Page 70 of Never Kiss a Krampus
He saw me looking and reached for the discarded remnants of my sweater, holding them up with a wry expression. “I seem to have damaged your festive attire.”
“A small price to pay,” I said, my voice husky. “For educational purposes.”
A genuine, unguarded smile broke across his face, transforming him from formidable predator to something breathtakingly beautiful. “Indeed. A very… significant transgression.”
I leaned against him, my head finding its familiar spot on his chest, right over his heart. The steady, solid rhythm of it was a comfort I hadn’t realized I craved until it was mine.
“So,” I said, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “What happens now?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just held me, one of his hands stroking slowly up and down my back in a gesture that was both possessive and soothing. The chains around his chest were cool against my heated skin.
“Now,” he finally said, his voice a low, quiet rumble, “we face the consequences.”
The words should have scared me. They were a reminder of everything he feared—of the punishment, the unmaking, the absolute end of everything he was. But they didn’t. Because the way he said it, with his arms wrapped securely around me, made it sound like “consequences” was something we would face together. And as long as we were together, I could face anything.
CHAPTER 22
Bastian stroked a gentle hand down my cheek.
“The binding… it will test us. It will amplify every doubt, every fear. What we just did… It was a rebellion against my very nature. The magic that ties us to one another may not react kindly to it.”
“Then we’ll be even more rebellious,” I said, lifting my head to look at him. “You think you’re the only one who’s allowed to be dramatic? I’ve been running this shop on pure stubborn optimism and a prayer for months. I’m good at rebellion.”
A faint smile touched his lips, but it was fleeting, replaced by a shadow of concern. “You do not understand the magnitude of what you’re facing. I have seen beings of immense power shattered for lesser transgressions.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure it’s worth it,” I said, and before he could argue, I pushed myself up and kissed him. This kiss was different from the others. It was soft, gentle, a promise. A quiet declaration of defiance against the forces that wanted to tear us apart.
He responded with a tenderness that made my heart ache. When we finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine.
“You are a danger to my existence, Noelle Green.”
“I’m trying very hard to be,” I replied, trying to inject some lightness into the heavy moment. “Now, can you help me off this counter? I’m pretty sure my legs no longer function.”
He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that vibrated through me, and easily lifted me down. My sweater was a lost cause, so he carefully wrapped one of the shawls thrown over the back of an armchair, the gesture so unexpectedly sweet it made my throat tight. Then he picked me up and carried me upstairs.
“Thank you,” I whispered, looking up at him. He looked so earnest, so worried, that I couldn’t resist reaching up to brush my fingers against the heavy ridged surface of one of his horns. He flinched but didn’t pull away. Instead, he closed his eyes, a shudder running through him. When he opened them again, the red glow had receded, leaving only warm amber.
“Be careful with those,” he said, his voice rough. “They are… very sensitive.”
“I’m starting to get that,” I said with a small smile, letting my hand drop. “It’s good information to have.”
“It is more than good information, little light. It is a map to my undoing.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. He was giving me the power to destroy him, and he was trusting me not to use it.
“You don’t have to be scared, Bastian,” I said softly. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Scared is a luxury I cannot afford,” he said, but he reached for my hand, lacing his claws through my fingers in a gesture that felt more intimate than anything we had just done on the counter. “But for tonight… for tonight, I am willing to pretend.”
He led me to the couch, pulling me down beside him. He wrapped a comforter around us, a warm, cozy cocoon. For a long while, we just sat there, in the quiet, the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree painting us in shifting colors.
“I’m hungry,” I announced into the comfortable silence.
He let out a surprised laugh. “Of course you are.”
“Sexual activity requires caloric replenishment,” I said with mock seriousness. “It’s science.”
“You are a menace.”
