Page 11 of Kraved By Krampus

A door upstairs slams. Then another. And another.

“Throwing a tantrum won’t change anything.” I sink into my favorite armchair by the fire. The leather immediately turns ice cold. “Now you’re just being petty.”

The fire dims to barely glowing embers. I roll my eyes at the cabin’s dramatics.

“I’ve existed for centuries. I can wait her out.” The armchair suddenly tips forward, nearly dumping me onto the floor. “That was unnecessary.”

The kitchen lights flicker in what I swear is a mocking pattern. A cookbook falls open to a page about warming soup. Then another drops, showing hot chocolate recipes.

“Yes, I know she hasn’t eaten.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”

The entire house shudders.

“Don’t you dare.” But it’s too late. The familiar scent of her stress-baking fills the air—cinnamon, vanilla, and that hint of darkness that’s uniquely her. “That’s fighting dirty, old friend.”

A mixing bowl clatters onto the counter.

“I am not going after her.” The smell intensifies. Fresh cookies, right from the oven. “Stop it.”

The house goes completely still. Silent. Then every window rattles with a gust of arctic wind, and her scream pierces the night.

I’m on my feet before the sound fades. “If you knew she was in danger, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

The front door swings open. Magnus’s way of saying “I told you so.”

“We are discussing your communication skills later.” I shift into my full demon form, letting darkness cloak me. “Right after I bring my little mate home.”

Chapter eight

Clara

Ahowl splits the night—deep, ancient, and furious. The sound vibrates in my bones, and I feel an answering surge of power.

Krampus.

The ground trembles as he bursts into the clearing, his massive form casting long shadows across the snow. His presence hits me like a physical force—raw power that makes my own magic sing in response.

“Step away from them.” His voice rolls like thunder. The corrupted creature whirls to face him, ichor dripping from its jaws.

The magic around the child spikes in response to Krampus’s arrival, sending razor-sharp ice crystals shooting inall directions. I throw myself over him, trying to contain the wild surge of power.

“I can’t hold it!” His small body shakes against mine.

Krampus moves with impossible speed, placing himself between us and the creature. His cloak of shadows writhes with barely contained fury. “Shield him,” he commands, never taking his eyes off our attacker.

I wrap my arms tighter around the child, pouring what’s left of my strength into maintaining the protective sigil. The air crackles as Krampus and the creature clash—darkness against corruption, ancient power against twisted magic.

The force of their battle tears through the clearing. Trees splinter and crack. Snow melts and refreezes in violent patterns. My barrier flickers dangerously.

Hold on. Just hold on.

A blast of corrupted energy slips past Krampus’s defenses, heading straight for us. He throws himself into its path, taking the full force of the attack. The sound he makes—pain and rage mixed together—cuts straight through me.

“No!” The word tears from my throat.

Magic explodes outward, silver light blazing. The sigil I drew transforms, expanding into a dome of pure power. The child’s magic merges with this magic, ice and light weaving together in impossible patterns.

Krampus straightens, black blood staining his side. His eyes meet mine across the clearing, and something passes between us—understanding, trust, shared purpose.

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