Silent Night: Vampire Holiday Romance (The Night Songs Collection Book 4) Read Online Free
Author: Kristen Strassel
was sure praise for your work never got old.
"So, you don't get to talk about this a lot, since no one knows that you're her, or she's you, or that you write as Allison."
"I do interviews as Allison. It's easier now, over the internet. But people really want to know about authors, too. The fans want access to everything. Allison is a character, just like the ones in the books. An actress does public appearances, I use her photos online. It works out. I get to enjoy the creativity twofold and don‘t have to deal with the distractions that come with it."
"That's so cool. So how did you start writing romance? It just seems unlikely for a guy like you. I would have guessed that you were a lawyer or a banker or something."
"Something boring like that?" The reflection of the fire danced in his dark eyes, and the heat from the flames flushed his cheeks. He'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, but that was all. It was enough to make him look dishelved, earthy.
Sexy as hell.
"There's a lot of me in that story," he continued. "I lost my wife at a young age. Like David and Marielle, we got married young, and we struggled a lot. I didn't know life without her anymore. I didn't want to know my life without her, so I kept trying to replace her."
The way he said it made it sound like he'd found peace with his loss through writing. "What was your wife's name?"
"Marielle."
"Oh. Just like in the books?" It might have just been my imagination, but a chill swept over the room. He looked so sad. I understood. Sure, I hadn't even met the love of my life yet, but I knew loss. Boy, did I know loss. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you when I said I identified with her."
"No. Not at all. In fact, that's why I sat next to you in church. Because you reminded me of her. Your dark hair, she used to pull it back in a bun like you do all the time. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve, and now your sassiness. If Marielle were in this situation-- " He stopped, obviously picturing her in my place, "I think she'd react just like you have.“
“In what way?” How the hell did he know how I’d react? And that I always wore my hair in a bun?
“Just like you,” he didn’t back down from his statement. “She was a fighter."
Hearing him say that made me feel better about staying here tonight. I was glad he recognized that I wasn't some simpering little flower begging to become a victim. I might not be the brightest light on the Christmas tree, but I didn't go down without a fight.
I didn't let my guard down, but again, I felt like I could share a little bit with him. After all, he'd opened his home to me and told me his big secret. "I lost my grandmother this year. I lived with her, in the senior housing. That's why I don't have any place to go. They kicked me out and I don't have enough money for my own place. So I've been floating. Friends houses." I didn't mention Matt. I guess he roughly qualified as a friend. If nothing else, he had a house. "And sometimes the shelter on bad nights. But I think my Memere, which is French for grandmother--"
"I know." Aidan smiled.
"Of course. Anyway, she'd appreciate you doing this. She'd be devastated if she knew what was happening to me. The plan was, I was supposed to go away to college, but she got sick, and..." I trailed off, not being able to finish the story. It didn't matter. He knew how it ended.
"Kyndra, she's proud of you now. You're doing the best you can. And you'll get to college. You don't have to do everything all at once. Life isn't a sprint, you know."
I was crying, again. "I know. But she was so young! Only sixty. I mean, she still had all these things she wanted to do. But she didn't, because she was raising me. Then she got sick. And now she can't do them. Ever." She’d been my best friend, so much more than anyone my own age, and I had taken so much from her. I tried to make everything as good for her as I could, especially at the end. I still held
"So, you don't get to talk about this a lot, since no one knows that you're her, or she's you, or that you write as Allison."
"I do interviews as Allison. It's easier now, over the internet. But people really want to know about authors, too. The fans want access to everything. Allison is a character, just like the ones in the books. An actress does public appearances, I use her photos online. It works out. I get to enjoy the creativity twofold and don‘t have to deal with the distractions that come with it."
"That's so cool. So how did you start writing romance? It just seems unlikely for a guy like you. I would have guessed that you were a lawyer or a banker or something."
"Something boring like that?" The reflection of the fire danced in his dark eyes, and the heat from the flames flushed his cheeks. He'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, but that was all. It was enough to make him look dishelved, earthy.
Sexy as hell.
"There's a lot of me in that story," he continued. "I lost my wife at a young age. Like David and Marielle, we got married young, and we struggled a lot. I didn't know life without her anymore. I didn't want to know my life without her, so I kept trying to replace her."
The way he said it made it sound like he'd found peace with his loss through writing. "What was your wife's name?"
"Marielle."
"Oh. Just like in the books?" It might have just been my imagination, but a chill swept over the room. He looked so sad. I understood. Sure, I hadn't even met the love of my life yet, but I knew loss. Boy, did I know loss. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you when I said I identified with her."
"No. Not at all. In fact, that's why I sat next to you in church. Because you reminded me of her. Your dark hair, she used to pull it back in a bun like you do all the time. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve, and now your sassiness. If Marielle were in this situation-- " He stopped, obviously picturing her in my place, "I think she'd react just like you have.“
“In what way?” How the hell did he know how I’d react? And that I always wore my hair in a bun?
“Just like you,” he didn’t back down from his statement. “She was a fighter."
Hearing him say that made me feel better about staying here tonight. I was glad he recognized that I wasn't some simpering little flower begging to become a victim. I might not be the brightest light on the Christmas tree, but I didn't go down without a fight.
I didn't let my guard down, but again, I felt like I could share a little bit with him. After all, he'd opened his home to me and told me his big secret. "I lost my grandmother this year. I lived with her, in the senior housing. That's why I don't have any place to go. They kicked me out and I don't have enough money for my own place. So I've been floating. Friends houses." I didn't mention Matt. I guess he roughly qualified as a friend. If nothing else, he had a house. "And sometimes the shelter on bad nights. But I think my Memere, which is French for grandmother--"
"I know." Aidan smiled.
"Of course. Anyway, she'd appreciate you doing this. She'd be devastated if she knew what was happening to me. The plan was, I was supposed to go away to college, but she got sick, and..." I trailed off, not being able to finish the story. It didn't matter. He knew how it ended.
"Kyndra, she's proud of you now. You're doing the best you can. And you'll get to college. You don't have to do everything all at once. Life isn't a sprint, you know."
I was crying, again. "I know. But she was so young! Only sixty. I mean, she still had all these things she wanted to do. But she didn't, because she was raising me. Then she got sick. And now she can't do them. Ever." She’d been my best friend, so much more than anyone my own age, and I had taken so much from her. I tried to make everything as good for her as I could, especially at the end. I still held
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