Page 24 of Nice

Kris wipes his hand across his face, showing weariness for the first time. “They are staying and eating with us. Far be it from me that this little mortal runs home and tells tales of how Santa is inhospitable.”

“Is it telling tales if it’s true?”

Asmon nudges my ribs with his elbow. “Don’t make it worse, human.”

The elf gives another deep curtsy before frowning up at Asmon. “I’ll notify the staff at once. All the staff.”

Groaning, Asmon pinches the bridge of his nose. "Really Claus. You have to notify them?"

He shrugs and watches the elf walk away, his eyes zeroing in on her ass. "What can I say, dinner is a family affair here. If you have a problem with that, you can always leave."

Asmon spears me with a scalding glance. "You know I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. I have no problem taking Caitlin and leaving just as soon as we figure this mess out."

Kris smiles at him, each solid white tooth on display. A tremor of unease flows through me at his predatory grin. "Caitlin will be staying, of course."

"Like hell I am!" I shout just as Asmon echoes my sentiments.

Shrugging again, Kris opens his hands as if to say it's out of his hands. He's Father fucking Christmas. How is he not in control of any of this?

"She's on the good list. As such, she's to be rewarded." His gaze slides over my form, stopping for a moment longer than necessary at my breasts. "More so since you've treated her so horrendously. I have to make it up to her somehow." Kris's eyes gleam as he rubs his hands together.

"You know all of this is a misunderstanding. And since when do you reward good girls with your cock?" Asmon snorts.

Kris's eyes widen at the lewd suggestion. Placing a hand over his heart, he begins to extol his virtues. Enough of this bullshit. Scoffing, I shuffle back over to the book list sitting near the fire. With both men standing toe to toe, it's easy for me to slip away without either of them noticing. Their loud voices rise, each high tone interspersed with finger pokes and small shoves. Forcing them out of my mind, I sit down on the floor in front of the roaring fire and gather the book into my lap.

Lucky for me, Frederick didn’t mind putting my brain at ease. He let me get a good look at Asmon’s naughty list before I went outside. This one is just as heavy as the one Asmon has but this is more decorated. Instead of just a plain, simple binding, this one has undefinable designs etched deep into the leather. Even the shade is different. Asmon's is a dark brown, almost black, and thick and stiff. This one is very sumptuous and buttery with a light brown sheen.

I glare up at Santa as he continues to rant, his face inching ever closer to Asmon. It's clear from the opulence of this book that Kris passes the cheaper version on to him. But why? As Krampus, shouldn't the naughty list look nicer for him? What is Santa going to do with a naughty list? Shaking my head, I start flipping through the pages. Towards the beginning there are actually a few people I recognize from crime shows.

Shivering, I quickly thumb through those and on to my name. That's really the one I'm interested in. Another difference of note is the designs around the names and locations. There's a square of filigree that surrounds the entire page. It was missing, of course, in Asmon's copy. That cheapskate jerk.

As I get closer to my name, I notice a subtle shift in the scrollwork. The design is still the same, but the color seems different. Frowning, I flip back through to the beginning and see a nuanced shift from dark red to more of a candy cane red. Once I get to my name, I note that the filigree is mostly that bright red with just a few blips of the darker shade. As my eyes travel from left to right, I notice a small spike in the dark red before mellowing out to the lighter color. Interesting. Flipping the page, the colors go back to normal with mostly dark red interspersed with light.

I look up, about to ask about it when the full weight of the scene comes crashing in. Asmon's horns are fully out of his skull, the twisted obsidian glinting like weapons from his head. Kris is almost nose to nose with him, eyes blazing with anger. Tension crackles the air around them as Asmon reaches out to choke Kris. I leap from the floor, about to separate the two. It doesn't matter if they don't see eye to eye, If Asmon hurts, or heaven forbid kills Santa, what will happen to all the children on the nice list?

Before I move more than a few steps, an imposing figure fills the doorframe. Standing at about the same height as Asmon, he looks just as formidable and deadly. Dark brown, almost red eyes narrow as he looks back and forth between the two. His thick eyebrows are angry slashes across his face. The air starts crackling again as he pushes his way between the two. Without even bothering to look at Kris, he shoves Asmon back and pins him against the wall.

"Stand down, Asmon."

"Fuck you, Red."

He stays silent but shifts his forearm up until it presses against Asmon's throat. With the flex of his fingers, he sends his arm muscles dancing and rippling as he leans in. "Don't make me hurt you."

A gasp slips out of my mouth before I can stop it, drawing all three sets of eyes to me. Clutching the book to my chest, I slink backwards, trying to escape the glares boring into me.

Kris is the first to move. He slides over next to me and holds out his hand.

"My book please."

I don't argue. Keeping a wary eye on Kris, I hand him the book. His fingers brush against my skin, sending a jolt of current through me. Grinning, he plays his fingers over my wrist, his smile growing with each jerk under his questing touch.

"You are such a delightful morsel," he murmurs, pushing me back up against the wall.

Asmon's bellow snaps me to attention. With a twist of my hips, I slam my foot against Kris's, reveling in his grunt of discomfort. As I slide past him to go to Asmon, his hand shoots out and curls around my arm.

"You think stomping on my foot will save you?" His grip tightens in increments. "I so do love it rough, my dear."

My eyes fly to Asmon. His gaze is dark, the pupil completely eating up his irises. He looks like a demon sent from hell to save me. But he can't move. Somehow, Red has him subdued. The howl of impotent rage fills the room, making me cringe in fear and anguish.