Page 20 of I Saw Krampus Kissing Ms Claus

“Let me show you something a little less depressing.” He says. His hand slips down until his fingers intertwine with mine. When I don’t pull away, he tugs me from the workshop, down a corridor, and into a room that is completely different from what I expected to see. “This is where I live. It is not some fuck boy cabin.”

I snicker at that. He’s right. This part of the cave is set up like a cozy home. A fireplace carved into the stone wall with garlands hanging from it. There’s a plush leather couch with dark pillows and blankets draped across it. In one corner is a dark pine tree glittering with silver and gold ornaments. Beside it a table large enough for several people to sit around. This place is set up for people to live in, for comfort and company.

“Is this where you play cards with Santa?” I rap my knuckles across his table.

“Amongst others.” He says and gestures to a cart full of bottles. “Drink?”

I shake my head no.

“I know you used to love bourbon in your eggnog.”

I laugh as I circle his room to examine his shelves full of books and trinkets. “I really did.”

“Not anymore?” He asks, holding up a bottle of bourbon.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt?” I feign reluctance as I pace the cave. The area isn’t small, but it feels both intimate and welcoming. Still, there’s space for someone else here, room to grow.

“Saint Nik.” The handle of a perfectly chilled mug is pressed into my fingers.

I take a sip and it’s divine. Cool and perfectly balanced, with bourbon, cream, and a hint of nutmeg. It’s just the right amount of sweet with the delicious burn at the back of my throat. I cough, suddenly remembering the last time I put something creamy into the back of my throat.

Krampus smirks, and I know he’s thinking about the same thing.

I roll my eyes and then catch his gaze. I raise the glass to my lips and swallow the entire drink in two long gulps.

Krampus’s tongue darts out and across his lips.

I feel a blush creeping to my cheeks, so I turn back to the room, pausing when I see a familiar scrap of fabric hanging over the fireplace.

“Excuse me? Did you keep this?” I laugh.

I turn around quickly enough to see Krampus wince. “Of course I did.”

It’s a black stocking, with a large, red letter K sewn into the middle. The stitching is uneven, like a little girl sewed it for her brother’s best friend.

It’s the same stocking that I gave him for Christmas when we were just little kids.

“You really were smitten with me.” I say softly.

“Still am,” Krampus says, stepping beside me to admire my handiwork.

I chew on the inside of my lip, and when his eyes catch mine again, sparkles dancing in his golden eyes. The warmth that collects in my belly is an uncomfortable churning now. The eggnog swirling like mad. I drag my eyes away from Krampus, desperate for any kind of distraction.

“What else is there to show me?” I step past him, throwing open a pair of doors.

“Nikki, don’t.” He mutters behind me, but it’s too late.

The room beyond the doors shouldn’t be a surprise. But it stops me in my tracks.

There’s a large four-poster bed in the center of the room, with red sheets and piles of pillows and plush blankets. At the foot of the bed is a red leather bench with straps. Around the perimeter of the room, he’s displayed a collection of toys. Whips, chains, floggers, several items I do not recognize.

“I wasn’t planning on showing you this room today.” Krampus’s dark voice appears at my shoulder.

“You sleep in here?” I ask.

“No, Nikki, this is my playroom.”

Of course, I suspected his preferences would sway in this direction, but seeing it in my face is a different story.

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