Chapter 10
Iwoke flushed and aching. I couldn’t quite remember my dreams but I was positive they had involved the tall horned male currently moving around my living room, chains jingling softly. A fragment of dream surfaced—those chains wrapped around my wrists while he ran his hands down my naked body.
Oh. My. God. What is wrong with me?
I ducked into the bathroom, carefully avoiding looking in Bastian’s direction.
I splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth, and attempted to wrangle my hair into something resembling order.
The girl staring back at me from the mirror had pink cheeks and bright eyes and looked far too pleased with herself for someone whose life was still falling apart.
Get it together, Noelle.
I returned to find a cup of coffee waiting for me and Bastian frowning at my bookshelves.
“You have an extensive collection of romance novels,” he observed.
Novels that had undoubtedly contributed to the half-remembered but decidedly erotic dreams I’d had the previous night. My cheeks heated. “I like happy endings.”
“These books depict—” He pulled one out, reading the cover. “—a woman falling in love with an orc baker.”
“It’s very sweet.”
“It’s absurd.”
“It’s fiction.”
“It’s—” He stopped, looking at another title. “Why are all the male protagonists supernatural beings?”
“Because they’re interesting.”
“They are fantasy.”
“So are you.”
His eyes met mine over the book, and something flickered in their depths. “I am very real, Noelle.”
The way he said my name made my stomach flip.
“I’m aware,” I said. “Believe me, I’m very aware.”
Our gazes remained locked for a long moment, and the butterflies in my stomach threatened to take flight.
Jingle Bells chose that moment to emerge from the bedroom, took one look at Bastian, and launched himself directly at his head with a yowl that could wake the dead.
“Jingle, no!”
But my cat had other ideas. He landed on Bastian’s shoulder, claws out, fur puffed to three times his normal size. For a creature who’d previously fled in terror, he’d certainly found his courage. Or lost his mind.
Bastian stood perfectly still, staring at the white ball of fluff currently attempting to intimidate him.
“Don’t hurt him,” I begged.
“He attacked me.”
“He’s protecting his territory.” I moved closer, hands outstretched. “Jingle, come here. Leave the nice Krampus alone.”
“I am not nice.”
“Well, leave the mean Krampus alone then.”
I reached for Jingle, but my cat had wrapped himself around Bastian’s neck like a furious scarf. His little face peeked out from beneath one of Bastian’s horns, and he hissed directly into the Krampus’s ear.
“Your creature is demented,” he said.
“He’s spirited.”
“He is a menace.”
“He’s sweet!”
As if to prove me wrong, Jingle bit Bastian’s ear. Not hard—he didn’t actually draw blood—but enough to make his point. I gasped, and Bastian’s eyes flared red, just for a moment.
Then, to my absolute shock, he carefully reached up and plucked Jingle from his shoulders. The cat dangled in his massive, clawed hands, still puffed up and hissing.
“You,” he said to my cat, “are very fortunate that I have patience for foolish creatures.”
Jingle responded by batting at his nose.
I covered my laugh with a cough. “I’m so sorry. He’s usually much better behaved.”
“I doubt that.”
He wasn’t wrong. Jingle was a chaos agent on the best of days. I was actually surprised he hadn’t done something equally foolish sooner. Bastian held the cat at arm’s length, studying him with those intense amber eyes. Jingle, apparently deciding he’d made his point, went limp and began to purr.
“Traitor,” I muttered.
“He has accepted my dominance,” Bastian said calmly.
“He’s manipulating you for treats.”
As if on cue, Jingle mewed pitifully.
“He does not appear injured or distressed.”
“That’s his ‘feed me’ sound.”
“It sounds identical to his ‘attack’ sound.”
“Welcome to cat ownership.”
He looked at me, then at the purring fluffball in his hands, then back at me. “I will not be caring for this creature.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Good.” But he didn’t put Jingle down. Instead, he held the cat against his chest, one large hand supporting his back end. Jingle immediately curled into the warmth of his fur, purring loud enough to be heard across the room.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. The sight of this massive, terrifying Krampus cradling my tiny white cat was possibly the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.
“Don’t get attached,” I warned. “He’s very high maintenance.”
“I do not get attached.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I am merely preventing further attacks on my person.”
“Of course.”
“I am not—” He stopped, seeming to realize I was humoring him. His eyes narrowed. “You are amused.”
“I’m delighted.”
“I am a fearsome entity of punishment and judgment.”
“You’re a cat perch.”
His jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far. Then, so quietly I almost missed it, he said, “Your creature has no sense of self-preservation.”
“He’s got plenty. He just knows you won’t hurt him.”
“How could he possibly know that?”
“Because you’re not actually the monster you claim to be.”
The words hung between us, fragile as the glass ornaments downstairs. He stared at me, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched on, broken only by Jingle’s absurdly loud purring.
“You know nothing of what I am,” he said finally.
“Maybe not. But I know what I see.”
“Then your sight is flawed.”
“Or yours is.”
His chains clinked softly as he shifted, and I realized I’d somehow moved closer to him during our conversation. Close enough to see the faint scars hidden in his dark fur. Close enough to notice the way his gaze dropped, just for a second, to my lips.
The air between us felt charged, like the moment before a storm breaks.
Then Jingle squirmed, breaking the spell, and Bastian thrust the cat towards me.
“Take your creature.”
I gathered Jingle into my arms, my fingers accidentally brushing against Bastian’s hand. His skin no longer felt cold. Instead, it radiated a heat that urged me to move closer. I pulled back quickly, cradling my cat like a shield.
“I need to get ready for work,” I said, hating how breathless I sounded. “Mrs. Carmichael is coming by to pick up her custom order, and then I have inventory to organize, and the holiday market committee meeting is at six—”
“You are rambling.”
“I ramble when I’m nervous.”
“What do you have to be nervous about?”
You, I thought. The way you look at me. The way my body responds to your proximity. The way I’m somehow attracted to a seven-foot-tall supernatural being who’s here to “assist” me.
Fortunately, he didn’t press me for an answer. I finished my coffee and retreated to the bathroom, uneasily aware of his presence just beyond the walls. Could he hear the water running? Did he know I was standing naked on the other side of the door?
Stop it, I told myself firmly. He’s not interested. He’s here to judge you, not seduce you.
Though the way his eyes had tracked over me this morning suggested his attention wasn’t entirely professional.
I shook my head, dispelling the thought. I was projecting. I’d summoned an ancient being, disrupted his purpose, and bound him to me against his will. Of course he was watching me carefully. He was cataloging my sins, not checking me out.
Even if that intense gaze made my skin prickle with awareness.
I showered quickly, dressed in my favorite cranberry-red sweater with sparkling white snowflakes along the neckline, a black pleated skirt, black tights, and black ankle boots. I twisted my hair up with a festive ribbon, then took a deep breath and returned to the living room.
Bastian was standing next to the window again, staring out at the street, and Jingle was perched on the windowsill with the same focused look.
“What are the two of you looking at?” I asked as I went to join them.
“The street looks different.” His voice was thoughtful.
“Different how?” I followed his gaze but didn’t see anything different, at least not at first. But then I began to notice some subtle changes.
Someone had tied red ribbon bows to the bedraggled garlands, making them look more festive.
The café’s sidewalk sign had been redecorated with a fresh Christmas wreath, and there were a few more people on the sidewalk than usual.
“People are… lingering,” he added. “Not just rushing from car to door.”
“They’re curious.”
“No,” he said, turning to me. “It is more than that. There is a… stirring. A shift in energy. My presence yesterday. The activity in your shop. It created ripples.”
“Ripples of what?”
“Hope,” he said, as if it were a distasteful concept. “It is a dangerous emotion. It can lead to ruin as easily as it can lead to salvation.”
He was right. People were drawn to novelty, to a spectacle. The novelty would wear off. And then what?
My phone buzzed. A text from the holiday market committee.
Subject: URGENT! Meeting moved to 5:30. Don’t be late!
I sighed. The committee was a group of well-meaning but perpetually disorganized volunteers who managed to turn even the simplest task into a three-hour debate.
“I have a meeting tonight,” I told him. “The holiday market committee. We’re supposed to be finalizing plans for the Christmas parade. I’m also going to present my idea for a Good Deeds Extravaganza.”
“I know.” Of course he does. “I’m not convinced it will be the saving grace you believe, but…” His gaze returned to the street. “But perhaps I have not given your generosity enough credit.”
“Does that mean I won’t require any lessons?
” I asked hopefully, and he actually smiled.
A wide smile that showed a lot of disturbing white sharp teeth, but a smile nonetheless.
For a terrifying, ancient being of punishment and judgement, he had an expressive face and an even more expressive tail.
I’d noticed that when he was contemplative or listening it would swish, almost like a cat’s.
And when he was irritated it gave a sharp twitch.
He turned away from the window to face me. “I’m not convinced the town’s economy, or their Christmas spirit, will be saved by a Good Deeds event. But… we will try your way. For now.”
I felt a surprising surge of affection at that. He wasn’t just blindly following a predetermined script. He was willing to adjust his own long-held beliefs based on what he was seeing. This was not a creature of unyielding, rigid judgement. This was… something else.
“However,” he continued, “before you go, you will have your second lesson.”
“Second?” I squeaked.
“A lesson regarding your shop. We begin today.”
“But I have a meeting.”
“The meeting is at five-thirty. It is not yet nine. There is ample time for your lesson.”