Chapter 5

Niklaus

Fuming, I storm into my office, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to quell the anger roiling under my skin. Whoever started the rumor that Santa was patient and jolly was fucking wrong , because I need blood pressure medicine and a heavy drink after today.

When I went to check on progress in the workshop, I found it in absolute anarchy, stemming from the bicycle room. Paint coated every surface inside, fire was chewing up everything flammable, and the elves were terrified.

Not a single one of them could provide an explanation, as they all seemed to experience a mysterious case of temporary amnesia. They remembered every other detail, down to the last time the paint sprayer was reloaded, but anything involving the mess?

Nada.

They were locked up tight. Only after things had calmed down and I spoke to them one-on-one did Brie let a single word slip.

“Lucifer.”

Once she whispered it, her lips were glued shut once again, and she refused to say anything else. Now, I’m no idiot. You invite the Devil into your home and it’s a guaranteed recipe for disaster. I’d be remiss not to believe her.

There’s just one problem.

Damien was nowhere to be found near the scene of the crime.

Not sneaking through the workshop or cackling in the corner. He didn’t stand there smiling at the chaos he’d created. No, there wasn’t so much as a hint of his pointy horns or twitchy little tail, and I hung around, waiting to see if he would crawl out of a hole somewhere.

I was ready to blame him. Prepared to banish him from this place, send him back into Hell where he belongs, but he just… wasn’t there.

Furiously, I yank off my thick red sweater, the neon blue streaks and lingering smoky odor a glaring reminder that I still have no idea what happened. Right as I toss it aside, there’s a knock on the door. “ Yeah, come in,” I shout as I walk over to my closet to grab a clean shirt.

Speaking of the devil…

Damien walks in, head tilted in a very cat-like way, his eyes flickering down my torso and snagging on my chest as I pull on my sweater. Only once I’m covered does he meet my gaze once more. His honey brown eyes are concerned and full of innocence as he asks, “What happened to you?”

“A bit of a disaster in the workshop, I’m afraid. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that…” I take a step closer and his narrow chin tilts to peer up at me. “Would you?”

“Who, me?” His heavy blonde lashes flutter in the fakest act of na?veté I’ve ever seen, but I have no proof of his involvement. Baseless accusations against the Devil would be a foolish and dangerous mistake.

Even if he’s currently playing coy.

“I’ve been in my quarters, warming up by the fire. It is so much colder here than it is in Hell, and it’s taking me a while to adjust.”

“I suppose that is quite the change.”

He takes a half step forward into my space, and I hate how my body is instantly drawn to his. I imagine that the opening page of An Idiot’s Guide to Living would strongly advise against getting entangled with your enemies, but tell that to my dick. “You could’ve come and visited me in my quarters, you know. I would’ve welcomed your…” He glances up at me from under his lashes. “… company. ”

Gods, the way he says it is almost a purr. “Too bad I was stuck putting out fires.”

Literally.

“That is a shame,” he agrees, reaching up and fingering the edge of the sweater I just pulled on. “This looks so cozy. I wasn’t sure what to pack, seeing as I’ve never had to brave the cold.”

“When’s the last time you saw snow?”

His fingers continue to glide over my shirt as his eyes roll up in thought. “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. The previous Santa came to visit in Hell, although I was part of an emissary to the North Pole in my youth before I took over the position.”

“How long have you been The Lucifer?” I ask, curiosity piqued, since he doesn’t look a day older than twenty-five.

“Trying to learn my secrets, Niklaus?” His fingers swipe under my sweater, barely brushing against my skin, and the heat of his body has goosebumps rising on my stomach. A ball of tension builds and shoots lower, my cock giving a content little twitch.

“Only the ones you’re willing to share.” He lets out a pleased hum as he releases my shirt and takes a step back, and I gesture at the chair across from my desk.

Blonde curls cascade over his forehead as he sinks into the seat. “I’ve been in office for one hundred and seventy-nine years.”

“And just exactly how old are you? ”

He grins, flashing me his rows of pearly white teeth. “Now, now, that’s not a question you normally ask a gentleman, is it?”

“Are you, though?” I ask, hiking a brow as he leans forward, tilting his head. “A gentleman?”

Another of those infuriating hums leaves his throat before he smiles again, and I’m struck once more by how stunning he is. “When I want to be, I suppose. What about you?” I wave my hand for him to clarify. “How old are you, Nik?”

My lips twitch at the nickname, loving the sound of it coming from him. “Forty-seven,” I answer, and he appears genuinely shocked for the first time since we’ve met. “You’re surprised.”

“I assumed you were older. Or does the Santa’s magic not work like that?”

It’s my turn to give one of those noncommittal hums, and I love the way it makes him squirm. “No, it does,” I finally say. “The position of The Santa grants long life to the holder.”

“How long of a life?”

“Long enough,” I answer, and he gets another faint, sly smile on his face when he realizes he’s not the only one playing this game of chess. “Now, I’ve got a few minutes if you wanted to discuss your issue further.”

His brows give the tiniest confused flex before realization smoothes them back out. “The letters?”

“Unless there are other issues I don’t know about?” Amused humor dances in his eyes as they flicker up to mine, suggesting there is an entire world of secrets hidden behind that charming smile. It’s yet another reminder to keep my guard up while he’s here.

“Issues? Oh, no,” he muses, still with silent laughter painted on his face, and I track him as he stands from his seat and walks to my side of the desk. I spin in my chair to face him, hand on my chin as I watch. “There’s probably very little that happens here that you don’t know about, I imagine.”

“Mmm,” I hum, refusing to answer while he’s speaking in riddles. I straighten my back as he confidently steps forward between my knees, a small smile gracing his lips before he turns to the side and lowers himself onto one of my legs.

My voice is huskier than I intend as I murmur, “What are you doing?” and he flashes another of those innocent smiles.

“It’s how this works, isn’t it? You sit on Santa’s lap when you tell him what you want.”

Years of self-control are tested as he wiggles, and I force myself not to react as my cock flexes, my fingers digging into the arms of my chair until the leather pits. Although I want nothing more, I fight the urge to put this insolent man in his place.

Speared on my cock and bent over my desk, pants around his ankles.

Yeah, that sounds right.

“And what do you want, Damien?”

“Well…” He drags his finger across the line of my jaw before he turns to face the desk, rubbing that pert ass all over my lap. My hand is halfway to gripping his hip when he says, “The issue seems to stem from the supernatural delivery system. ”

I blink a few times, realizing he’s actually talking about the mail.

Instead of letting my hand fall, I reach around him and let it rest on his thigh, leaning forward to glance over his shoulder at the stack of letters on the desk. “Well, to be fair, they are seeing Satan clearly written on the envelopes. They really can’t be blamed for sending them to the intended recipient.”

He scoffs, refusing my logic. “They should realize anything with… candy stripes and, and… hearts would not be coming to me.”

“What is the other option, then? Would you rather the letters be opened before delivered?”

Horror flashes across his face. “Absolutely not!”

“Why not, Damien?” I ask, teasing my fingers over his thigh. “What sort of letters are you getting that you’d be so afraid of others reading? Weekly deliveries from World of Porn?”

Despite his best efforts, he can’t conceal the grin trying to overtake his lips. “Don’t judge me when I’m ordering holiday specials for the occasion. ‘Tits a Wonderful Life’ and ‘I’ll Be Homo For Christmas,’ and my personal favorite…”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” I mutter.

“Ho ho ho, Santa’s Gonna Blow.”

I snort a laugh and he lets his grin spread, shoulders shaking as he laughs with me. “Are those classics by Charles Dick ens?”

He whirls to face me, a thrilled expression on his face as my hand tenses on his leg. “Look at that! He jokes… he actually jokes. ”

“I’ll have you know I’m hilarious when I choose to be.”

“You just never choose to be?”

“Insolent little shit,” I mutter, and his smile twists to a smirk as my fingers drift up his spine, stopping at the nape of his neck. “Has anyone ever put you in your place?”

“Oh, please, like they could tame me.” His chin tilts up in an obvious challenge, and my tongue slides between my lips as his eyes dart to watch. “But I’d love to see you try.”

His hand presses against my chest as he leans in, his face so close I could count the constellation of maroon freckles that speckle his cheeks. Breath dancing over my lips, he freezes just a millimeter away, and my inhibitions disappear when his eyes flutter closed. My fingers flex around his neck as I draw him in, and then a sudden, booming knock causes us to pop apart.

Xalreth charges into my office, furious as he stares at Damien perched on my lap. “What the fuck is going on in here?” he bellows. Cadbury is directly behind him with wide eyes, like he followed him with absolutely no clue how to intervene.

My back straightens as I sit taller, but Damien remains lazily slouched against me as I narrow my eyes. “Not that it is any of your business, demon, but we were brainstorming this issue with the mail.”

His lip pulls into a sneer, gesturing at the highly inappropriate way we’re cozied up in my chair. I tighten my grip on the back of Damien’s neck, my fingers grazing the sensitive spot behind his ear, and Xalreth’s snarl rips up further as Damien tilts his head up, exposing his throat to me.

A tiny smirk plays on my lips at the show of jealousy, wondering what he’d do if I dragged my tongue up that slender neck while he watched. “Would you like to join us for this conversation, Xalreth? I’m sure you’d have some very helpful input.”

For a few tense seconds, he fumes in the doorway, before he wipes away his frustration and enters the room. Poised and in control, he smooths his hands over his pants and takes a seat opposite me. His eerie black eyes stay fixed on Damien. “Care to join me, sir ?” He emphasizes the last word, glaring at his leader.

Damien stills in my lap and my fingers tense around his neck as I inch forward. “You may go sit,” I murmur in his ear, and he shivers against my touch before swallowing and rising from his perch on top of me. He takes a seat next to Xalreth, who hasn’t blinked once during our interaction.

My smile is more of a baring of my teeth as I lean on my elbows. “Now, gentlemen, where were we?”