Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells (Whispering Pines #8)

Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

T he wind picked up suddenly, carrying the scent of the returning storm.

“We should head back to the cabin,” Falkor said reluctantly, though he made no move to release her from where she fit so perfectly against his side.

“Can we stop at my place so I can get a few changes of clothes?” Briar asked, looking up at him through snow-dusted lashes. “We still have to deal with this storm and the spirit. I’m not sure when I’ll be back home.”

Something warm unfurled in his chest at her words. The rational part of his mind warned him about letting her get too close, but his dragon instincts hummed with satisfaction at the thought of keeping her safe in his territory.

“The storm’s coming back strong,” he said, offering her an out. “Let’s make it quick. You might be safer if you stay home.”

“I feel safe with you.” The simple honesty in her voice struck him speechless.

They went to her house and she packed another duffel with essentials and clothes. Then they walked through the deepening snow together, his magic creating a barrier against the worst of the wind. Briar’s hand remained firmly clasped in his, her fingers intertwined with his larger ones as if they belonged there. The contact sent constant sparks of awareness through him, his dragon magic reaching for her witch’s power like flames seeking fuel.

The cabin emerged from the swirling snow, looking different somehow. The Christmas decorations she’d insisted on putting up caught the fading light, making the usually austere building seem almost welcoming. Or perhaps it was just her presence that changed everything she touched.

Inside, the fire roared to life at his gesture, filling the space with golden warmth. Briar shrugged off her snow-covered coat, and Falkor had to clench his fists to resist the urge to help her, to let his hands linger on her shoulders.

“Today was wonderful,” she said, turning to face him. Her cheeks were still pink from the cold, her hair tumbling in waves around her face where the snow had loosened it. She looked wild, magical, and achingly beautiful.

“It was... different,” he admitted, moving to stoke the fire more out of habit than necessity. “I’m not used to such...”

“Fun?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Joy? Basic human interaction?”

He shot her a look that would have intimidated most people. She just grinned, completely unfazed.

“You enjoyed yourself,” she stated confidently. “I saw you smile. Multiple times, even.”

“Slander,” he muttered, but he couldn’t quite hide his amusement. “You have no proof.”

“I have witnesses. The children will back me up.” She moved closer, her expression softening. “You’re good with them, you know. They trust you.”

“They shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” She tilted her head, studying him. “Because you’re a dragon? Because you think you’re dangerous? Or because you’re afraid of caring about them?”

Her insight hit too close to home. He turned away, ostensibly to hang up his coat. “You ask dangerous questions, little witch.”

“Someone has to.” Her hand touched his arm, gentle but insistent. “You can’t hide in this cabin forever, pushing everyone away.”

“I’m not hiding,” he protested, but the words sounded weak even to his ears.

“No?” She stepped in front of him, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Then why did it take a magical storm for you to let anyone close? Why did today surprise you so much?”

He should step back. Should rebuild the walls she somehow kept slipping through. Instead, he reached for her, one hand cupping her face. Her skin was silk-soft under his callused palm.

“You’re a stubborn woman,” he said roughly.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. “You need someone stubborn,” she said softly. “Someone who won’t let you retreat into your self-imposed exile.”

Something in her words broke the last of his resistance. Falkor dipped his head, capturing her lips with his. The kiss started gently—a whisper of contact, giving her every chance to pull away. But Briar made a small sound of encouragement, her fingers threading into his hair, and his control began to slip.

She tasted like winter magic and Molly’s hot chocolate, sweet and intoxicating. His dragon nature stirred, wanting to claim, to possess, but he held back, letting the kiss build slowly. His hands spanned her waist, drawing her closer until she was pressed fully against him, fitting perfectly as if she’d been made for his arms.

Briar wasn’t passive in his embrace. She rose onto her tiptoes, deepening the kiss with a boldness that made his blood burn hotter. Her magic reached for his, creating sparks that danced around them like falling stars. When she gently bit his lower lip, his growl rumbled through both their chests.

“Briar,” he breathed against her mouth, half warning, half plea. His control was a fragile thing, especially with her soft curves molded to his body and her hands doing maddening things to his scalp.

“Stop thinking so much,” she whispered, pressing smaller kisses along his jaw. “Feel.”

The word undid him. He backed her against the nearest wall, lifting her slightly so he could better angle his mouth over hers. This kiss was deeper, hungrier, full of the passion they’d both been restraining.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as if they’d done this a thousand times before, and the trust in that gesture made his heart clench as it stoked the fire in his blood.

Their magic twined, fire and starlight creating a cocoon of warmth around them. Each brush of her lips, each soft gasp she made, chipped away at the ice he’d built around his heart. He trailed kisses down her throat, addicted to the tiny sounds she made, to the way she arched into his touch.

“Falkor,” she sighed, and his name had never sounded so sweet. Her fingers traced the muscles of his shoulders through his shirt, memorizing him by touch as he learned her by taste.

Eventually, the desperate edge of passion gentled into something softer but no less powerful. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes dark with desire, and she’d never looked more beautiful.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, but his tone held wonder rather than accusation.

She smiled, tracing his lower lip with her thumb. “So are you. Maybe that’s why we fit.”

Instead of answering, he kissed her again, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the contact. Outside, the storm raged on, but inside his cabin, spring had finally come to thaw his frozen heart.