Page 24 of Prize for the Alien Grumpus

"I wasn't asking."

Heavy footsteps thunder down the stairs behind me. The floorboards creak under significant weight.

"Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cuts through the tension.

My jaw drops. Where Krampus's blue fur and horns should be, there's just... a very large man. Still seven feet tall, still built like a tank, but human-looking. His presence fills the entryway as effectively as his true form would.

Tom's face drains of color.

"I... uh..."

"Well?" Krampus's voice carries the same growl, even in human form.

"No problem, Sir. I was just leaving." Tom takes a step back, nearly tripping over his designer shoes.

"Without leaving a Christmas gift?" Krampus rumbles, crossing his massive arms.

Tom's hands shake as he reaches into his coat. He pulls out a thick roll of hundred-dollar bills, peels one off, and extends it toward me.

Krampus clears his throat. The sound reminds me of distant thunder.

Tom quickly adds another hundred.

A low growl builds in Krampus's chest.

"Here!" Tom shoves the entire wad of cash into my hands. He practically teleports to the door, yanking it open. The winter wind catches his coat as he bolts down the front walk, leaving fresh tracks in the snow.

"Thank you." I clutch the wad of bills, my hands shaking. "My ex showing up to ruin Christmas is the last thing I need right now."

Krampus's human disguise melts away, blue fur rippling across his skin. "The male who sired Samantha... I cannot hate him for that gift. But he stays away from our family."

Our family. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Last night floods back - his touch, his growls, the way he claimed me. We should talk about it, define whatever this is between us. But the thought of that conversation makes my chest tight.

I mean, he's an alien. A literal blue-furred criminal from the future. This can't work long-term, can it? But then I remember how gentle he was with Sam, how he stood up to Tom without violence, how he makes me feel safe and wanted...

"Mel." His rough voice softens. "Your scent changes when you're troubled. What can I do?"

I back away, needing space to think. "I just... I need to be alone for a bit. Going to take a bath."

The stairs creak under my feet as I retreat upstairs, leaving him standing in the foyer.

I draw myself a bath and put my hair up before I get in. Hot water laps at my skin as I sink deeper into the tub. Steam rises in lazy spirals, but my mind races faster than the wisps can drift.

"Our family," Krampus had said. The words echo in my head, stirring up memories of Tom's empty promises.

Tom always needed an audience. His fancy car, designer suits, that smug smile he'd flash at waitresses while his hand rested on my knee. Everything calculated, controlled, crafted to scream 'look at me, I'm important.'

But Krampus? He just... is.

The way he faced down Tom without flexing a muscle. No posturing, no games. Just raw, quiet power that made my ex-husband shake in his Italian leather shoes.

My fingers trace the marks Krampus left on my neck. Heat floods my cheeks at the memory. Since Tom left, men tookone look at my situation and ran. Single mom? Thanks, but no thanks.

But Krampus? He charges in like a force of nature. Declares me his, claims Sam as family, installs death rays in my house. It should terrify me. It should send me running.

Instead, my heart races every time he looks at me. My skin tingles when he growls my name.

The bathroom door rattles.

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