Chapter 1

Chapter One

NICK

T here’s a big secret that’s been kept from the world regarding the North Pole. For due purpose, I assume. Not everyone is ready to hear that our realm is real, though it’s not the Christmas wonderland people read about in storybooks. I mean, sure, Christmas is a big deal here, the joy birthed from the celebration fuels the magic that keeps us alive, but life here is not all sugar cookies and candy canes. Our kingdom, if I'm being honest, is not unlike any other magical kingdom.

It is one ruled by tradition, politics, war, and the weight of the crown. My father, the legendary Santa Claus, isn’t just the jolly old soul the world imagines. He’s our king—a ruler tasked with balancing the magic of our realm, maintaining the shields that protect us from outside forces, and ensuring the steady flow of holiday cheer that powers our world.

And me? I’m Nicholas Claus Jr., his son and heir. But let’s be clear—my life isn’t filled with chestnuts roasting by an open fire—not always at least. My father has tried, though with not too much success, to flood my life with endless lessons on duty, battle strategies, centuries of family expectations, such as learning the art of toy-making and sleigh flight simulations, and last, but not least, the ever-growing pressure to become something I’m not sure I can ever be. The prince of Christmas. The next Santa. A role I never asked for, and one I’ve spent most of my life running from.

It's a title passed down to the first-born males of each generation, and as luck had it, this year marked my twenty-fifth birthday, the age when every new Santa begins his preparation to ascend the throne.

Except, I had zero desire to take over my father’s mantle. At least not any time soon.

Why would anyone want that kind of responsibility? Every new year begins with the countdown to Christmas, and I’d been a first-hand witness to what that level of stress can do to someone. Ensuring every man, woman, and child across the globe had a perfect Christmas had not only aged my father faster than any magical being should age, but it had hardened the softer sides of my mother—the parts of her I missed the most.

The poor woman never stopped working. I swore she was the mastermind behind the whole thing. But despite its downfalls, if there was something I knew for certain, it was that to be a successful Santa, you needed the perfect Mrs. Claus, and that was simply never going to happen for me.

My gifts were better suited elsewhere… For instance, on life’s other pleasures.

There’s nothing quite like the debauchery North Polers are capable of. Unlike the cute, little helpers people across the globe are taught to imagine when they think of Santa, our elf kind are normally sized people with lives outside of Santa’s workshop. They are the heart of our realm, though. Without them, there simply wouldn’t be a kingdom for the Clauses to rule.

Which was why, as their prince, I loved nothing more than to give them a reason to celebrate. The elves worked tirelessly year-round to ensure Christmas magic thrived, and they deserved to cut loose once in a while. Parties in the North Pole weren’t just festive—they were legendary. Snowball fights turned into all-night ragers, feasts overflowed with delicacies, and the enchanted ale flowed freely enough to warm even the frostiest hearts.

I’d made it my mission to ensure that for every gathering, I brought just the right amount of charm and mischief to keep the festivities alive. Some called it irresponsible, others said I was avoiding my royal duties, but to me, this was my duty. These people didn’t need a stiff, unapproachable figurehead. They needed someone who saw them, who celebrated them, and who reminded them that their hard work mattered.

Okay, maybe it was also a convenient distraction from the overbearing presence of my father’s demands, but still. It was where I felt most comfortable.

The morning after one such gathering, I was still in bed nursing a potent peppermint martini hangover, when the two female elves I’d taken back to my chamber the night before stirred beside me, one on each side. Their warm hands began roaming over my naked chest, and I immediately forgot about my headache. One began to trace kisses over my neck and jaw as her hand slid downward to grip my already hard cock. She moaned in my ear as she slid her hand up and down my length. “Do you want an encore of last night, princeling?”

I smiled, my eyes remaining closed as her companion began feathering her lips over my abdomen and down toward where her friend was ready to feed her my length. “Is that a serious question?”

A rumble sounded in my chest as the female licked the head of my dick, her tongue sliding over the slit while her companion stroked me. Shit. Why would anyone want to give this up? I opened my eyes and feasted on the two gorgeous females, their pointy years poking out from their long black hair. Both were still naked, and their ample, beautiful breasts reminded me of the endless night of fucking we’d had—and clearly, the endless fucking we were about to have this morning.

The one who had been kissing my jaw tried to kiss my lips, but I turned my face away—there were rules to be followed, and no kissing was one of them. With a deflated sigh, she slid down my body and joined her friend, her brief disappointment forgotten when she took turns sucking my cock. My entire body flared as I continued to watch the females slide their tongues over my shaft, saliva dripping from their rosy, plump lips.

Odin’s blood, the way they took turns feeding my cock to each other had me ready to glaze their faces. I threaded my fingers through their hair, one female in each hand, loving the way they worshipped me. “That’s it,” I said, my breath raw. “Suck it just like that…”

Both looked up at me, meeting my gaze as they licked up and down my shaft. Their gorgeous green eyes dared me to come, but if I came now, I’d not be living up to my reputation. I guided one of the females to straddle me with her back to me while her friend guided me into her pussy. Her companion began to use her tongue on her friend while I hammered into her, licking her clit while I fucked the one straddling me.

Every so often she’d pull me out, stick me in her wet, hot mouth, then she’d put me back inside her friend. The bright winter sun shone through my window, the light bouncing off the females in playful glimmers, making their skin look ethereal. Blissful snowdrifts, this was a perfect morning. My tempo intensified as I felt my orgasm build, but I wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

I flipped the one straddling me over so she was flat on the bed. I kneeled between her legs, and her friend lay beside her, head down. Outstanding. This had been my favorite part of the evening, and it seemed, theirs as well. I took turns fucking her mouth and fucking her friend’s pussy. After a few minutes, the one getting her mouth filled was done feeling left out, and she straddled her friend, giving me full access to her ass, and this time, I took turns fucking one in the ass and the other in her pussy.

The three of us were breathing heavy, the females moaning so loud, the entire North Pole could probably hear them. I was ready to come when suddenly, my chamber door blew open and my father barged in.

He didn’t knock—he never did. Santa Claus, the jolly old legend himself, had no respect for boundaries.

The females yelped in surprise, and I rushed to cover their naked bodies with the large, red bedspread, an angry groan tight in my throat.

“Leave us,” my father ordered in his not-so-jolly tone he used whenever I’d done something to completely piss him off. I apologized to the females as they scurried to grab their things, leaving with their heads lowered as they avoided meeting my father’s heated gaze.

“You’re wasting time, Nick,” he said, his booming voice making my head throb. “This debauchery needs to stop.”

I rolled off the bed and grabbed my trousers. “Good morning to you, too, Father. Can this lecture wait until I’ve had coffee?”

“No, it cannot,” he snapped. His boots thundered across the room as he approached closer. “You’re twenty-five years old. You’re the heir to the Claus legacy, and you’ve done nothing to prove you’re ready to take over.”

I smirked, tilting my head back to look at him. “I’ve been plenty busy. Ask around; I’m the most beloved prince the North Pole has ever had.”

“Beloved for all the wrong reasons,” he shot back. “The Claus name isn’t about parties and indulgence; it’s about responsibility and tradition. And it’s time you started acting like it.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, but I didn’t flinch. I’d heard this lecture a dozen times before. “What do you want from me?” I asked, feigning boredom. “More toy-making lessons?” I mocked. Hand-making toys had been the pride of every Santa until industry took over. Now, we manufactured everything. Being Santa was more symbolic than anything, requiring Old St. Nick to simply jump on a magical sleigh once a year and deliver gifts, with the assistance of modern technology. There wasn’t much else for me to learn.

“I’ve already memorized the logistics of sleigh routes; I’m more than ready.”

My father’s eyes narrowed. “I want you to find your Mrs. Claus.”

The blood in my veins iced. I slid on my shirt and plopped my ass on the red wingback chair near the window, rubbing the back of my neck. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

He didn’t. The twinkle in his eye, the one the world adored, was gone, replaced by the stern glare of a man who had run out of patience.

“You think a wife is going to change me?” I asked, incredulous. I reached for the decanter sitting on the breakfast table and poured myself a hearty glass of the spiced wine left over from the night before. Coffee wouldn’t even be strong enough for this conversation.

“A partner ,” my father went on. “Someone who will balance you out, someone who will support you and this legacy. And if you can’t take this seriously, then maybe you’re not fit to inherit the title at all.”

I’d grown up with the weight of the Claus name on my shoulders. I might have spent years ignoring it, but the thought of my little brother taking the reins instead of me hit me like a punch to the chin. It was a blow I hadn’t expected, but I took another sip of my wine, my eyes lazy, refusing to let my father see he’d chipped my pride .

“I’m serious, Nick,” he continued. “If you do not find a wife by Winter Solstice, you will not only lose your title, but you will be exiled from the kingdom.”

I shot to my feet, wine spilling over the lip of the glass. Now he was just mad. “You’re throwing me out of the North Pole if I don’t find a wife in two weeks?”

“Are you not the realm’s most eligible bachelor by your own admission? I’m sure you will have no trouble finding a bounty of suitresses.”

I ran a nervous hand through my hair. “This is absurd, Father.”

“I assure you it is not. In fact, I’ve already taken the liberty of making proper arrangements.” He combed a hand through his long, white beard, a common gesture when he was satisfied with himself.

My eyes widened. “What in blizzard-blasted Yggdrasil are you talking about?”

“The Crystal Snowball is set for tomorrow night. A little competition for your heart. I’ve had invitations sent to the noble houses, letting everyone know the Christmas Prince is in search of a wife. On the night of the ball, you will select five females. Then, you will take the time to court them, get to know them, and make a selection by Winter Solstice. On Christmas Eve, you will officially announce your bride-to-be.”

My heart thundered. The thought of finding a bride made my skin bristle. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Alva has taken charge over all the details of the celebration; you need only show up, looking gallant as ever. You can accomplish that, can’t you?”

Alva? The old man had truly lost his marbles. The female elf was a complete nightmare. She was the elf who ran my father’s operation and was known to be a ruthless harpy—not to mention, she hated my guts—for reasons I still didn’t quite understand, other than the fact she wasn’t a big fan of my parties.

Granted, I knew sometimes I went overboard with the festivities, which meant many of the elves who worked under her probably didn’t show up to work the following day due to hangovers, but still, it might do her well to show up to one of my celebrations occasionally—if only to get that stick out of her ass.

Putting her in charge of finding me a wife was the worst possible scenario I could imagine. “Father, she’s a tyrant. You can’t possibly expect me to?—”

“If by tyrant, you mean she’s the most competent elf in my realm, then yes. She’s run our operation for the last three years, and we’ve never run more smoothly and efficiently. She’s the perfect person to take over this task. Alva will ensure you don’t stray from the path, either. She’s been given strict instructions to make sure you will not waste any more of my time. You will find a wife, Nicholas. Have I made myself clear?”

I fell back in my chair as he stormed out. The man was relentless. But if he wanted me to find a wife, I’d give him what he asked for. On my terms. Especially when he was as delusional as to think I would let Alva run this show. What my father didn’t know—what no one seemed to understand—was that I didn’t need a Mrs. Claus. I needed freedom, fun, and, above all, no strings attached. A competition could let me indulge in all three at least for a couple of weeks.

If I was to lose my freedom by solstice, then I’d make an absolute spectacle of this game for my frozen heart.