Chapter 22
Bastian stroked a gentle hand down my cheek.
“The binding… it will test us. It will amplify every doubt, every fear. What we just did… It was a rebellion against my very nature. The magic that ties us to one another may not react kindly to it.”
“Then we’ll be even more rebellious,” I said, lifting my head to look at him. “You think you’re the only one who’s allowed to be dramatic? I’ve been running this shop on pure stubborn optimism and a prayer for months. I’m good at rebellion.”
A faint smile touched his lips, but it was fleeting, replaced by a shadow of concern. “You do not understand the magnitude of what you’re facing. I have seen beings of immense power shattered for lesser transgressions.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure it’s worth it,” I said, and before he could argue, I pushed myself up and kissed him. This kiss was different from the others. It was soft, gentle, a promise. A quiet declaration of defiance against the forces that wanted to tear us apart.
He responded with a tenderness that made my heart ache. When we finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine.
“You are a danger to my existence, Noelle Green.”
“I’m trying very hard to be,” I replied, trying to inject some lightness into the heavy moment. “Now, can you help me off this counter? I’m pretty sure my legs no longer function.”
He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that vibrated through me, and easily lifted me down. My sweater was a lost cause, so he carefully wrapped one of the shawls thrown over the back of an armchair, the gesture so unexpectedly sweet it made my throat tight. Then he picked me up and carried me upstairs.
“Thank you,” I whispered, looking up at him.
He looked so earnest, so worried, that I couldn’t resist reaching up to brush my fingers against the heavy ridged surface of one of his horns.
He flinched but didn’t pull away. Instead, he closed his eyes, a shudder running through him.
When he opened them again, the red glow had receded, leaving only warm amber.
“Be careful with those,” he said, his voice rough. “They are… very sensitive.”
“I’m starting to get that,” I said with a small smile, letting my hand drop. “It’s good information to have.”
“It is more than good information, little light. It is a map to my undoing.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. He was giving me the power to destroy him, and he was trusting me not to use it.
“You don’t have to be scared, Bastian,” I said softly. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Scared is a luxury I cannot afford,” he said, but he reached for my hand, lacing his claws through my fingers in a gesture that felt more intimate than anything we had just done on the counter. “But for tonight… for tonight, I am willing to pretend.”
He led me to the couch, pulling me down beside him. He wrapped a comforter around us, a warm, cozy cocoon. For a long while, we just sat there, in the quiet, the twinkling lights from the Christmas tree painting us in shifting colors.
“I’m hungry,” I announced into the comfortable silence.
He let out a surprised laugh. “Of course you are.”
“Sexual activity requires caloric replenishment,” I said with mock seriousness. “It’s science.”
“You are a menace.”
“But I’m your menace.”
“You certainly are.” His arm tightened around me as I snuggled deeper into his side.
“Does that mean I can have cookies for dinner?” I asked, looking up at him. “It’s a special occasion. A… significant transgression kind of occasion.”
He studied my face for a long moment, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. “I believe I can allow for a transgression or two.”
He stood and walked to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a plate of my grandmother’s gingerbread cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate, topped with the tiny marshmallows I saved for special occasions.
“This is… domestic,” I observed, taking a mug from him.
“Is that acceptable?” he asked, settling back beside me.
“It’s more than acceptable,” I said, my throat feeling tight. “It’s perfect.”
We ate cookies and drank hot chocolate in the warm glow of the tree lights, the post-coital haze making everything feel soft and dreamlike.
This was what I had been craving, what I hadn’t even known I needed.
Not just the passion, but this. The quiet intimacy.
The simple, comfortable act of being with someone.
“You know,” I said, nibbling on a gingerbread arm, “I had a dream about my grandmother the week before I summoned you.”
He turned to look at me. “Did you?”
“Yeah. We were in the shop, and it was all lit up and perfect. She told me that the shop needed a little bit of… darkness. To appreciate the light.” I shook my head, a small, wry smile touching my lips. “I thought she was being metaphorical. Turns out, she was being literal.”
A thoughtful look crossed his face. “Your grandmother sounds… wise.”
“She was. She would have loved you, you know.” The words slipped out, unplanned, but true.
“She would have been horrified,” he countered, but he didn’t pull away.
“No. She would have seen past the horns and the claws and the grumpy exterior. She would have seen the way you organize my stockroom and the fact that you brought me hot chocolate without me asking. She would have seen you.” I leaned my head against his shoulder.
“She always said that the brightest light casts the darkest shadow. She meant it as a good thing. That you can’t have one without the other. ”
“Your grandmother was a philosopher of Christmas,” he said, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips.
“She was.” A comfortable silence settled between us, filled only by the soft jingle of the cat’s bell as he finally emerged from hiding to curl up on the other end of the couch. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“The same as it was before. You sell ornaments. I observe.” His tone was casual, but the arm around my shoulders tightened possessively.
“And what about…” I gestured vaguely between us. “…this? The binding? The… consequences you were so worried about?”
“We will monitor it,” he said, his expression turning serious. “I have sensed… fluctuations. Ripples in the magic that were not there before. It is possible that our… transgression… may have triggered an early stage of the unraveling.”
A knot of ice formed in my stomach. “Unraveling? As in, the ‘unmade’ kind of unraveling?”
“The initial stages,” he clarified, though that did little to ease my fear. “A weakening of the structure. A flickering of the core essence. For now, it is stable.”
“For now,” I repeated, my appetite for gingerbread suddenly gone. “And what happens when it stops being stable?”
“We will find a solution before that occurs.” His confidence was a balm, but I could hear the underlying uncertainty. He was just guessing. We were both just guessing.
“Bastian,” I said softly, turning in his arms to face him fully. “If this is going to… hurt you. If being with me is actually going to destroy you—”
“Then it will have been worth it.” He cut me off, his gaze holding mine with an unwavering intensity. “To have known this. To have known you. An eternity of cold existence cannot compare to these few days of warmth. Do not take that from me by asking me to choose differently.”
My heart ached with a fierce, tender emotion. I reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with my thumb. “Okay,” I whispered. “But we’re going to fight for more than a few days. We’re going to find a Christmas miracle.”
He leaned down and kissed me, a slow, deep kiss that was full of promises and unspoken fears. But then he raised his head and smiled at me, a dangerous smile that made my pulse race.
“You have given me a taste for sweet things, little light.” He leaned down and stroked his tongue across my lips.
“Like hot chocolate.” He pushed back the shawl and curled his tongue around my nipple.
“And cookies.” He flipped up my skirt to reveal my bare folds.
“And especially my sweet, sweet little human.”
He licked a slow stripe through my sensitive flesh, and I gasped, my hands flying to the soft fur of his shoulders.
His tongue was long and agile, a hot, rough velvet that circled my clit with a devastating precision.
I was already so sensitive from our earlier encounter, the sensation overwhelmed me, a wave of pure pleasure that crashed over me, leaving me breathless and shaking.
“Bastian,” I gasped, my hips bucking against his mouth.
He hummed, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through me. He slid two fingers inside me, curling them to find that sensitive spot that made me see stars. His tongue continued its relentless assault, stroking and circling and teasing, until I was a writhing, begging mess.
“Please,” I whimpered, not sure what I was begging for. More. Less. For this to never end.
He responded by sucking my clit into his mouth, a hard, possessive pull that sent me flying over the edge. My orgasm tore through me, a blinding, all-consuming rush of pleasure that left me shaking and breathless. I cried out his name, clutching his shoulders as he rode out the waves of my release.
When I finally came back to myself, he was kissing me again, his mouth soft and gentle against mine. I could taste myself on him, a heady, intimate flavor that made me shudder.
“Delicious,” he murmured against my lips. “My favorite treat.”
I could only respond with a contented sigh, my body limp and boneless against him.
He pulled the comforter more securely around us, tucking me into his side.
I rested my head on his chest, the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart a soothing lullaby.
The lights from the tree cast us in a soft, multicolored glow.
For the first time since I’d inherited the shop, I felt a sense of peace. Of rightness.
I drifted in that state between waking and sleeping, my body humming with a languorous satisfaction.
I could feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the gentle weight of his arm around me, the soft brush of his fur against my cheek.
This was home. Not just the shop, not the apartment, but this.
This feeling of being wrapped in warmth and safety, of being held.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my hair. “Not yet.”
“Mmm,” I managed, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “Too comfortable.”
“We need to talk about Grinchly.”
The word cut through my haze of contentment like a shard of ice. I stiffened, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Really? Now?”
“The binding is… restless,” he said, his expression serious. “The more intimate our connection becomes, the more its purpose is… amplified.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach.
“Remember why I am here. To observe. To judge. To ensure you fulfill the terms.” He paused, choosing his words with care. “The binding seems to be interpreting our… transgression… as a distraction from that purpose. It is… urging me to redirect my focus.”
“Redirect it how?”
“It wants me to be what I am,” he said simply. “A judge. A punisher.”
I sat up, the comforter pooling around my waist. “You’re not going to punish me, are you? Because that would really kill the mood.”
He actually smiled, a small, wry twist of his lips. “No, little light. I am not going to punish you. But the binding is insistent. And since I refuse to take it out on you…” He trailed off, his gaze drifting towards the window, in the direction of Grinchly’s real estate office.
“Oh, no,” I said, reading the look in his eyes. “Bastian, no.”
“I will not harm him,” he said, a little too quickly. “But the magical pressure is… significant. The urge to deliver justice is becoming difficult to resist.”
“What does that even mean?” I pressed, my heart starting to pound. “What are you going to do?”
“I am going to investigate,” he said, his tone firm, brooking no argument. “Properly this time. The magic that fueled the blizzard left a residue. A trail. I believe I can follow it.”
“How?”
“There are… pathways. Ley lines of emotion and intention that run beneath your town, unseen. The magic Grinchly is using, whether knowingly or not, is bleeding all over them. I can sense it. It is like… sewage in a pristine spring.”
The image was revolting, and not just because of the metaphor.
“But the binding… it’s pushing you to do more than just investigate, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “It wants a reckoning. It wants the source of the town’s despair to be… addressed. Permanently.”