Chapter 2

2

JOHNNY

All I Want For Christmas Is You - From Ashes To New

T he world is my stage, and tonight? Tonight, I’m Santa Claus. Oh, not the fat, jolly, ho-ho-ho one—no, no, no. My Santa’s a little... different. My Santa likes to watch. My Santa leaves gifts no one else would dare.

But most importantly, my Santa makes sure everyone gets exactly what they deserve.

“Killer clown, killer clown,

Stalking through the snow,

Ribbons tight, silent night,

Nowhere left to go.”

I hum a little Christmas tune under my breath, keeping my footfalls light as I walk through the snow. The fresh powder crunches under my boots, a sound that would seem so innocent—if only I were. But there’s nothing fucking innocent about me.

Not tonight. Not ever.

From the cover of the forest, I can see right into their precious little cabin. Warm light spills through the windows, throwing shadows across the snow like some kind of twisted holiday postcard. If anyone passed by, they’d think this was the perfect little Christmas getaway.

They wouldn’t have a clue that just beyond the tree line there’s a monster’s watching.

Finding a large pine, I tuck myself into the shadows outside the large window on the side of the cabin. There she is— Alaska . My beautiful little snowflake, fragile and unique, drifting in a storm she doesn’t even realize is swallowing her whole.

Fuck, I could watch her forever.

She moves across the room, slow and graceful like the goddess she is. She’s frustrated, I can tell. There’s a tension in the way she walks, the way her arms cross over her chest. She’s pacing, probably thinking about that pathetic boyfriend of hers. What was his name again? Mark? Yeah, that’s it. Mark. Useless little prick. He’s probably on his phone again, ignoring her while he scrolls through his pointless fucking life.

A life I can’t wait to end.

I chuckle softly. How does she not see it? How does she not see that she’s wasting her time with him? I’ve been watching long enough to know that Mark isn’t interested in Alaska, not the way I am. I can tell by the way he looks at her and dismisses her. To him, she’s just a warm body to get him through the night.

But I see more. I see her.

“Such a fucking fool,” I mutter to myself as I shake my head, my voice muffled by the Santa hood wrapped tightly around my head.

Beneath the hood, my clown mask rests against my chest, a reminder of who I am. Who I’ll be when it’s time to take her. But not yet. No, no. The mask is for later when I finally claim her.

For now, I just watch.

She’s by the window now, with her arms wrapped around herself, her breath fogging up the glass as she stares into the snowy night. I can’t help but smile. Does she feel me? Does she sense I’m right here, just outside, watching her every move?

A small part of me hopes she does.

It would make everything so much more... fun .

The firelight dances across her skin, highlighting the curve of her neck and the delicate line of her jaw. I can see the disappointment in her eyes, that subtle little pout she does when she’s annoyed. Fuck, it’s beautiful. She’s goddamn perfect, and she doesn’t even know it.

Mark doesn’t see it either. That piece of shit couldn’t see it if he wanted to. He’s too distracted, always glued to that damn phone of his. I’ve seen him with his nose buried in it, ignoring her while she tries to talk, to connect. Hell, I bet right now he’s probably texting some slut, making plans for when he gets back. He doesn’t deserve my little snowflake. He doesn’t appreciate her.

But I do.

I shift, adjusting my position to get a better look at her. She’s wearing this soft, fuzzy red sweater that clings to her just right. Her hands move to her chest, rubbing her arms like she’s cold, but I know it’s not the temperature getting to her. She’s lonely. She’s aching for attention, for someone to actually give a damn about her.

And that someone is me.

I can feel my pulse quickening, that familiar heat building in my chest. My cock twitches as I watch her. She’s standing so close to the window, just a few inches of glass separating us. If I wanted to, I could walk right up to the cabin, press my face against the glass, and she’d see me.

She’d know I’ve been watching her.

But that would spoil the fun I have planned.

No, no. The thrill is in the waiting, the anticipation, the knowledge that I’m always there, just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She’ll know soon enough. She will know who I am and how fucking good I can make her feel.

And when she does, she’ll want me.

My breathing quickens as she turns away from the window, heading toward the bathroom now. Oh, this is going to be perfect. I shift my position, moving silently through the snow, keeping my eyes locked on her through the window.

She’s going to undress.

A tremor of excitement pulses through me. I’ve followed her since this morning when I first spotted her at the skating rink in town. They were laughing, skating around like everything was fine, like he deserved her. But no. She was made to be mine. I’ve known it since I first laid eyes on her, and soon enough, she’ll know it, too.

I adjust myself, my breath fogging up in the cold air as I slide closer, crouching behind a snow-covered bush below the window. My hands tremble as I focus on her every movement. Shit, I’ve watched people before—but not like this. Never so... intimate. My gloved hand hovers near my hardening cock, the tension building with each second. I watch, fixated on her as she turns her back to the window, her thick little ass bouncing along as she makes her way to the large claw foot tub.

She’s running herself a bath. The steam is already rising, clouding the window, but not enough to hide her from me. I can still see the outline of her body, the way she moves deliberately, and each gesture is slow and careful. Like she’s putting on a private show just for me. My mouth dries at the thought of seeing my little snowflake bare and exposed for the first time.

I shift, my cock continuing to harden as I watch her, but I force myself to wait. Not yet. I take a deep breath, steadying myself, savoring the moment as she peels off her sweater. The soft curve of her shoulders comes into view first, skin smooth and pale against the dim light.

Fuck. This is even better than I imagined.

The sight of her is enough to make my heart pound, my vision narrow like I’m staring down a fucking tunnel. My mind races, filling with thoughts of her body under mine, of how good it will feel to claim her, how I’ll make her mine in every way possible.

And then she steps out of her leggings, and my breath catches in my throat. Her thick thighs, strong and full, make my pulse hammer, the way they curve into her hips, soft and inviting.

Christ, her body is fucking perfect. I lick my lips, my hand twitching at my side; the urge to reach out and touch her is so goddamn overwhelming. Those hips, those thighs—they were fucking made for me. Every part of her screams to be taken, to be owned by a real man, one who likes a little meat on his bones.

Not the piece of shit she’s been giving herself to.

She’s not some dainty little thing, no. She’s got substance, something to hold on to, to devour. Her belly, round and soft, is exposed now, a temptation I can hardly resist. I want to bury my fucking face there and feel her warmth.

Fuck , she’s perfect. Better than I ever dreamed.

I’m rock hard now, throbbing at the sight of her stripping down, piece by piece like she’s doing it just for me. My hands shake as she reaches up, unclasping her bra. It falls to the floor, discarded like trash the same way Mark should be. Her breasts spill free, full and heavy, with skin so soft I can almost feel it under my hands. My tongue darts out across my lips, wishing it could swirl itself around her peaked nipple.

“Christ, fucking kill me.” I swallow hard, a growl low in my throat as I watch her move. She steps out of her underwear next, and it’s almost too much. Her body is thick, and every inch of it calls to me. The way her hips flare, the curve of her ass—it’s all fucking mine.

She has no idea, none, how badly I want her. How watching her undress like this is driving me to the edge of fucking sanity. Every part of her, every curve, every goddamn dip of her skin, makes me want to tear through that door and take her right now while Mark is forced to watch like the bitch he is.

But I won’t. Not fucking yet.

Sliding my hand down, I undo my jeans, and grip myself firmly. The cold bites at my skin, making my cock throb even harder, every stroke sending sharp waves of pleasure through me. I suck in a breath, steadying myself, refusing to rush it.

She’s right there, inches away, her skin flushed from the bath, glowing in the low light. When she steps into the water, her full hips swaying, my heart slams in my chest. Fuck, this is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. She’s perfect—more than I ever imagined.

I tighten my grip, my strokes slow, deliberate, as I watch her settle into the bath, the water rippling around her. Her breasts float just above the surface, her nipples hardening from the heat. My vision narrows, locking on every curve of her body. I can’t look away. I don’t want to. Her hands glide over her skin, washing herself, her movements lazy, sensual, like she’s savoring every second.

I pick up the pace, my hand moving faster, the friction building. The sight of her, unaware and so fucking vulnerable, drives me wild. I bite my lip harder this time, tasting the metallic tang of blood mixing with the cold air. My breath fogs up in front of me, but all I can focus on is her—the way her body glistens, the steam rising around her like she’s some kind of goddess, untouched and perfect.

Just as I’m teetering on the edge, a gust of wind blows through the trees, shaking the branches. One of them scrapes against the window with a low hiss. Her head snaps up, her gaze locking onto the glass—right at me.

For a split second, time freezes. She’s looking straight at me through the fogged window. She can’t see me, not really, but her eyes... they’re on me. My heart slams in my chest, and my strokes become frantic and out of control. The intensity of it—the idea that she’s looking right at me without even knowing it—pushes me over the edge.

I come with a guttural groan, barely stifling the sound as I spill into the snow, my body shuddering with the release. My vision blurs, and for a moment, all I can see is her eyes, wide and searching, like she knows I’m out here.

She blinks, shakes her head, and turns away, dismissing the noise as nothing. But my heart is still racing, the adrenaline rush leaving me trembling. I wipe my hands on the snow, trying to calm my breathing, but the thrill lingers. The fact that we were so close—closer than she’ll ever realize—it’s intoxicating.

She has no idea. But soon, she will.

I step back, retreating into the forest’s shadows, but my eyes never leave the cabin. Alaska’s silhouette remains visible through the fogged-up glass, her body languid in the tub, lost in her own world. She’s perfect.

And she has no idea what’s coming for her.

I back away further, my heart pounding in my chest, my blood buzzing with anticipation. I can’t help but wonder if this is how Lux felt that night he found Indie. When my friend, who’d never bothered or shown interest in any of the bitches who tried before her, was suddenly drowning in a fixation he couldn’t escape.

I never understood it, not really. But now. Now I get it.

I fade into the trees, the night swallowing me whole, but my mind is already racing ahead to what’s next. Soon, I’ll have her. I’ll melt her down and rebuild her to be everything she was meant to be.

She’ll know her worth. She’ll know stupid Mark never deserved her.

No, soon, my little snowflake... soon you’ll be mine.