Chapter 3

Niklaus

A commotion unfolding around the front door steals my attention away from my conversation with Cadbury, the head elf. Production for Christmas is tight this year, and I’m afraid we’ll only fall further behind if we can’t pinpoint the root of the slowdown in our toy department.

“I’m still not convinced that Jujube isn’t finding ways to dodge his work… and possibly persuading others to do the same. He’s been caught napping in fabric storage more times than I can count.” For such a small man, he shoots a rather intimidating glare across the room at the suspect in question, scratching his snow-white beard in suspicion. Jujube, a wiry redheaded elf, has his arms up in a lazy stretch, then scratches his belly like he just woke up.

Maybe there’s merit to Cadbury’s assumption.

When he catches us studying him, he jumps back to work with a smile that’s a bit too forced to be natural. It’s borderline manic, and downright creepy.

The increasing commotion at the door returns my focus to it. “Uh huh,” I mutter absentmindedly, my eyes fixed on Pattie as she peers through the narrow gap of the massive wooden door. The opening is hardly wide enough for a finger to pass through, and I’m unsure how she can see what lies on the opposite end.

“Apologies, Caddy, we will resume this discussion later.” As I pat him on the shoulder and walk towards the door, my confusion intensifies.

“… His Royal Highness of the Infernal Land of the Damned…”

What the…?

Unable to glimpse outside without making my presence known, I wait for just a moment longer while a pompous voice continues, rumbling in a deep growl. “The Devil Himself requests an audience with The Santa.” Their conversation creates a whirlwind in my mind as I try to keep up with the back-and-forth.

The Devil is here?

Six years ago, I accepted the role of Santa, but besides the essential supernatural ambassadors needed for the transition, I’ve met none of the other leaders. Vague stories about my predecessor’s visits to the Underworld are confusing at best, with rumors of heated arguments, singed eyebrows, and scorched clothing.

Oh, and something about emotional damage lawsuits? It's never been very... clear.

The Lucifer is more of an urban legend than an actual person… something used to frighten children into eating their vegetables and going to bed on time.

We all know he exists, but he’s not tangible. Not real.

Not pounding at my door at eleven fifty-three in the morning.

“Are we to stand out here in the freezing cold?” A different voice interrupts my thoughts, this one smoother and not as deep as the first, though with the same level of arrogance.

Despite myself, my interest is piqued.

Gently, I lay my hand on the elf’s shoulder, causing her to tense beneath my touch. “Now, Pattie, we have rules against being rude.”

Her eyes are wide—wider than normal, that is, which is a feat on its own. Elves have an innate cuteness that serves as a defense mechanism, with their oversized eyes, small button noses, and cheeks that are always perfectly rosy. “Y-y-yes, sir, but…”

“No buts.” With a subtle nudge, she yields, allowing me to open the door and reveal two men waiting on the other side. The first is quite large, my height, with pallid, grayish skin and eyes as black as night. He’s holding an arm full of …

Huh.

Shiny red suitcases with flames stitched into the patent leather.

A little on the nose, I’ll admit, but who am I to judge?

The second man clears his throat impatiently, and my head tilts lower as I glance him over. His skin has a soft, rosy hue, and his gorgeous blond curls are swaying in the gentle breeze, sharp ruby horns peeking through the fluffy locks. The intensity in his honey brown eyes is palpable as he narrows them while glaring at me, his scowl perfectly held. My gaze drifts down to his coat that is utterly ridiculous.

I mean, it’s downright tacky .

“Well?” he finally says, and my eyes snap up to his. “Are you planning to leave Hell’s royalty standing outside your door like a mere commoner?”

Feisty little shit.

My grin is barely contained as I tilt my head to one side, taking in the faint maroon freckles that decorate his nose and cheeks. His face scrunches, wrinkling up in a way that’s both infuriating and adorable. If this man wasn’t such an arrogant asshole, I might describe him as beautiful.

Breathtaking, even.

“Of course not,” I finally answer, finding my voice. “Summon your leader and let them know they will be welcomed graciously into our home.”

“Su-su- summon ?!” he stutters, indignant, and a speared tail whips out from underneath the woolly mammoth wrapped around his chest .

“Sir,” the gray demon interrupts, taking a step forward that makes my body tense. “You will show respect when you speak to The Lucifer and address him by his proper titles.” My eyes flare wide as they dart back to the adorable man to his left.

This is the Devil?

This petite, curly-haired, doe-eyed twink on a stick?

Oh, holy sugar cookies.

Those honeyed eyes narrow on mine, and I collect myself with a polite nod. “Please accept my apologies, Your… High… ness?” I hesitate, not knowing which titles to use.

“Lucifer is fine,” he says, eyes narrowing even further until they’re little slits of irritation.

“Lucifer, then. As you know, I am recently appointed to this role. We haven’t yet had the pleasure of being introduced, and I did not recognize you—an unfortunate mistake on my end that will not happen again. You must be a fearless leader to come alone with just one guard.”

And they said I couldn’t be diplomatic when the situation calls for a gentle hand.

“Fearless, did you hear that? Take notes,” he says as he nudges the large demon. Lucifer is pleased as a peacock as he rolls his shoulders, and a smattering of snow falls off the thick black fur of his coat. “Thank you for noticing, Santa. I needed no guards at all, but this one is a worrywart. Perhaps your assessment will make him remember how brave The Devil is. ”

“The bravest, sir,” the gray-skinned demon agrees, and I bite at the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at how Lucifer’s narrow chest puffs out in pride.

“Please, come inside out of the cold.” I back up and pull the door open, singling out a few elves from the group that have stopped to gawk. “Choco, Plummy, grab their bags so Mister…” I glance at the demon in question.

“Xalreth.”

“Bless you.”

He stares at me, which is quite unnerving with those inky, bottomless eyes. “My name is Xalreth,” he says, with a deliberate slowness, enunciating every syllable.

Well, that’s a great start to diplomatic relationships with Hell, telling an ambassador his name sounds like an allergic reaction.

I clear my throat with a hasty, “Apologies,” and refocus my attention on the elves hovering nearby. “Please take their luggage so Mister Xalreth doesn’t have to carry them everywhere.” Timidly, they obey, walking over and accepting the suitcases from the large demon, then glancing at me for further instruction. “Place them in two of the guest suites. If that’s okay,” I add with a glance in The Lucifer’s direction.

“That is acceptable,” he says, his freckled nose lifting into the air in a haughty, pompous gesture.

Prince of Hell, indeed. He certainly looks as though he could use someone putting him in his place .

Maybe on his knees.

“Come, gentlemen, let me escort you to my office. I’m assuming there’s a reason behind your visit beyond social niceties?” Xalreth nods as The Lucifer glances around, his wide eyes absorbing the bustling activity in the main area of the workshop. Elves are everywhere—hundreds of them, each with a task to do—and it causes quite the disturbance when one of them notices a visitor in our midst.

I cringe as a few of them collide, their feet tangling as they clumsily drop their gifts and toys, creating an explosion of noise. Faces flushed pink and eyes on the floor, the elves gather the items in a rush and hurry away to continue with their tasks. Whispered conversations pass in a buzz of hissing voices, the usual lively chatter dulled as they openly stare.

If failing to recognize Lucifer was the first strike, this was the second, and I’m on the verge of striking out. All eyes fall on me as I clear my throat again, needing to get this game back on track.

“As you were.” Immediately, everyone springs into action, although I still notice some staring from the corner of their eyes.

“Yeah, as you were.” Lucifer puffs out his chest as he speaks, and I stifle a smile, aware that he wouldn’t take kindly to being laughed at. Large elven eyes blink at him before I raise my brow, and they jump back to work.

I decide the only way we’re going to make it out of here is if I take charge. “Allow me?” I ask, offering my crooked arm towards Lucifer. Xalreth’s gaze sharpens, but I ignore him and focus on Lucifer as he stares briefly at my arm before wrapping his hand around my forearm and clasping. His fingers are brighter than the rest of his skin, a similar ruby to his horns and tail.

We walk through the workshop, and I point out a few areas of interest. Several doors branch off from the main area, each leading to a different specialty section, such as books or clothing, beyond the usual toys and trinkets. “That one’s empty,” Lucifer points out, gesturing towards a darkened doorway.

“Ah, yes… that was the Furby room for a long stretch in the nineties, then again for a brief run a few years ago. There’s no need for it now.”

“Furbies are creepy as FUDGE. ” Lucifer’s eyes get enormous as he shouts the word. “Oh, dear baby Jeebus, what the FIDDLESTICKS just happened?”

A light laugh sneaks out of my throat as he whips his head up to face me. I grin down at him, placing my hand over his, and am surprised as a small jolt passes between his warm skin and mine. “There is magic in the workshops that prevents the elves from cursing, or else it turns… nasty. They’re actually quite crude.”

His eyes bulge as his mouth sags, and my gaze drops to his pouty, pink lips. “You’re telling me I can’t curse? What happens if I say SUGAR COOKIE! SHITAKE! ” He squeezes my arm as Xalreth tries very hard not to react. “Why the FUNYUNS does it change every time?! ”

“Part of the fun.” I offer him a smile, and he cocks his head at me like he can’t quite figure me out.

Welcome to the club, buddy.

“You know the man who invented Furbies is in Hell, right? We torture him with his own invention, and don’t even tell him when they’ll strike. It’ll be the middle of the night, and one will go off under his bed.” He gives a quick shudder, gripping my arm tighter. “Sometimes days will go by, just to give him a false sense of security, and then, bam! Creepy laugh engaged.”

“They are evil little creatures,” I agree with another small smile, and he glances back up at me, still with that unreadable expression. My fingers brush lightly over his, my thumb swiping over the back of his hand, and I find I enjoy the feel of him beneath me. His fingers lift to reciprocate my gentle touches, and a spark of something flutters in my chest, but the sneer that Xalreth shoots in my direction makes me withdraw.

Are they lovers?

A small blush burns at my cheeks as I guide them into my office. “Please, make yourselves at home. I’m sure you’re still chilled from your time out in the weather, so I’ll have Cadbury bring hot chocolates to help you thaw.”

Lucifer releases me as he drops into a plush chair across from my desk, slinging his arm over the back and making himself comfortable. “Oh, that sounds fucking delicious!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, realization hits him and he balks, then appears confused. “Why did it not censor me that time?”

I chuckle as I walk around the desk and drop into my seat. “Perks of being the boss. The enchantment doesn’t carry into my office or into the living quarters. It only covers the workshop, and even that is just to ensure no one gets distracted.”

A devilish grin pulls across Lucifer’s lips as he leans forward. “So, I can say whatever I want to say in here?”

“Something tells me you’ll say whatever you want to say, whenever you wish to say it, rules be damned,” I tease, and his smirk only tugs deeper. The flashy arrogance he wore like a crown at the door has diminished, prompting me to wonder how genuine it really is.

“Excuse me for just a moment.” Not wanting to be rude, I send a quick message to Cadbury asking him to deliver drinks before stashing my phone into my desk drawer. My attention refocuses on the men before me, primarily watching The Lucifer as he calmly tracks my movements. I can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain, always in motion.

Anyone in their right mind realizes how sly the Devil can be, and I can’t help but question if his soft, pretty facade is part of his deception. Put you at ease, bat those long eyelashes, and next thing you know, you’re gutted on the ground. It’s a reminder to stay on track and not let my thoughts wander.

“You’ll forgive me for cutting to the chase, but what brings The Lucifer to the North Pole? ”

The way his expression changes from contemplative to alert is almost jarring. “Right,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a stack of papers. “I keep getting these letters, and they’re meant for you.”

Confused, my brows knit as I accept the envelopes and leaf through them. There are around two dozen, just a handful. “This is how many you’ve received today?”

Appalled, he placed a dramatic hand on his chest, staring at the letter like they might be imbued with the plague. “Dear god, no! These are from the past six months, and they are extremely distracting , as I’m sure you can imagine . They take my time away from far more important tasks.”

I glance at him, searching for any hint of humor, convinced that this must be a joke, but he has reverted to his usual state of annoyance.

“Um...” I begin, careful to choose my words correctly. “On an average day, we usually get around five hundred letters, but that amount triples during the period from Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve.”

Cadbury chooses that moment to enter with a tray full of hot chocolates, and I raise my brow with a small huff of a laugh. He’s gone all out. Steam rises from the mugs of cocoa, each topped with fluffy marshmallows and a candy cane leaning against the side, ready for stirring.

“Thank you, Caddy,” I say as he places our cups in front of us. I pull mine to my lips and blow over the surface, but Lucifer takes a long swig without even giving it time to cool .

“Careful!” I reach for him as he raises a brow in my direction. What was I going to do, exactly? Swat away the offending drink like a knight in red armor? “You’ll burn yourself,” I add weakly as his eyes light up and he upends his mug, drinking half of it in a single gulp.

“Aww, are you afraid I’ll be hurt?” Lucifer purrs as he flutters his eyes at me, those thick lashes curtaining over his chestnut eyes. “That’s cute. Don’t worry about me, Daddy Christmas. Hell is hot.” He pulls the blistering drink back to his mouth and takes another long swig, completely unaffected.

Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, is it?

“Daddy Christmas, huh?” I ask, trying not to let it show how much I love the sound of that. As his tongue flicks out to clean his lips, I can’t help the way I stare.

Simply checking whether it’s forked, of course.

It isn’t.

Just pink and soft as it darts between his pouty lips.

He hurls me back to reality as he thunks his mug onto the desk and opens his mouth. “Alright, about the problem at hand. How do you intend to handle these letters that keep finding their way to me? I cannot spare any time for such trivial matters.”

“There aren’t that many, and they are addressed to you.” Leaning back, I arch an eyebrow at him, puzzled by his inability to simply place the letter in the outbox to be picked up along with his mail. Xalreth growls low under his breath, and I can almost see Lucifer’s hair stand up on end in his indignation.

Little fury cat, showing his claws.

“They are obviously not intended for me ,” he shouts, standing as he jabs his finger into the stack of letters. “Who in their right minds would ask Satan for a new car unless they want one for their enemies, already rigged to explode? No, this is your problem to fix.”

He leans forward over my desk, bringing his face perilously close to mine as he taunts me. “And I’m not leaving until you handle it.” A quiet, indignant laugh leaves me in a rush of air, because I knew he was a brat. It took less than thirty minutes for his true colors to come out to play.

To prove my point, he swats at the stack of letters and sends them scattering into the air to flutter to the ground.

My palms slam onto the desk and I stand, and a fire flares bright in his eyes as he tilts up to look at me. It’s the first time he lets me see it—the predator that lies beneath that adorable disguise. The thrill of a challenge burns over his expression, but if he expects me to bow to him, he has another thing coming.

“Your little temper tantrum isn’t winning you any favors, Lucifer. Sit. Down.” Shock paints his face as his pupils eclipse his eyes, and his tongue flickers out again.

Is that from nerves?

Or excitement?

I wonder if anyone’s ever put him in his place .

Xalreth charges me with a snarl, but I reach out and grab him, not taking my eyes off Lucifer as I hold him by his neck. “You are in my house, in my domain, and you will be respectful. Now sit down before I come over there and make you .” My voice is low, calm and quiet, but the threat is there, and it hangs heavy in the air.

We’re so close our noses are touching, and Xalreth’s struggling breath comes in wheezes.

“What will you do?” Lucifer is breathy, his eyes darting around my face.

Oh, this is interesting.

Fascinating, even.

A smirk slowly spreads across my lips as I tilt my head in amusement. “Don’t sound so eager to be punished, Your Highness.” That tongue moves over his already shining lips again, and I lower my gaze to track the movement before returning to his eyes, molten honey as they lock on mine. “Now, call off your pet and let’s have a civil conversation like gentlemen.”

“Xalreth, sit.”

I release my grip as he sucks in a long inhale, furious as he twirls towards Lucifer. “Damien, you cannot allow—”

“Sit!” he commands, louder this time, not ending our stare-off as Xalreth fumes, dropping into his chair with a gush of air and a lot of grumbling.

“Damien, is it?” I mutter, and his eyes flare as I reach to place a thumb on the small cleft in his chin. It’s so innocent, so unassuming. “Be a darling now and take a seat so we can continue this conversation with a better attitude.”

“If you’re going to call me by my given name, then it’s only fair I learn yours.”

I chuckle, tilting his face to the side as he lifts his chin, offering his throat. He’s submitting, and I don’t know that he even realizes what he’s done as a shiver courses up my spine. My thumb digs in, watching in fascination as his lips pop apart. “You may call me Niklaus, but only if you behave.”

“I can’t promise that,” he says, a wicked smile digging into his cheeks.

“Oh, I’d expect nothing less from the devil himself.”