Page 56 of Kraved By Krampus

We both drink again. The wine tastes like cinnamon and secrets.

“I was terrified of you at first.” More giggles bubble up. “But I also wanted to climb you like a tree.”

Behind the counter, Hank suddenly becomes very interested in wiping down already-clean surfaces.

Krampus leans closer, his eyes gleaming. “I’ve been collecting your darker manuscripts since you started writing them. Every single one.”

“That’s kind of creepy.” I take another sip. “I like it.”

It’s true. Drinking wine with the Winter King is nerve-wracking, but it’s also freeing—like shouting into a deep, dark cave and hearing your voice echo back.

“I was expecting the Krampus of legend—the punisher, the monster. But you were so patient with the children.” I take a fortifying sip. “You’re nothing like I imagined. And yet in some ways exactly so.” I feel my face heat.

A look of pain crosses his face, quickly replaced by a charming smile. “And here I thought my reputation would precede me.”

“It did, but...” My cheeks heat. “I think I imagined you as more... severe. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.” He leans back, stretching his long legs under the table. “I enjoy hearing your interpretation of me.”

“Well, you’re...” How do I put this delicately? “You’re bigger than I expected. Taller.”

“Bigger?” A deep, rumbling laugh escapes him. “You sound disappointed.”

“No!” I sputter. “I just... I mean, you’re very tall and broad.”

“Go on.” His eyes glitter with amusement. “I find your assessments of me most entertaining.”

“Oh, stop.” I hide my smile behind my mug. “Fine. You wanted to know. I always pictured you with... well, a bigger nose.”

He throws back his head, laughing loudly. Hank peeks over at us, his eyes sparkling with merriment.

Taking advantage of Krampus’s momentary distraction, I down the rest of my wine. This cup is meant for truth, but it might as well be for courage. “And I never thought you’d have a sense of humor. Or that you’d let me see any vulnerability.”

His laughter fades, and he regards me with a heated gaze that makes my heart pound. “You bring out unexpected sides of me, little mate. Sides I haven’t shown to anyone in a very long time.”

I swallow, suddenly aware of how intimate our conversation has become.Did I really just talk about his nose?I reach for a pastry, only to find they’ve all been devoured.

Krampus covers my hand with his, his thumb brushing my skin. “I wanted to kiss you the moment I met you.”

I drag my gaze up to meet his. His eyes burn with an intensity that steals my breath. “I might’ve imagined that kiss a few times in my life,” I whisper. “In great detail.”

“I’d expect no less.” He leans closer, his voice a low rumble. “I wanted to taste you, to claim those lips that argued with me so fiercely. To show you exactly how that kiss would make you feel.”His thumb grazes the curve of my jaw, and my mind is flooded with images of our night together. “And I wanted to be the one to introduce you to pleasure. To teach you everything your body could experience.”

My cheeks flame. I know I should look away, but I can’t. His words cast a spell, binding me tighter than any chain. “Did you?” I whisper. “Imagine, I mean? Even before I summoned you?”

“Every detail.” His lips curl into a wicked smile. “And then some.”

I’ve spent too long worrying about my image. Too long writing what was safe and expected. My gaze falls on the notebook peeking from my bag, and I feel new stories stirring—darker, truer tales of winter’s full beauty.

Krampus’s rumbling voice breaks into my thoughts. “I have something to show you.” His eyes glitter with wicked promise. “Ready to see where I really live?”

Chapter twenty-seven

Clara

Krampus guides me through what feels like a curtain of shadows. When my vision clears, before us stands a palace carved from ice and shadow. Towers stretch toward the starry sky, their spires sharp as icicles. Windows glow with a soft, inviting light, offering a glimpse of the warmth within.

“This is...” Words fail me as I take in the breathtaking vista. It’s like something from a fairy tale—a castle plucked from the depths of winter itself.

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