by Zoe Chant
“I’ve missed you too,” Henrik whispered against her skin.
The chain of gold he’d fastened around her neck felt hot against her skin, the diamond pendant heavy between her breasts. He pressed a kiss to it, one of his thumbs flicking gently against her nipple until she gasped and squirmed, another trickle of wetness dripping from her folds.
With another moan, she caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his fingers before she tugged it downward, resting it against her pants.
Softly, he laughed against her skin, but his hand followed the invitation and explored beneath the fabric of her jeans.
“How much did you miss me?” he asked, a fingertip tracing her clit through the soaked fabric of her panties. Then they were pushed to the side, and the tip of his finger slid inside her.
She sighed at the sensation, tightening around him while a sizzle of what felt like raw electricity rushed up her spine.
“A lot,” she breathed, and then wrapped her arms around his neck to draw him into a hungry kiss.
His finger continued to play with her, sliding in and out with teasing motions until she was whimpering. The sensation was too good, the need so keen that it ached. Her nails dug into his skin as she trembled in his arms, kept there on the edge of orgasm, waiting for that one touch that would push her over—and then he drew back.
“Wait,” he said, his voice rough and hungry. His eyes were dark with desire, a deep blue that shone as brilliantly as the sapphires she’d hung from their tree.
He pushed her gently back onto the bed and crawled over her, muscles flexing as he pulled off her pants. She raised her hips to help him, gasping as her panties were peeled off too.
Then his hand was back on her, two fingers gently teasing at her slick, sensitive folds while he bent over her for another hungry kiss.
How had she ever been able to think that this was about money, that they didn’t fit together, that she’d always look like a gold-digger?
In here, with their clothes stripped from their bodies and their souls bared to each other, there were no more secrets. And the truth was that none of her fears mattered.
It didn’t matter that he was a dragon and she an ordinary human. It didn’t matter that he owned gold and jewels and a castle, and all she had was her mother’s old car.
All she wanted was Henrik, with or without his money or powers. And she could feel that the same desperate need had taken hold of him.
His strong body moved over her, and then slid inside her, and it was perfect. The sensation made her tremble and cry out. Finally, it felt as if she was complete, all the loneliness of her old life falling away to be replaced by searing heat and a fierce sense of belonging.
With every powerful thrust, the heat inside her grew, her inner walls tightening around the large shaft that filled her again and again. Helplessly, she arched against him, the pleasure building until it was nearly painful, her entire body trembling with the need of release—and then he pushed her over, his teeth finding her skin, muffling his own groan of pleasure as he bit down.
A line of fire ran straight through her. She bucked against him, her thighs clenching around his hips as she could feel him orgasm. Pleasure rolled in waves through her as she throbbed around him, again and again, arching in ecstasy into his arms while her entire body seemed to turn to liquid fire.
A short while later, she found herself still panting for breath in his arms, comfortably curled against that strong chest while his hand slid up and down her thigh with possessive admiration.
“I spent most of my life thinking that I can’t listen to my dragon,” Henrik murmured against her hair. “That only tragedy comes from listening to his wildness. But my dragon couldn’t bear to let you go, and he was right. This is right. I’m terrified I’ll end up hurting you, but when you were gone—the pain was worse than the loneliness of those twenty years.”
Tiredly, Dara chuckled. She turned in his arms, then pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, her fingertips trailing the hard planes of his pecs.
“I’m a grown woman, you know,” she said softly. “You can’t make that decision for me. If I end up hurt—well, that’s a danger in every relationship, isn’t it? But it’s sweet that you worry about me. And that’s probably a good sign. You’re the only boyfriend who ever worried about hurting me.”
She kissed him again, sighing against his mouth as his arms tightened around her.
“That’s just wrong,” he said earnestly. “If you love someone—”
“Most of them probably didn’t,” she said thoughtfully. “Or at least not really. No one ever rescued me from a storm before. Or voluntarily spent an evening setting up a Christmas tree with me. Or—”
“They don’t know what they missed out on,” Henrik said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.
She sighed contentedly at the way his thumb traced a tender path down from the corner of her eye to her throat.
“Though I’m glad.” His voice was even throatier now. There was a small, possessive growl beneath his words.
A shiver ran through Dara. It was damn sexy and made her want to press even closer against him.
“Dragons don’t like rivals,” he continued. “Especially not when it comes to their most precious treasure.”
Dara gave him a small, amused laugh. “Henrik Drakeson, there has never been a rival for you. Who could compare to you? You’re…” She tried to think of a word to sum up the experience of cuddling in bed with a man who was also a fearsome dragon that glistened like crystal, owned a castle, wanted to decorate her with gold and jewels, and treated her like none of that made him in any way special.
“You’re incomparable,” she whispered. “One of a kind. My very own Christmas dragon.”
***
Henrik woke her up very early in the morning, when the sun had barely started to rise.
“I should get back home,” he whispered and kissed her. “Will you come back as well? Or I can return later and we can go out for lunch—”
“Mmm.” She stretched, still pleasantly tired and content to curl up beneath the covers for another hour or two. “I need a shower and check out of the hotel, and probably say thanks to Mrs. Henderson as well… how about I drive up to the castle before lunch, and we cook together again?”
“That sounds perfect.” Henrik nuzzled at her hair. “I don’t want to worry my uncle, and he was planning to leave this morning. He’s going back to Beijing, or maybe his Paris offices…”
Dara made a non-committal sound. Last night had reassured her that Henrik wanted her, and that he didn’t care about the money at all—but it was hard to forget the terrible things his uncle had said.
At the same time, she didn’t want to upset Henrik, who clearly cared about his uncle, and who had only that one family member left.
Alistair loves Henrik. He just wants to protect him. That’s normal when you love someone, right?
Still, a vast relief filled her at the thought that she wouldn’t have to see Alistair again. Before he arrived, everything had been perfect. And without him here to make her doubt herself, surely she and Henrik would find a way to make this all work out.
“I love you,” she said, then had to hide a little yawn.
“I love you too. Go back to sleep.” Henrik dropped another kiss into her hair, and then began to gather his things from the floor where they’d ended up last night.
Smiling to herself, feeling completely safe and loved, Dara drifted back to sleep, the warmth of Henrik still surrounding her.
When she woke again, it was light outside, the sun shining down onto the snow-covered village. She was feeling perfectly rested, and she couldn’t stop smiling as she showered and dressed.
She was still wearing the necklace Henrik had given her, and she kept reaching out to run her fingers along the chain of gold. It was warm to her touch, and strangely soothing. It was almost as though she could feel Henrik’s arms wrapping around her, enveloping her in his warmth.
After a short chat with the delighted Mrs. Henderson, who tried very hard to resist payment for the room Dara had rented, she began the drive up towards the top of the mountain once more, following the small road that advertised the snow castle. It hadn’t snowed during the night, and the street was in good condition. Dara drove slowly and carefully regardless, still a little intimidated by the force of the storm she’d witnessed the first time.
It was that carefulness that saved her when she turned a corner and found the street blocked by the body of a large, black dragon.
She managed to brake just in time.
Her heart was racing in her chest, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was terrified. Where Henrik’s arrival had made her feel overwhelmed by the power and grace of the ice dragon, this dragon seemed to exude waves of menace.
For one long moment, she stared at it, feeling trapped by its cruel gaze like a mouse facing a snake.
Then, one powerful leg reached out. The dragon’s claws dug into the body of her car, and with the ear-splitting sound of tearing metal, the dragon ripped out the door.
Dara screamed.
A moment later, she found herself lifted by those same claws, and then they were in the air.
The dragon’s giant wings were beating as she dangled from its legs. She was frozen with terror. Below her, she could see the road and her car, growing smaller and smaller.
If the dragon dropped her now, she’d be dead.
Dara had never been afraid of heights, but at that moment, the fear was so overwhelming she couldn’t think. There was no space for anything but panic. Everything else had faded away while her heart was pounding and her pulse was echoing in her ears, loud as a drum.
Beneath her, everything was white.
Was the dragon carrying her away to his realm to eat her?
Then something else came into view. At first it was too small to make out, then it grew in size until Dara could see path lined by walls of ice and snow, an intricate system of white against white.
A maze. This had to be the snow maze Henrik had talked of.
The snow maze that was closed because it was too dangerous to visitors…
The dragon kept descending with Dara still helplessly dangling from its claws. The ground came closer and closer. They rushed past a wall of ice, so close that Dara could feel its coldness against her face.
Then, suddenly, the claws loosened their grasp on her, and Dara screamed again as she dropped.
But the fall only lasted for a second before she fell into soft snow. Gasping, her heart still racing with fear, she forced her trembling body to jump up—only to be faced with the black dragon shimmering and shifting before her.
One moment, the giant beast was staring at her from cruel, dark eyes. The next moment, Henrik’s uncle Alistair was standing calmly in front of her, wearing a smart black pinstripe suit that screamed Armani or Gucci, or some other overpriced brand that Dara had never even seen up close before.
Her mind was reeling. Had the dragon been Alistair all along? But why would Henrik’s uncle abduct her?
Then she realized that he held a gun in his hand.
Alistair chuckled when he saw that she had noticed the weapon. “Just a precaution. I don’t really need it, do I? Still, you can never be too careful.”
“I don’t understand,” Dara said, her mouth dry as she looked at the gun.
Alistair laughed. The sound was cold and devoid of humor. “Of course you don’t. Why would you? Stupid girl. You come here, and you almost manage to undo plans I’ve so carefully built for twenty years.”
He nodded towards an opening in the wall of ice to her right. “Try that entrance. If you make it to the heart of the maze, who knows… you might even survive the cold.”
Dara was trembling, panic slowly giving way to fury. “Why are you doing this? If Henrik finds out—”
“Oh, I hope he will,” Alistair said, looking as though he was enjoying himself immensely. “In fact, given that the fool finally managed to put his gold on you, I’m sure he’ll appear here soon enough. He’s the sort of dragon who can’t resist a damsel in distress. So predictable. So boring. And very soon—dead.”
Alistair’s smile widened when Dara gasped. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of the family fortune. If you hadn’t shown up, why, I might even have allowed him to live a long and lonely life. Once I got his parents out of the way—”
“That was you?” Dara straightened. She was filled by a blinding, cold hate as she thought of Henrik’s pain. He had spent twenty years believing that his parents’ deaths were his fault—and Alistair had let him believe it. Henrik had run away from the world, concealing himself up here alone… but perhaps that had been Alistair’s plan all along. To kill his parents. To make Henrik believe it was his fault. But how? And why?
“A drop or two of one of your nasty little human drugs in their champagne at the charity party.” Alistair showed her his teeth. “How could I know that they’d soon be called away, because their precious little son got himself trapped in the mountain updrafts while out flying where he wasn’t allowed to go? Oh, that’s right,” he said with a mocking tilt of his head. “I might have spent the evening before filling his head with stories of how his father and I had sneaked out when we were his age to play in those same updrafts for hours. Like I said—the boy has always been predictable.”
Dara gave Alistair a hate-filled look. “You disgusting piece of—”
“Now, now.” Alistair raised his gun a little. “As fun as this little chat was, I’ve got to be on my way now. I’m sure Henrik will arrive soon enough. Of course, if you die in here before then, he’ll blame himself until the end of his life. I can work with that. And should you both die in here—why, what a tragedy that will be! I’ll make sure you both get a nice grave. A mausoleum, tasteful of course. Italian marble, maybe. No need to thank me.”
Dara was still reeling from the revelations when Alistair took a step back. A second later, his outline shimmered, and then the giant black dragon took off into the air once more, the powerful beating of his wings forcing her to cower in the snow.
Any second she anticipated the giant jaw closing around her, or those cruel claws ending the game right here and now—but nothing happened. When she finally dared to look up, the black dragon was high in the air, and then vanished into the clouds.
Dara took a deep breath. She was trembling.
She couldn’t believe the things she’d just heard. To think that a day ago, she’d sat next to Alistair as they’d eaten their dessert while chatting about the plans Henrik’s father had made for the castle’s modernization!
Even then, Alistair had been secretly planning to get rid of her all along. That was why he’d called her a gold-digger, to see if he could make her run. Stupid as she was, she’d even believed the terrible things he’d said about her!
Well, no more. As soon as she got to talk to Henrik—
She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as she remembered where she was. Lost inside the maze, which hadn’t seen any visitors for years and years.
Henrik will come for me. He knew when I was in danger before; he’ll come again.
Of course, Alistair was planning on that too. But right now there was nothing she could do about it. Her best set of options was to find an exit and stay alive, or at least wait for Henrik and then come up with a plan together—one that preferably didn’t end with Italian marble mausoleums.
She gave the opening Alistair had pointed to a suspicious look, then walked pointedly past it. There were two other paths that led away from where Alistair had dropped her. And she might have believed him yesterday, but she was not so stupid as to walk right into his trap.
She took the path to her left. It led her around two corners before she came to face a dead end. Snow had piled up high in here, and she shivered as she remembered Henrik saying that the place hadn’t been cleared for visitors and could be dangerous for people getting lost in it.
<
br /> “And now I know why,” she muttered as she stumbled out of the snowdrift. The snow went up to her knees; even the sensible snow boots she was wearing didn’t help much with that.
She went back to where she had started, still ignoring the other opening. This time, the path seemed to wind in twists and turns around itself, until she wasn’t certain in which direction she was walking anymore. The walls of ice to either side of her were too high to climb. For a moment, she was afraid that the path was leading her deeper into the maze instead of back to the exit. What if she froze to death before Henrik found her?
But just then the golden necklace seemed to shift against her skin. The metal was warm. It reminded her of the gentle touch of Henrik’s fingers, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.
There had been no other openings or paths. She wasn’t lost. She could always turn around and make her way back if she wanted.
Determinedly, she pushed onward. It was still very cold. There was no wind in the maze, but even so the cold air was biting at the exposed skin of her face. The sky was cloudy; there was no sun to warm her.
At last, the path opened up to a small space. Gratefully, she stumbled into it—only to gasp in horror when she found herself face to face with a familiar opening.
She was back where she had started. How had that happened? She hadn’t left the path she was on, and she knew that she hadn’t gotten turned around.
Or had she?
For a moment, she hesitated. But she’d walked onward without pause, terrified of what Alistair might do if she didn’t find a way to stop his plans.
No, she hadn’t been turned around. This place was playing tricks on her.
She shuddered as she remembered how the gate of icicles had beckoned her and seemed to let her in. No, it wasn’t her fault. This was a dragon’s home. Strange things happened here.
But this was Henrik’s home, and he wouldn’t let anything harm her.
Clenching her hands in helpless fury, she strode straight through the opening Alistair had pointed out earlier. If this was a trap of Alistair’s, she’d meet him or whatever he had waiting for her face to face…
