Page 24 of Christmas Eve with Krampus

My skin crawls at the thought of letting this buff version of Santa Claus touching me the same way I let my demon do it on Christmas Eve. “I’m meant for him?”

That’s what Nicklaus said earlier. I ignored him because… ew.

“You might have been. It doesn’t matter. You are mine. And I won’t allow him to force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

Nicklaus laughs. It’s like nails scraping down a chalkboard. “Tell the truth, brother.”

Did I think I couldn’t be any more shocked? Yup. That one does it.

“Brother?” I echo. “You guys are brothers?”

“Twins,” Nicklaus confirms.

I whirl on Ruprecht. “You’re twins?”

They definitely do things differently in Blackmoor, and I’m sure there are a hundred legends about Krampus, and even more about Santa Claus… but since when are they twins?

I should’ve known. I should’ve guessed. Their faces… there is something about their faces that are similar. Not the same. Not identical. But I see it, and the way I’m gaping at Ruprecht now, he can’t even try to deny it.

And he wouldn’t anyway, not when he promised held tell me the truth.

“We’re two halves of the same whole,” he finally admits.

“I’m the nice one,” Nicklaus boasts.

I huff. Santa might be. But Nicklaus? Not a chance.

I ignore him. So does Ruprecht.

Oh, no. His sole focus is still on me.

But Nicklaus… it doesn’t matter that we’re both pretending the white-haired legend ones ‘t exist. He seems to like to hear the sound so his own voice because, Goddamn, he’s still yapping.

“I must say, if I had found you… I had touched you… you never would have escaped me, Josephine. But Ruprecht touched you first. He stole you from me. But, how it’s it you put it, Ruprecht? The tether gets crossed. To release my claim on her, I need to fuck her first.”

Hang on. He was serious with that crap?

“You stay the hell away from me!”

Ruprecht sidles over, blocking his twin from getting anywhere near me.

His voice rumbles, a low pitch that actually does help to soothe me as he faces me once more.

“Don’t fear, my Josie. He’s right. I did mark you. I marked you, liebling.” Ruprecht trails one of his claws down my cheek. “He won’t take you now that I have.”

“But I’ll watch him take my bride. Since I’m such a jolly old soul, I’ll even let you keep the holiday gown on. But I’ll stay in the workshop while Ruprecht makes you his for Christmas.”

I can’t even come up with a response for it. I don’t have to.

“What? Do you think you have something I’ve never seen before? Please.” Rolling his eyes—pale blue again instead of black—he adds, “You forget that I visit millions of home in a single night. Night, Josie. In between dropping off the present for good little girls and boys, don’t you think I deserve some… breaks?”

Ew. Ew. Ew.

I don’t want to think of the mythical embodiment of my childhood hopes and dreams being a peeping Tom, but if the fuzzy, red suit fits…

My nose wrinkles. “Santa is a cuck?”

Ruprecht frowns, turning away from me. Nicklaus beams crudely, as if proud of that fact.

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