The pastry kitchen smelled of warm sugar and yeast, the counters still radiating residual heat from Silas's morningbaking. The space felt smaller with Krampus in it, his horns nearly brushing the copper pots hanging from the ceiling rack, his shoulders blocking most of the doorway behind us.
I released his arm and spun to face him, fury propelling me forward until we stood barely inches apart.
"What the hell was that?" I demanded, jabbing a finger toward the café.
His expression remained impassive, though a muscle jumped in his jaw. "Removing a threat."
"Removing a—" I cut myself off, a disbelieving laugh escaping me. "He was drunk and rude, not summoning demons! The situation was under control!"
"He put his hands on you." Krampus's voice dropped. "What did you want me to do?"
"I wanted you to trust me!" The words erupted from somewhere deep and tender inside me. My chest heaved with each breath, my heart pounding visibly at my throat. "I need…I need you to trust me, to trust my little family if you want to be apart of it."
"I trust you," he said finally, his voice softer but no less intense. "I trust you with my cafe, customers, my staff, and my heart you stubborn little monster."
The simple answer knocked the air from my lungs more effectively than the ogre's shove had. The fury drained from me, leaving something else in its wake, a trembling, vulnerable awareness of how much power this creature had over me. And how much I might have over him, if the intensity in his eyes was any indication.
Krampus moved toward me, I held my ground, chin tilted up, refusing to retreat despite the part of my brain screaming that being cornered by a predator was a very bad idea. My back hit the counter edge as Krampus caged me in, his claws came downon either side of my hips. He leaned in until his face was inches from mine, his breath carrying notes of smoke and winter pine.
"You think I don't trust you?" He leaned in close. "You are mine, and I will always protect what is mine."
I sucked in a sharp breath, my hands braced against the cool counter edge to keep from reaching for him. "I'm not yours," I challenged.
His eyes darkened as he tracked the movement. One claw traced the air just above my collarbone, not making contact but close enough that I could feel the potential of his touch.
"Liar," he growled against my ear.
My heart hammered against my ribs, pulse points throbbing at my wrists, my throat, between my thighs. The fight hadn't left me, I still believed what I'd said about him not trusting me, but it had transformed into something equally potent, equally demanding.
Want.
Raw and unapologetic want that had been building since I'd walked out of his apartment this morning. Since I'd realized in the park that I deserved this, deserved him, deserved everything.
"I'm still mad at you," I managed, even as my body arched toward his.
His fangs flashed in what might have been a smile. "Good. Be mad. Be furious." His hand finally made contact, cupping my cheek. "I like seeing you express your emotions."
The touch broke something loose inside me. I surged forward, grabbing the front of his shirt using it as leverage to pull myself closer to him.
"I want you," I whispered against his mouth. "I want you to see me as an equal."
His eyes locked with mine. "I see you, little star. I've always seen you."
Then his mouth was on mine, and there was no more room for words. The kiss wasn't gentle. His fangs nipped at my lower lip, the slight sting making me gasp and giving his tongue entry. I kissed him back with equal fervor, years of repressed want and days of intense connection pouring into the contact. My hands found his horns, fingers wrapping around the smooth, curved surfaces that radiated heat like banked coals. He growled into my mouth, the vibration traveling through my body. In one fluid motion, he lifted me onto the counter, my back hitting bags of flour that exploded in white puffs around us. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them so he could stand between them. The heat of him pressed against my center, only layers of fabric separating us.
"Should have taken you that first day," he murmured against my throat, fangs grazing the sensitive skin. "The moment you stood up to me in that ridiculous pink dress."
My laugh came out as a breathless gasp. "My dresses are not ridiculous."
His claws hooked into the waistband of panties, tugging insistently. "Lift."
I raised my hips, allowing him to pull the fabric down just enough to expose me. The cool air against me made me shiver, awareness of where we were, the pastry kitchen, for gods' sake, briefly cutting through the haze of desire.
"Someone could walk in," I whispered, even as my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.
"Let them." His claws traced the seam where my thigh met my hip, dangerously close to where I needed him most. "Let them see who you belong to."
I arched into his touch, my head falling back as his fingers finally found my center. He hissed in satisfaction at the wetness he found there, evidence of how much I wanted this despite my protests.
