Another crack of the rod. I keep my eyes locked on Louis’s face, refusing to look away from him. I watch as he flinches and cries with every crack of wood across his skin. After a few hits, Krampus flicks blood off it, splattering red against the white snow. Krampus was really holding back with me. He has no such mercy for the man who betrayed me.
With every crack of the rod, my back stings with remembered pain, and heat slowly unfurls in my lower belly. It isn’t just the triumph of well-deserved revenge. There is something else, something wicked in me that delights in seeing his pain.
When Louis’s eyes slide shut, I slap his cheek, and he opens them and refocuses on me. He’s panting and gasping, his once-perfect face a mess of tears and snot.
“Why?” he asks, staring up at me.
I cradle his cheek. “You know why.”
Krampus pauses, the rod drawn back in preparation for another blow. “Tell her.”
“What?” Louis’s lower lip trembles. “I don’t, I’m not?—”
Krampus hits him again, and he sobs into my palm.
“Confess your sins,” Krampus orders. “Tell her why you deserve this.”
“I don’t,” Louis cries. “I don’t deserve?—”
Another blow, and he cuts off in a cry of pain.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps out finally. “I’m sorry, Diana. I’m sorry for bringing you here, for lying to you?—”
“For letting your brother and father drag me to the door like an animal?” I press, my nails digging into his skin as I hold his gaze. “For being willing to let me die because your family said so?”
“Yes,” he gasps. “All of it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
I search his expression. Red-eyed and whimpering on his knees, his back flayed open by Krampus’s rod, he looks like he means it. And it’s surprisingly good to hear him say it.
I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. His skin is hot beneath my lips. He shudders, leaning into my touch.
“I forgive you,” I whisper, and pull back. Then I look over his shoulder and smile. “But it’s not my decision, I’m afraid.”
Krampus doesn’t stopuntil Louis’s eyes roll back in his head and his body slumps, limp in the snow. Blood paints the white around him and oozes from the gashes crisscrossing his back.
But when I kneel in the snow and lift his head by a handful of blond hair, he’s still breathing. Just unconscious from more pain than he could handle.
Good. Those marks on his back aren’t going to fade. I hope every time they twinge in remembered pain, he thinks of me.
I let Louis’s head flop back down and look up at Krampus from where I’m crouched. He stands with his head back and his eyes shut. With his birch rod hanging loosely from his hand and snow falling on his face, he looks almost peaceful. But after a moment, his eyes slide open and fix on me. As our gazes lock, I’m sure we’re both remembering that his work for the night isn’t yet done.
He drops both the birch rod and the chains, and steps around Louis’s limp body. My heart begins to race as he approaches. When he steps behind me, I rise to my feet but stay in place.
Both of his large hands settle on my waist, entirely encircling my torso. His hard chest presses into me, and a hot exhale ruffles my hair from above. I shiver, tilting my head back to look up at him.
“You enjoyed that,” he says, like an accusation.
“Of course I did.” I try to control my breathing as one of his hands slides over my stomach and down, down. “I told you from the start that I wanted revenge.”
“That was not the only reason you enjoyed it.” His hand slides down between my legs, cupping me. Palming the damning dampness between my legs. “Wicked woman,” he murmurs, his mouth against my ear.
I press my ass into him, and a hard length meets me. I whimper.
“I’m not the only one who’s wicked,” I whisper. “You pretend to be above it all. To hand out justice for the sake of justice. But you do it because you like it.” I grind back against him, drawing a deliciously low groan from his lips. “Because it turns you on.”
“I never denied I was a monster,” he says.
“I guess I’m a monster too.”
