Page 14 of Kraved By Krampus

I know, old friend. She needs rest.

Much as I want to show Clara everything now, the events of the night have taken their toll. Dark circles shadow her eyes, and she’s swaying slightly on her feet, though trying to hide it.

“The town can wait until tomorrow.” I squeeze her hand gently before releasing it. “You need food and rest.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but her stomach growls loudly enough to echo through the room. A blush creeps across her cheeks.

“I’m fine, really—”

Magnus’s kitchen door swings open with enough force to rattle the hinges.Subtle as ever, old friend.

“I believe the house disagrees.” I gesture toward the open door. “After you.”

Warm light spills into the hallway, carrying the scent of fresh bread and something heartier. Clara steps into the kitchen and freezes.

The oak table—which was empty minutes ago—now creaks under the weight of a feast. Steam rises from a pot of thickstew, surrounded by crusty bread, roasted vegetables, and what appears to be an entire apple pie.

“I...” She turns in a slow circle, taking in the spread. “Did you do this?”

“Magnus has strong opinions about hospitality.” I lean against the doorframe, watching her expression shift from confusion to wonder. “He’s rather protective of his guests.”

As if to prove my point, a chair scrapes across the floor, positioning itself perfectly behind her. The table settings rearrange themselves—plates and cutlery sliding into place with military precision.

“The cabin...” She sinks into the offered chair. “It’s understands everything, doesn’t it?”

“In his own way.” I take the seat across from her as a ladle rises from the stew pot, filling her bowl. “He’s been alone for a long time. Having someone new to fuss over makes him happy.”

The bread basket inches closer to her hand. A warm roll practically leaps onto her plate.

You’re laying it on rather thick, I think toward the ceiling. A light fixture flickers in what I swear is a wink.

Clara picks up her spoon, then hesitates. “Will you eat too?”

“I don’t need—” The temperature plummets, and a second bowl fills itself pointedly. “Apparently, I will.”

Her laugh, soft and genuine, makes something in my chest tighten. She takes a bite of stew, and her eyes widen.

“This is incredible.” She tears into the roll. “How did Magnus even...?”

“Best not to question his methods. He gets smug enough as it is.”

The cabin’s walls vibrate with what might be laughter.

I watch Clara stifle another yawn behind her hand as she finishes the last bite of apple pie. Her eyelids droop despite her obvious fight to keep them open.

“Come.” I stand, offering my hand. “You need rest.”

She takes it without hesitation this time, her smaller fingers fitting perfectly against my palm. The contact sends sparks of magic dancing across my skin.

Magnus dims the kitchen lights behind us as we climb the stairs, casting everything in soft shadows. Clara leans slightly against me, exhaustion finally catching up with her.

“I should check those wounds again first,” she murmurs, stumbling slightly on the top step.

I steady her with a hand at her waist. “Tomorrow, little mate. You can barely stand.”

The hallway stretches before us, moonlight spilling through arched windows. Her bedroom door swings open as we approach, warm light beckoning from within.

She pauses in the doorway, turning to face me. The golden glow from her room catches in her hair, creating a halo effect that steals my breath. Her scent—vanilla and old books—wraps around me, testing my control.

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