Page 9 of Never Kiss a Krampus
Except he was two feet away from me, very real and very solid, his chains jingling softly as he shifted his weight. He leaned forward slightly, eyes burning into mine. “I am ancient. I walked this world when your ancestors cowered in caves and prayed to forces they could not name. I am the reckoning that comes when deeds go unpunished. I am the balance to Christmas cheer.”
My mouth had gone dry. “So you’re here to… punish me?”
“That depends.” His gaze raked over me again, slower this time. “Are you wicked?”
“No! I run a Christmas shop. I sell ornaments and cocoa mugs. The most wicked thing I’ve done recently is eat the last gingerbread cookie before offering it to a customer.”
“You summoned me with a ritual designed to call the old powers in exchange for judgment.”
“In exchange for help,” I corrected. “The book said aid.”
“All aid comes at a price.” He circled the salt line, studying it from different angles. The chains draped over his shoulders jingled softly with each movement, and I found myself tracking the sound, mesmerized despite my terror. “You made the offerings and spoke the words. The ritual is binding.”
“Binding how?”
He stopped circling and faced me directly. “Until the terms are fulfilled, you and I are… connected.”
“Connected.” The word came out flat. “What does that mean?”
“It means, little human, that I cannot leave until the bargain is complete. You called for Yuletide aid, and Yuletide aid you shall receive. Or not, depending on what I find.”
“Find?” I didn’t like how ominous that sounded.
“The ritual binds me to observe and judge. To determine if you are worthy of the aid you seek, or if you are simply another greedy human seeking reward without merit.”
“I’m not greedy!”
“That remains to be seen.” He gestured at the salt circle. “This will not hold me much longer. The ritual’s completion weakens such barriers. You would be wise to break it yourself before I am forced to do so.”
I took a step back. “What happens if I don’t?”
“I will break it anyway, and you will have wasted an opportunity to demonstrate good faith.” His eyes flashed red again. “I am bound to you until Christmas Day, Noelle Green. Whether you accept that willingly or unwillingly changes only how unpleasant the experience will be.”
“How do you know my name?”
“The ritual bound us. I know many things about you now.” He tilted his head. “Your full name is Noelle Margaret Green. You are twenty-six years old. You take your coffee with too much sugar. You speak to your plants when you water them. You have not been on a date in fourteen months. You cry during greeting card commercials. Should I continue?”
My face burned. “That’s invasive.”
“That is the nature of the binding. Just as I know you, you will come to know me. The magic does not discriminate.”
I looked down at the salt circle, glowing faintly between us. “If I break it, you won’t hurt me?”
“I cannot hurt you unless you transgress, and even then, the punishment would need to fit the transgression.” He paused. “Though I should mention that lying to a Krampus is considered a transgression.”
“Good to know.” I took a shaky breath. “And if I don’t break the circle?”
“I will stand here until it weakens sufficiently for me to cross. That will take approximately four hours, during which time I will be forced to listen to you breathe and smell your fear. Neither prospect appeals.”
Four hours standing there while he loomed over me, growing more and more irritated? Or breaking a barrier he was going to break anyway? I reached for my mug, hoping for a little more schnapps fueled courage, but it was empty.Dammit.
Praying I wasn’t making a huge mistake, I reached out with a trembling foot and smudged the salt line. The change was instantaneous. The oppressive pressure in the attic intensified for a heartbeat, then vanished, replaced by a crackling, charged silence. The faint glow of the salt circle died. The frost on the beams melted, water dripping onto the dusty floor. The temperature rose back to merely cold instead of arctic.
He was even more intimidating up close. The chains wrapped around him weren’t rusty iron, but something dark and ancient, and they didn’t jingle with every movement, only when he shifted in a certain way. The fur covering his arms and chestwasn’t coarse, but thick and dark, shot through with strands of what looked like silver, like frost on tree bark. And his body…
Don’t think about his body. Don’t think about?—
Too late. I’d already catalogued the broad chest, the powerful arms, the way the leather and chains somehow emphasized rather than hid the muscular frame beneath the fur. He was terrifying, but he was also magnificent. He took a step towards me and despite every survival instinct telling me to run, I held my ground. Mostly because my legs still weren’t working properly.
