11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

Clara

A fter ghosting me and creeping on me through the window—though there was a small part of me that secretly liked the later—I should have turned him out into the cloud.

But the way he was looking at me had me buzzing with a lust I’d never felt with Hogan. It was a feral kind of need I didn’t even know was possible to experience outside of books.

Even if he was full of shit about being the Krampus, which he was—because in what world could that be real life—it was hard to say no to that look. The one that promised all kinds of twisted pleasures and magical secrets.

How could I say no to that?

“How perfect. All I want for Christmas is to live out my dark fantasy of being kidnapped and dicked down in the mountains. The Krampus cock is a new element but, hey, I’m flexible with the details.”

I went back inside and held the door open for him. “Come inside. Unless you’re kidnapping me right now, in which case I should probably put on real pants. Or maybe your dance card is full. Krampusnacht is over but there’s still plenty of naughty people to punish. Children to terrorize.”

Kicking my boots off, I went to the kitchen to fetch the eggnog, forgoing the glass this time and flopping on the living room couch. Bastion slowly followed me but didn’t sit down. He stared at the tree, admiring all the antique glass ornaments and bubble lights. “You’re playing with fire. You think you’re calling my bluff but there’s no bluff to call.”

He paused to admire one of the more modern ornaments, a faded paper Santa Claus I’d made when I was in the first grade. “Anyway, the Krampus doesn’t punish children. At least, he hasn’t for a long time. I think someone in my line at some point hated kids, so that’s probably where that came from.”

“So the part of the story where the Krampus accompanies Saint Nicolas to punish all the naughty kids while Santa rewards all the good ones isn’t true?”

“No, Saint Nicolas isn’t real, Clara. Or at least not how society interprets him today. There’s no Krampusnacht either. Krampus terrorizes whatever day he feels like, not just December fifth.”

“So what is real then?” I sat cross-legged on the couch with the bottle of eggnog clutched in my hands, happy for the company and the entertainment, even if I wasn’t buying his story. Sure, he’d moved fast outside, and for a moment his eyes seemed like they were glowing. I blamed it on the rum and brandy-spiked eggnog. “How do you figure out who needs punishing? Do you work locally? Are there more of you? How do you run your tree farm and still have time for this secret life? Are you like Bigfoot if he was batman?”

“I love that you feel open to running your mouth now that Hogan’s gone.”

“I’m not running my mouth,” I lied, knowing full-well I was being a bit overzealous with my line of questioning. He was right though, I did feel open to speak whatever was on my mind. It was refreshing. And even though he said I wasn’t safe with him, being curled up on the couch talking about the Krampus in my old house with the man who’d help me win all this back, I’d never felt safer.

“You are. I like it.” He prowled toward me, leaning down until he loomed over me with his hands braced on either side of the couch, caging me between his arms. His eyes were glowing again, their brand-hot heat making my skin explode with goosebumps. “But the demon might not find it so cute.”

I knew this time that it wasn’t a trick of the Christmas lights catching in his eyes, or the spiked eggnog. His eyes really were glowing. My mouth dropped into an O as I gaped up at the man in awe. “How are you doing that?”

“Come on, little beast.” That new nickname he had for me, oof . It was all gravely and wrapped up in all sorts of dark promises. “Don’t you see the monster inside me? Can’t you feel its need to hurt you? Doesn’t that scare you?”

I could see the monster inside him and I did feel it’s need to hurt me…

Though, now that I was slowly starting to believe his story—as insane as it was—I still couldn’t summon so much as a lick of fear. Chances were pretty low that whatever possessed my tree vendor was anything like my ex. His promises of pain only had the place between my thighs growing slicker, hotter.

I was about to open my mouth and tell him once again that I wasn’t afraid, but the words never left my lips. One of his hands lifted from the back of the couch and dropped toward my lap. His eyes stayed anchored to mine as his fingers dropped to the drawstring waistband of my pajama pants.

If I’d known he was coming, I would have worn something other than the pajama pants that said “on the naughty list.” Felt a bit too on the nose now.

His fingers hooked into my pajamas but he paused, and I realized he was waiting for my permission. I gave him the tiniest of nods, thrills of excitement making me squirm beneath him as his hand dipped inside my pants.

My head fell onto the back of the couch with a breathy moan as he swept his index finger over my labia. He chuckled, his glowing eyes sweeping over my face and drinking in the way it contorted with pleasure. “ Schei?e , little beast. All this talk of demons has you dripping.”

My breath hitched as the pad of his finger swirled slow and tantalizing circles around my clit.

Slowly, he dropped to his knees on the floor in front of me, as if in unholy prayer. With the way he was positioned, with the Christmas tree at his back, his face was cast in shadows and his glowing eyes burned into me from the darkness.

“Talking about demons is fun, but I think fucking them sounds like an even better way to pass the time,” I said.

Bastion’s finger changed up the pattern and pacing around my clit, leaving me breathless as he considered my words for a tense moment.

“If I show you my other form, even just a small part of it, there’s no going back. You can’t unsee it. I have the ability to wipe your memories…” His smirk curved into a wild grin that seemed all too fitting for a man claiming to be the Krampus. “But I won’t. I want my secret to torture you. I want the memory of what I’m about to do to you to keep you up at night. And when you do manage to sleep, I want it to slip into your nightmares so I’m the only monster in your head.”

Fuck me. How was I supposed to respond to that? All my ability to articulate was gone, and all I could manage was a sloppy nod. My legs parted, a silent invitation that I was not only into this, but I wanted more— needed more.

What we were doing, what we were about to do, felt wrong. Which, given my newfound freedom, felt so fucking right.

In a way, it was almost like Hogan was still alive, running his honied ham stand, wondering if I was off cheating on him with my Christmas tree guy. I could only hope that he was looking up at me from Hell, helpless to do anything but watch.

The fact that Bastion was literally some dark creature made for terrorizing people—which explained the strange aura he’d had since we were kids—only made this whole scenario that much more tantalizing.

Did he have horns? That long tongue? Did he wear chains? Would he use them for my “punishment?” Oh my god, did he have hooves?

If Bastion was really what he said he was, that would have been enough for any sane person to run for the hills. Not me. I’d read one too many monster romance novels and thought fuck, I wish that was me.

Now it finally could be. Talk about one fucked Christmas miracle.

“I have an idea.” Bastion’s eyes glinted in the light. “A little game we can play.”

“A game? Oh!” I gulped down a sharp breath as he pushed a finger inside me.

“I start showing pieces of my demon. Slowly. I let you see them— feel them. If at any point you fail to convince me you’re having a good time, I leave. We keep each other’s secrets, and we go about our lives pretending we fit in with everyone else.”

“And if I prove what an eager little beast I can be for the alleged Krampus?”

His eyes lit up. “Then I make your darkest fantasy come true. The one you told me about on our first date.”

I blinked. “First date?”

“Yes. When we fed your fiancé to the pigs. I count that as our first date.”

“You suck,” I told him, through an ear to ear smile that he matched with one of his own.

“You have no fucking idea.” He sat back on his heels, pulling his finger from my pussy and bringing it to his lips to make a hushing motion. His lips parted and his tongue wound around the digit to lap up my juices. The appendage was thick, oozing strings of saliva. It wrapped around his finger once…twice. It kept going. His muffled cackle scraped over my skin like sandpaper, leaving me pink and raw as I gaped stupidly at was the longest tongue I’d ever seen.

That tongue could only belong to a demon.