Mistletoe & Naughty: Chapter 1
For everyone stuck on the Naughty List...
Hello, Little Hillions,
It’s the start of a brand new serial, Mistletoe & Naughty: A Dark Noel Novella! This serial will run from July 4th to October 31st!
For everyone stuck on the Naughty List, the whips and chains aren’t always a bad thing.
Just so we’re clear, Nicolette, the FMC, is NOT a “nice” person and is most definitely on the Naughty List. Additionally, this is a dark PNR that will turn everything you thought you knew about some of your favorite Christmas characters upside down.
This serial is considered unedited and may be subject to change upon publication. It is intended for readers 18+; reader discretion is advised.
xoxo,
KL Hill
Chapter 1 - Nicolette
I, Nicolette Evergreen, have been called every name imaginable except for nice. I’m what you would consider a thief, a fraud, or, better yet, a con artist. This explains why I prefer to spend my time in my secluded cabin in the woods, scamming people out of money and having it sent directly to one of my many bank accounts, never to be heard from again.
I’m chasing the same thrill that an adrenaline junkie who jumps out of airplanes, except mine is when I drag my victims deeper and deeper into my web of lies and deceit—the massive payouts that keep me coming back for more.
The wind outside picks up, rattling the windows, as a blizzard rolls in that will more than likely have me stranded out here for weeks. Thankfully, I keep this place well-stocked with all the essentials and then some, and it’s entirely powered by solar panels, thanks to my big payouts. I might be a criminal, but I still give a shit about the planet. Plus, it's totally off the grid and the perfect place to hide out, whether to lay low or continue pursuing an endless cash flow.
Speaking of, unfortunately, my most recent scam has me lying even lower than normal for a few days, forcing me to go without some of my favorite snowed-in snacks since the family of the man I catfished hired a PI to trace me, and I don’t want to risk being caught and going to jail for fraud.
I’m too fucking pretty to prance around behind bars in an orange jumpsuit for years. Not to mention, it would clash with my red hair.
The roaring fire fills the room with its warm light and heat, a single stocking hanging from the hearth with my name embroidered on it, and my tiny FM radio playing the 24-hour Christmas radio station—my only attempts to add some Christmas cheer, which are failing miserably.
I don’t mind spending the holidays alone, given I don’t have much of a choice since I went no contact with my family years ago, I don’t have a single real friend due to my profession, and the last serious relationship I had ended last Christmas Eve when my now-ex decided to drop down his ex’s chimney and crawl right under her Christmas tree.
And the icing on the fruit cake? He had the audacity to ask me if I wanted to join them instead of exchanging gifts, like we originally planned, after he butt-dialed me—or cock dialed really—while she was screaming his name.
Talk about an insane game of white elephant, right?
I gracefully declined his offer before I drove over, slashed his tires, and busted out his headlights and windshield with a metal baseball bat. I was the embodiment of feminine rage and took the directive for my revenge from that one country song, while contemplating his “goodbye” as in that other one. I’ve never intentionally killed anyone, but that night, I was willing to become the subject of a true crime documentary and chase another thrill.
Of course, like any man caught in the act, he threatened to press charges, but all it took was me threatening to call his ex’s new 6'5” biker boyfriend and inform him of her extracurricular activities for him to second-guess his decision. And like the little bitch he is, he folded, and as far as I can tell from hacking into his shit, he’s continued fucking her on the side almost a year later, that is, until I just sent screenshots and finally got the boyfriend involved. I have alerts set for any articles that include their names, and I anticipate seeing one any day now.
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
Needless to say, the holiday season has been ruined for me more than once by a series of unfortunate events, and I could really give a shit less about it all now. And as any millennial would do, I suppress all my feelings and busy myself by hiding out here, filling my bank account to the brim with money from pieces of shit who think they can get by with cheating on their spouses.
Is it an honest living? Absolutely not. But, fuck, if it’s not fun.
As a 32 year old woman who’s been shit on more times than I can count, I deserve the right to fuck with men and their finances by convincing them to be my sugar daddy, all while waiting for it to blow up in their faces, especially when they try to cross a line with me. To which I DM their significant others with receipts, initiating my plan of revenge and taking down every Chad and Brad who’s pleading for attention in my inbox. Like I said, it’s fun to ruin other people’s lives since mine has already been blown to smithereens time and time again.
I snuggle into the couch under my favorite quilt, and I dive into the newest dark romance I snatched at the big box store—a little five-finger discount present to myself—and let the crackle of the fire lull me to sleep.
Outside, the wind picks up, whistling around the house like a cyclone, blowing snow in every direction. They’re calling for over a foot of snow tonight, and that’s not including snow drifts. I intend to be stranded here for a few days, stretched out by the fire finger fucking myself to all the smut I’m going to read while I’m on this little winter staycation.
***
Hours have passed, making my eyelids turn leaden. The sound of the roaring wind drowns out any other sounds, and it starts to pull me to sleep. My head sinks into the down-throw pillow as I roll onto my side, and the last thing I see before the world fades to black is the flames looking back at me, licking the edge of the hearth.
I’m not in the darkness for very long before I begin to dream. It’s the same dream that I’ve had for almost 12 years, and it always happens around this time of the year. I find myself wandering down the hallway of the childhood home I left behind the moment I turned 18. With every step I take, it seems to grow longer as I try to reach the window at the end. Suddenly, I stumble forward, tripping on air, and my hands smack against the windowpane; the cold immediately seeps into my skin. The temperature around me plummets, frost creeping across the glass, blocking my view, with only the hauntingly dim moonlight filtering through. Pulling the sleeve of my sweater over my hand, I wipe away the thick layer of frost, and I’m met with more than just the night sky on the other side.
A shadowed face with eyes that burn like hellfire stares back at me, baring its sharp teeth in a hungry, lupine smile. I should have been terrified and run away, but I only leaned in more, nearly pressing my nose against the glass. I hear the window unlock, a cold gust of wind swirling around me as the window slides up beneath my palm. My heart thunders with anticipation as a clawed hand decorated with rings curls around the bottom, lifting it higher. And just as the creature on the other side is prepared to climb in and show its face, I jolt awake.
And just like all the other times I’ve walked this dreamscape, this one’s no different.
My eyes fly open, and my heart thunders in my chest, a deafening roar in my ears. A frigid breeze crawls across my skin, drying the sheen of sweat and leaving goosebumps in its wake. Pulling the blanket tight under my chin, I notice that the fire has burned down to embers, leaving only a soft glow of light and barely any heat.
I sit up, wrapping the blanket tighter around me as my teeth chatter so hard my jaw aches, and shuffle my way to the stack of wood next to the hearth. The corners of the room are filled with shadows that seem to bear down on me, the wind whistling as it rushes down the chimney, rogue snowflakes fluttering past and swirling around me. The wind has pushed a dusting of soot across the floor, where it fades away a few feet away from the hearth.
My heart gallops in my chest, and I stand frozen as I take in the footprints that are lightly etched into the dust. It’s as if someone—or something—came down the chimney and walked right out of it, except these are no ordinary footprints; they’re large hoofprints.
What the hell?
I press the heels of my palms to my eyes, trying to rid them of sleep, all the while convincing myself that this is just my mind playing tricks on me and I’m still groggy from sleep. Turning slowly, I look over my shoulder at the rest of the cabin that’s covered in a blanket of darkness—a void that can disguise any intruder who might have broken in.
The temperature in the room seems to drop even more the longer I stand here, my breath clouding in front of me. My eyes scan the room for the culprit, but none of the windows are open, and the door is closed and locked tight.
I must still be dreaming, and this is a new version of it, finally catching up to my adult life. And just like in the dream, I cross to the front window and lift the cream curtain, only to be met with frost coating the inside of the glass, blocking my view. My hand trembles as I lift it to wipe the window clean with the corner of my blanket, smearing the condensation away, the glass glittering in the moonlight. Leaning forward, I look out the window, fully expecting to be met with the same glowing eyes. Instead, I’m only met with an endless night and the occasional snowflake landing on the glass as the snowstorm continues to roll in.
Letting out a ragged breath, I step back from the window, the curtain falling back into place. I scrub my hands over my face and return to the fireplace, strategically sliding new logs onto the embers and stoking the flames until the fire comes back to life, casting a warm glow back into the room. I watch the flames as they lick at the hearth, the delicious heat warming my skin and chasing away the shadows that were inching closer.
But even as my body warms, I can’t shake the chill that prickles at my nape, causing the hairs to stand on end as if I’m being watched. A shiver racks through me from the cold that seems to have seeped deep into my bones. Sleep suddenly envelops me and drags me down onto the white faux fur rug laid out in front of the fire, the fur soft beneath me, gently caressing my cheek as my wild red curls weave through it, looking like blood against the snow.
Curling my arm under my head, I listen to the crackle of the fire, like a sweet lullaby, lulling me back to sleep. But just as my eyes close and I begin to relax, I hear a quiet click on the wood floor, like the heel of a shoe taking the tiniest step into the room.
You’re fucking hearing things, Nicolette. That sound was nothing more than the fire crackling against the stone hearth or the wind attempting to slip through the cracks under the door, pressing against it with all its might. My limbs turn heavy, and my eyes fall shut, sending me tumbling back into my dreamscape to once again stare into the fiery eyes looking back at me from the other side of the window of my cabin. Its gaze consumes me, heating me from the inside out with an all-consuming flame that threatens to burn me alive…and I just might let it.