by Zoe Chant
And if she’d dropped one of them…
“Are you sure we should use these?” she asked, willing her hand not to tremble as she held the fragile decoration. “If we drop any of them…”
“Hey, don’t worry.” Henrik’s arms came around her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “These are meant to go on a tree. What’s the use of hiding them away in boxes for centuries? They’re part of my hoard, and we dragons can get very smug about our treasures. We want to look at our hoard and admire it.”
“So you’re having a dragon’s Christmas tree, decorated with real jewels,” Dara said, still feeling weak as she looked at all the decorations she’d already hung up.
“Mmm.” Henrik nuzzled gently at her neck. “This is what my hoard is meant for. Please, go on. I love watching you decorate.”
“But if you’re so possessive of your jewels,” Dara said slowly, “doesn’t it bother you to see me touch them?”
“On the contrary.” Henrik’s voice hoarse, his breath hot against her skin. “I want to see you decorated with my treasure. My gold on your skin. And my ruby reindeer put on our tree by your hands.”
“Oh,” Dara breathed again, but this time, it wasn’t a sound of shock. Dara was beginning to understand.
She didn’t know much about dragons… but she knew what that breathlessness in his voice meant; that delicious, low rumble when he spoke.
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