by Zoe Chant
Dara’s mind was reeling. She couldn’t believe what she heard. No one had ever dared to talk to her like this before. At the cruel insinuations, her eyes filled with tears—but even so, she held her ground, staring furiously back into those fearsome dragon eyes.
“You know nothing about me,” she said, choking down her tears. “I don’t care about his money—do you think this was some sort of con? That I got lost here on purpose? I’d feel the same for Henrik if he were a normal human—no dragon, no fortune! I care about him! I—”
“Ah,” Alistair said with a thin smile, “if that were true, you wouldn’t have made him get out the family jewels your first evening here.” Alistair nodded at the Christmas tree where the sapphires gleamed ominously in the light of the fire. “Your plan’s working well. I haven’t seen those out in ages. We’re dragons—we’d kill before we’d let a stranger touch the most precious pieces of our hoard. What a strange coincidence that you made him bring out his most valuable possessions the very hour you met…”
Wordlessly, Dara shook her head, dread filling her. Was this what Henrik thought of her?
But no, he’d been so pleased that she’d chosen his grandmother’s favorite decorations…
“I never,” she began, dizzy with humiliation at the path this talk had taken. “He knows I love—”
“No,” Alistair said calmly. “No, you don’t. I know that because I love him. He’s my family. I’ve known him since he was a baby. I care for him, do you understand that? I won’t allow you to hurt him. He’s had enough pain, and if you cared for him at all, you’d see that too. If you truly loved him, you wouldn’t be here, overwhelming him with your presence every hour of the day until he can’t think straight anymore. If you loved him, you would have taken it slowly, like a normal person does. You’d have stayed in a hotel, going out for dinner or a walk instead of moving straight into the family castle. If you cared for his pain—”
“Enough!” Dara gasped. She’d jumped up from her chair, trembling from the cruelty of those words. Her heart was aching in her chest, as though someone had stabbed her. “I don’t have to listen to this!”
“No, you don’t.” Alistair leaned back in his chair, giving her a cold look. “But if you care about him at all, maybe you’ll think about what I’ve said.”
Dara didn’t bother with a reply. She didn’t think she’d be able to bring out words anymore. Pain had clenched around her throat until she felt she was choking on humiliation and grief.
She ran back through the endless hallways and corridors, knowing that she was fleeing, but unable to spend one more minute in a room with Henrik’s uncle.
Where was Henrik? Why had he abandoned her like this—so suddenly, without a single word?
Did Henrik too believe that all she wanted was his money?
“Where are you?” she whispered, curling up on his bed with her head on the pillow that still smelled like him. “Why did you leave me with him?”
***
When Dara opened her eyes again, it was noticeably darker outside. With a yawn, she stretched—then froze when suddenly, everything came back.
She’d had a terrible talk with Henrik’s uncle, and Henrik had left without a word to her. Was he still outside in the snow? Even if his dragon didn’t feel the cold, what if something had happened to him?
“Morning.”
A shadow to her right shifted, then Henrik stepped forward into the light. “Or rather, evening. It’s starting to get dark already.”
The words Dara had been about to say stuck in her throat when she got a first good look at Henrik.
He looked terrible.
He was pale, and there were shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week. His eyes, which had always shone like crystals of ice in the sun, were shuttered and empty.
Had she done this to him? Had he left to think, worrying that he’d been too hasty when he’d declared her his mate?
Did he already regret inviting her into his life?
Silently, she pulled the sheet around himself, shivering when she recalled the sensation of his hands gliding over her skin. It had felt so perfect. No one had ever touched her as he had, as though she was a precious treasure…
And now he looked so exhausted that something inside her ached at the thought that she’d done this to him. She’d made him worry.
“You came back,” she said softly. Suddenly she felt cold, even though she still had the blanket wrapped around her.
She wanted his touch instead. She wanted those strong arms to hold her tightly until she forgot everything that had happened.
But Henrik didn’t join her in the bed. Instead, he lingered there in the half-shadow, where she couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face.
“I’m sorry if I worried you,” he said. “I went out to fly, and I forgot the time. I haven’t done that in ages… it’s so easy to forget the strength of my dragon.”
Dara nodded slowly, still feeling unsettled. Something about him seemed so distant all of a sudden. Before, she’d always been able to read all of his thoughts on his face. Now, there was nothing but the play of shadows and his calm, collected voice.
That, and the emptiness of the bed without him in it.
“I’ve been thinking,” he continued slowly. “I saw your car still parked by the gate, and I remembered that you had planned to stay in Christmas Valley. I should have offered to drive you there as soon as the storm ended… I never really asked—”
“No,” Dara interrupted, her heart suddenly feeling empty and aching. “No, that wasn’t your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Did he believe the same things his uncle had said? That it was suspicious how she’d just appeared here and forced herself into his life?
But she didn’t care about his money. She cared about Henrik. She would have wanted him just as much if she’d stayed in a hotel in Christmas Valley and he’d been a hot ski instructor instead of a powerful dragon shifter.
All of a sudden, she felt desperately alone here in his bed, despite the fact that his scent clung to her skin and he was close enough to reach out to.
But hadn’t that been how this entire muddle had started? By reaching out for him instead of taking things slowly?
“I can drive you down into the town if you’d like,” he finally offered, speaking slowly as if it pained him.
Dara swallowed heavily, then forced herself to straighten and smile at him. This wasn’t the first pain she’d lived through. And she was a woman, damn it, not a lovesick teenager. She could handle this like the adult she was. Which meant trying to fix this by doing the right thing, instead of crying into Henrik’s pillow.
“No need, I can drive down myself. I found the way to the gate just fine, remember?”
Did he look relieved at her answer? The sight hurt, even though she knew that she was doing the right thing.
“It’s probably best not to rush things,” he said, still standing there just out of reach by the side of the bed. “You’ll like Christmas Valley. You should explore a little.”
Dara nodded, although she felt like her heart was breaking. How was it possible that the thought of leaving him was so much worse than her best friend moving away, even though she’d only known Henrik for two days?
But perhaps that was all the more reason to try and take things more slowly. It was no wonder his uncle had such a bad impression of her.
“We could have lunch together,” she said, clenching her fingers around the blanket to hide their trembling. If he brushed her off now…
“I’d like that,” he said, shifting a little as though he wasn’t quite sure what to say or do now. Then, after a moment, he drew something out of his pocket.
Instinctively, Dara took hold of it when he held it out. It was heavy—a chain of some sort…
“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes widening when the fading light of the evening sun fell onto it. For a moment, the chain shimmered. It was a necklace made of
gold. Real gold—not the cheap jewelry she’d bought for herself. This was heavy, and after her experience decorating the tree together with Henrik, she didn’t doubt for a second that this was the real thing.
The gold felt strangely warm in her hand. A small gem was dangling from it, reflecting the light in a hundred facets of sparkling silver, gold, rose or blue depending on how she shifted it.
Her mouth went dry. Was this a real diamond? It was small, but stunningly beautiful—tasteful enough that it could be worn combined with her simple black wool dress as well as a wedding dress…
The thought hit her like a cold shower. Wasn’t this exactly what Henrik’s uncle had feared? Here she was, accepting gifts worth more than she earned in a year, thinking about weddings! And that after she’d just decided to act like an adult and try to fix this!
She couldn’t accept this. It was too much, far too much.
“I want you to have this,” Henrik began, his voice a little hoarse.
Dara couldn’t let him finish. Once more she saw herself the way his uncle saw her—the gold-digger, the new arrival eager to get her hands on the family’s treasure.
“Thank you,” she said determinedly, “but I can’t accept this. It’s beautiful Henrik—but it’s too much.”
She allowed the chain to slide from her hand back into his. The glide of gold against her skin almost felt like a caress, the metal warmed by her skin, but she forced herself to suppress the longing that was rising up inside her.
Henrik didn’t answer, and she couldn’t bear to look at his face. This was already hard enough, even though she knew that it was for the best for both of them.
Hastily, she rose and took hold of her clothes. Pressing them against her chest, she all but fled into the bathroom, relieved when she could close the door behind her before Henrik could see the tears that threatened to rise.
***
Dara had turned the radio off as she drove back down the winding mountain road into Christmas Valley. This time, she had no eyes for the beauty of the snowy, picturesque village. Instead, she stopped at the first place that advertised free rooms.
It was all she had dreamed of when she’d decided that she needed a holiday. There was a cozy lounge downstairs with soft armchairs and a fire in the fireplace. The owners were an old, married couple who invited her to join them with a few of the other guests for card games and eggnog in the evening, and her room had a beautiful view of the town hall and the illuminated Christmas tree in front of it. Even now, she could hear the laughter of children having a snowball fight outside.
But instead of joy, all she felt was tiredness, and a sadness so vast it seemed to eat up all her hopes and dreams.
She slumped onto the bed, contemplating another nap. Not that sleep would make it better—but at least if she was asleep, she wouldn’t have to think of him, and what it had felt like to sleep next to him, his breath hot on her skin and his strong arms wrapped protectively around her.
But she’d promised to come downstairs for dinner. The other guests were going out that evening, but when Dara had mumbled something about being tired and needing an early night, the owner of the tiny hotel, Mrs. Henderson, had pressed her into at least accepting some of the stew she’d made for lunch.
“This is Christmas Valley, my dear,” Mrs. Henderson had said cheerfully. “No one goes to bed hungry here if I can help it!”
With a sigh, Dara dragged herself off to shower. Once she finally made it downstairs, the lobby was deserted. The other guests had already left to go out for dinner, and Dara was relieved.
In the kitchen, Mrs. Henderson had set out a plate for her and ladled stew into it as soon as Dara entered the room. Chunks of bright orange butternut squash swam in a rich broth together with carrots, potatoes and a generous amount of Italian sausage.
The smell was divine, and as soon as Dara had taken a first bite, she realized how hungry she was. She hadn’t eaten since that disastrous lunch. Now she finished off the plate gratefully while Mrs. Henderson moved through her large kitchen, humming along to the carols on the radio.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go out, dear?” she asked after she’d cleared the table. “The children’s choir is singing at the town hall today, and afterward, there’ll be a charity auction. Now this is going to sound strange to you, but we have our traditions here. You see, the children make little dragons—mostly wood or painted paper, all sorts of beautiful little trinkets, to hang on your tree. Local legend says that it’s good luck for the coming year to have a dragon on your tree.”
Dara smiled bleakly. Of course the village would have some sort of dragon custom. Wasn’t that what Henrik had told her? That his family of dragon shifters had watched out for this village for as long as they’d lived here?
Mrs. Henderson gave her a worried look when she didn’t answer. “You don’t like dragons? I suppose it’s a strange custom, but you should see the little dears showing off their creations for the auction!”
“No, it’s not that.” Dara swallowed, then took a deep breath. “I… I might have already seen enough of dragons for this holiday, that’s all.”
Mrs. Henderson nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “That’s what I thought. You see, when my Walter was driving out to the castle to deliver the boxes of supplies for the week, he saw an abandoned car standing by the gate. Gave him quite a fright. That castle hasn’t seen any visitors in more than a decade. And what do you know, two days later that same car comes rolling up to our house…”
Dara looked down for a moment to gather her thoughts. When she looked up again, she was no longer smiling. “That means you know about Henrik.”
“Young Mr. Drakeson?” Mrs. Henderson gave her a penetrating look. “So it’s true. You’ve been to the castle. And—pardon me, my dear, but you don’t look like a dragon. I’ve lived here all my life, I know them when I see them.”
A small laugh escaped Dara despite herself. “I suppose this would all be easier if I were,” she admitted. “But no, I’m not. But I’ve been in the castle. I got lost in a storm—I would have died, but Henrik found me. He saved me. He brought me back to his castle, and it was…”
Love at first sight? That’s what she had thought. And it was true. She’d never felt such an instant connection with anyone else before.
But had it been true for him? If he hadn’t talked to anyone but his uncle for twenty years, then Alistair had been right. Henrik might have confused his feelings. After all, what did she know about him? He was carrying so much guilt and pain around, and she still didn’t know why.
Suddenly she looked up, realizing just what it was Mrs. Henderson had said.
She’s lived here her entire life… that means she might have known what happened to make him hide away in his castle!
“This is wonderful news,” Mrs. Henderson said softly, a tell-tale gleam in her eyes. Slowly, she sat down. “We’ve been hoping… but so many years have passed, and we feared he might remain all alone inside that empty old building of his…”
“What happened?” Dara asked. “Please. If you know… I’m worried I made a big mistake. I love him. And I think he loves me too. But I know nothing about dragons or his family, and it was all going so fast…”
Mrs. Henderson chuckled. “If he loves you, I’m surprised you’re sitting here at all! Never come between a dragon and his treasure. They’re terribly possessive creatures. That’s why we have these charity auctions. He can make big donations to help the town, and his dragon is content because he gets the children’s trinkets in return.”
“He really hasn’t left the castle or talked to anyone else in twenty years?” Dara asked.
“Not since the day his parents died.” Mrs. Henderson smiled sadly. “It was a tragic accident. It wasn’t his fault. There was ice on the road, and his parents were driving up into the mountains. He’d gone flying in the mountains—which is a terrible idea because you get sudden updrafts, or so my husband tells me. Anyway, Henrik was young and got hi
mself stuck on a tiny ledge against the side of a cliff, the wind too strong for a young dragon. So his parents left right away. It was the night of our charity auction—frankly, I don’t know why they didn’t fly, but neither of them looked very good that night. They weren’t under the influence, all the police reports ruled that straight out. It was simply an accident. This is just what it’s like here in winter. It was very cold, and with the storm and the low visibility, they might have seen the turn too late. The street was a sheet of ice. The car broke through the railing and dropped.”
“Oh God,” Dara breathed, horror filling her as she slowly began to realize the magnitude of the pain Henrik had been carrying around within himself all these years. “And he thinks it was his fault?”
No wonder his uncle tried to protect him from more heartbreak after that…
Mrs. Henderson nodded, raising a hand to wipe at her eyes. “The funeral was the last time we saw him,” she said softly. “Poor boy. It wasn’t his fault. It was a terrible accident. Young dragons will go out and fly, just like children will go out and run. No one would blame him for it. His parents were racing and getting into trouble in those same updrafts when they were young. It was a tragedy—but I knew his parents would never have blamed him. No one did.”
“But he still blames himself,” Dara said, swallowing as she remembered the pain in his voice. Twenty years of solitude. He’d been punishing himself all these years.
Mrs. Henderson reached out to gently press her hand. “Maybe he’s starting to heal at last. This is such a wonderful sign; oh, I feared it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime! Just wait, any day now he will gift you with jewelry, and then—”
“He already did,” Dara said, giving Mrs. Henderson a wan smile. “I rejected it. I’d only known him two days; I know I look like a gold-digger, and I didn’t want him to think—”
