I heave a deep sigh. Not what I had planned tonight. I was planning a full night in my penthouse at Krampus Palace. But the small employee lodge will have to do. Twyla may be immortal, but she still shivers and bleeds. The last time she was mortally wounded and too much of her energy was drained, a whole week was required for her form to regenerate.
And I have no intentions of min kona -my wife- missing our one-year anniversary. So, I carry her to the little lodge, breaking the lock on the door with ease and sweeping her inside. Dark and musty, it’s small and rarely used. Probably for emergencies. None more pressing than the present.
Faen! Fuck, I growl, my fur prickling in agitation as I pile the wood in the fireplace and set to work on sparking the flames. I loathe these utterly human tasks, so pitiable for the Lord of Yuletide to tend to.
Once the wood catches the flames, I turn to my sweet solstice gipt -gift- and unwrap her, peeling away those sodden, icy clothes until she is a lille naked star glowing in the light of the fire.
She doesn’t need to be naked for my cock to lengthen. But it’s practically a fucking titanium rod prodding my pouch as I curl her into my arms and rub warmth into her limbs. I am dominant by nature. I will always put her needs and wants first. Her body, her heart, her soul are all in my care. It takes a strong and vulnerable woman to submit to her master, her monster.
She wanted the monster from the beginning. She bratted, but it lasted seconds before she submitted to me. So sweet. So longing for attention. Someone who could give her the magic and beauty she deserved.
I will never deserve her. Her light and love saved me, broke my curse, and gave her life in sacrifice.
She is mine. And I am hers.
Her damp curls fall all around my chest, engulfing my senses with French vanilla, cloves, and oranges beneath the snow and evergreens.
“Våkn opp, Twyla,” I urge her in a murmur.Wake up.I trace my thick fingers along her cheek and then her delicate jawline. “Wake up,” I raise my voice, but her eyes remain closed. “Wake up!” I growl and lower my hand to palm her sweet center and stab my fingers in her pretty cunny…down to the knuckles.
“Mmm!” she moans and gasps, lurching, but I hold my other palm against her chest, steadying her hammering heartbeat.
“Jeg er her,” I purr.I’m here.I purr again, letting the sound vibrate into her tender body until she relaxes, sinking her head against my shoulder.
“I knew you’d come,” she sweetly sighs.
“Always.” I lower my mouth to kiss the top of her head. “I smelled your fear, my kjaere. How you love to put yourself in danger and test the limits of my power.”
“Oh, yes, my big Daddy Krampus,” she drawls sarcastically, her inner brat rising. “I went out of my way to get lost in the middle of a snowstorm and hunted by wolves. Just to watch you come roaring in to save me.”
“Frekke drittunge,” I scold her.Cheeky brat.
Oh, she did not just stick out her tongue at me. With a feral snort, I lift her hips, turn her little body over my knee, and rub my palm against one pale, plump cheek of her perfekt rumpa -perfect rump- far too cold to the touch. Little matter. It won’t be for long. My cock rages like a beast in my pouch, but I need to teach my lille stjerne a lesson. And make her glow rosy red for me.
“Krampus?” she lifts her head. “What are you doing?”
My low growl rises from my throat as I grip her hair and thrust her head back down before dragging my finger along the dainty curve of her spine. Her breath quickens to the rhythm of her pulse, and I smirk at the goosebumps growing along her skin. She knows very well what I’m doing. But I still lean over while palming her chilled flesh and say, “I’m bringing some heat back to your extremities.”
“Krampus, that’s not an extremi?—”
I slam my hand down on one cheek, swelling a rosy pink bloom upon her skin. Twyla sucks in a deep inhale, and her bottom twitches and ripples from my action. I love how still she becomes. Flink pike…good girl. She may brat out, mouth off to me when she needs my attention, but she always takes her punishment like the sweet sub she is. Her emotions curl through our bond, igniting my blood to roar with a greedy heat.
Need. Desire. Belonging. Love. And home—“Mmm…I’m home,” she murmurs—the fucking godsdamned beauty of thegirl who calls a monster her home. The naughty girl who gave her life to save me and bound herself to the darkness of my demon of Yuletide.
My Christmas star.
My light in the darkness.
My bride.
My wife.
Mine.
Chapter 3
Time to make her purr. And beg. And scream
KRAMPUS
