Page 9 of Christmas Eve with Krampus

No clue, but the way his hand lands on mine, dwarfing it yet building a connection between us that is as inexplicable as it is enticing… his single touch tells me that, whatever he does, we’re both going to like it.

Should I be surprised that the male demon is propositioning me? As far as I know, I’m the only human woman that’s been allowed to enter the woods in a while. Whenever the Blackmoor council opens its gates to petitioners, there’s one chosen one. This time it was me. And unless some of the ninety-six who didn’t make it out after their three days are still wandering around in here—or there are female Ruprechts hanging around—he probably hasn’t been laid in a while.

I guess I’m just a little taken aback by how forward he is. I’ve had guys at the bar who at least offer me a drink first before they insist on taking me home with them, but after he ate my entire orange, he thinks he can just lick my hand and offer to take me home with him and I’ll go.

And, shit, I will, won’t I?

I haven’t shaken my suspicion that Ruprecht is Krampus, and because of that, I keep thinking that he’s going to bring me to a cave to get me out of the cold. That it starts flurrying before I agree only cements my decision. Sleeping outdoors while it’s snowing doesn’t sound all that fun, and that’s assuming the elves don’t come looking for me again.

I’m prepared to sleep in a cave if I have to—but after a twenty-minute walk through the woods, it’s not the cave of legend up in the Alps where Krampus is supposed to leave that Ruprecht leads me to. Instead, moving gracefully forward on his cloven hooved-feet, he keeps going until we’re standing in front of a high wooden cottage with a thatched roof. A wreath woven out of greenery hangs over the closed door.

It’s not locked, though, and with a firm push, Ruprecht opens it for me.

Inside the cottage, there’s the strangest smell. One part barbecue—like burnt coal—and something cinnamon and spicy, I don’t hate it. Thanks to the roaring fire on the far side of the room, everything seems tinged with orange, and it’s so warm, I have to swallow my moan as I step inside.

Ruprecht follows me, pulling the door closed behind him.

As tall as the cottage is, it’s not very wide. It’s split into two halves: there’s a huge bed with a stuffed mattress and an old-fashioned, handmade quilt on it taking up one side, with a cozy kitchen on the other. A wooden-hewn table and a pair of tables take over the kitchen area, and as I glance around, I see just why the cottage is so tall.

A tree stands in the corner of the kitchen.

I want to call it a Christmas tree, and maybe that’s what it’s supposed to be. Instead of the seven-foot-tall Douglas fir I’m used to, this sucker is tall enough that the point barely clears the high-arched ceiling. It doesn’t have a star or any angel on top. No colorful ornaments, either. It’s full of flickering candles, instead, tucked into nearly every bough on the tree, with glimmering garland wrapped around it.

Talk about a fire hazard. If that thing topples over, this cabin will go up before anyone can stop it.

It’s nice, though. A lot nicer than I was expecting. And if he felt confident leaving the candles and the fireplace burning, it’s probably safe.

Well, safe-ish… right?

I glance around, the skirt whooshing with the slight motion. “I’ll be safe in here?”

I don’t just mean the fire, either. In the light, I see details about Ruprecht that I didn’t notice before. Like how the fur pelt on his shoulders… yeah. Those are actually patches of fur on his body. His jaw is sharp, his cheekbones chiseled, and there’s a look in his gold-colored eyes that has me wishing I could cover up my cleavage.

This… whatever he is… is basically eye-fucking me, and I’m not sure how to react to it. My pussy saying ‘yes, please’ as if she’s lost her damn mind definitely doesn’t help, but as my gaze roves over his black horns, shoulder-length dark hair, and his sculpted muscles…

Okay. So I’m attracted to a demon. Sue me.

Ruprecht lifts his hand, using the edge of his claw to stroke the curve of his horn. “Yes. Nicklaus won’t have you while I do.”

Weird way to say that. Unless…

Huh. So I was right. Demon, monster, or guy I met at the bar, he’s no different from any other man I’ve met. He obviously expects me to sleep with him in exchange for his protection.

Okay. I’ve been suspecting something like that. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious?—

“You can take the bed,” he says, gesturing at the only other piece of furniture in the decorated cottage apart from the table and chairs. “I will watch you from the hearth.”

Um… what?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I told you, Josie. You are a good girl. You need not fear my rod. I won’t punish you.”

With that, Ruprecht takes one of the wooden chairs, scooting it toward the roaring fire. It gives him the perfect angle to do just that: watch me sleep.

But what about him? I mean, I’m trying not to be too annoyed that he’s shut me down as easily as that, but is he really going to stay up all night so I can sleep in his bed—without him?

“Don’t you need to sleep?” I ask. He mentioned something about hibernating… “Aren’t you tired?”

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