Page 93 of Never Kiss a Krampus

“You’re just saying that because I give you extras.”

“I’m saying that because it’s true.” He leaned over our sleeping daughter to press a kiss to my forehead. “And because I’ve sampled every gingerbread cookie in a three-county radius, and yours are objectively superior.”

“You’ve been conducting cookie research?”

“Thorough cookie research.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

I did. Heaven help me, I absolutely did.

Outside, the snow fell heavier, blanketing the street in perfect white. The shop lights glowed through the window, casting red and green shadows across the walls. Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang midnight.

Christmas Day was officially over.

A new year stretched ahead, full of chaos and magic and probably more frosting in my hair than any person shouldreasonably accumulate. More late nights and early mornings. More community events and cookie catastrophes. More moments of watching my ancient, powerful husband cradle our daughter like she was made of spun glass and wishes.

More life. Messy and imperfect and absolutely worth every ridiculous moment.

“Merry Christmas, Bastian,” I whispered.

His tail tightened around my ankle. “Merry Christmas, Noelle.”

Our daughter slept on, dreaming infant dreams. Jingle Bells kept watch at our feet. Snow fell outside while fairy lights twinkled inside. And somewhere in the shop below, ornaments caught the colored glow and sent it spinning across walls that had witnessed the beginning of everything.

One ritual. One desperate attempt at saving my shop. One absolutely terrible decision to summon something I didn’t understand.

And somehow, impossibly, it had given me everything.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and frost and baby powder, letting exhaustion finally win its long battle. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. New chaos. New opportunities for disaster and delight in equal measure.

But tonight—this perfect, impossible Christmas night—I had everything I needed right here in this room.

A family. A home. A future.

And a Krampus who’d learned that punishment could take many forms, not all of them involving switches and chains.

Though honestly, some of them still did.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I closedmy eyes and let sleep pull me under, safe in the arms of my monster, exactly where I wanted to be.