and giving him your best dazzling smile and he took your outstretched hand. Revulsion skated up your arm at his clammy touch and you managed to drag your hand back quickly without snatching. “Alfred here is the grandson of Ecbert.” You made a fake face of interest while your last brain cell shrivelled and gave up. Tonight was going to be hell.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in the company of Alfred, as well spoken as he was he just bored you until your eyes drifted out of focus and you wanted to pass out and cause a scene to get the fuck out of here. Finally spying a man you did want to talk to, you hastily excused yourself. Placing a hand on his shoulder he turned at your touch a wide smile splitting his ruddy face.

“How much whiskey have you had Dad?” You asked as he grabbed you in a rough hug.

“Not enough princess. Have you seen your mother?”

“You’re avoiding her too huh?” He chuckled, running his thick fingers through his greying hair.

“She is on a mission this year.”

“She’s on a mission every year,” you commented dryly. “I wish she’d give up.” He eyed you for a moment as though debating whether to say something or not before hitching his smile back into place.

“Want to come and talk business with me? I’ve found a new company that makes Viking replicas for movies and series. The workmanship is exquisite, really worth the investment.” Smiling regretfully you patted his arm and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I might try and skip out while I can, I’m tired and I’ve got some reports to go through before Monday,” you lied. “Some of us have jobs and don’t have money to throw at people.” He made a show of looking round for his wife before making a shooing motion at you.

“See you next weekend,” he said with a wink.

You were up early the next day, throwing some comfy shoes on and the uniform for the cafe before making your way out into the dark. You loved being up before the birds, being the one to open up, flicking the lights on and seeing the cafe for the cosy space that it was. Yes it is nice when it’s filled with people, their joyful conversation mixed with the milk frother and coffee machines but you did prefer the empty silence.

Soon the rest of the staff came in as you were filling up the coffee beans, they were a good team but they were all full of festive cheer that set your teeth on edge.

“Why are you here in silence?” Asked Torvi. “No Christmas karaoke while you’re alone?”

“You know how I feel about Christmas,” you muttered.

“The party wasn’t a success last night then?” Raising an eyebrow you let out a soft grunt. “That well?” She said, making a sympathetic face.

“I swear my mother would marry me off to the first, sweaty, wealthy man she laid eyes on if I let her, it’s like being single makes me such a disappointment in her eyes.” Torvi patted your shoulder.

“You know that’s not true,” she said with a comforting smile and you bit back a snarky reply. You just had to get through this Sunday shift and then you had two days off before working your way through the week to the next hellish party at your parents.

The cafe became busy so quickly you couldn’t even remember if you had lunch. Orders were flying down the chain and you got into the rhythm of making the drink and calling out the person's name, grateful that most of them were easy to make. Until someone ordered an iced coffee. An iced caramel latte to be exact. Who does that in winter? You felt yourself bristling knowing that this order could ruin your flow but everyone else was busy or on lunch. Shoving the ice cubes into the cup with more force than you intended made some spill over the counter and you began to curse under your breath. Finally it was done and you found the offending ticket.

“Hvit…Veet…Veytsirk?” You glanced at Torvi but she just shrugged unhelpfully.

“I think that’s mine.” Without even looking at him you shoved the drink into his hand, catching sight of an expensive watch and the cuff of a black coat.

“Enjoy!” You replied brightly, already moving on and not paying that order another thought.

Another Saturday night found you standing in the glow of your parents house again. A ghastly rendition of Silver Bells tinkled from the speaker near the front door and you repressed a shudder. This “party” required a more luxurious attire, the emerald green dress you had chosen fluttered around your legs in the gentle breeze and you pulled the white faux fur pashmina tightly around your shoulders. You almost wished you could stay out in the cold than go inside, but you had to make yourself known after all.

“We really should stop meeting like this,” his footsteps were heavy on the gravel as he came to a stop next to you. Catching sight of a black trench coat out of the corner of your eye jogged something in your memory but you couldn’t remember the details.

“We haven’t met,” you said briskly. Couldn’t these men at least wait until you were inside before they started hitting on you?

“Sure we have. Last weekend…?” He trailed off and you shook your head. “The coffee shop?” Shock trickled down your spine and you turned to face him.

“I don’t work in a coffee shop,” you stated firmly but all he did was smile knowingly in return, pleased he finally had your attention.

“If I was to say to you iced caramel latte…”

“That was you!” His hazel eyes turned up at the corners as his smile grew larger.

“Yeah that was me.”

“Shit,” you looked back at the house, your heart pounding wildly at the idea of your mother finding out what you really did for a job. “You can’t say anything to them, my parents.”

“I can’t imagine your mother would be too impressed to find out her only daughter, the heiress of all this works in a coffee shop.”

“Fucking hell,” you groaned spinning away from him and taking a few steps.

“Why is it such a secret?” He asked curiously.

“It’s really none of your business,” you snapped and he scuffed the stones gently with his foot.

“I should get something in return for keeping this secret.” Your eyes widened and his hands flew up at your reaction. “Not like that, just…”

“Spit it out. What will it cost me for you to keep your mouth shut?”

“A date,” he replied quickly.

“A—I’m sorry. A date?”

“Yeah,” he looked back at the house, hands in his pockets and you noticed he had the decency to look slightly bashful. “I saw your mother was trying to set you up last weekend so I thought I’d help you out with this too. You never know, we might even have a good time.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, the faux fur tickling your neck as you debated his offer. He watched you the whole time, head tilted to the side with a small smile on his face as he saw the battle you fought with yourself.

“But what do you actually get from this?” You finally asked. He shrugged in response pondering his answer.

“I get to talk to you, saves me sitting in a room with people I barely know.” Holding your gloved hand out you told him your name and he took it giving you a firm handshake. “Hvitserk Ragnarsson. Do we have a deal?”

“Sure Hvitserk. We have a deal.” He offered you his elbow but you rolled your eyes and gathered your skirt up. He followed with a soft sigh, taking the steps two at a time so he could open the front door for you. To your dismay more decorations had made it onto the tree, a new garland dusted the large mirror along the wall and bows now dotted the one on the bannister. People were standing around chatting lightly as they admired the decorations all with glasses in their hands.

“Oh Christ, here she comes,” you muttered through a smile.

“Hello sweetheart,” she said, giving you an air kiss. “And Hvitserk. Is this a chance meeting or did you arrive together?”

“A chance meeting…” you started.

“We arrived together…” you looked at Hvitserk remembering he was trying to help you, sort of.

“We arrived together, don't make a big deal,” you almost hissed at your mother as she clapped her hands together, a glint in her eyes that you recognised instantly.

“What a fine chance, I shall have Amelia change the place settings immediately.”

“Fuck my life,” you mouthed at her retreating back wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Both of you shed your outerwear and Hvitserk put his hand in the middle of your back making you stiffen at the unexpected contact.

“Relax, have a drink,” he breathed into your ear. “We can get through this.”

“Yeah…right. Don’t touch me again or you’ll be on the floor,” you whispered.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You glared at him and he tried to hide the smile as he removed his hand only to fill it with two glasses of fizz he nabbed off a passing tray. “You are feisty aren’t you, tonight is going to be fun.”

Everyone convened into the dining room and you found that Hvitserk had been placed to the right of your father who was at the head of the table and you to the right of Hvitserk. Right where your mother could keep an eye on you. Great.

The place settings were immaculate, cream plates with gold holly patterns around the rim, the gold cutlery flared with the reflection of the firelight. Perfectly folded napkins sat in the middle with your name in ornate gold calligraphy on the place card.

“You’ve certainly outdone yourself this year Mum,” you told her as she brushed past you.

“I decided on a change of colour this year, silver just didn’t seem grand enough.” You went to pull out your chair but Hvitserk was there already doing it for you, a slightly smug look on his face which told you everything you needed to know. Yes, tonight was going to be fun. As he pushed the chair in he leaned over your shoulder to whisper in your ear.

“Whatever you say or do, just know that I will go along with it,” his breath ghosted over your bare shoulder making goosebumps involuntarily rise over your skin. Swallowing through the tightness in your throat you smiled and nodded. You’d never had the chance to play your mother at her own game and suddenly this meal looked like an enjoyable experience for once.

As soon as your father sat down he engaged Hvitserk in conversation and you listened intently. Turned out he was the son of Ragnar who you’d met before, a roguish character which explained Hvitserk’s playful nature. He was here as a representative for his fathers company which made the Viking replicas your father was so keen on investing in.

“What kind of things do you make?” You asked when your fathers attention was elsewhere for a moment. You watched him speak, the way he motioned with his hands and you noticed for the first time the rings on his fingers and the arm ring that appeared from under the cuff of his shirt. You reached out, pulling the material away so you could get a proper look at it. “What are these?” You asked, tracing the animal heads that almost met in the middle.

“These are ravens, my father and brothers all have one.”

“Huh,” you trailed a finger over his hand, grabbing his finger so you could get a look at the gold ring, the black stone was raised slightly and it caught the light from the candle. He leaned into your space a little, his rich cologne making you take a sharp inhale because it wasn’t unpleasant. His skin was warm and not clammy like all other men seemed to be when you touched them. His shoulder shifted against you reminding you how close you had moved into his space and with a huff you released his hand to grab your glass. Your eyes settled on your mother opposite and you refrained from smirking like a child at her self-satisfied look.

The evening progressed, food was eaten and alcohol was drunk. You asked one of the staff for a snowball with extra cherries and Hvitserk asked if he could have one too which surprised you, not many people liked them.

“Do you know what you just asked for?” You whispered to him. He took a moment, the corners of his mouth pulling down a little as he shook his head.

“Actually no, not a clue.” You started laughing, pushing on his shoulder softly and he smiled.

“Well if you don’t like it,” you pointed at yourself. “I will drink it.”

“Haven’t you had enough?” Scowling, you looked up at your mother.

“Oh stop, you sound like him.” A hush settled over your end of the table from your loud exclamation and you saw your mothers knuckles tighten on the stem of her glass.

“We’re not having this discussion now,” she responded softly but already the ugly feeling of even remembering your ex husband at this time of year was eating away at your good sense.

“No, no you know what?” You shoved your seat back so it scraped loudly on the wooden floor, your heels clicking as you stumbled making Hvitserk reach out to steady you. “I’ve had enough of you and your overbearing-ness,” you slurred. “Setting me up with any man with a pulse like I’m some sort of charity case. I’m sorry Daddy,” you said, turning to him. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re doing no such thing,” your mother stated crossly which just flared your drunk fuelled temper more.

“Yes, I am Mother. And you can’t stop me!” You shoved Hvitserks hands off your hips, ignoring all the eyes in the room following you as you stormed away. “That’s mine!” You gasped, grabbing the glass off a tray from a bewildered waiter and downing the golden liquid as quickly as you could. “Cheers,” you told him. Holding up the cocktail stick with three maraschino cherries on. “I will eat these. Don’t wait.” Frank appeared at your elbow with your pashmina and you allowed him to slip it over your shoulders.

“Leaving so soon?” He inquired quietly.

“Don’t I always?” You saw he had Hvitserk’s coat resting over his arm.

“I’m sure Mr Ragnarsson is staying,” you pointed out.

“Actually!” You turned in surprise to see Hvitserk stepping smartly from the dining room. “I am leaving too,” he stated.

“Concluded your business with my father?”

“Yes I think so.” He let the butler slip his coat on, shrugging it over his suit. Frank opened the door and the cold air hit you like a wall. Your heels ground the gravel as you walked, the air taking your dress so it billowed around you. “Where are you going?” Called Hvitserk as he jogged to catch up with you.

“Home.”

“Don’t you…have transport?”

“I’d rather walk than rely on my parents.” He matched your strides easily, shoving his hands in his pockets and squinting against the cold.

“Can I offer you a lift?”

“You shouldn’t be driving,” you threw at him and he chuckled.

“No, I won’t be driving it,” he pulled you to the side just as a sleek black limo glided to a stop before you both. “Come on, it’s warmer than walking,” he said. He opened the door and the cream leather interior really looked squishy and comfortable but part of you wanted to refuse and carry on walking. He patiently waited, holding the door as you had a silent argument with yourself before choosing to get in and slide across the seat. He followed, rubbing his hands together to try and dispel the cold, he spoke into the speaker and the limo moved smoothly away using your parents driveway to turn around. “So I’m curious,” he started, leaning against the armrest so he could face you. “Why all the secrets from your parents?”

“Because I hate being that rich brat. Ever since I was small I hated the way people treated me differently. Didn’t you ever find that?” He shook his head and you rolled your eyes. “Of course not, you probably like the different treatment, the way you get the best of everything. The way people just….just try to please you like you’re the best person on the planet because you have money.”

“No, I don't find that.”

“Of course not,” you sigh. “You probably don’t even notice.” Looking out of your window you stared into the darkness wishing you were at home and you didn’t have to participate in these ridiculous parties anymore.

“Can I ask what happened?” You shrugged.

“I’m just hitting my thirties, a lot has happened to me. Be more specific.”

“You said your mother sounded like him. An ex I presume.” His tone was soft and you knew that if you told him to shut up he would but even since it had happened you’d barely spoken about it. Choosing to cry and break alone in your flat maybe have a one night stand every now and again then carry on being alone.

“My ex-husband.” The words surprised you at how easily they came, maybe it was the alcohol but it felt like a key had finally turned unlocking everything you’d buried. “At first he was great. The man of my dreams, he charmed everyone.” Your breath hitched at the memories as they clustered in your mind. “Won my father over to the point where he began to go to business meetings. Even I don’t go to the meetings.” Tugging on the fluffy hem of your pashmina you blinked a few times not wanting to ruin your makeup that you’d spent a good 15 minutes on. “Anyway, he waited a few years, latching onto the family, making me believe he was the love of my life when he turned. It all came to a head on Christmas,” you let loose a short bark of a laugh at the irony. You hadn’t always hated Christmas. “I got drunk, we stayed the night at my parents so it was fine. Anyway we had a massive row because I split my drink,” spreading your hands you gestured a little. “It was nothing, the glass was nearly empty and he…well I’ve never felt anything like it.” Crossing your arms in an effort to hide your shaking hands, you cleared your throat pleased that you hadn’t shed a tear at the memory. You could feel his hands on you still, even now. “The things he said to me will probably stick with me for life,” you muttered more to yourself than Hvitserk. You hitched your smile back up, shoving it all back into the box you’d kept buried for so long and refused to look at him because you hated to be pitied. “Anyway you can just drop me in town and I’ll make my own way home.”

“Nope.”

“No—what do you mean no?” You cried.

“I am only dropping you outside of your front door or we are both spending the night in this, very comfortable limo.”

“You’ll be so lucky. Don’t you have a wife or something to get back to?” You risked a glance at him hating the way his hazel eyes seemed to thaw the frozen part of you. His smile was kind and it made you want to smile warmly back, his hair drifted out of place he ran his hand through the dark brown strands.

“I have nothing to go home to except my many many vaults of money. I might go into vault three and sleep amongst the paper money tonight, the diamonds really dig into my back.” You laughed, loudly.

“You know Hvitserk, I haven’t hated spending this time with you.” He shifted in his seat, pulling his trousers slightly getting more comfortable but he couldn’t hide the stupid grin that spread over his face.

“I am going to take that as a compliment.”

“Highest one you’ll get off me unless you do something really spectacular,” you told him, rolling your eyes in an exaggerated way. The limo came to a smooth stop and you glanced outside seeing your front door and you looked back at him in surprise.

“Your dad gave me your address after I promised to get you home safely.”

“Huh,” you gazed stupidly at your doorway for a moment before remembering you had to get out. “So good luck with dealing with my father.” You went to shut the door but he was getting out behind you. “I may have had a bit to drink but I’m sure I can make it to my door,” you huffed sarcastically but he just leaned on the limo door with a doey eyed expression on his face.

“So next week?” He asked hopefully.

“Next week?” You repeated, shoving the key in your door and pushing through the stiffness.

“Well, isn’t it the Christmas Eve party?” It felt like your heart dropped out of your body and your face fell a little.

“Right, I might not go. I just embarrassed myself and my parents in front of some very important people…”

“People who were there for your dad. And his money,” he pointed out and again you felt the urge to laugh. “If they know what’s good for them. They will forget it ever happened.”

“Is that right?” You asked coyly, leaning on your doorframe. “Will you forget?”

“Forget what?” He frowned a little and now you did laugh.

“Alright. Fine!” You didn’t miss the gleeful way his hands clenched on the door or the bright smile he chucked at you.

“Shall we actually arrive together this time?” You made a show of pondering his request, tapping a finger on your lips when really you just didn’t want to seem too eager. “I’ll pick you up?” He offered hesitantly.

“In this?” You asked, pointing to the limo that seemed to gleam in the orange glow of the street lights.

“Or something sleeker,” he replied with a mischievous air.

“Look, you could rock up in a camper van for all I care ok? But yes, I will go to the ball with you Hvitserk Ragnarsson.” You stepped back onto the pavement and searched for your phone. You handed it to him and he immediately entered his number before handing it back to you, his fingertips meeting yours for a second making you shiver and not from the cold. He was taller than you, his head dipped down slightly and you felt the butterflies roil in your stomach at his closeness. His eyes carefully studied your features for a moment that felt like it went on forever, a tiny grin turning the corners of his lips.

“I’ll see you next Friday,” he murmured.

“Mmhmmm,” it was the only noise you could make because the very words had been stolen from your mind, but it was clearly the alcohol. You watched him settle back into the limo, one final look up at you with those rich hazel eyes before the door closed. Lifting a hand you waved slowly, still not entirely sure what just happened.

Christmas Eve. Today was the last party at your parents, reserved for extended family and specific clients. Dress was more casual this time which you were grateful for, slipping into some comfortable ankle boots and smoothing down your Christmas jumper when you straightened. Your phone pinged and you saw it was Hvitserk. You had been texting him all week just random snippets backwards and forwards each day until you were looking for his messages. Each time your phone went off and it was someone else disappointment rose in your chest.

Downstairs. Prepare yourself.

You groaned inwardly but still you registered just how excited you were to see him again. Grabbing your bags you skipped down the stairs switching off the lights as you went. You opened the front door keeping your eyes on your keys as you locked the door.

“Hey,” just the sound of his voice had you biting your lip until you turned around and let loose a shriek of shock. Your eyes were assaulted by the vehicle he was leaning against with a lopsided grin on his face. “Do you like it?” He asked hopefully as you lifted a hand to cover your mouth that refused to close.

“Holy shit Hvitserk,” you gasped, terrified to approach. He opened the door and your brow wrinkled from the force of your surprise. “I hate it,” you confessed.

“Do you know how long this took me to do?!” Hesitantly you took a step forward blinking against the brightness. He’d parked the blue and white VW camper next to the pavement. The inside glowed with strings of Christmas fairy lights, tinsel was draped around the edges of the roof with clusters of baubles hanging down. The seats were covered in warm, snuggling looking furs and as you peered inside you saw the mini Christmas trees he’d attached to the dashboard.

“Christmas threw up in your camper Hvitserk, didn’t you notice that?” He shoved your arm playfully before putting his hands on your shoulders and guiding you right to the door leaving you no choice but to get in.

“We're gonna be late.” He reminded you.

“Alright,” you huffed. The seat was comfortable but the baubles hanging down got caught in your hair and you cried out when he slammed the door shut on you. With your bags between your legs you sat there just looking around in disgust but admiring the effort he took to decorate the van.

“You told me last week I could rock up in a camper van and you wouldn’t care,” he said as he settled in the driver's seat.

“I didn’t expect you to get one straight from the elf factory though, I mean this took some serious elf hours,” you commented.

“Hey, those elves were paid well,” he told you as he started up the engine.

“With the diamonds from vault two?” You breathed and he laughed loudly.

“Gods you’re funny. If you must know, my brothers Björn and Ubbe helped me.”

“Oooh team effort. Who’s idea was that?” You asked, spying the figure of a woman dressed in a saucy Santa outfit nestled next to a Christmas tree. He cursed softly, reached over to grab it and tossed it over his shoulder into the back. “Well that was the most interesting thing in here.”

“That would be Ubbe, thinking he’s funny.”

The rest of the journey was him telling you about his brothers and what he’d got up to the week just gone. Leaning against the door you listened to him talk, liking how you were able to observe him while he concentrated on driving. The way his fingers curved over the steering wheel, occasionally he’d glance at you with those rich hazel eyes that perpetual smile on his face that gave away his playful nature. You weren’t sure when this happened but the man made your heart flutter a little and it was a feeling you hadn’t experienced in years. Parts of you were pleased with this sensation but most of you wanted to run in the opposite direction and not stop until you were in a different country.

All of that was crushed by the overwhelming dread you felt as he guided the camper down your parents driveway. He parked it up but didn’t get out immediately, settling back in his seat he copied you and looked at the front of the house. You were gathering yourself, mentally preparing for whatever your mother was going to say. You had spoken to your dad briefly this week and he reported on your mothers mood, it didn’t look good for you. You hand was on the door handle but your fingers just wouldn’t pull it open no matter how hard you willed it.

“We don’t have to.” His voice startled you into looking up.

“What?”

“This, we don’t have to.” You looked back at the warm glow emitting from the windows, knowing the fire would be roaring. The dining table would be gone, replaced with large plush sofas and a huge screen ready to play Christmas films all night long.

“What else would we do?” You found yourself asking.

“I have to know you’re sure about not going in,” he said softly. Tearing your gaze away from the house you studied him instead, the way his hair flopped over his brow, his eyes studying you with just as much interest as you showed him. He was wearing his black trench coat with a jumper underneath that made you want to bury into him. He had jeans on and boots, the arm ring was prominent on his wrist accompanied by the rings on his fingers.

Your mind was telling you to go inside, even as your hand fell away from the door handle and your heart seemed to swell in your chest.

“I’m sure,” fell from your mouth and he smiled.

“Your father will probably never forgive me but I have something else we can do instead.” He threw his arm behind your seat as he backed the van up, kicking up the gravel in an effort to drive away as quickly as possible. Almost immediately your phone started ringing but you silenced it, just watching the screen until it rang out. He stopped at the end of the driveway, hand on the gearstick when he said your name softly.

“You’re sure?” Taking a deep breath you nodded.

“Yes, get me out of here Hvitserk.”

Turned out he did have something else planned for you. He took you to the coast, it wasn’t far but he drove you to a secret mini beach that you never even knew existed, backing the van onto the sand before switching off the engine so just the fairy lights created a soft glow that lit you both up.

“This is your plan? The beach on Christmas Eve? Bit cold for swimming,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Was all he said to you as he hopped out. Rolling your eyes you pretended not to be bursting with curiosity. Now your hand worked, pulling on the handle you extracted yourself and shut the door only to gaze with awe at the sight before you.

The sky was clear so the moon glowed brightly, it’s waning reflection rippled on the dark surface of the sea. The air was fresh, biting at your cheeks but not in an unpleasant way. Lifting your face up you let the breeze wash over you, the sound of the waves lapping at the sand instantly making the tension leave your shoulders.

“Hungry?” You turned around to find Hvitserk sitting in the back of the van, his feet dangling over the edge and a wicker hamper was next to him.

“You packed a picnic?” You queried with a raised eyebrow.

“I packed for a few eventualities,” he replied with a shrug. Opening the hamper as you approached he pulled out a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

“I am glad you packed the essentials.” He visibly preened from your praise even though he tried to hide it. Settling next to him you watched as he popped the cork loudly and poured you both a glass. “What else is in here?” You asked peering into the hamper.

“Well it’s Christmas, so I packed mince pies, chocolates orange and mint because some people like one or the other. Erm…we have pigs in blankets, slices of beef and turkey that was cooked today, also cheeses and crackers.” He looked up only to frown a little when he saw your face. “What’s up?”

“Nothing…except…” you let loose a quiet laugh to try and dispel the feeling that weighed on your chest but it didn’t work and tears pricked your eyes. “I hate Christmas but this is so nice,” you mumbled.

‘No one has taken the time to change those bad memories you have?” He questioned softly and you shook your head trying to concentrate on the way the waves greeted the shore but tears blurred your vision making it impossible. “Well, let’s eat. What do you fancy?”

“Beef,” you replied instantly. “Got any bread?” He pulled out some plates and handed you one, ignoring the way you surreptitiously wiped your cheek with your sleeve.

“Gods, she even buttered it,” he muttered.

“She?”

“Björn’s mother helped me put this together,” he admitted almost shyly.

“Oh, not the work of the elves?” You inquired innocently watching him out of the corner of your eye.

“Just eat and enjoy it,” he told you playfully, licking his fingers after dishing out the food onto both plates.

Your legs swung from happiness as you tucked in. The beef was juicy, tender and still slightly warm, melting the salty butter on the bread. It tasted so good you had to refrain from groaning in pleasure. He filled up your glass, noticing he didn’t have anymore meaning he intended to drive you home. Once you’d eaten, leaning back on your hands you stared at the water.

“I wonder how cold it is,” you mused.

“What?” You ignored his response, starting to take your boots off and roll up your leggings. “What are you doing?”

“You chicken?” You asked him with a mischievous smile. He groaned, lifting his eyes to the sky with a quick sigh.

“I can never back down from a challenge. I am one of 5 brothers,” you sniggered as he muttered to himself. The sand was cold when it seeped between your toes, not even waiting for him you stepped to the very edge where the waves reached. It was going to be freezing, you weren’t sure why you were doing this but a sense of recklessness had taken you over, maybe it was the champagne. You looked to see where he was only to cry out in surprise when he picked you up in his arms.

“Hvitserk!! Put me down!” You screamed, holding on tightly to his neck and shoulders.

“You challenged me,” he told you. “You need to know what happens when you challenge me!”

“Shit!! Fuck! Hvitserk!” He dropped your legs and you shrieked at the icy feel of the water enveloping your feet and legs. It soaked into your leggings, the waves splashing up higher than you anticipated making you step on your tiptoes in shock. His arm was firm around your waist as you curled into his side. “This is cold!!” You shouted, clutching his thick jumper in your fist.

“I told you.” You slapped your hand against his solid chest wanting to seek out his body heat as you crowded closer to him.

“You have to feel how cold this is?” You whined looking up to see he was gazing down at you already.

“Nope.” Narrowing your eyes you prodded his chest with a finger trying not to be distracted by how good he felt.

“Liar.” He shook his head but he shivered wildly against you. “M-my feet!” You gasped.

“Yeah it’s fucking cold!” He finally admitted, relief flooding through you when he scooped you back up and carried you all the way to the van. He set you down carefully, leaning into you as he reached for a towel. His scent was everywhere and your pulse thundered in your ears as he dried you off. Your feet were numb but you could feel every swipe of the towel, the sensation of his fingers as he held your foot steady leaving what felt like steaming handprints over your skin.

“Better?” He asked, looking up from your legs and you nodded. He stood, leaning into you again to reach for a blanket this time. He wrapped it firmly around your shivering form, pulling it to meet at your front and you gratefully clutched it. His face was right there, all you had to do was lean forward and you’d be able to capture his lips with yours. To feel how warm he was, how soft…how kissable… The moment passed when he moved away to sit down, dusting his own legs down and moaning about how the sand wasn’t coming off. Grabbing your drink you lifted your legs and wrapped the blanket around your freezing legs, relaxing into the feel of slowly warming up.

“Thanks for this.”

“For dunking you in the cold sea?”

“No! For this,” you continued looking up at the roof of the van and not hating the warm glow fairy lights. “We should head back though. I am supposed to be staying with my parents tonight.” A long sigh escaped you at the thought knowing that now your mother had even more to be mad at you for. “I’m a grown woman!” You exclaimed loudly. “Why do I feel like this?”

“Parents have a way of making us feel like kids all the time. Sometimes it’s nice and sometimes it’s not.” You flopped onto your back.

“I hate it. I just feel like I can never break free,” you confessed.

“You’re doing it right now,” he pointed out. You turned to him as he settled on his stomach, laying his head on his crossed arms so he could look at you.

“That’s because you stole me,” you insisted as that sexy lopsided smile crept over his face before he started defending himself.

“No! I made sure you didn’t want to go in. You told me!”

“My parents won’t see it that way,” you threatened with a smug air and he rolled onto his back with a groan bringing him right next to you.

“I knew you were trouble from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he grumbled, lifting his arm up and tucking it under his head. Biting your lip you stared a single light, letting it burn into the back of your eyes while trying to ignore the feel of his arm pressed against the side of your body. Even through his coat and the blanket you could feel how warm he was, or maybe you were just imagining it, aware of how close he was to you. Time crawled by, neither one of you saying what was between you. The tension built like waves of the seas, except it didn’t ebb away, just increasing more and more until you thought you wouldn’t be able to take another breath without telling him what was on your mind. Inhaling you were about to spill everything when he sat up and pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Damn. We should head back. Björn apparently needs all hands on deck for the kids' presents.”

“You’ve got nieces and nephews?” You tried to push away the disappointment by being interested but really you were cursing yourself for being so hesitant.

“One of each. Hali and Asa. Cutest little people on the planet!” He exclaimed with a gentle smile. You settled back in the passenger seat, rolling your wet leggings down with a grimace. The ride back to your parents was mainly silent, you text your dad to let him know you were coming back so he could tell your mother and tell her to go easy on you.

You began to gather your bags when he turned onto the drive, the house looming out of the darkness. You felt the need to get out of the van as quickly as possible otherwise you’d never leave but he had to get back to his family and you had to face yours.

“Thanks Hvitserk. I really enjoyed it.” You couldn’t look at him. Sliding out of the seat you heard him reply with a faint “yeah no worries.” So it surprised you when you were nearly at the front door he shouted your name.

You turned and watched as he took the stairs two at a time, it looked like he was going to run straight into you and you took a step back but that didn’t deter him. He almost barrelled into you, wrapping one arm round your waist and sliding the other along your cheek so he could bring his lips down to meet yours. His feet spread, either side of yours and the motion of his movement rocked you back into the door. You dropped everything you were holding to grab his face and pull yourself as close as you could. The kiss was greedy, his lips caressing yours in a way that had you groaning lightly, his fingers trailed delicately down your throat as he continued to ravish your mouth with a serious need. It felt like he breathed new life into you, awakening something inside you that had been dormant for so long. It flared in your chest and you latched onto it with every fibre of your being, feeling alive for the first time in years. When he stepped back your eyes fluttered open and you sucked your bottom lip past your teeth wanting to taste him again.

“So New Year…” he hinted and you giggled.

“I could be persuaded,” you said huskily. Shoving his hands in his pockets he continued to back down the steps not wanting to take his eyes off you.

“It’s a date?”

“Yeah, it’s a date.” He grinned almost wolfishly, pulling the door open he paused before getting in.

“See you soon sæta.” You watched him pull away in the van you had very quickly grown fond of until his rear lights vanished from view.

“Are you coming in?” Jumping violently you clutched your chest only to give your dad a giddy smile.

“How long have you been there?” You gasped.

“Long enough,” he said with a smirk. “I thought you knocked.”

“Oh god, sorry Dad.” He chuckled.

“Please come in and put your mother out of her misery.”