Tied With a Bow

light dusting of snow, but so long as you stay close, my body will keep yours warm,” he promised.
    “A mountain ridge,” she murmured. “Where better for an angel to make love than among the clouds? It sounds perfect, Nathaniel,” she whispered. “Just like a dream.”

Human Error
     
    EILEEN WILKS
     

Chapter One
     
    There were worse ways to spend the holidays. Even leaving out nuclear winter, Benedict could think of several. Like in a hospital. On a battlefield. At a Humans First rally—no, that was the same thing as a battlefield. At least it had been in October, when he’d lost six men himself and too many others had died, including . . .
    “Good grief. Don’t look so grim.”
    “I’m not grim,” he said automatically. He had the sense to shut his mouth without explaining that he’d been cheering himself up by comparing visiting Arjenie’s family to spending time with tubes in his veins and other places. Never mind that the visit came out ahead. It wouldn’t sound right.
    She didn’t say a word. This was unusual enough to get his attention. He stole a glance away from the unfamiliar road.
    The woman in the passenger’s seat was slightly above average height, definitely below average weight, with black-framed glasses, a narrow face, and long red hair so extravagantly curly it seemed to have a life of its own. She was shining with happiness. And his. She was his, and beautiful beyond words, and he’d cross the country on foot if that’s what it took to give her such joy.
    Everything in him softened. He reached for her hand. “Grim, huh?” It was foolish to drive one-handed, even for someone with his reflexes, when he didn’t have to. But missing a chance to touch her was surely a greater folly.
    “Not so much now.” She squeezed his hand. “They aren’t going to eat you, you know. They’re good people.”
    He smiled because he knew that was true, and it made him happy that she had good people standing behind her. People who’d stepped in, opening their home and their arms to her when her mother was killed. But good people wouldn’t be happy about her relationship with him. Perhaps, as she claimed, they wouldn’t have a problem with him being lupus. Most human families would, but Arjenie was sure her people weren’t like that.
    Maybe not. And maybe they wouldn’t be upset that he and Arjenie had no plans to marry, even though she couldn’t explain why that legal binding was unimportant compared to what truly held them together.
    Humans weren’t told about the mate bond. Ever.
    But because of that bond, Arjenie had to live far from her family now. Because of Benedict, she’d been exposed to danger, violence, and death. And probably would be again.
    How could they accept that? Why should they?
    Benedict thought, however, that they’d be courteous. People who raised someone as generous and openhearted as Arjenie would be courteous to him for her sake and their own. Clearly he had nothing to worry about. “I may be a little nervous.”
    Her bright grin flashed across her face. “You think? Oh, look—that’s the oak! Turn there—just beyond that magnificent oak—the gravel road, do you see it?”
    Obediently he slowed. She was vibrating with excitement. It had been nearly four months since she’d see her aunt and uncle and cousins. Other aunts and uncles and cousins would be there, too. The gravel road he turned onto would take them to an old farmhouse that had been the home and heart of the Delacroix family for nearly two hundred years. It was like a small clanhome. Everyone who could, came there for Christmas.
    Not Christmas, he corrected himself. Yule. They were Wiccan. The center of their celebration was the solstice, which they called Yule, and which fell on the twenty-second this year. Then, on the morning of December 25th, they joined the rest of the country in what Arjenie called a grand explosion of culturally sanctioned greed. Presents, presents, presents.
    They turned onto a tree-crowded lane. Branches arched overhead—bare now, but it must be pretty in summer. Moonsong hummed in his veins rather the way the car’s engine sounded to his ears. Her song was constant, having nothing to do with whether the moon was visible, but this close to the full moon it grew ever stronger.
    He checked the rearview mirror. The car behind them was identical to the one he drove. Both rented, of course. He hadn’t actually been called on to cross the country on foot. They’d