His Season

I’d escaped Krampus once. The chances of doing so again were almost nonexistent.

After you’ve spent a holiday in the lair of one of these monsters, it’s difficult to not be constantly looking for him again.

If you were confused by me using a plural term when referring to the creature, don’t be. I’ve become a bit of an expert on the subject. Mainly because I didn’t become one...And lived to tell of it.

Apparently, a rare thing.

Since the incident, I’ve taken it upon myself to read every article I can find on the being, from the London Legion Library. Not an easy subject to research, I might add.

They are generally believed to be mythical creatures, since everyone who sees one becomes one.

Except me.

In the myths, the creatures have a single designated mate. One which they may only seek during the holiday season, and then drag to their den in order to curse them to the same fate as they, themselves, endured.

Not for me. No thank you.

You see, so many fear the odd look of the beast that when they look upon it, they assume it has come to destroy their season.

A monster to be feared.

Which is correct in idea but wrong in detail. That isn’t really what they’ve come to the surface for, at all.

They rise, because it is their season. When they are the most fertile and in need of a mate to sate themselves on.

I was one of those...

But enough explaining. The jist of it is that I am now walking the candlelit streets of London. Free as a canary again. But meandering through cloying groups of people is no longer as simple as it once was.

Thus Jericho.

I glanced over at the huge redheaded ruffian next to me. Strangely reassured by his intimidating presence.

I glanced up at the dim gray afternoon sky. Watching as lacy frills of snow danced from above to land on my cloak and in my soft brown hair.

Like silk. Those were the words he’d used when he described it to me in that husky purr of his. As he’d rolled it between his nimble fingertips. Studying how it shined in one of the only rays of light that dared peer into his den.

My eyes fell to the ground beneath me. Hiding the emotions pulling at my face.

I noticed how much snow already flaked over the ground. The day might’ve been cold but for the absence of a wind. Making it seem as if we were still just on the cusp of winter instead of in the heart of it.

Jericho, my ever-present, paid companion, was at my side. Joining me, as he was required to, for every trip outside the house.

Aunt Kendra insisted upon it. She’d hired him as a safeguard from further threats, immediately upon my return from captivity.

“How many stops do we have today, Miss Ludrow?” Jericho asked in a worried tone. He was a lumbering giant of a man. Well over six foot with a scarred face and a meaty build which indicated he was an expert pugilist.

Kendra is certainly thorough.

“Dressmaker and the hat shoppe.” I cast him an apologetic look. Knowing how much he hated enduring shopping.

It was many an occasion, that while I was inspecting the goods, the owners would try to send him off.

Likely thinking he was there to rob the place.

It was rather difficult to explain to them why he couldn’t leave my side. Especially those that didn’t know what had happened to me. The ones which had begun their work at the shops, after I’d gone missing last year.

I’d come out to these shops so cheerfully, before that. I thought sadly.

Remembering how happily I’d bounced in. A basket over my arm to collect all the purchases of the day that I could carry knowing that the rest would be sent over later.

How innocent I’d been.

Until him...

I’d only been gone about a month after he’d taken me. But once I’d escaped, I’d remained in hiding. Refusing to leave the safety of Aunt Kendra’s house, in my determination to never show my face again. I’d sent word to my mother that I was safe, but I couldn’t come home.

That way he could never find me again.

I’d known she was devastated. But she’d seemed to understand. At least that’s what I had gathered from the three-page letter she sent me. Which had mainly focused on telling me how grateful she was that I was safe, and how she longed to see my face again, as soon as I felt safe.

Which has yet to come. I regularly sent her letters. But was afraid he’d follow her, if she were to meet with me.

I had my back to Jericho in the store. The fitters circled me like hungry vultures. Moving around me so quickly I was finding it hard to keep them all in view. My heart was beginning to race as I felt crowded.

A familiar brush of my hair near my back soothed my anxiety.

It was Jericho’s gruff way of reminding me he was there. A slight sweep of my hair hanging away from me. A way of reassuring me without actually touching me.

Which would be inappropriate.

It was a subtle but clear reminder that I was safe.

It was the most he could muster, gruff as he was, in the way of comfort.

I blew a long breath and advised which dresses I was requesting and the proper size I’d be needing to fit Aunt Kendra. Commissioning a couple for myself as well for the upcoming festivities of the season.

Aunt Kendra had advised that I would have to attend them all, so she could keep me in view.

I only agreed because I knew how she worried. I was filled with dread either way.

If I went, I’d be endlessly stressed and on edge. If I didn’t, I’d be home alone and on high alert with few to call upon if I was caught in a nearly empty house.

Bad either way. I drew a long breath and ordered another dress.

Once that was done, I quickly fetched a hat for my a and signaled to Jericho that it was high time we headed back.

As we were moving down the walk, a cluster of ladies with a few male escorts walked toward us.

They parted to make way for us and as I went walked between them, my head whirled in the direction of the men.

From the opposite side of me, I felt the brush of fingertips along the inside of my hand. Stroking outward to mold a masculine palm against mine. A pointed caress. An intimate touch, as though someone knew my very soul.