8. Krampus

CHAPTER 8

KRAMPUS

T he sweet scent of cocoa tickles my nose. Strange drink. Not bad though. Better than the slop they served in the prison camps.

"So you won't leave Earth?" I ask.

"No. This is our home." Mel cradles her mug, the steam rising between us. "Sam has school, friends. I have a job."

"A job with aliens," I say. "who want to kill you."

"Point taken.," she says "But running away isn't the answer."

The soft glow from the lamp catches the gold in her hair. Such a delicate creature, yet she faced down a seven-foot monster with nothing but a baseball bat. Impressive.

"Tell me about these Grolgath." Her brows climb high on her face. "And why they had you on ice."

"The Grolgath are... complicated." I take another sip. "In my time, they're our allies against the Trident Alliance. But that's centuries from now."

"Then why were you their prisoner?"

"Because I wouldn't play by their rules." The mug creaks in my grip. I set it down before I break it. "The alliance between Odex and Grolgath? Built on lies and corruption. The elite get richer while common folk starve. I started targeting the ones responsible."

"You were like a vigilante?"

"More like a terrorist, according to them. Couldn't execute me."

"Why not?" she asks.

"Because on my homeworld, I am a hero. The Odex would have left the Coalition." I shrug. "So they stuck me in cryo, sent me back in time where I couldn't cause trouble."

"But now you're free." Her eyes narrow. "Thanks to me."

"Yes. And I owe you a debt." I lean forward. "Let me protect you. Both of you."

"Without leaving Earth?" She asks.

"Without leaving Earth. For now."

The question burns in my mind. A female this strong should have a mate to watch her back.

"Where's Sam's father?"

Mel's shoulders tense. Her fingers clench around the mug until her knuckles turn white.

"You don't need to answer if you do not wish," I say.

"No, it's fine." She sets the mug down with a sharp click. "Tom was... dedicated. To his work. To his hobbies. To his secretary."

My claws dig into my palms.

"He betrayed you?"

"With a girl barely out of high school." A bitter laugh escapes her lips. "Guess I wasn't young enough anymore."

The rage builds in my chest. On my world, such betrayal means death.

"He left you for another female?"

"Left us both." Her voice cracks on the words. "Sam was only six months old."

The mug in my hand shatters. Hot cocoa drips between my fingers but I barely notice.

"Impossible."

"What's impossible?"

"That any male would be unfaithful to you." The words rumble from deep in my chest. "You're the most magnificent female I've encountered in three centuries."

Her eyes go wide. A blush creeps across her cheeks.

"If a male has the best in the galaxy, why would he look elsewhere?" I lean forward, letting her see the truth in my eyes. "This Tom was clearly defective in the brain."

Mel ducks her head, staring into the depths of her cocoa. The flush on her cheeks deepens to a captivating shade of pink. My enhanced senses pick up her quickened heartbeat, the slight catch in her breath.

"You keep saying these sweet things," she whispers, not meeting my eyes. "But Tom said a lot of sweet things, too. In the beginning."

My chest tightens at the pain in her voice. This Tom has wounded her deeply. The urge to hunt him down and show him the error of his ways burns hot in my blood.

"Mel, look at me. Please."

When she raises her eyes to mine, the vulnerability there steals my breath. I cup her face in my hands, mindful of my claws against her delicate skin. Her warmth seeps into my palms.

"I may not be skilled at Earthly courtship," I say, letting her see the truth in my eyes. "But one thing I would never do is lie to you, or betray you."

She gasps softly. The Christmas lights strung around the window cast a gentle glow across her features, making her eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

"That's two things," she murmurs.

"I never was good at math."

I lean in and press my lips to hers.

Her lips are soft against mine, sweeter than the cocoa we shared. My heart pounds harder than it did in any battle. Three centuries of emptiness melt away at her touch.

Mel's fingers tangle in my fur, pulling me closer. A growl of pleasure rumbles through my chest. The scent of her – vanilla and spice and something uniquely her – fills my senses.

"Is this okay?" Her breath whispers against my mouth.

My answer is to kiss her again, deeper this time. She responds with equal passion, pressing herself against me. The feel of her curves against my chest sets my blood on fire.

I trail kisses down her neck, careful not to nick her delicate skin with my fangs. She gasps, her pulse racing beneath my lips. The sound drives me wild.

"Krampus..." Her voice is breathless.

I capture her mouth again, drinking in her sighs like the finest wine. My claws ghost down her back, making her shiver. Every response, every tiny sound she makes, feeds the burning need in my core.

Never in three centuries has anyone made me feel this way. Not in battle, not in victory, not even in my greatest triumphs. This small human female has awakened something in me I thought long dead.

She pulls back slightly, her lips swollen from our kisses, her cheeks flushed pink. The sight of her like this – disheveled and beautiful because of me – makes my chest swell with pride.

"You're purring," she says with a smile.

"Impossible. I do not purr."

But the rumbling in my chest says otherwise. Her fingers scratch gently behind my ears and the sound grows louder.

"You were saying?" Her eyes sparkle with mischief.

I silence her teasing with another kiss. She melts against me, soft and warm and perfect.

I pull back, my breath ragged. Mel's eyes are glazed, her lips swollen from our kisses. I want to devour her, claim her, make her mine. But I want to savor this, savor her.

"Too many clothes," I growl.

She blinks, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Is that your way of asking me to undress?"

"No," I say, my voice a low rumble. "It's my way of telling you I'm going to undress you."

Her eyes widen, but she doesn't protest. I take her silence as consent and slip my claws under the hem of her shirt. The fabric is soft, but not as soft as her skin. I drag it up, revealing inch after inch of creamy flesh. She raises her arms, allowing me to pull the shirt off completely.

I toss it aside, my gaze locked onto her. She's wearing a simple black bra, her breasts heaving with each breath. I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck, can hear her heart pounding. I want to taste her there, feel her pulse beneath my tongue.

But first, I want to unwrap the rest of her.

I hook my claws into the waistband of her jeans, careful not to nick her skin. She sucks in a breath, her stomach quivering. I pop the button, drag down the zipper. The sound is loud in the quiet room, filled only with our ragged breaths.

She lifts her hips, allowing me to tug the jeans down her thighs, her calves, her ankles. I throw them aside, leaving her in nothing but her bra and a scrap of black lace that does nothing to hide her scent.

I can smell her arousal, sweet and musky. It drives me wild. I want to bury my face between her thighs, want to lap up her juices until she's screaming my name.

But I want to tease her first, want to make her beg for it.

I trace a claw along the edge of her panties, watching as goosebumps rise on her flesh. She squirms, her breath hitching. I do it again, this time on the other side. Her hips jerk, seeking more contact.

"Krampus," she whispers, a plea and a demand all at once.

I grin, knowing I've got her right where I want her. I hook my claws into her panties and tug. The fabric rips easily, baring her to me. She gasps, her eyes flying open. But she doesn't tell me to stop. She doesn't want me to stop.

I lower my head, inhaling deeply. Her scent is intoxicating. I can't wait any longer. I have to taste her.

I part her folds with my tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up her center. She moans, her hips bucking. I do it again, and again, each lick drawing out more of her sweet nectar.

She's writhing beneath me, her breath coming in short gasps. I can feel her tension building, can feel her getting closer to the edge. I want to push her over, want to feel her come apart on my tongue.

I focus on her clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue. Her moans grow louder, her hips bucking wildly. I slip a finger inside her, crooking it to hit that spot that makes her scream.

"Krampus!" she cries out, her body convulsing. I don't stop, don't let up. I keep licking, keep stroking, drawing out her orgasm until she's a shaking, sweaty mess.

Only then do I pull back, a satisfied grin on my face. She looks up at me, her eyes glazed, her cheeks flushed.

"I adore you, Melanie."

The look on her face is so perfect, I never want to forget it.

Not ever.