1. I’d rather not test my immortality by getting torn apart by wolves

Chapter 1

I’d rather not test my immortality by getting torn apart by wolves

TWYLA

K rampus will need to make a whole new naughty list for me this time.

I shiver as I shuffle my snowshoes through the snow-laden wooded path. Under different circumstances, it would seem like a winter wonderland, ethereal and crystalline. My breath escapes into the night like a white gossamer ghost. Now and then, the moonlight splinters through the thick canopy of trees, turning the snow into silver glitter.

It would be beautiful…if I wasn’t so damn lost.

My arms scream from the walking poles, and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow. The wind howls through the trees, forming a symphony of creaking branches and the echoes of snow falling to the ground. Frost crystals bite my face since Jack Frost has apparently upgraded from nipping tonight.

Hmm…I probably shouldn’t insult Jack Frost. I wonder if Krampus knows him. There’s still so much I don’t know about my husband’s magical world.

My muscles protest as I struggle through the knee-high snow, digging my poles into the stuff I’m convinced should be called another four-letter word. Ice coats my curls, soaking them into cold, gnarled strands. Somehow, I keep going through the exhaustion, pressing on. But to where?

The squall of a snowstorm limits my vision, mottling the trees to ominous silhouettes with their claw-like branches. Everything else is sheer whiteout—what would normally be a dreamscape of white and gray. Now, it’s a nightmare of bitter cold gnawing my flesh through my thick, wintry layers like icy fingers. I’d rather have my husband tearing them off me with his teeth. Krampus would also turn my cheeks rosy for a whole other reason. Both kinds.

Go with your friends, Twyla. You’ll have more fun, Twyla. The Board of Directors meeting will be so boring, Twyla. Gigantic eye roll.

To think, I could be warm and cozy, wrapped in layers of his fur, falling asleep to the droning of those boring directors while dreaming of Krampus’s all-natural eggnog and getting tangled up in twinkle lights.

But I’m here in these god-forsaken woods that go on without end.

I guess that serves me right for splitting off from my group. And for following the little fawn. In my defense, I didn’t know he was running back to his doe mother. In my defense, my friends didn’t wait for me.

Not that I blame them.

After all, I married Krampus.

To them, he is just Mr. Krampus, CEO of Krampus and Christmas World. Well, former CEO since he gave that duty to Mephisto shortly before we married. Now, Krampus the Chairman of the Board. To all others, he wears a costume. Other than the creatures of his realm, I am the only one who knows that costume does not come with a zipper.

As far as my friends are concerned, I’ve spent the past year on an extended tour in Germany since the majority of people stereotype my husband as German when he’s the son of Hel, the Norse Goddess of the Underworld, and the grandson of Loki. Sure, Germany still made him famous.

But he spends all his time punishing me. Never naughty children. He leaves the fear of naughtiness to Santa Clause and coal vs. presents.

Krampus is my biggest Christmas present.

If my friends knew I’d spent the past year on an extended honeymoon at Krampus’s castle in the ‘Between’ as it’s called, they’d laugh and tell me I’d had too much eggnog.

Not enough today, I grumble to myself and trudge onward.

I swallow the lump in my throat, blaming my tears on the wind, but the truth is…I’m homesick. And not for here.

Krampus said I could stay at the castle, but I didn’t want to be separated from him the week before Christmas. And since Mephisto decided to fall in love with a demon, it was his turn for a honeymoon with his husband.

So, Krampus offered to take the latest meeting with the Board instead of his most trusted advisor.

Crossing my arms over my chest and huddling into my fur-lined coat, I protect my heart and consider how different things are now.

A year ago, I was just Twyla, an intern at Colton Industries—a relatively normal, red-blooded girl of twenty-six with a penchant for cosplay, sewing, a degree in investigative journalism, and a love of monster smut.

I smile, feeling a little glow inside my chest.

Now, I am the Queen of Yuletide, her Amorous Majesty, the Lady of the Winter Star, and Monstrous Mistress of the Solstice. Happy tears prick my eyes as I recite the title. I think of all the demons and monsters of the castle, of Krampus Haven, and my husband himself.

While I may be immortal, as Hel proclaimed, I am still human. Utterly and relatively, a red-blooded human. It was the stipulation of my choice. The first immortal human who could still get sick, bleed, and feel human emotion. The kind of emotion monsters love to feed upon—none more than my beloved Christmas monster.

I’ve loved exploring every part of Krampus’s magical realm despite how often his kind feed on me and leave me drained of energy nearly every day. Especially at Christmastime.

Our latest Krampusnacht was quite…interesting.

My cheeks turn redder than hot pudding at the thought of the mild exhibitionism—how I’d volunteered for the Krampus run. That evening was spent with me running through Krampus Haven in nothing but a sheer white negligee with my husband hunting me. Random demons would occasionally swat my bottom with a birch branch. Nothing too harsh or painful, thanks to Krampus’s magic. But enough to whet my appetite and get my juices nice and wet for my husband.

All bore witness to him bending me over his very statue in Krampus Haven Square until I kissed the stony hooves while he spanked me red and raw before fucking me right there. After, he took me back to our cabin, bathed me, and made me a feast while informing me how I gave them enough emotion to feed upon until Christmas.

They all bent the knee, singing my titles and praises while I stood there rosy-cheeked with tears of awe streaming down my face.

I’ve found how much I love giving as much as receiving.

And…I miss them.

Coming back, everything was different. My friends couldn’t see me as just Twyla anymore. My chest squeezes around an ache, knowing how I’m not part of their world anymore. And how easily they left me behind.

I ache more for home. Home in the Between. Home in Krampus’s Castle. Home with Krampus…in me preferably.

After pausing to tighten my scarf, I try to get my bearings, but it’s impossible to see anything. For all I know, I could be walking in circles.

A primal howl echoes in the distance. I freeze. All the hairs on my body prick to attention. My heartbeat thrashes in my ears, pounding from terror. Yes, Hel made me immortal, but that’s in the Between. Who knows how the magic works in the human world?

Besides, I’d rather not test my immortality by getting torn apart by wolves.

Breath cleaving and heaving, I rush through the snow as hard as possible. But I might as well be wading through quicksand. The wind swirls and flurries all around me, tearing my stocking cap from my head. I let it go.

Just keep moving, Twyla. Krampus will find you. Krampus will come.

Deja vu rears its ugly head as I remember the time I fell into an icy lake. One of multiple near-death experiences I’ve had since I met Krampus. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I could have traded it for anything. I chose him. I’ll always choose him.

Even when I’m lost in the middle of a raging blizzard with wolves howling closer and closer.

When something growls low behind me, I stop dead in my tracks, heart stuttering in my chest, pulse spinning out of control. Because that was not my husband’s growl.

“Get back!” I turn, shouting at the eyes gleaming in the thick snow and waving my pole.

Another growl on my other side. Snarls resound all around me. Another howl. Terror rips through me. Horror grips me, strangling all my nerve endings with dread.

More growls.

And then…

…a ROAR !

I fall. Drop from sheer relief as Krampus plunges into the clearing, rips into every attacking wolf, and sends the rest to scatter with their tails between their legs. At last, he turns to me. His great, monstrous shadow eclipses me. Three times my size in all his savage glory, Krampus flexes those massive, bulging muscles, primed for anything. Even the snow seems to fear him, blowing all around the demon guardian of the solstice but never seeming to settle on him.

“Min kj?re,” he says in his deep, silken voice that can liquefy all my internal organs. “What am I going to do with you?”

I open my mouth to say something. But instead? I pass out.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

While Kidnapped by the Krampus began on KU and became a #1 Amazon Bestseller, Snowed In With the Krampus began on Kindle Vella. I am what they call an “emerging author”. Most of my income has been on Kindle Vella. But I continue to gain more of a KU following, thanks to Krampus and Her Monstrous Boys. Special thanks to all those who have supported me for my KU side and my Kindle Vella.

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