Page 15 of Tempted By the Orc

“Father?” Rue whispered, her voice barely audible.

Kris Kringle stepped forward, his arms opening wide. “My dear Rue,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

Before she could respond, he pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close against his wide chest. Mrs. Claus joined them, wrapping her arms around both of them, her tears falling silently as she kissed Rue’s hair.

“I’m so sorry,” Santa repeated, his voice cracking. “I should never have made that deal.”

Rue buried her face in his coat, her voice trembling. “It’s okay, Father,” she whispered. “We’re going to fix this…Together.”

Santa pulled back slightly, his hand cupping her cheek. “I never wanted this for you,” he said quietly. “I never wanted to put you in danger.”

“I know,” Rue said, her voice soft but steady. “You were trying to protect the elves.”

Santa nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow. “But I should have found another way.”

Mrs. Claus smiled through her tears, her hand resting gently on Rue’s arm. “We’re so proud of you,” she said softly. “So very proud.”

Rue smiled, though her eyes were wet with emotion. “Thank you.”

Santa turned to me then, his gaze filled with gratitude. “You saved her,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You protected my daughter.”

I shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. “She saved herself,” I muttered, glancing at Rue.

But he wasn’t finished. He stepped forward and pulled me into a firm embrace, his arms strong and warm. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “For everything.”

I nodded, unable to find the words to respond. As Santa Claus stepped back, his wife approached, her eyes filled with warmth as she smiled at me.

“You’ve done more than protect her,” Mrs. Claus said softly. “You’ve given her something even more precious.”

My heart tightened at her words, and I glanced at Rue. She was watching me with an expression that made my chest ache—a mixture of gratitude, love, and something deeper.

Before I could say anything more, Dasher reappeared, skidding to a halt in the snow. “He’s coming,” he said, his voice filled with urgency. “Azrael’s on his way.”

The peaceful moment shattered at once, replaced by the tension of what was to come. Santa’s face hardened as he turned toward the trees. “This is it,” he said quietly. “We need to be ready.”

I turned to Rue, my heart racing. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. Her eyes filled with determination and she gave me one last look—a mixture of fear and love—before she turned and made her way up the steps to the treehouse. Her gown trailed behind her like the tail of a comet, shimmering in the moonlight. She disappeared inside, and my chest tightened with resolve.

I had to protect her. No matter what.

The sound of hooves and heavy footsteps grew louder, signaling Azrael’s arrival. The Dark King emerged from the shadows of the forest, his black cloak swirling around him like a storm cloud. His coal black eyes gleamed with malice, and a cruel smile twisted his lips as he strode into the clearing. His henchmen followed, their eyes cold and expressionless, marching in perfect synchronization.

Azrael’s gaze swept over the scene, and his sneer deepened when he saw Santa standing at the edge of the clearing. “Saint Nicholas,” said the Dark King, his voice dripping with mockery. “I see you’ve come to witness the end of your reign.”

Santa’s face was grim, his jaw tight as he stepped forward. “You’ll never take my daughter,” he said, his voice firm but weary. “Not as long as I live.”

Azrael let out a low, twisted laugh. “Oh, but I will. And once I have her, Christmas will be nothing but a distant memory. I’ll replace it with a holiday dedicated to me—The Black Night. A time of sacrifices and fear, where the world will bow to me and my Dark Queen.”

He strode toward the treehouse, his eyes gleaming with greed. “And now,” he said, pulling the golden key from his cloak, “I’ll claim my bride.”

I tensed, watching from the shadows as he approached the door. The key glittered in his hand as he slid it into the lockand turned it with a soft click. The door swung open, and Azrael stepped inside.

I followed stealthily, silently, my heart pounding in my chest.

Inside the treehouse, the air was thick with magic. The garlands of ice and holly glimmered in the dim light, and the decorations twinkled as though they held their own secret enchantment. Rue stood in the center of the room, her gown glowing softly in the pale light. She looked calm, poised, but I could see the tension in her shoulders—the fear she was holding back.

Azrael strode toward her, his expression one of triumph. “My bride,” he purred, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve done well to prepare this for me.”

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