6. Krampus

CHAPTER 6

KRAMPUS

T he youngling peeks out from behind her mother's legs, eyes bright with curiosity rather than fear. A proper response to my magnificence.

"Yes, youngling. I will be your father now. We will begin your training with Death Sticks first thing in the morning."

"No!" The blonde woman's shriek pierces my sensitive ears.

"But Death Sticks are the first step toward becoming a Galactic Assassin." The proper education of youth stands as paramount. These primitives know nothing of raising warriors.

"She doesn't want to be an assassin!"

The mother's face flushes an appealing shade of red. Her grip tightens on that ridiculous wooden club she tried to beat me with earlier. The memory brings a rumble of amusement to my chest.

"Yes, I do." The child bounces on her toes, pigtails swinging.

My chest swells with pride. Such enthusiasm. Such potential for mayhem. I drop to one knee, bringing myself closer to the youngling's level.

"The Gates of Hell will be lined with your victims when I'm done with you."

The mother makes a strangled sound in her throat. The child just grins wider, revealing a missing front tooth. Yes, this one will make an excellent apprentice in the arts of destruction.

"Sam, bedtime, " Melanie says "Go brush your teeth."

"But Mom! Krampus was telling me about the Death Sticks!"

"Now, young lady."

The child's bottom lip quivers. Such weakness will need to be trained out of her.

"Can Krampus at least tuck me in?" Sam asks.

"No. Bed. Now."

The youngling's shoulders slump as she trudges from the room. Such authority from my future mate. She'll make an excellent mother to our future spawn.

The blonde whirls on me, jabbing a finger into my chest.

"Listen here, you blue menace. I am not your mate. Got it? And you are not training my daughter to be an assassin!"

Her finger actually manages to dent my fur. Impressive. The fire in her eyes sets my blood aflame.

"Then perhaps we should start with front line combat instead? The Death Sticks can wait until she's mastered hand-to-hand."

"No! Earth children don't train with Death Sticks or any other kind of weapon. And for the last time, I am not going to be your mate!"

Her chest heaves with each breath. The scent of her anger fills my nostrils - spice and honey and something uniquely her. My growl of appreciation rumbles through the kitchen.

"Your resistance only makes you more appealing."

"I swear to God, I will get another hockey stick"

"Your primitive weapons cannot harm me. But you are breaking my heart," I lean closer, inhaling deeply. "You are magnificent."

"Magnificent," I repeat, savoring the word on my tongue. Her pulse quickens at my proximity. The scent of her desire mingles with lingering traces of fear and anger. Intoxicating.

"You wish me to woo you." The realization strikes like a plasma bolt. Of course. Earth females require elaborate courtship rituals.

Her blue eyes widen, pupils dilating.

"I... we only just kissed." She takes a step back. "Wait, what did you say?"

"Woo. You want me to court you." I straighten to my full height, chest swelling with pride. "Prepare yourself, Earth woman, for the most incredibly romantic experiences of your life! Soon you will swoon into my arms and never look back upon the doldrums of your existence before becoming my mate."

Her lips twitch. The scent of amusement joins the cocktail of emotions swirling around her. "

I'm floored by your modesty."

The sarcasm in her tone only fuels my determination. This female will be mine, even if I must resort to traditional Earth courtship methods. Perhaps I should acquire some of those gaudy light displays she seems fond of. Or better yet, a proper collection of ceremonial weapons for our dwelling.

"Modesty is not for those such as you and I." I step closer, drawn to her like a meteor to its inevitable impact. "We are glorious beings of light, shining like beacons in the universe. In all my centuries, in all the planets I have conquered, only you, Melanie, are worthy of being my mate."

Her breath catches as I cup her chin, tilting her face up to mine. The sapphire depths of her eyes capture me, hold me, draw me in until I'm drowning in their beauty. Such fierce spirit burns within them - a warrior's soul wrapped in silk and honey.

My lips claim hers. The taste of her - sweet nectar and burning fire - floods my senses. Her initial resistance crumbles like stardust between my fingers. Her arms snake around my neck, pulling me closer as she melts against me.

The heat of our passion ignites, spreading through my veins like liquid plasma. Her doubts evaporate in the inferno of our embrace. My hands span her waist, lifting her closer as her fingers tangle in my fur.

The scent of her desire mingles with mine, creating an intoxicating perfume that makes my head spin. Such perfect surrender. Such glorious acceptance.

My mate. My warrior queen. My everything.

I lift my mate onto the counter, savoring her soft gasp. Her legs wrap around my waist like they belong there. The scent of her desire spikes, drawing a growl from deep in my chest. My lips find her neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin. Each button of her sleep garment falls open beneath my fingers, revealing more of her perfect form.

"Wait." Her hands press against my chest. "I can't do this."

My attention snaps to the two Grolgath corpses sprawled across her kitchen floor. Their purple blood seeps into the decorative floor covering. What a thoughtless oversight on my part.

"I'm sorry." I nuzzle her throat. "Because there are two dead bodies in your kitchen?"

"Um, let's go with that." Her small hand pats my chest. The gesture sends sparks through my fur. "We should get this cleaned up."

I could devour her right here, bodies or no bodies. But she's right. The dead Grolgath will start decomposing soon, and the smell would ruin the romantic atmosphere I plan to create. Besides, proper disposal of enemy corpses is an essential skill to teach our future offspring.

"Fear not, my queen. These primitive devices will serve a higher purpose."

I pull my emergency toolkit from my utility belt and begin dismantling her kitchen equipment. The toaster's heating elements will make perfect focusing coils. The blender's motor contains enough rare earth magnets to power a small disintegration matrix.

"What are you doing to my appliances?" Mel's voice rises an octave.

"Creating beauty from chaos." My claws make short work of the coffee maker's circuitry. "Though your technology is primitive, its components are serviceable."

"That's my waffle maker!"

"It was," I say as I connect the final power coupling. The makeshift disintegrator hums to life, its cobbled-together casing glowing with otherworldly energy. "Now they are an instrument of destruction."

With a satisfied growl, I aim the device at the first Grolgath corpse. A beam of pure entropy reduces it to its component atoms. The second body follows, leaving only clean tile where purple blood once stained.

I turn to Mel, chest puffed with pride at my ingenuity. Surely now she'll recognize my superior technological prowess.

Her eye twitches. Not the reaction I expected.

"You destroyed my toaster." She says.

"I transformed it," I say. "into something greater."

"And my blender!"

"A worthy sacrifice."

"How am I supposed to make smoothies now?" Her hands plant on her hips. "Or toast? Or coffee?"

Such passion over simple food preparation devices. Though I suppose that's to be expected from a primitive culture. Still, her fire inflames my desire. Even her anger is magnificent.

"I will acquire you superior replacements. Perhaps a matter replicator? Much more efficient than these crude devices."

"I don't want a matter replicator. I want my kitchen back!"

Her outrage is adorable. I must remember to destroy more of her possessions if it produces such delightful reactions.

The youngling materializes beside us like a stealth operative. Impressive. Perhaps she doesn't need as much training as I thought.

"Hey, Krampus," Sam's voice pipes up. "Do you know the Cat in the Hat? Because the Cat in the Hat has this special machine that can clean up big messes like this."

A warrior who knows of superior cleaning technology? This Cat must be formidable indeed.

"Sam! You're supposed to be in bed." Mel's voice carries the authority of a fleet commander.

"But Mom-"

"No buts. March."

My mate shepherds our future warrior-child toward the stairs, but not before shooting me a look that would melt durasteel. "Fix this. All of it. Before I get back."

The kitchen stands as testament to my technological genius - and complete lack of forethought. Dismantled appliances litter every surface. The disintegrator, my crowning achievement, mocks me from its perch atop the counter. What was meant to impress my mate has only driven her further away.

"I have much work to do, it seems." The sigh escapes before I can contain it. A warrior does not show weakness. "Perhaps I should find this Cat in the Hat and destroy him that I may claim his power."