The Magical Christmas Cat

Page 57

This wasn't a little death, as the French called it. It was life. It exploded within her. It lit her senses with a rainbow hue of colors to rival the brightest Christmas tree and filled her with an ecstasy that she knew she could no longer live without.
It completed her.
And when the barb locked him to her, and his
release spilled into her, it finished that completion in a round of fireworks that she knew even the Fourth of July couldn't compare to.
When she could see again, when she could think again, it was to watch his head lift from her shoulder, to see his face relaxed and infused with pleasure.
Merry Christmas, Noble," she whispered, touching his cheek, their gazes meeting in the mirror once more.
"Merry Christmas, Haley," he whispered back.
"And thank you."
"For what?"
"For being the most precious present a breed could ever receive."
"Merry Christmas, Noble," she whispered, touching his cheek, their gazes meeting in the mirror once more.
"Merry Christmas, Haley," he whispered back.
"And thank you."
"For what?"
"For being the most precious present a breed could ever receive."