Page 24 of Never Kiss a Krampus

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.