Page 38 of Never Kiss a Krampus
He straightened to his full height, the chains shifting with a soft, menacing music. “And yet you speak of being crucified. The battlefield seems an accurate metaphor.”
I couldn’t argue with that. The committee chair, a woman named Brenda who took her role of “Head Elf” with terrifying seriousness, had a tendency to make grown men weep. Missing a meeting, especially when I was supposed to be presenting, was a capital offense.
“Fine, but you need a… disguise.”
“A disguise.”
“Yes. Something modern. Human-ish.”
He raised one eyebrow, a gesture that looked surprisingly expressive on a face covered in fur. “You propose that I, an ancient entity of judgment and punishment, should… what? Put on a polo shirt and pretend to be your uncle from Ohio?”
“No, my European consultant. Please?” I added softly, and he sighed.
The transformation happened between one blink and the next. One moment Bastian stood in the center of my shop—towering, horned, impossible—and the next, a man took his place.
He was still tall, but human-tall. Maybe six-three instead of seven foot. The horns had vanished, replaced by thick, dark hair that fell across his forehead in waves that looked like they’d been styled by someone who didn’t care about styling. Sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw shadowed with stubble. His eyes were still amber, still intense, but without the preternatural glow.
The fur was gone, replaced by golden-tan skin beneath a simple black sweater and dark jeans that fit him like they’d been tailored. The only sign of the chains was a belt composed of neat expensive-looking links.
“You’re staring again.” His voice remained the same—that low, gravelly rumble that vibrated through my bones.
“I…” I couldn’t find the words.
“Is it acceptable? I could alter?—”
“No!” The word came out too sharp. I cleared my throat. “I mean, it’s fine. Perfect. Very… human.”
His frown deepened. “You sound disappointed.”
“I’m not disappointed.”Exactly.“Just… adjusting. Does it feel weird?”
“The glamour?”
“Yeah.”
“Like wearing a mask.” He moved closer, and I caught his scent—still frost and smoke, even in this form. “I do not care for it.”
But he’d done it anyway. Because I asked him.
“Thank you.” I turned back to the door to hide my confusion. “Let’s go. Just remember that you’re my silent, vaguely European consultant who hates people. Got it?”
“I have a comprehensive understanding of human dislike. The role will not be a stretch.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The town hall was a small brick building that smelled of old paper and floor wax. The main meeting room was already buzzing when we arrived, a cacophony of overlapping conversations and the clink of ceramic mugs. Every head turned when Bastian ducked through the doorway, his presence seeming to suck all the air out of the room.
“Noelle! There you are.” Jenna rushed over, her face frantic. “Are you ready to make the presentation? Brenda’s having kittens.” Then she saw Bastian trailing behind me like the world’s most intimidating shadow and her mouth dropped open. “Is that your consultant?”
“Yes.”
She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask any more questions, guiding me up to the front. “Time to get started.”
Brenda, a Santa hat firmly planted on her silver curls, frowned at me, tapping her pen against her clipboard.
“You’re late.”
“I’m so sorry, Brenda. There was an emergency at the shop.” A true statement, though not in the way Brenda would understand.
