Page 6 of Christmas Eve with Krampus

And now the horned guy seems entranced by it.

I look at the orange in my palm.

When the woman responsible for leading me out of the hostel and toward the edge of the dark woods gave me the single piece of fruit, I thought it was in case I got hungry. She assured me that most berries I found growing through the snow would be safe to eat—and my own skills meant I should know which—and while it wouldn’t be pleasant to go without food for three days, it’s more than possible.

Just in case, I held onto the orange all day so far. Nerves mingled with a sense of adventure—plus the adrenaline—kept me from feeling hunger. I ate a big breakfast before I was stuffed into the Christmas gown, and I figured I’d wait until my energy started to flag and I needed a sugar hit before I peeled the orange.

Now I’m glad I didn’t. As though it suddenly makes sense, a part of me knows instinctively that I’m supposed to give it to this horned monster.

Demon.

Krampus.

The name pops into my head and, like with the orange, I just know it’s right. I’ve done my research. I spent years trying to contact the shadowy council that protects Blackmoor’s secrets, and when I got a single letter in the mail with an invitation to join them for Christmas specifically, I used my phone to look up all sorts of Christmas myths and legends, just in case one had something to do with another.

And one that struck a chord with me?

Was Krampus. The Christmas demon who punishes children who misbehave instead of rewarding them with gifts like good ol’ Saint Nick does.

Toymaker.

Elves.

Krampus…

Looks like I was right, after all. Christmas does have something to do with it—and so does this orange.

I shrug. Hey. Whoever he is, he saved me from those jerky elves’ attack. The least I can do is repay him the only way I can. “An orange. Here. If you’re hungry, take it.”

“Would it be mine?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s suspicious—or hopeful. “For me alone?”

Weird, but okay. “Sure.”

In answer, he crouches down to the snow, dropping the oversized stick on the dirt before extending one long arm. His thick, black claws click together as thought to catch my attention before he opens his palm expectantly.

Taking a deep breath, hoping I’m not making a big mistake, I drop the orange into his waiting hand.

And, without even realizing it at that moment, my life changes forever.

CHAPTER 3

DECEMBER 23

Using two of his claws, the tip of a forked tongue slipping out between his lips, the horned demon male carefully peels the orange.

He’s so focused on what he’s doing, he seems to disregard me standing a few steps away from him. Part of me wonders if I should start to slowly back up, then turn and run the same way those freaky little elves did. I doubt I’ll be able to escape him if he comes after me—between this heavy gown and my stiff hip—but shouldn’t I try?

Then again…

He saved me. Whether that’s what he meant to do or not, I can’t say. I get the vibe that he only lost his temper because the elves came after me on his territory. Like, he wasn’t protecting me from them, but I got lucky since he was annoyed to find the little men there, attacking me or not.

Maybe they’re out there, waiting for me to do just that. And since I’d rather not find myself in a situation where I’m forcibly wed to some guy called the Toymaker, I think I’m gonna stick with Krampus—if he is Krampus—for as long as I can.

It might be until he finishes the orange, but at least his presence will keep those creepy gnome things away for now.

I don’t blame them. This close, I get a much better look at him—and I’m more than sure my suspicion is right and he is Krampus. There’s the horns. The forked tongue. The insanely muscular and completely bare chest with some kind of dark fur pelt resting over his shoulders. His bottom half is covered in mud-colored, loose pants, and the cloven hooves tucked under him are huge. So is he; with his height and his build, I can’t stop the perverted corners of my mind from wondering if he’s proportional everywhere.

Then there’s the stick he was holding. In the legend of Krampus, he carries a thin birch rod he used to whack misbehaving children. Attached to the waist of his pants, I see a large burlap sack, plus a length of gold chain. Krampus would put the naughtiest of kids in sacks and make off with them. As for the chain…

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