Page 63 of Never Kiss a Krampus
“I am not?—”
“You are,” I cut in. “You haven’t looked directly at me in an hour. You’ve reorganized the same shelf three times. And your tail hasn’t moved, which is how I know you’re upset.”
His tail flicked once. A sharp, defensive twitch.
“I am not upset. I am maintaining appropriate boundaries.”
“Appropriate? Since when have you cared about appropriate? You’re a Krampus. Your entire job description is inappropriate.”
“That is a reductive and inaccurate characterization of my role.”
“Is it? You chase naughty children with switches. You haul wicked people off in a sack. You scare people into being good. How is any of that appropriate?”
“It is justice,” he said, his voice losing its strained formality and dropping into that deeper, more authentic rumble. “There is a difference between justice and… whatever this is.”
“This is us. This thing that’s happening between us.”
“No,” he said, the word clipped and final. “This is an unfortunate side effect of the binding. A magical byproduct. Nothing more.”
I flinched. The words were sharper and more painful than a switch ever could be. A byproduct. A side effect. Nothing more. After the way he’d held me, the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d admitted my touch affected him… to have it all dismissed as a magical glitch was a special kind of cruelty.
“Fine,” I said, my voice dangerously bright. “A magical byproduct. Got it. In that case, you can finish the displays by yourself. This byproduct is going to take a break.”
I turned and walked towards the back, my spine straight. I didn’t look back. I didn’t dare. I kept my chin up and my steps even until I was safely in the stockroom, now a pristine temple of organization thanks to him. Then I sagged against the door, the cheerful façade crumbling.
Stupid. So incredibly stupid. To think there was something real behind the attraction. To imagine that a being of ancient power and purpose could actually care for me. He was right. It was a magical byproduct. An inconvenience. A mistake.
“Noelle.”
I jumped. He was standing right there. I hadn’t even heard him approach. He looked so formidable and yet so conflicted that my anger immediately dissolved into a dull ache.
“Go away.”
“Noelle—”
“You made your position very clear. I’m a magical byproduct. A complication. I get it. Now please respect my boundaries and let me have a moment to be… byproducty in private.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Byproducty is not a word.”
“It is now.”
He stepped closer, and I didn’t move away. I was too tired to keep fighting the current, too weary to keep pretending I didn’t want him near.
“I did not mean to hurt you.”
“Then why did you say it?” I looked up at him, at the complex emotions warring in his amber eyes. “Because it definitely hurt.”
“Because I was frightened.”
The words were so quiet, so unexpected, that for a second I thought I’d misheard him.
“Frightened of what? Me? Please. I’m about as threatening as a marshmallow.”
“You are the most terrifying thing I have encountered in centuries.”
A hollow laugh escaped me. “Right. The girl who decorates with fuzzy snowflakes and keeps a cat named Jingle Bells. I’m a regular monster.”
“You are not a monster.” He took another step, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. “You are light. You are hope. You are everything my kind are taught to avoid, to distrust. Youtouch me without fear. You look at me without revulsion. You see something… worth saving.”
