27. Clara
Chapter twenty-seven
Clara
K rampus guides me through what feels like a curtain of shadows. When my vision clears, before us stands a palace carved from ice and shadow. Towers stretch toward the starry sky, their spires sharp as icicles. Windows glow with a soft, inviting light, offering a glimpse of the warmth within.
“This is...” Words fail me as I take in the breathtaking vista. It’s like something from a fairy tale—a castle plucked from the depths of winter itself.
“Home, little mate,” Krampus says softly, his eyes fixed on my reaction.
We step into a courtyard where statues of winter spirits stand guard, their faces a mixture of beauty and terror. As we approach the grand entrance, the doors swing open as if by magic—or perhaps they are.
He leads me through a grand foyer where a suit of ancient armor stands sentinel. Then down a corridor where paintings of winter scenes adorn the walls, each capturing the unique beauty of the season. My breath hitches as I spot one that looks like the illustration from my discarded manuscript—a dark, romantic deity standing before a snow-laden tree.
“That one.” Krampus follows my gaze. “It’s one of my favorites.”
He pauses at a set of double doors, his hand lingering on the intricate carvings. “This is the heart of my home. A place where I can be truly myself.”
I turn slowly, taking in the perfect balance of light and shadow. Dark wood paneling gleams alongside crystalline fixtures that catch and scatter light. “This is... incredible.”
“There’s more.” His eyes sparkle with anticipation as he leads me up a sweeping staircase.
The familiar creak of floorboards makes me pause. “Magnus?” I guess, recognizing the playful touch of the cabin I’ve grown to love.
A warm pulse of recognition ripples through the air around us. The walls seem to breathe with life.
“Indeed.” Krampus’s lips quirk. “Magnus is far more than a cabin. He’s everywhere here. This is his true form—my palace itself.” Krampus guides me down a corridor. “But there’s something specific I want you to see.”
He opens an ornate door, and I gasp. It’s the cabin’s living room, exactly as it was the night we met. The same worn leather armchair where I curled up to write. The fireplace where I burned my manuscript. Even the ink stains on the corner table.
“You recreated it?” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
“I preserved it. This room has always been here, just... accessible in different ways.” His fingers brush my shoulder. “I wanted you to have a piece of where we began.”
I trail my fingers along the familiar bookshelf, feeling Magnus’s pleased hum through the wood. “So, when I was in the cabin...”
“You were here all along. In my home. In the heart of my domain.” Krampus moves closer, his presence warm behind me. “Where you’ve always belonged.”
My fingers trail over the back of the armchair, remembering how I’d curl up here late at night, writing my secret manuscript. How I’d let my imagination run wild, creating steamy scenes that made my cheeks flush. I turn to face him, my heart in my eyes.
“Show me,” I whisper, knowing he needs no further explanation.
A slow smile spreads across his face, and his eyes glint with promise. “As you wish, my dear Clara.”
Is he really going to... My heart pounds as his eyes meet mine, blazing with dark promise.
Shadows ripple across the room, and the familiar cabin walls dissolve into an ancient stone chamber. Cool air kisses my skin as my cozy sweater and jeans transform into a sheer black gown that barely conceals anything.
This is exactly how I wrote it. Heat floods my core as Krampus stalks toward me, his massive form seeming to fill the space. My back hits rough stone, but I can’t look away from his burning gaze.
“Your words called to me, little mate.” His voice rumbles through my chest. “Such deliciously wicked fantasies you penned.”
His growl vibrates through me as he pins me against the stone. “I’m going to make every dark fantasy come true.”
My breath catches as shadows coil around my wrists, binding them above my head. The silky darkness slides against my skin, both restraining and teasing.
This is exactly like I wrote in my manuscript...but so much more intense.
“Run,” he whispers against my ear, his sharp teeth grazing my neck. “I do so enjoy the chase.”
The shadows release me, and I bolt, heart pounding. The stone chamber seems endless, lit by flickering torches that cast dancing shadows. My bare feet slap against the cold floor as I dart down a corridor.
His dark laughter echoes behind me. “You can try to hide, little mate, but you’re only making this more fun for me.”
I dart faster, but a shadow whips around my ankles, causing me to stumble. I catch myself against the wall, my palms scraping the rough stone. The flimsy gown does nothing to protect me, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. My heart pounds, and a strange excitement bubbles inside me. Why is this thrilling?
I peek back, catching a glimpse of him. His eyes burn with a fierce hunger, and a smirk plays on his lips. He’s toying with me, enjoying the chase. I swallow hard, torn between fear and a strange, growing desire.
“Keep running, beautiful,” he calls out, his voice deep. “I’ll enjoy every moment of the hunt.”
The stone walls close in around me, and I realize with a jolt of adrenaline that I’ve run into a dead end. There’s no way out except the way I came. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps, and my heart feels like it’s going to burst right out of my chest. I can hear his heavy footsteps drawing nearer, a relentless pursuit.
I back away from the entrance, my eyes darting around the room for an escape route—anything to avoid the inevitable. But there’s nothing. Just a single metal table in the center of the room, its surface gleaming ominously in the torchlight, and a small cabinet off to the side. Chains dangle ominously from its sides, and my mind races with what he might do with them.
The air shifts behind me, and I whirl around to find Krampus leaning casually against the doorframe, his massive form blocking the only exit. His eyes rake over me, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he takes in my fear and arousal.
“Nowhere left to run, little mate,” he growls.
“That’s not playing fair,” I protest, but my body betrays me, reacting to the dark promise in his voice with a flood of heat that pools between my thighs. I’m trapped, and there’s a part of me that’s thrilled by the danger, by the way he looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. But I’m not sure what I’m begging for—mercy or the sweet oblivion of his touch.
He steps into the room, his movements slow and deliberate. “Please what, little mate? Do you want me to stop, or do you want me to show you how good it can be when you surrender to the darkness?”
I can’t find the words to answer him, so I just stand there, trembling as he advances on me. His hand reaches out, and I flinch instinctively, but all he does is brush a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle despite the fierce hunger in his eyes.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, his praise sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “So brave, even when you’re frightened. You have no idea how much that turns me on.”
I’m panting now, my body aching for something—anything—to fill the empty, throbbing need that’s building inside me. He can see it, too; the way his gaze lingers on the thin fabric clinging to my breasts, my hard nipples clearly visible through the sheer material.
“Do you trust me, Clara?” he asks, his tone soft but commanding.
I hesitate for a moment before nodding, my eyes locked on his.
His grin widens, and he reaches for one of the chains, giving it a testing tug. “Lean across the table,” he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.
My heart hammers against my ribcage as I lean across the table, the cold metal pressing against my breasts. Krampus’s shadow falls over me, his presence both terrifying and thrilling. I can feel the heat of his body behind me, a contrast to the chill seeping through my gown.
“Good girl,” he purrs, and I arch into his praise, my skin prickling with goosebumps.
His hands are firm but gentle as he spreads my legs, securing them with the chains. There’s a metallic rattle as he fastens each one, the sound echoing in the stone chamber. My breath hitches as he moves to my arms, pulling them up in front of me and binding them to the table. I test the chains, feeling the cool, unyielding weight of them against my wrists.
I’m completely at his mercy now, helpless to do anything but surrender to his dark desires. And despite the fear that gnaws at the edges of my mind, there’s a part of me that revels in this loss of control.
Krampus trails a finger down my spine, and I shiver at his touch. “You’re mine now, little mate,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “And I’m going to take such good care of you.”
I gasp as his hand slips under my gown, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. He’s in no rush, drawing out the anticipation until I’m practically panting with need. I can feel the dampness between my legs, proof of exactly how much my body craves his touch.
“Please,” I whimper. Do I want more teasing, or the sweet relief of his hand between my thighs? I don’t know anymore.
He chuckles, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through my veins. “Patience, my dear Clara.”
His fingers trace maddening patterns on my skin, inching closer to my core but never quite touching where I need him most. I squirm against the table, the chains clinking softly with my movements. It’s a delicious kind of torture, this game we’re playing.
Finally, his hand moves between my legs, cupping me possessively. “So wet for me,” he growls, his voice thick with approval. “Such a good girl, getting all slick and ready for my cock.”
I moan as he strokes me through the thin fabric of my underwear, the pleasure almost too much to bear. My hips buck, seeking more of his exquisite touch.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his other hand gripping my hip to hold me in place. “Let go, little mate. I’ve got you.”
And with that, he slips a finger beneath the fabric, sliding easily through my slick folds. I cry out, my body bowing off the table as he circles my clit with precise, maddening strokes.
“You like that, don’t you?” he croons, his voice a dark melody in my ears. “You like being spread open and at my mercy, completely under my control.”
I can only moan in response, my mind too fogged with pleasure to form words. He continues his relentless assault on my senses, his fingers working me into a frenzy until I’m teetering on the brink of release.
But just when I think I can’t take anymore, he pulls back, denying me the orgasm that’s just out of reach. I whimper in protest, my body shaking with the effort of holding back.
“Not yet,” he chides gently, his fingers retreating to tease the crease of my thigh. “I want you to feel just how good it can be when you surrender to me completely.”
I’m panting, my body strung tight as a bowstring, aching for release. He’s been teasing me for what feels like hours, his fingers dancing over my skin, bringing me to the edge of orgasm only to pull back at the last moment. It’s a delicious kind of torture, and I can’t decide if I want to beg him to stop or to never let this end.
His hand leaves my thigh, and I brace myself for the next wave of pleasure. But instead of his fingers, I feel something else—a shadowy tendril, cool and slick, probing at my rear entrance. I gasp, my eyes flying open as it slips inside me. I feel so full, like every part of me is alive and buzzing with feeling.
“Shh,” Krampus soothes, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Just feel, little mate. Let yourself go.”
The tendril moves inside me, sliding in and out with a steady rhythm that has me writhing against the table. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt—not exactly painful, but intense and overwhelming, pushing all my buttons at once.
And then, just when I think I can’t take any more, he brings his hand down on my ass with a sharp smack. I cry out, the sound echoing off the stone walls, as the tendril inside me pulses in response.
“That’s for running away from me and putting yourself in danger. You’ve been a bad girl. Twice.” He chuckles.
He spanks me again, the sting of each blow sending waves of heat radiating through my core. “And that’s for denying you knew me.”
The tendril inside me seems to feed off my reactions, growing thicker, stretching me in the most deliciously wicked way.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice filled with dark approval. “Let go for me, Clara. Show me how much your body craves this.”
I’m lost in a sea of sensation, every nerve in my body alight with pleasure and pain. My breath comes in short, ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a smack of his hand against my ass. And all the while, the tendril inside me is relentless, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
He’s edging me again, his hand abandoning my ass to tease my clit, his touch light and maddening. I can feel the orgasm building, a tide of pleasure rising within me, but every time I get close, he pulls back, leaving me gasping and desperate.
“Please,” I beg, not caring how needy I sound. “Please, I can’t take any more.”
But he’s merciless, his fingers circling my clit with infuriating precision. “You can,” he assures me, his voice a low growl that makes my whole body tremble with need. “And you will, for me.”
And then, finally, he gives me the command I’ve been longing to hear. “Come for me, Clara.”
His words are like a spark to tinder, igniting the fire that’s been building inside me. The orgasm rips through me, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I scream his name. The tendril inside me pulses in time with my contractions, drawing out my release until I’m limp and panting, my body slick with sweat.
Krampus withdraws the tendril, and I feel suddenly empty, a whimper escaping my lips as the aftershocks of my orgasm ripple through me. He releases my wrists and ankles from the chains, and I collapse against him, my body too weak to support itself.
He catches me effortlessly, his arms strong and comforting as he cradles me against his chest. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You did so well for me, Clara.”
My heart is still racing from the intensity of my release when Krampus pulls me into his arms. His voice rumbles against my cheek, a deep promise that makes my stomach flutter with anticipation. “We’re not done yet, little mate.”
The world around us shifts, the stone walls of the chamber melting away to reveal a grand stage. Spotlights blind me, and I cling to Krampus, my fingers curling into the thick fur of his cloak. An audience surrounds us, their presence a palpable hum in the air, but their faces remain hidden in the darkness beyond the lights.
I’m suddenly aware of my new attire—a corset cinching my waist but leaving my breasts free, heels that elevate me just enough to feel his dominance. I’m exposed and vulnerable, but the heat in Krampus’s gaze makes me feel like the most desirable creature in existence.
He guides me to a sturdy swing, its chains glinting in the harsh stage light. I sit, the cool leather against my bare skin a contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. He positions me so that I’m open to him, my legs dangling on either side of the swing.
His fingers trail along my inner thigh, and I suck in a breath as he attaches a clamp to my sensitive flesh. The pressure is intense, a mix of pain and pleasure that sends a jolt straight to my core. He attaches another to my nipple, and then another to the other one, each one increasing the exquisite ache between my legs.
The audience watches, their excitement a low murmur that fills the theater. Krampus stands before me, his eyes locked on mine as he begins to push the swing. The gentle motion causes the clamps to sway, the sensation making me whimper with need.
He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re doing so well, Clara,” he praises, his voice a seductive whisper that makes my body tremble with excitement. “Such a beautiful, brave girl.”
I can feel the pleasure building again, his words and the movements of the swing pushing me toward another orgasm. But he denies me release, his hand moving away just as I’m about to tip over the edge.
“Not yet,” he chides. “I want you to come for them, to show them how well you can take your pleasure.”
I’m panting now, my body aching for release. He plays me like a finely tuned instrument, and I can’t decide if his touch is a gift or a fucking nightmare. The audience’s anticipation hangs heavy in the air, their breaths and whispers merge into a single, throbbing pulse.
And then, with a flick of the side of his claw, he sends me over the edge. My orgasm crashes over me, waves of pleasure radiating from my core. I cry out, my voice echoing through the theater as the audience watches, their excitement mirroring my own.
The stage fades away, replaced by the softness of furs beneath my naked body. We’re in a tower now, the glass ceiling above us revealing a mesmerizing display of the aurora borealis. Krampus looms over me, his naked form shifting into something monstrous and beautiful. His cock is enormous and pre-cum glistens at the tip.
He bends down to kiss me fiercely. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes are blazing. “Now, Clara, it’s time for the final act.”
My heart pounds. “What do you mean?”
A wicked smile curves across his lips. “It’s time to finish what we started, little mate. To seal our bond.”
He positions himself between my legs, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. But I know there’s none—I feel only a fierce, burning need that matches what I see in his eyes.
“This will bind us for life,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence. “Are you ready, Clara?”
I nod, my heart pounding with the knowledge of what we’re about to do.
This is it—the moment I’ve both feared and longed for. The thought of being bound to him for eternity should terrify me, but all I feel is anticipation.
He positions his cock at my entrance, and starts to push in, his size stretching me in ways I never thought possible and I feel every ridge slide in. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that makes my toes curl. He enters me slowly, filling me completely, and I’ve never felt anything so incredible in my life. It’s as if we were always meant to be joined this way—two halves of a whole, finally complete.
As he thrusts into me again, ancient runes begin to etch themselves into our skin—his shadows dance around us, weaving themselves into the very fabric of my being and drawing a design on my hip, while my shimmering ink leaves its mark on his chest above his heart. The connection between us deepens with each movement, each gasp of air exchanged between us like a sacred vow.
Krampus picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent as we both edge closer to the precipice of ecstasy. After one final thrust, he grunts and his seed spills into me. It feels like pure magic coursing through my body—a potent elixir that heightens every sensation tenfold. My own orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, and the runes on our bodies pulse with brilliant light, their power flowing between us like electricity, joining our souls forever.
Nothing exists beyond this moment—not the tower walls, not the world below. The northern lights dance overhead in time with our release, the sky itself seeming to celebrate the raw power of our union.
I collapse against the furs beneath me, my heart still racing from our shared release. My mate’s arms wrap around me, pulling me close as we catch our breath. I rest my head on his chest as the northern lights continue their dance above us, casting ever-changing colors across our skin.
“I love you,” I whisper against his skin, the words falling from my lips before I can second-guess them.
He goes still beneath me, and for a moment I worry I’ve said too much. Maybe a Winter King doesn’t bother with those words. Then his chest rumbles with laughter, deep and warm.
“Here I thought I’d be the first to say it,” he says, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I’ve been holding those words back since you first set fire to your manuscript.”
I prop myself up on my elbows to look at him properly. “You fell in love with me when I was trying to destroy my work?”
“I fell in love with your fire,” he says, running a gentle claw along my cheek. “Your passion. Your refusal to be confined by others’ expectations. And yes, I love you, my little mate. More than all the winters that have come before.”
“We’re ridiculous,” I say, unable to hold back my own laugh. “We could have said this ages ago.”
“Would you have believed me then?” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Or would you have thought it was just another ploy from the fearsome dark deity?”
“Fair point.” I settle back against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Though I think Magnus knew before either of us.”
The tower stones rumble in agreement, and Krampus snorts. “That meddling pile of rubble never could mind its own business.”