Page 42 of Never Kiss a Krampus

“Why?”

“Because I am not mortal. Because I do not experience—” He stopped, his jaw tightening. “Because it is not possible.”

“Not possible, or not allowed?”

“Both. Neither. It does not matter.”

But something in his expression suggested it did matter. That this was a wound, not just a statement of fact.

“Have you ever tried?” I asked softly.

“Tried what?”

“Having a relationship. Letting yourself care about?—”

“No.” The word came out sharp. Final. “And I do not intend to start. My purpose is judgment, not… not whatever you are suggesting.”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just?—”

“We should return to your apartment.” He turned away, dismissing the conversation. “You have plans to make. I have observations to catalog.”

I stared at his back, at the rigid set of his shoulders, and realized I’d struck a nerve. Not the fun kind that made him almost-smile. The painful kind that made him retreat.

I should let it go. I should respect his boundaries and accept that whatever had passed between us in the shop was nothing more than adrenaline and proximity. But I’d never been particularly good at leaving well enough alone.

“Fine,” I said, heading for the stairs. “But for the record, I think you’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“About relationships being impossible.” I glanced at him. “There was a connection when we kissed.”

“You are imagining things.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

But his voice had gone rough again. We walked up the stairs in silence.

Eight more days to go. They suddenly felt both too long and not long enough.

CHAPTER 15

The first snowflakes hit the shop window at 3:47 PM.

By five, the world outside had disappeared into a wall of white.

I stood at the front window, watching the blizzard build with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Snow in December was normal. Charming, even, when it dusted the streets and made everything look like a postcard.

This wasn’t charming. This was the kind of storm that made meteorologists use words like “historic” and “unprecedented” and “please stay indoors.”

“The weather report did not mention this,” Bastian said from behind me.

“Because it wasn’t supposed to happen.” I pressed closer to the glass, trying to make out the street beyond. Nothing but white. “This came out of nowhere.”

Through the window, I could barely see the outline of the lamppost across the street. Everything else had been swallowed by the blizzard.

“Does it snow like this where you live?” I asked without thinking.