Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells (Whispering Pines #8)

Chapter 29

TWENTY-NINE

B riar leaned into his touch, her skin tingling where his fingers met her cheek. “The past can only control us if we let it,” she whispered. “Your mother’s cruelty shaped you, but it doesn’t have to define you.”

“When I’m with you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone, “I almost believe that’s possible.”

“It is possible.” Briar stepped closer, eliminating the space between them. Her free hand came to rest over his heart, feeling its strong, steady beat. “Every time you choose kindness over cruelty, love over fear, you prove her wrong.”

Falkor’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. “You make me want to be more than my mother’s son,” he admitted. “More than the angry, isolated creature she created.”

“You already are.” Briar’s voice was fierce with conviction. “The man who saved me on that mountain road, who’s helping protect this town despite his own pain—that’s who you really are, Falkor. The rest is just armor you can choose to lay down.”

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks. The Christmas lights seemed to twinkle more brightly, casting a warm glow over them both. Outside, the wind howled with increased fury, as if Morganna’s spirit sensed her hold on her son weakening.

“The storm carries her energy,” Falkor said, his voice rough with emotion. “Her spirit feeds off despair—mine especially. Even in death, she’s trying to control me, to poison everything good and bright.”

“Then we fight back with light,” Briar declared. Her hand slid up from his heart to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his dark hair. “We fight back with joy and hope, and yes, with love.”

His breath caught at the word love , his golden eyes blazing with an intensity that made her heart race. “Briar...” Her name fell from his lips like a prayer.

“Your mother was wrong,” she continued, holding his gaze. “Love isn’t weakness—it’s the greatest strength we have. Every child at the orphanage taught me that. Every moment of joy shared, every hand held in darkness, every heart that chooses to stay open despite past hurts—that’s real power.”

Falkor’s arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer. His heat enveloped her, dragon-warm and intoxicating. “You make me want to believe in that power,” he murmured, his face inches from hers. “You make me want to believe in everything.”

The air between them crackled with possibility, with unspoken feelings and growing trust. Briar’s heart thundered in her chest as Falkor’s forehead came to rest against hers, their breath mingling in the quiet room.

“Then believe,” she whispered. “Believe in yourself. Believe in us. We’ll face your mother’s spirit together, and we’ll win—not through force or anger, but through everything she tried to destroy. Through hope, through joy...” She smiled softly. “Through Christmas magic.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, surprising them both. “Christmas magic,” he repeated, his voice warm with affection. “You’re determined to make me embrace the holiday, aren’t you?”

“One twinkling light at a time,” she promised, delighting in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. This was the real Falkor, she realized—the one his mother had tried to bury beneath layers of pain and isolation. He was still in there, warming to life like a flower reaching for the sun.

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the fire crackling behind them and the storm raging outside. But within the cabin’s walls, something had shifted. The Christmas lights no longer seemed out of place in Falkor’s domain. Instead, they stood as tiny beacons of defiance against the darkness that sought to consume them.

“Will you stay?” Falkor asked suddenly, his voice low and vulnerable. “Not just tonight, but... after. When this is over. Will you stay?”

Briar’s heart swelled with emotion. She knew what it cost him to ask, to show this much vulnerability. “Yes,” she said simply. “For as long as you want me.”

His response was a smile—small but real, full of hope and possibility. Outside, the wind screamed in fury, but neither of them paid it any attention. They had found something stronger than Morganna’s lingering hatred: the promise of love, freely given and received, growing stronger with each shared moment.

Together, they worked late into the night, planning their defense against the spirit that threatened their town. But now their strategy sessions were punctuated by soft touches, shared smiles, and moments of quiet understanding. And if the spirit of Morganna Grashen watched from the storm, she would have seen her greatest fear coming true: her son, the dragon she’d tried to break, finding strength not in isolation, but in connection. Finding courage not in anger, but in love.

The battle was far from over, but in that moment, surrounded by Christmas lights and growing affection, the first real blow against Morganna’s lingering darkness had been struck. Not with magic or force, but with truth and trust, received and returned.