AN: This is my gift for my Secret Santa recipient over on Tumblr! Check me out on Tumblr alexblakeisgay !

Emily stood on the balcony of their little hut overlooking the turquoise waters, arms wrapped tightly around herself, keeping the light shawl she wore wrapped around her shoulders from blowing in the slight breeze.

She didn't hear Ian approach behind her until he'd wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "What's on your mind, Love?" he asked in a whisper, then dropped a kiss below her ear.

"It doesn't feel like Christmas," she said with a slight shrug, jostling his chin.

"The lack of snow?" he guessed.

She shook her head, but didn't comment on the matter for long enough that he wasn't sure he was going to...but eventually, she simply repeated. "It doesn't feel like Christmas."

The moon hung full and low in the sky, casting a golden shimmer on the water below them. It was one of the things she liked best about their little hidey-hole: the brilliance of the night sky. When she'd moved around as a child, she'd liked to look up at the stars and find the familiar constellations and it helped her feel like at least one thing in life remained constant amidst the chaos.

She tilted her head back to stare up at the sky. Almost immediately, she felt Ian trailing his lips along her carotid, knowing he could smell the blood thrumming beneath her skin. "Don't get any bright ideas," she warned.

He chuckled darkly. "One of these days, you are going to let me turn you..." he said, that smugly confident way about him he always seemed to have whenever the topic came up, as it invariably did.

She didn't dignify his confidence with a reply. She never did.

"You know you don't have to do this, right?" he said at length, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Do what?" she asked in that way she often had where he couldn't quite be certain whether she was being intentionally obtuse or whether she genuinely didn't know.

"Stay here. With me."

That had her attention... She turned sharply in his his arms to fix him with a look somewhere near disbelief.

He continued on undeterred, "You can leave. Tell everyone I kidnapped you, held you against your will. Make up any story you like. You don't have to sacrifice everything for my sake."

"It's not a sacrifice," she insisted vehemently, almost furiously. "I'm not here because I think I have to be."

"But..."

"No, Ian!" she hissed. "Your thrall might be good, but it's not that good," she added sardonically.

He barked out a laugh. "Sarcastic little shit," he muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

She rolled her eyes. She'd known it wouldn't be easy, wouldn't always be smooth sailing when she'd confessed everything to Ian. She'd known she would probably end up staring down the barrel of a gun, counting the remaining second of her life. What she hadn't expected, though...

He'd pulled from his safe three passports he'd had made for himself, her, and Declan. New names, new identities. They'd packed up all the irreplaceable possessions and travelled to the Maldives where they didn't extradite. No questions asked.

(Of course, she did eventually ask questions... Namely, why? Because he was Ian fucking Doyle, afterall...and Ian Doyle had a notorious reputation for rooting out and ruthlessly killing every single undercover operative sent in to bring his arms-dealing empire down, so why, then would decide not to kill her when she confessed to being exactly that?)

(His answer was simply that he believed her when she said she loved him. She'd scoffed, of course, because love can be faked... You're not that good an actress, Emily, he'd said, emphasis strong on her real name as it fell from his tongue for the first time.)

Those memories were floating forefront in her mind as she fixed him with her most deadly serious stare and said, "I gave up everything for you, Ian. Not because I was in any way forced, but because there is literally nothing in my life worth going back to."

"What about your family?" he protested, though it was an admittedly weak protest.

"You and Declan are my family," she murmured, softer now, but no less firm in her insistence. "The only family that means anything at all to me."

He grinned, a hint of fang peeking out. "You forgot someone..."

She raised a brow, confused.

He pressed a palm to her stomach, a pointed look on his face that clearly told her the jig was up. "You really thought you could keep a secret from me?"

"What gave it away?" Emily asked, a little pout on her lips at her little surprise being ruined. She'd thought she was being sneaky...between the lack of morning sickness and her still slender frame.

"I can hear the heartbeat," he said, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Smug bastard," she muttered, also without any heat. "That was supposed to be your Christmas present."

He laughed heartily. He pulled her in for another kiss, this one more heated than the last, his hand drifting from her hip to cup her ass, coaxing a pleased hum from her lips. "I can think of something else you could give me..." he said when he pulled back, brows waggling suggestively.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "If you'll recall, I already gave you that gift last night..."

"I didn't realize it was a limited time offer," he said dryly, though they both knew he was only teasing.

With a sarcastic laugh, she said, "And people think you're not charming..."

"Who said that?"

Rather than reply to the smart remark – which was mostly rhetorical anyway – she shot him a wicked grin as she pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside before diving into the ocean, clearly expecting him to follow.

Ian, of course, would follow a gorgeous naked woman just about anywhere...especially when she wore an expression promising mischief.