Son of Krampus (Holidays of Love)

by Ellen Mint

  “Hm?” He had to yank himself back from glaring death at the man camped out with his father’s private letters. Trevor was looking over the translations as if he had any right to them, as if he had a divine right to anything he wanted.

  “For dinner? I’m trying to find a good place, but it all looks like deep-fried and slathered with cheese American faire,” Katarina complained in German.

  “I don’t care.” Emeric waved it away, trying to focus his mind on the task before them. There wasn’t much left in the box. Perhaps another week, two at the most before they’d reach judgment time. Before he’d no longer have a reason to see her.

  “What about you?” Katarina turned her dicing eyes upon Trevor, then her phone. “You must know what is good here.”

  Happy to be near any attractive woman, Trevor oozed out of his chair to chummily slump onto the table. With a hand cupped to the back of hers, as if he hadn’t been trying to coerce Nadire into a relationship for the past month, Trevor drew a finger down Katarina’s screen. “Hm,” he mused, his rancid breath darting across the blonde woman and toward Emeric.

  What was Nadire even up to? He turned his head so his periphery could make out the closed door. She was to assist in this matter, that was the deal to get her father out of jail. But without a second thought, she dashed off to some other meeting? Though, her purse yet remained so she was probably still in the building.

  God’s blood, cease thinking of her. Stop turning your every waking thought to what she’s doing, what she’s thinking, what she smells like, how she tastes. It helps no one. Certainly not in the fight against the Myras and their crack lawyers ready to rip apart every brick he had in his legal wall. And not him either.

  He didn’t realize he was clawing at the table until both Katarina and Trevor glanced over, their little gab session broken up. Wincing at the foolish move, Emeric dropped his hands into his lap. Just as he was about to explain, or offer up an excuse, the door opened and his jaw struck the floor.

  Nadire’s heavenly body was encased in bedeviled crimson sequins. They glittered like stars as she dashed for her purse, each sequin shimmering and clicking to mark her movements. “So sorry, forgot my makeup,” she explained. The woman who’d been in trousers before nearly bent clean over to excise up her bag. In doing so, Emeric’s vision filled with almost the entirety of her breasts tumbling over the low neckline of her tube dress.

  Perhaps he made a noise, or—most likely—the lecherous leech beside him did, as Nadire caught her mistake. A blush rose up her cheeks and she placed an awkward hand atop her cleavage as if a single palm could hide it away. With a more careful move, she bent at the knees, no doubt growing aware that the hemline of the slinky dress could only hide away her buttocks if she was frozen in place.

  The blood Emeric thought he’d cooled to slush erupted into lava piping through his veins. His heartbeat bounded about to the point all he could hear was the throb of his pulse as Nadire’s endless, shapely legs in red fishnets waltzed her out the door. Just before vanishing, as if she had some important near-naked meeting to attend, she glanced over her shoulder. While her eyes began at Trevor, they quickly traveled to Katarina. A tiny frown formed, but as she stared at Emeric it grew deeper.

  With a toss of her head, her hair piled up on her bare shoulders, Nadire vanished down the hall. A shame the imprint of her dressed as sin wouldn’t leave so easily. Emeric tried to shake it off, his leg trembling so the knee bounced under the table. So she was in a dress. Women would on occasion wear them. It made no sense in this setting, but…

  She was trying to destroy him.

  Or distract him.

  Or make him so damn miserable, having to stare at that which he could no longer touch, he’d quit and head off home.

  The Queen had knocked down all his pawns, leaving the King vulnerable.

  Anger surged through him, Emeric shooting to his feet. He vaguely heard Katarina asking him what he wanted for dinner, but he shook it off. The call in his blood was too powerful. Her attempting to make him a fool had to be answered.

  To use their unexplainable attraction against him. Again. To try and keep him from doing not only what was best for his father, his family, but the world because she couldn’t imagine giving up a sliver of power. A growl rumbled in his chest as he swung his head around, sniffing the air like a beast trailing wounded prey.

  The stench of greed permeated the air, Emeric pawing at his nose when he drew too close, but stomping down the hall he picked it up. A trail of myrrh drifted like a will-o’-the-wisp, singing for him to follow. He gave in to it, the anger boiling in his gut while the lust of her body wrapped in red enflamed his veins. Emeric reached the solitary piece of wood closing her off from him.

  Without a second thought, he shoved on the door and stomped into a room of sinks and tile. By the time his brain pieced together that it was a bathroom, and probably the ladies, he caught her standing beside a mirror. Two Nadires were dabbing red paint across her shoulders and up her neck. The same neck he’d licked and sucked upon until neither could speak. She kept at it, smearing scarlet across her shoulders until her eyes trailed behind to catch Emeric hulking in the doorway.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, a laugh in her voice.

  God save him, but she was beautiful. The crimson flush of desire coated her skin, highlighting every curve of the rise of her breasts trapped behind such flimsy fabric. He ached to dip his hands down the front, to free her from the cheap dress and take her then and there.

  Which was what she wanted in the first place.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Emeric snarled, the anger boosting his confidence as he strolled into the forbidden zone. Not caring that he stomped into the ladies room, he crossed his arms tight to try and distract from what had to be occurring below his belt.

  Nadire’s cautious eyes darted back to the mirror as if her reflection would provide backup. “Dressing for a party,” she said uncertainly.

  “In red,” he growled, spittle forming in his rabid mouth. “The same color as the night we…” Her own eyes flared at the reminder of the restaurant and, to his surprise, her cheeks colored themselves with guilt. Or it too was an act. “You’re trying to tempt me, or curse me.”

  “Curse you?” Nadire laughed, the guilt instantly transforming to a sneer. “It’s a costume for Halloween. Devils tend to come in red. Which I’d think the Hellswarths would be intimately aware of.”

  “A costume?” Emeric scoffed. He struggled to pull his eyes from her body barely contained by the glimmering dress, her chest heaving as she struggled to hold in her insolence. But, by the edge of his vision, he caught what looked like pale horns sitting on the edge of the sink.

  So, maybe she wasn’t lying about that. But there was a myriad of choices in costume shops and she picked the one certain to drive him wild. “Out of everything you could be, you happen to select a devil?”

  “It’s a cute costume.” Nadire wasn’t about to give up, a hand bunching to her hip. She dug in as if her nails needed to scrape something, but in doing so it pulled the already low hemline higher.

  Blinding lust and anger competed against one another inside Emeric’s body, his tongue twisting to keep from cursing at her or prying apart her lips. “You’re doing this to distract me. To keep me from being able to work. I thought you’d finally chosen to behave like an adult but to tart yourself up—”

  “Me?” Nadire hurled one of her makeup sponges at the sink so hard it bounced off, ricocheting around the bathroom. Not caring, she stomped closer in her heels. “You dare accuse me of juvenile pranks the same day you bring her here!”

  “Her who?” Emeric blinked, lost.

  “Don’t play the fool, you’re awful at it,” Nadire cursed, tromping around in a half-circle. While her body turned away from him, her eyes never left—always glaring from the mirror. “A beautiful, intelligent, cannot stop thinking of you riding her on your desk woman.”

  “Katarina is my
…”

  “I don’t need to know what she is to you. It doesn’t matter. Girlfriend, side piece, fuck buddy. That’s your life,” she snarled, her vibrant red cheeks and blazing eyes telling him that Nadire cared very much. “But to have to sit there, hour in and hour out, listening to every single want she has for you…”

  The hissing faded and a gulp of pain walloped through her anger. “I thought you better than that brand of torture. Foolish me.”

  “Nadire, I swear, Katarina is nothing more than a colleague.” He was apologizing. Begging forgiveness for bringing in assistance, as if he had any control over another’s mind.

  “A colleague who can picture the two of you working through every position in the Kama Sutra before lunch is over,” Nadire spat. “And I get to hear it all.” She banged a finger into her hair as if trying to knock the thoughts from her skull. It left a smudge of red makeup against her deep brown locks, Emeric absently trying to reach for it before he shook his head.

  “You blame me for this? For her thoughts?”

  “You know what I am!” she roared, dashing right into his face. He could back down, demure against the wall. Or out of the ladies room entirely.

  But one thing Emeric despised was being accused of treachery. “If you think I know the minds of every man or woman who’s worked under me.”

  Nadire snorted hard at that. “Under. Interesting choice of words.”

  “I swear to God Himself,” Emeric cursed, staring down into her flaming eyes with all the vengeance at his disposal. It was a wonder her soul didn’t combust on the spot. Not that, despite her empty scent, she was clean. He knew what games she played, how she tried to toy with his heart. “You are not one to speak!”

  “What?” Nadire asked as if he was too stupid to understand what she’d been doing.

  “That…empty-headed louse who cannot cease peering down your dress.” The growl rumbled so deep in his gut he felt his teeth rattle.

  Nadire scoffed, an eyebrow peaking as she asked, “Trevor? I have no damn control over—”

  “No?” he snarled. “’Excuse me, Trevor, I simply have to touch your hand. I must glance my arm over your shoulders. Don’t you want to ask me out for the fifth time?’”

  “I do not sound like that. Nor do that! I have done nothing but behave professionally in that room, even with your sex secretary dreaming of you trussing her up like a Christmas goose.”

  Emeric laughed at the preposterous idea. Far as he knew, Katarina’s interest in him was minor at most. And Nadire claimed she couldn’t pick up on that. Was she lying or making it all up to begin with?

  Flaring whiskey eyes, outlined by thick red eyelashes burned into his. Her nearly naked chest quivered as goosebumps rose all across her skin. So much damn skin she made certain to bare. “And,” Emeric snarled, “you conveniently happen to forget your makeup bag, necessitating you parading about in the slinkiest dress imaginable under his nose.”

  “I didn’t do it for Trevor!” Nadire shouted, rising off her heels so her entire face nearly bashed against his. Emeric watched with her screaming echo bounding about the bathroom tiles back to her ears how her beautiful face began to fall. Sorrow raced to tug back the anger, shame transforming her flush of rage to a blush of embarrassment.

  Shrinking before his eyes, Nadire slumped down, her body spinning back to her mess of makeup. A hand lashed out to cup her red-painted bicep, even Emeric surprised to realize it was his. Her glittery eyelids hung low, narrowed eyes darting to where he touched her.

  Nadire opened her mouth, no doubt about to tell him to get the hell out when Emeric surged forward. Fingers digging through her hair, his palm flush to the base of her head, Emeric tugged her to his lips. The dormant dynamite that they’d both been ignoring for five months lit fast. The heat of her lips, her tongue, her tender taste nipping against him bowled him over.

  Stumbling forward Emeric guided her, Nadire scrabbling back on her heels. When her back struck the sinks, the kiss broke, Nadire gasping in surprise. They stared eye to eye, desire refusing to be dampened. Lashing her arms out, Nadire grabbed Emeric’s head, pulling him to her.

  To keep from falling onto her, Emeric splayed his hands against the mirror. The cold silver against his palms battled with the heat rampaging through his body. Famished hands swiped at his shirt, yanking apart buttons without a care if they broke or not.

  A groaning ache rolled off his tongue and onto hers, Emeric’s hungry body rocking against the tissue-thin dress hiding away what he wanted most in the world. Still, he kept his hands splayed out, as if to tell her she was in charge. She had all the power.

  Nimble fingers unhitched his belt, the symbol of his family falling away. Nadire drew her palm against his cock straining to free itself, and she breathed in his ear, “Fuck me.”

  “Here?” Emeric laughed even as every cell in his body ordered him to do it. To haul her up onto the sink, to spread her thighs, nuzzle his face to her neck, and give in to this unexplainable pull.

  Nadire’s nails rustled up his shirt, clawing against his flexing abs and leaving Emeric gasping for air. With a smirk, she said, “I don’t ask twice.”

  His lips bent to hers, snagging her in a kiss. His hands were freed of their prison. Fingers hitched up the crimson sequins, rolling the barely-there dress’s hemline higher and higher until he spotted a strip of black lace. Just as Emeric began to reach under, Nadire working her way to chew on his ear, a gentlemanly cough broke behind them.

  Pure dread landed in his gut as Emeric caught a rictus of horror smothering away Nadire’s lustful smile. He needn’t turn around to see who stepped into the ladies room, the mirror revealing all.

  “Mister Hellswarth,” Mr. Weir sighed as if he was disappointed in such a finding. “And Ms. Myra. I overheard shouting and thought to investigate.”

  “I.” Nadire struggled to appear professional as if she didn’t have her panties falling down to her calves. “I can explain.”

  “It shall be Mister Hellswarth who will have a more challenging time of it. Meet me in my office,” Mr. Weir snarled. He spun on his leather shoe, the facade nearly flawless until he risked one more glance back. There Emeric saw it, the old lawyer giddy at his challenger caught in such a compromising position.

  “After you clean yourself up,” were Weir’s final cutting remarks before he left them alone.

  Guzzling in air, Emeric slammed his eyes shut. He may have just risked everything he’d worked for, his career, his father’s livelihood, the soul of the world for a single dalliance. A groan at his foolish impetuousness rattled in his gut, causing Emeric to glance down at the woman still in his grip.

  God save him, even with the world about to crumble around him, even with her biting words ringing in his ear, he couldn’t escape one fact. Nadire Myra was the most beautiful and enchanting woman he’d ever known. And, he was unlikely to ever know her again.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “…GIVEN THE EVENTS, I think you will agree Mr. Hellswarth that it is in everyone’s best interest if you call your research finished.”

  “If you think I will back off on this lawsuit,” Emeric began, rising from the chair of shame placed in front of Mr. Weir’s desk.

  Nadire hadn’t been able to speak a word, her cheeks flushed bright red as she kept trying to play over what happened. How could she have been so foolish as to…to let herself wind up in that situation for a third time? It didn’t help that she had to keep her legs crossed at the ankle or risk flashing her father’s lawyer. The costume choice was one made without her brain involved as well.

  “On the contrary.” Weir bundled his fingers together like he was about to order the nuclear annihilation of Paris. “I suspect it will be a most interesting challenge. But, my offices are no longer open to you for whatever twisted games you’re playing. I’d only agreed to host as such for the sake of my client but this is unacceptable. The next time we meet, it will be in court.”

  Emeric rose to his feet, a hand ready
to slam into the man’s desk, but he glanced to Nadire shuffling away. A mumbled, “Fine,” was his response, but she was already moving. Trying to get herself some distance from this unending shame.

  “Ms. Myra,” that damn bastard spoke, freezing her in the doorway.

  “Yes?” she asked, swiveling her head to the man who held all the cards. Would he tell her father? Call him up and say, “I regret to inform you, but your only daughter was nearly caught being plowed by the Krampus’ son in the women’s restroom. Yes, it is a shame.”

  Mr. Weir seemed to ruminate in the uncomfortable silence, his tiny tongue lapping over dried lips before speaking, “You know your father best.”

  “I certainly hope so,” was her response, her shoulders trying to not tremble as she gathered up her bags and made the long, lonely walk out of the building. What was she thinking?

  Well, first she was angry. Rip someone’s spine out and show it to them angry. Which felt as foreign to her as walking upon the moon. Most times Nadire had an excellent grip on her emotions, often playing the cool and collected card to get her way. But he merely had to walk into her life and she was practically spitting hot tacks in three sentences or less.

  Numb from the neck down, Nadire stumbled into the dark night of late October. A handful of city dwellers walked up and down the sidewalk, some taking a moment to glance the way of the woman dressed like half of a devil. But she didn’t care. No, even with the fear of her father learning what she did. Even with the smug lawyer no doubt planning to use that for his own gains. Even with her ears ringing and gut pulsing in a shame that would never wash off, one fact plunged her heart into ice.

  It was over.

  Empty, her legs bounced into a bus bench and Nadire sat as if she’d ever taken city transportation before. She did ride in a car once; it wasn’t that special. Trains were beautiful though, long nights and days rolling over the countryside. Maybe that’s what she should do once the season was over. Book a train trip, two, four. However many it took for her to shake off this damn hunger. To forget.