by Zoe Chant
“You rejected a dragon’s gift?” Mrs. Henderson clasped her chest, giving Dara a look of shock. “Oh, my dear… did he not tell you about dragons and their treasure?”
“They… really like their gold?” Dara asked carefully.
With a deep sigh, Mrs. Henderson shook her head. “Oh, what a mess. Never reject a dragon’s gift. They’re very particular about their hoard. They’ll defend it with their life against thieves. But at the same time, if they decide to gift a part of it, it is the highest honor imaginable, or a sign of deepest love. And rejecting that gift—”
“Would be a terrible insult,” Dara said slowly, her horror growing. “Or maybe… a rejection of that love? Oh, what have I done?”
“Now, now, dear.” Mrs. Henderson patted her hand, although she still looked worried. “He can’t just expect you to know all that! He should have told you. Normally, his father would have taken you aside to explain, or his mother—such a kind, beautiful woman. This is what comes of living in that empty building all by himself without a family to care for him. The boy is forgetting his manners.”
“I’ll have to talk to him,” Dara said determinedly. The thought of meeting his uncle again still filled her with terror—but the thought that she might have hurt Henrik by accident was even worse.
I don’t care about his money or his castle or any of these dragon things I don’t quite understand. But I need him to know that I love him, and that I want him more than anything, jewelry or not!
“It’s too dark outside to drive back up to the castle,” Mrs. Henderson said and nodded towards the window.
Dara saw that it had started to snow again. In the distance, she could now hear the faint sound of the children’s choir starting into Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
A faint smile tugged on Dara’s lips.
“I know, but… I think I might go out today after all,” she said slowly, her smile widening. “Dragons are good luck, you say? Maybe I’ll see about buying one of those good-luck dragons, and drive back to the castle first thing in the morning.”
“Bringing them a gift for their hoard is the way to a dragon’s heart,” Mrs. Henderson said in affirmation. “Not that I think you’ll need it. But he hasn’t had one of our village’s dragons on his tree in twenty years. I think he’ll appreciate that gesture more than you know…”
Chapter Six: Henrik
It was already starting to get dark when Henrik found himself standing at the entrance of the snow maze.
He could feel it calling out to him. There, at the heart of it, his hoard lay buried—and with that hoard, his dragon’s heart, his finest treasure: a priceless, immense diamond. There was no other jewel in the world like it.
Usually, a dragon wore his heart stone on his skin—on a chain, or as a bracelet. It did not truly matter as long as it was close. Even now, Henrik could feel the power of his stone call out for him across the distance.
To be parted from it like this hurt his dragon. Still, there had been no other choice. Henrik had seen what the power of his dragon could do. The wildness of the monster inside him had cost him his parents. To keep his dragon under control and make certain that nothing similar would ever happen again, he needed to keep his heart stone locked away.
It weakened his dragon. It made it painful to shift. Now that he’d shifted twice in such a short time without it, he could feel how much strength he had used up. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to shift again for quite a while, until he had recovered.
I’m doing the right thing, he thought, leaning against the gate that barred the entrance to the maze. I’m at fault for what happened then. And my uncle is right—I cannot draw Dara into this. If she were hurt… isn’t it better to watch her walk away than to watch her die?
It was promising to be a gorgeous night. As the sun sank lower and lower and the sky darkened, stars appeared and the moon began its own journey across the sky. It was cold enough that Henrik’s breath froze in the air, but the air was so crisp and clear that above him he could make out the Milky Way, shimmering far away like a band of spilled diamonds on black velvet.
The thought brought with it a memory of how Dara had dropped his jewelry into his hand, rejecting his gift. Inside him, his dragon roared with pain and despair. All the instincts of the dragon wanted to claim his mate.
But I’m more than dragon instincts. If she rejects me, I can accept that, no matter how much it hurts.
The dragon within him shifted with heartbroken fury. Even now, the pull to open the gate and walk to the center of the maze was nearly irresistible. How easy it would be. All he’d have to do was take his diamond from his hoard. Once he held his dragon’s heart in his hands once more, the old power would fill him, and then…
He shook his head at the pictures his dragon painted in his head. He didn’t think it would make much of a difference to Dara. She’d have rejected his gift either way, even if he had been in possession of all of his power.
Anyway, this is about her safety, he reminded himself. Could you live with that, standing at her grave one day?
The mere thought was enough to make his chest ache, as though something had coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe from the pain.
He knew he was doing the right thing. His dragon wasn’t to be trusted. Not with Dara, the greatest treasure he had ever found.
Still, the dragon within him wouldn’t settle down.
Henrik turned his head, looking at the mountains to his left. Down there in the valley, Dara was probably sitting by a fire right now, warming her hands and chatting to other visitors.
Normal people. People who didn’t carry a heavy burden of guilt around with them wherever they went.
It was all for the best. Henrik knew that if he wanted Dara to be happy, he had to let her go. She deserved so much more than what he was able to give her.
Still, there was enough dragon left in him that the mere thought of giving up his greatest treasure sent the dragon into a jealous rage.
If she’d at least accepted my gift…
He hadn’t intended it to mean anything. It wasn’t a wedding ring, and not even anywhere close to the gift of precious gems and gold that was a dragon’s mating present.
It had been a simple, small thing, given solely because he wanted her to wear a tiny amount of his gold against her skin. It wasn’t even to claim her. The thought was simply comforting to his dragon: it would have been something as small and intimate to the powerful creature in his heart as the scent of her hair lingering on his pillow was to the human part of him.
If she leaves, I might never see her again, he thought.
His heart was pounding painfully fast. It would be for the best. He knew that. He knew he had to let her go.
But after twenty years of loneliness and grieving, it seemed that the dragon in him had finally reached a point where he refused to back down.
The coiled golden chain was burning in his pocket. The soft song of the precious metal was chafing at him, a constant source of pain like an ill-fitting shoe.
I can let her leave, he thought. I’m strong enough for that. But I want… I want her to take my gold with her. Then it won’t matter if I stay here on my own until the end of my life. As long as I can still feel her wear my gift, I’ll be happy. I’ll always know that I made the right choice, and that she’s safer without me.
Determinedly, he turned away from the gate to the maze. He hadn’t visited Christmas Valley in twenty years—maybe it was about time he paid it a visit.
***
He’d parked near the town hall. Christmas Valley wasn’t large; still, there were enough small hotels and bed and breakfasts that it would take time to visit them all and search for Dara. But when he’d driven into the valley, he’d been able to see the light of the illuminated tree and hear the gathered crowd from afar.
It was the evening of the annual charity auction; everyone in town would be out here to watch. And if he was lucky, he’d
find Dara here as well.
The gold was still heavy and hot in his pocket, a constant reminder of his mate. It drew him onward as much as the call deep within his heart. Dara was close. His mate was close.
Having been parted from her had hurt, even though it had only been for a few hours.
He hadn’t been back in town for twenty years. He’d been afraid of what his reception might be like—but as soon as people recognized him, a pleased murmur ran through the crowd and they parted just enough that he could make his way forward easily. But no one drew attention to him. He was grateful for that, for now he could make out Dara, still in her pink, furry parka, standing near the auctioneer and beaming when the hammer fell for the third time.
“And this lovely specimen of a dragon is sold! Congratulations,” the man called out with a pleased look on his face.
Henrik found that he was smiling. The auctioneer was the old mayor, Mr. Harris—only he hadn’t been old when Henrik had attended the charity auction for the last time. Back then, there had been no gray in his hair. Now, it was a distinguished silver, just like his beard, and the face Henrik remembered was lined with new wrinkles.
As the crowd cheered and applauded, Dara exchanged a few bills for a small dragon crafted, it looked like, from paper and glitter. Henrik’s smile widened as he imagined that the home of the child responsible for it would be glittering for weeks, just as his living room had when his mom had let him work with glitter.
For a moment, he imagined Dara bent over another paper dragon, glitter on her cheeks and nose, a young dragonet with her eyes racing through the hallways of his empty home and filling it with laughter once more…
Then she looked up and their eyes met.
For one heartbeat, everything else fell away. Henrik forgot about the crowd, about his uncle, even about the pain and guilt.
There was only Dara: the warmth in her eyes that pulled him towards her with an irresistible force, the soft pink of her lips inviting kisses, the generous curves that had molded themselves against his body so perfectly.
“Hi,” she breathed when they were finally standing in front of each other.
“Hi,” he answered, his voice rough, even though he couldn’t stop smiling.
How could he have ever considered letting her go? Now that they were close once more, his heart was racing, his body aflame with a wild joy that burned hot enough to scorch away twenty years of pain and loneliness.
“I got you a Christmas present,” she said somewhat sheepishly, holding out the small dragon ornament with a hand that trembled a little.
Henrik had to swallow before he could speak again. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. And it’s…” He broke off, silently shaking his head for a moment as emotions welled up.
“That means more than you can possibly know,” he finally said, reaching out for the fragile dragon.
It had obviously been crafted by a young child. Dollops of glue were visible and some of the corners were crooked.
To Henrik, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“I haven’t had one of these on my tree in twenty years,” he continued at last with a small smile. “Every year, my parents would bid at the auction and bring home a dragon for our tree.”
Dara’s smile widened. Slowly, she reached out, her hand closing around Henrik’s, still holding the dragon.
“I know,” she murmured. “I was told that this is how you dragons do charity. Exchanging one treasure for another.”
“Would you…” Henrik had to start again. It was difficult to form words with Dara so close. She was overwhelming all of his senses with her beautiful eyes, and her scent that made the dragon in him want to trail kisses all over her skin. “This is not charity. And I know you said no before, but I fear I didn’t explain it right. My dragon wants to make a gift to you. There’s no expectations. No claim. And it’s not about the money. But my dragon would be honored if you would wear some of my gold on your skin. Even if you choose to leave. Especially if you choose to leave. Gold means a lot to us. And if I could know that you’ll treasure this gift of mine—”
A soft laugh escaped Dara, and she shook her head. “Not in exchange for my little dragon. That is a Christmas gift, you don’t need to buy it from me.”
Henrik’s heart sank. Was she refusing him again?
“But,” she then continued, giving him a loving smile, “I’ll gladly accept your gold as a gift. I’m sorry I refused you earlier. I didn’t know what the offer meant to a dragon! I was scared you might think I only want your money.”
Henrik’s heart expanded in his chest, his dragon roaring with joy and a new rush of possessive love for his gorgeous mate.
“Dara, I’ve been alone for twenty years,” he murmured roughly. “All the gold and diamonds didn’t do a single thing against the pain I felt. But this… this gives me happiness.”
Carefully, he reached out and took hold of her hand. Then he dropped the chain into it. Inside him, the dragon coiled around itself with delirious pleasure. His gold on his mate. The metal that sung to his soul warmed by the heat of her skin.
This was how it should be. Happiness surged through him as her fingers closed around the chain.
Then, with another soft laugh, she turned around and lifted the chain to her neck. “Help me fasten it?” she asked.
Henrik chuckled. He took hold of the ends of the chain. Then, beneath his attentive gaze, the gold moved as if by itself, the ends coming forward to meet—and connect. A soft ripple went through the chain, the song of the gold in Henrik’s ear gaining in intensity for a moment. And then the gold settled against her skin, the ends fused together without a single mark to tell that they had ever been parted.
Dara turned again. Her eyes were gleaming at him. Her cheeks were flushed, and only now did Henrik become aware of the crowd around them once more.
Old Mayor Harris gave him a little wink before he announced the next dragon ornament up for auction. When Dara and Henrik slowly made their way out of the crowd, people were smiling at him, or patting his shoulder in encouragement.
“It’s so good to see you again, Mr. Drakeson,” said a woman whom he recognized as Mrs. Henderson. She’d once worked in the castle many years ago. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “So many years… and here you are again. I feared it would not happen, but I’m so glad it did. You’ve been missed.”
Speechless and overwhelmed, Henrik pressed her hand. Suddenly he felt guilty for his many years of withdrawn solitude. He’d tried to care for the valley as his family had always done—but there was more to it than yearly donations. He should have been there for them. He should have been right here, applauding the children’s choir and supporting the mayor’s projects and making sure that everyone in Christmas Valley knew how much he appreciated everything the village had done for his family.
“I’ve missed you too,” he said finally, when he could talk again. “More than I’ve realized. I’m sorry. I should have come much sooner.”
Mrs. Henderson patted his arm again. “Now why don’t you and Dara go back home? We’re all staying out for the fireworks, but there’s eggnog and mulled cider in the lounge by the fire, and if you’re hungry, Dara knows where I put the stew.”
“Thank you,” Dara interrupted, her cheeks red even though her eyes were still sparkling.
“I think I could do with a drink,” Henrik murmured.
It was a lie, of course. When Dara’s hand slid into his, he was quite sure that they wouldn’t be able to make themselves stop in the lounge even for a glass of Mrs. Henderson’s famous mulled cider.
All of a sudden, his earlier fears no longer made any sense. Now that she was wearing his gold on her skin, the dragon inside him seemed to have settled down. For the first time in his life, that frightening power that could destroy cities and mountains alike was no longer itching beneath his skin. Even the old, old pain of having locked his dragon’s heart away from himself had dulled.
All
he could feel was his dragon’s smug, possessive glee. His dragon had found his mate. His mate was wearing their gold on her skin. And his dragon would protect her from any and all threats—with his life, if it came to it.
Chapter Seven: Dara
They did not stop for the cider, the eggnog, or any of Mrs. Henderson’s butternut stew. As soon as they’d made it into the entrance hall of the small, empty hotel, Henrik’s arms came around her and Dara melted into his embrace.
It was as if they’d never been parted. Whatever had happened before, whatever Henrik’s uncle believed—in that moment Dara knew that this was meant to be.
Henrik’s lips on hers were hot, his hands demanding as they held her tightly. When they drew apart at last, Dara was out of breath, and Henrik looked at her with his eyes full of a desire that made her tremble with need.
Even now she was wet for him, her panties soaked with her arousal as she remembered what it had felt like to have that large, powerful body against her—inside her.
Without speaking a word, she slid her hand into his and then gave it a gentle tug. The heat in his eyes grew, and a moment later, they stumbled up the stairs to her large room on the second floor. It had a beautiful view of the valley, but neither of them paid any attention to it.
Instead, Dara watched with bated breath as Henrik drew off his shirt and then his jeans. He was hard already; the sight made her mouth go dry. Even now, she could see the incredible power of the dragon in his eyes. They were the pale blue of a glacier, but they weren’t cold at all. Instead, a heat filled them that made Dara moan and hold out her arms for him.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered into his hair when his hands went confidently beneath her own shirt, unhooking her bra before pulling it off, together with the shirt.
Her nipples were aching for his touch, and she arched her back in invitation when Henrik’s large hands curved around her breasts.
