Chapter 10

Damien

I’m dead.

Deceased.

He’s killed me.

There’s no other explanation, because my body is made of lead, and I can’t find the energy to move even a finger. Niklaus scoops me up, my nerves buzzing and ass burning as his cum slides out of me, and god only knows where it’s landing. I’m like fucking Hansel or Gretal, leaving a breadcrumb trail of his jizz that keeps leaking from my ass.

Too exhausted to hold on, I nuzzle into the coarse hair on his chest and close my eyes as he carries me. A door clicks and I peek out of one eye, finding us in a cozy bedroom with a giant bed and roaring fire.

“What are we doing?” I murmur, my lips barely moving.

He balances me with one hand, but my eyes drift shut again, only half conscious as I’m lowered onto a pillowy mattress and surrounded by his scent. Cinnamon and clove with a hint of smokiness, and I breathe deep as my heavy limbs sink into the comfort.

“Did I hurt you?” Niklaus asks, voice surprisingly tender as the bed dips beside me, and I crack a single eye open. His shirt is off, but his pants are still on, unbuttoned and unzipped, and although he’s tucked himself away, obvious streaks of cum stripe the fabric around the fly. My dick gives a feeble attempt at rising before telling me to fuck off and promptly going back to sleep.

“You hurt my balls when you kept edging me,” I mumble, and he chuckles as he grips my chin and tilts my face to his. These funny pangs in my chest are getting worse, more intense, the more time I spend with him, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

He says nothing, just watches me for a moment before leaning in to kiss me. “You’re going to destroy me,” he whispers, something forbidden in his eyes, and rises from the bed.

“Nik?” I whisper, but he acts like he doesn’t hear me and walks through a door. Debating whether to follow him, and questioning why I want to, I pull my lip between my teeth. Relationships are a luxury I cannot afford to have. The responsibilities of ruling the realm allow little time for even a quick fuck to ease the tension.

I know where my duties lie.

So why have I been hiding out here for the past week, playing house with him?

Before I can convince myself to get up and leave, show him exactly where we stand, he enters the bedroom wearing a pair of flannel pants slung low on his hips, carrying a glass of water and a cloth. Wordlessly, he hands me the cup and peels my sticky underwear down my legs, wiping me clean before lifting my knees and inspecting my ass.

It’s terrifyingly intimate.

“I’m fine,” I insist, but he ignores me and gently cleans me before leaning in to place a soft kiss on my thigh. When he scoops me up again, my eyebrows knit. “Where are you taking me now?” Out, I’d wager. Anywhere but here, in his space. Now that the sex is done, I suppose he has no more use for me.

It’s understandable, but fuck… why does it sting so much?

He pushes through another door and warm, humid air coats my skin as the sound of running water fills the room. A hint of a smile softens his rugged face as he carries me over to an enormous bathtub. “A prince has to be pampered. It’s part of the rules, or so I hear.”

For a second, I stare at the water, with tiny salt crystals visible in the bottom of the tub. A small bath pillow rests on one side and a candle flickers on the other, and to my absolute horror , the sting of tears burns behind my eyes.

“Where’s my wine and grapes?” I ask, a sniffle breaking free beyond my control.

A sniffle.

I am The Devil… The Lord of the motherfucking Underworld, and I’m snivelling like a baby because he ran me a bath?

He hums, an amused sound, before he finally puts me on my feet. At least he’s allowing me the dignity of stepping into my bath instead of dropping me in like an overgrown sperm. “Do you want a glass of wine, Damien? I didn’t think you’d be hungry after that dinner, but we worked up quite the appetite.”

A grin digs into my cheeks as I glance up at him, his green eyes softer than usual. When he reaches over to shut the water off, I expect him to leave, but he grabs a washcloth and dips it into the tub, nudging me to lean forward as he drags the steaming water over my back.

“You don’t have to wash me… I’m not a child,” I protest, even though every muscle in my body relaxes into his touch.

There is a sarcastic edge to his chuckle. “Oh, you most certainly are not, my little prince. You’ve ruled over Hell for nearly two hundred years. I’d daresay you’ve warmed that throne longer than multiple generations of my family have been on this Earth.”

“Were you not related to the previous Santa?” While I lack precise details, I know the former Santa Claus served for almost eighty years, a short period for a supernatural leader. The transition of power was done quietly, and until now, there wasn’t much information about the man who took his place.

The man currently washing my hair.

“I wasn’t,” he says, wringing out the washcloth and letting the water shower over my head. “Traditionally, these positions are passed among families, but there have been instances where that wasn’t true. In those cases, and mine, it was because there was no living heir to inherit the position. Most people don’t realize that a handful of humans have lived in the North Pole over the years. My mother was one of those humans.”

“Is she still here?”

“No,” he says, a hint of sadness in his voice. “The previous Santa, Bernard… he and my mother were in love, but she refused to marry him. To do so would’ve allowed her to assume his magic, and with it, his lifespan. But she had me, and I was only human. She wouldn’t take on his long life without a means to do it for her son, and no way is known to pass the magic to anyone besides a spouse or biological child.”

“He wasn’t your father?”

“No, my father died when I was very young. My mother was struggling with being a single parent, and she stumbled upon Bernard leaving presents in our home when I was only a few years old. He claims he never heard her coming, but I have my doubts.”

“You think he planned it?” I ask as he finishes washing me and sits back on his feet .

“Yes, I do,” he says, a nostalgic smile crossing his lips. “I believe he saw her the previous Christmas and decided he wanted her for himself, then made enough noise that she’d wake and find him in the living room. He always was a hopeless romantic.”

“So he brought you both to the North Pole to live?”

“Yes. I was a giant among elves.”

“And they never had children of their own.”

“No,” he says, scooping water over my arms to rinse the suds from my skin. “He was a good man… fair. Didn’t want me to feel as though I had to compete for his love. And Mom would not have agreed to have more children, anyway. She was older when I was born and always complained I had too big of a head to go through that again.”

I grin as I lean back, sinking into the steaming water. “What happened to your mother?”

“She died, eventually. Peacefully, in her old age, surrounded by those she loved. And once she did, Bernard didn’t want to live this long life without her. He passed the magic to me and chose to follow her out of this life.”

“The magic works that fast? If you decided to no longer be The Santa, you’d die?”

“No, sweet Damien, I wouldn’t die.” My heart sputters again at his words.

Sweet?

Me?

Throughout my life, I’ve been called many awful, spiteful things that are… possibly mostly true. I am the devil, after all. The actions I take on a random Tuesday would probably haunt most people for years. I’m evil. Conniving.

But sweet?

I could be sweet for him . I immediately freeze as the thought registers in my brain.

He doesn’t notice my conflict as he continues with his story. “The magic doesn’t stop your aging, just significantly slows it. The longest living Santa in our history stepped down after almost six hundred years in the position. Bernard had been in the office many decades and could’ve kept living for another several centuries or more. When he passed the title along, he told me the magic gave him a choice. Pick up where he’d been in age, which in his case would’ve been his mid-sixties, or let the years catch up to him.” He waves his hand through the air vaguely. “He chose to move on.”

“How long will you hold the title?”

“You mean, how long will I live?”

“They go hand in hand.”

He stares at me for a long second. “As long as I have something to live for, Damien.”

I hesitate as I lean forward, resting my arms over the side of the tub. “And do you have something to live for right now, Nik?”

“I’ve been asking myself that a lot recently.”

“Don’t you love the position? Being The Santa?”

“I do… growing up here, in this setting and around these people, has given me a unique view of life, that’s for sure. But at the end of the day, it’s not about me. It’s about everyone else and bringing joy to th ose that need it… like how Bernard brought joy to my mother.”

“What, so you’re going to kidnap yourself a bride?”

He snorts and grins, and I can’t help it as my lips pull up in a smile as well. “Smartass,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“You bring me joy,” I say without thinking, then flinch as he tilts his head, staring. And holy fuck, I want to rewind time by a few seconds and take that back, because not only is it something the Devil should never be caught saying, but it’s goddamned embarrassing . “I just… I just mean that… this thing between us… this is fun, you know?”

“Fun? That’s all this is?”

“It’s all it can be.”

He gives a noncommittal hum, like he isn’t convinced. “Tell me, Damien… do you enjoy your position?”

“Yes.” It’s a given, an automatic response, and I stop and make myself really consider what he’s asking. The identity of The Lucifer has been a part of me for so long that it’s woven into the fabric of my being. I don’t know what it’s like to not be in charge of the realm after two centuries.

What would it be like, not dealing with the headaches that come with being pulled in so many different directions all the time? To not be weighed down by the stress of so much responsibility every moment of every day ?

But it’s not that simple. You can’t just step away without considering the consequences—and there would be plenty.

It hits me all at once that I’ve gone days with not a single thought about the Underworld. I’ve barely even spoken to Xalreth and haven’t asked for any updates from the realm.

“You don’t sound convinced,” Niklaus says, like my thoughts are broadcasting themselves.

“Of course I am,” I snap, more out of frustration with myself than anything. “What, do you think I’d drop two centuries of duty and responsibilities to play house with you because you’re a good lay? We are having fun, Nik, but that’s all this is. Don’t ruin it by wanting what you can’t have.”

Hurt flashes across his face before he masks it with a somber expression. He tears his eyes away and nods, busying himself by digging a towel from the cabinet. Guilt eats at my stomach, churning in my gut as I watch his jaw tense. “Take as long as you need,” he says, and turns to walk out.

“Nik,” I call after him, but he doesn’t turn around, just closes the door behind him with a soft click. Foreign emotions swirl through my mind as I sit in the steaming bath, staring mindlessly at the stone tile on the wall. A mess of confused thoughts are trapped in my head, not knowing the answers to the questions he threw at me.

Am I happy?

Could I be happy?

Is that a luxury I deserve ?

Water sluices down my body as I climb out of the tub and dry myself, wrapping the towel around my waist as I step into the bedroom. Nik sits on the edge of the bed, his back facing me as he flips through his phone, no doubt still working.

“Goodnight, then,” he calls over his shoulder, and the pinch in my chest at the dismissal is more painful than it should be.

Steeling my spine, I walk over and tug the phone from his hands, and his face tilts to mine as I sit it on the table and wrap my arms around his neck, climbing on to straddle his lap. “I don’t know how to be anything but the Devil,” I whisper like a secret between us, leaning forward to kiss his lips as he relents and wraps his arms around me. “Don’t know how to be sweet, or care for others, or not be a complete ass. I don’t know how to do this. ”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, because you are sweet, and you care greatly for others. You just hide it by being an ass.”

I raise a brow at him. “You aren’t denying that part?” He shrugs, which makes both of us laugh, some of the tension dissipating. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“You can stay with me as long as you’d like,” he says, and fuck if my heart doesn’t take a nosedive at those words. “I just have one request.”

“What’s that?”

“If you’re going to break my heart, at least give me time to prepare. Can you do me that one courtesy?” Emerald eyes bore into mine, and all I can do is offer him a small nod as he pulls me in for another kiss. I lose myself to the softness of his lips, and as his steady hands spin me to the bed beside him, I stop thinking and just allow myself to feel.