Page 60 of Kraved By Krampus

He bends down to kiss me fiercely. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes are blazing. “Now, Clara, it’s time for the final act.”

My heart pounds. “What do you mean?”

A wicked smile curves across his lips. “It’s time to finish what we started, little mate. To seal our bond.”

He positions himself between my legs, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. But I know there’s none—I feel only a fierce, burning need that matches what I see in his eyes.

“This will bind us for life,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence. “Are you ready, Clara?”

I nod, my heart pounding with the knowledge of what we’re about to do.

This is it—the moment I’ve both feared and longed for. The thought of being bound to him for eternity should terrify me, but all I feel is anticipation.

He positions his cock at my entrance, and starts to push in, his size stretching me in ways I never thought possible and I feel every ridge slide in. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that makes my toes curl. He enters me slowly, filling me completely, and I’ve never felt anything so incredible in my life. It’s as if we were always meant to be joined this way—two halves of a whole, finally complete.

As he thrusts into me again, ancient runes begin to etch themselves into our skin—his shadows dance around us, weaving themselves into the very fabric of my being and drawing a design on my hip, while my shimmering ink leaves its mark on his chest above his heart. The connection between us deepens with each movement, each gasp of air exchanged between us like a sacred vow.

Krampus picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent as we both edge closer to the precipice of ecstasy. After one final thrust, he grunts and his seed spills into me. It feels like pure magic coursing through my body—a potent elixir that heightens every sensation tenfold. My own orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, and the runes on our bodies pulse with brilliant light, their power flowing between us like electricity, joining our souls forever.

Nothing exists beyond this moment—not the tower walls, not the world below. The northern lights dance overhead in time with our release, the sky itself seeming to celebrate the raw power of our union.

I collapse against the furs beneath me, my heart still racing from our shared release. My mate’s arms wrap around me, pulling me close as we catch our breath. I rest my head on his chest as the northern lights continue their dance above us, casting ever-changing colors across our skin.

“I love you,” I whisper against his skin, the words falling from my lips before I can second-guess them.

He goes still beneath me, and for a moment I worry I’ve said too much. Maybe a Winter King doesn’t bother with those words. Then his chest rumbles with laughter, deep and warm.

“Here I thought I’d be the first to say it,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’ve been holding those words back since you first set fire to your manuscript.”

I prop myself up on my elbows to look at him properly. “You fell in love with me when I was trying to destroy my work?”

“I fell in love with your fire,” he says, running a gentle claw along my cheek. “Your passion. Your refusal to be confined by others’ expectations. And yes, I love you, my little mate. More than all the winters that have come before.”

“We’re ridiculous,” I say, unable to hold back my own laugh. “We could have said this ages ago.”

“Would you have believed me then?” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Or would you have thought it was just another ploy from the fearsome dark deity?”

“Fair point.” I settle back against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Though I think Magnus knew before either of us.”

The tower stones rumble in agreement, and Krampus snorts. “That meddling pile of rubble never could mind its own business.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Clara

Ineed to get this right.My fingers hover over the blank page, ink already staining my fingertips from my mother’s antique fountain pen. The familiar weight grounds me as I begin to write.

Once upon a time, there lived a girl who thought she knew everything about Christmas magic...

The words flow differently now. Instead of forcing saccharine sweetness onto the page, I let the shadows dance with the light. My pen moves with newfound purpose, weaving a taleof a young witch who discovers that true holiday magic exists in the balance between darkness and joy.

The ink changes color as I write, shifting from midnight black to silver, then back again. Magic tingles through my fingers, but it’s different from before—whole, complete, honest.

The darkness wasn’t evil, just as the light wasn’t purely good. They needed each other, like winter needs summer, like night needs day...

I pause, watching the words sink into the page. They feel right in a way my previous stories never did. No more suppressing half of nature’s truth. No more denying the beauty in shadow.

A warm hand settles on my shoulder. I glance up to find Krampus watching my words with gleaming eyes.

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