by Zoe Chant
“Jonathan!” Maya said, and then they were running towards each other.
He didn’t quite believe it, even now—but when he held her in his arms, he could feel that she was really here with him.
His sister, after all these years.
“How did you get here?” he asked, still overwhelmed. “And Vincent too—what’s going on?”
Maya drew back. She raised a hand and gently ruffled his hair.
He’d always hated that sensation as a child. Right now, he’d happily surrender to daily hair-ruffling if it meant that he’d get his sister back.
“I’ve been looking for you for ten years,” she said softly. “Both of us—we’d nearly given up hope. Sometimes I was sure that you had to be dead—but something wouldn’t let me rest. I always thought that one day, when I’d least expect it, I’d run into you.”
Vincent smiled, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. “Instead it was your mate who found us. On Facebook.” He grinned. “Aren’t human inventions marvelous?”
“On Facebook?” Jonathan turned to look at Angel.
His mate was watching him, her eyes full of love—and apprehension.
“Don’t be mad,” Angel said. “Honestly, I just wanted to Facebook-stalk your sister. See if I could find out how she’s doing. But, well, from what I could see, both she and Vincent had publicly renounced Vincent’s dad. And I was curious. I wanted to know what had happened. So I shot her a message.”
“It’s a long story,” Vincent said calmly. “Shortly after you left, we found out some pretty bad things about my father and his business. So we cut off contact. We eloped. And we’ve been pretty happy living our life on our own terms.”
“All this time I thought he must have had something to do with your disappearance,” Maya said, pulling back a little, but still holding on to Jonathan’s arms. “It wasn’t until earlier this year that we pieced things together. You see, he’d come under suspicion... Something about money laundering and offshore accounts. Connections to the mob.” She grimaced. “Of course, he’d always thought himself above human laws. But even a dragon shifter can’t do much when they freeze your accounts.”
“Dad decided to run off to the other side of the world,” Vincent added. “And he took his hoard with him—but the money he had in human bank accounts was frozen. When they searched his offices, they found some pretty damning evidence.”
Maya’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “The most damning, of course, was something they didn’t even realize. A sum paid to a man, on the day the diamond was stolen from our family’s hoard. A big sum—a hundred thousand dollars.”
“We both thought it was a strange coincidence.” Vincent shook his head. “And remember, by that point we’d been searching for you for ten years. So we hired a private investigator to look into that man. We found out he was a shifter—a dog shifter. Pretty infamous in the underworld for a special little trick he can do.”
“For some reason, that man doesn’t ping other people as a shifter.” Maya’s smile grew sharp. “Funny that, isn’t it? Because a small dog could easily slip past a sleeping dragon into a cave—or perhaps hide there already before the dragon arrived. He’d have been able to grab the diamond and then make his way out through a crack, or walk past you while you were asleep.”
“We haven’t been able to hunt him down yet. He’s slippery like an eel,” Vincent said. “But we’ve got his name.”
Jonathan swallowed, reeling.
“Sean,” he said tonelessly.
All of a sudden, he realized what had happened so many years ago.
It had been a trap. Vincent’s father had set him up. All the many years of pain and loneliness, of feeling like he’d let down everyone he loved—and all along, it had been a ploy.
“I’m sorry.” Vincent squeezed his shoulder—and then he frowned. “Wait. How do you know his name’s Sean?”
“Oh, my God,” Angel breathed. “It was Diego! I mean... It was Sean all along?”
Vincent took a step back, surprise on his face. “Wait—so you’ve run into him?”
Slowly, Jonathan began to smile.
“More than run into him,” he said. “In fact, we’ve made certain that he’s spending the next few years in jail. He was pretending to be a normal dog—one of the dogs Angel was dog-sitting. I wonder if he recognized me. No wonder he was so weird, even when they took him away to lock him up.”
“Then he’s right where he belongs.” Vincent smirked. “And once we get to talk to a judge, we’ll add another ten years or so to his sentence. Your diamond wasn’t the only crime he was involved in. He had a history of helping my dad with shady stuff.”
“I guess he had to look for new work once your dad had to leave,” Maya said.
“I still can’t believe it,” Jonathan said softly. “Not the thing with the dog shifter—although that’s pretty crazy. But you’re really here. You’re both here.”
“And we’re not leaving until you promise to visit Mom and Dad,” his sister added. She was visibly fighting back tears, although she was still smiling at him—as if he was the best Christmas present she’d ever received.
Jonathan had to swallow past the heavy knot of emotion stuck in his throat. “I promise. If—if they can ever forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Maya reminded him gently. “Vincent’s dad tricked you, remember?”
Jonathan shook his head. “But I’m still the one who left. I thought it was the only way to protect them, but...”
“That’s because most older brothers are too stupid to ask their little sisters for advice.” Maya nudged him slightly, a smile on her lips. “Otherwise I’d have told you that Vincent and I would rather run away than let his dad destroy our family.”
“We’re mates,” Vincent said simply, reaching out again to clasp Jonathan’s shoulder. “That’s what it’s all about. Not the fancy wedding party my dad wanted to throw us, just so that he could impress his business partners. It means that we’re always there for each other. Always. No matter who—or what—we’re up against.”
Jonathan had to swallow past emotion again as he turned, seeking out Angel’s eyes. “That’s what I’m starting to learn,” he said softly.
He was rewarded with one of Angel’s smiles that lit up her entire face. Through the mate bond, he could feel her happiness.
He held out his hand to her, and when she took it, he pulled her into his arms, holding her as close as he could. She smelled of the perfume she’d worn for the party, a scent of amber and roses, but beneath it all was the simple, warm scent of her skin.
He inhaled deeply, finally feeling his shoulders relax. He’d carried this weight for the past ten years. And now, just like that, it was gone, and with it the pain of the past decade.
Angel had given that to him.
“This is the best possible Christmas present,” he murmured against her hair. “There’s absolutely no way I could ever make up for what you’ve given me.”
“You could promise to wake me up with breakfast in bed every Christmas morning.” Her smile widened. “I’d consider myself suitably repaid. As long as you don’t skimp on the pancakes.”
Jonathan laughed, tightening his arms around her.
“Oh, there are lots of things I promise I’ll never skimp on,” he whispered into her ear, loving the way she tensed with a soft gasp.
And then his phone vibrated, spoiling the mood.
Giggling, Angel broke free of his embrace as he reached into his pocket with an apologetic grimace.
There was a new message waiting for him.
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry when he recognized the number of their realtor.
“It’s about the house,” he said, opened the message. His eyes raced across the three lines written there.
“And? What does it say?” Angel demanded intently.
Slowly, Jonathan let his arm drop.
Then he began to smile, the tight knot of old pain and loneliness
unraveling in his chest once and for all.
“They’ve accepted our offer. We’ll make it official right after Christmas, once they’re back in the office so we can sign the contract.”
“Yes!” Angel threw her arms around him, laughing when he grabbed hold of her again and twirled her around. “We got it! I can’t wait to start cataloging everything in there!”
“Um,” Vincent said dryly. “Any hint for those of us who can’t read your mind about what’s going on?”
Jonathan couldn’t stop smiling, even when he set Angel down again.
In his mind, he already saw the quirky mansion grow—they could add a tower, or at least a huge roof terrace, so that he could land and shift without having to make his way in and out through the entire house first.
That will be useful. Especially once there are tiny shifters around who’d drag in mud...
“We just found our new home,” he said, wrapping his arm around Angel’s waist.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said enthusiastically. “The weirdest building I’ve ever seen, and inside, it’s like a museum. Which is exactly what it’s going to be.”
“I don’t know if you remember Uncle Jeremy,” Jonathan explained, “but after all these years, given the will he left, they still didn’t manage to find a buyer for his house.”
“It’s ours now.” Angel whipped out her own phone to start typing up a list. “I’m so excited! I’ll be sorting and cataloging for months. Years!”
“Sounds dreadful,” his sister said dryly, although she was smiling widely. “But better you than me!”
“Just wait until we’re done with it.” Angel was still beaming.
“And maybe I should ask Henrik for the name of his architect,” Jonathan said. “For some reason, I’ve always wanted a tower of my own....”
He kept smiling as he watched his sister and her mate gather around Angel, who began to pull up photos they’d taken of the mansion on her new phone.
All around them, the Christmas party was still in full swing.
Everywhere he looked, families had gathered. Children were pressing their faces against the window again, hoping for another glance of Santa or his reindeer. Couples were sneaking out to the privacy of the balcony, where no one would overhear whatever romantic promises were made today.
The entire ballroom was aglow with light. Crystal chandeliers gleamed above, candles were flickering on the tables, and everyone had dressed up in colorful, festive clothes.
All around him, the rhythm of life throbbed, while outside the windows, a warm blanket of snow covered flowers and leaves as they slumbered.
Inside him, the ice dragon curled around himself in satisfaction.
That was what winter was for—to shelter life, to let nature sleep for a season, awaiting the return of spring.
Ice was a powerful weapon—but his nature wasn’t coldness or solitude. It was to shelter and protect. Hiding away from life in the ice was cowardice.
But now he’d awoken. Now, through the mate bond, life came rushing in to fill him with warmth and all the joy of a Christmas spent with the people he loved most in the world.
It was a truth his dragon would never let him forget again. Now, at last, they’d found something more valuable than any diamond, and he’d never surrender to the cold embrace of the ice again.
Epilogue: Angel
The tree was just right.
They’d picked it together from the copse of trees that grew at the back of their property. It was one of the smaller ones, which had grown a bit crooked, since the bigger trees had blocked the sunlight. But it was just the right height for their living room.
And after they’d spent half an hour turning it critically, they’d found the perfect position. Once it was secured in its stand, it looked straighter than it had before. Also, now the wall hid the side that hadn’t received enough sunlight and looked somewhat bare.
“Perfect,” Angel declared.
The room smelled clean and fresh. The resin of the pine tree filled the air, mixing with the crisp, cold scent of snow they’d brought inside with them. In the morning, they’d prepared another batch of cookies together for tomorrow’s guests. Now, all that was left was to get the tree decorated.
“Do you need help with that?” Angel couldn’t quite hide her grin when Jonathan looked at the tangled lights that were supposed to go on the tree.
Jonathan shook his head, although he looked doubtful. “I’ll manage. Do you want to put on the stars?”
Angel beamed. “Obviously I do!”
They’d gone shopping together for Christmas decorations a week ago, and now it was finally starting to feel real. Their first Christmas together in their own home. Their first Christmas decorations they’d bought together.
It was the start of their own little Christmas rituals—like going out together to pick a tree from the wilderness at the back of the quirky mansion that had quickly become a home.
And all of these things would turn into Christmas traditions their own children would grow up with.
Angel hummed along with the music they’d put on.
“You’d better watch out, you’d better not cry,” she sang—and then did cry out.
One of the little stars in her hands slipped from her fingers, only to burst on the ground.
“Ouch! The tree stung me.” She eyed the tree reproachfully.
They’d worn leather gloves as they’d carried it inside. And she’d felt pretty proud of herself.
Picking and felling her own tree made her feel all strong and self-sufficient. She’d already dreamed of how next spring, they could plant apple trees behind the mansion. And then she’d be able to bake pies with fruit from her own garden one day.
But it seemed that country life was more hazardous than she’d been told.
She sucked on her stinging finger. “How come that no one ever told me how dangerous real Christmas trees are?”
Jonathan laughed, but readily got up to take care of the shards.
“Here’s our first Christmas tradition,” he said. “Let’s break a bauble every year.”
“That’s a wonderful tradition.” Angel found herself smiling, despite the way the beautiful tree had tricked her into believing it was harmless. “And something tells me that I’m going to be the culprit most years.”
“Ah, but what you don’t know is that whoever first breaks an ornament is the person who’ll have the most luck in the coming year.” Jonathan wrapped his arm around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.
Angel smiled as she looked at the tree.
“You hear that?” she told the tree. “You’ve just made certain that I’m going to have an amazing year.”
“That’ll teach it.” With a low laugh and a kiss to the tip of her ear, Jonathan released her.
For some reason, the pile of lights looked even more tangled than before when he returned to it.
Better to get wounded fighting with the tree than having to untangle that...
This time, she was more careful and managed to hang the remaining stars without dropping a single one.
After that, she put on little straw figurines they’d found in one of the many boxes that made up the museum’s strange collection.
There was no historical value to them that Angel could see. But at the bottom of the box, they’d found a twenty-year-old letter from one of the local schools. Apparently, the straw decorations had been made by the children, as a thank-you for a visit to the mansion, back when old Uncle Jeremy had still lived here.
“What do you think?” Jonathan asked half an hour later.
Angel took a step back, critically eyeing their tree.
It wouldn’t win any awards for color coordination, that was for certain.
But it shone brightly with the strings of light Jonathan had put on. And the mix of colors and shapes of the decorations they’d hung on it reminded her of the days when she’d been a child.
She’d never cared about col
or schemes then. She’d been dazzled by the colorful lights and bright baubles. Her child self would have loved this tree.
“It’s beautiful.” She smiled at the way the handcrafted straw decorations they’d inherited from Uncle Jeremy clashed with another box of intricate crystal figurines they’d found. “Really. It’s exactly what I wanted.”
“One thing’s still missing.” Jonathan pulled out a tiny box. From within, he carefully took the small ice dragon they’d won at the auction in Christmas Valley. “Do you want to put it on?”
Angel had to step onto a chair for it, but by now she’d learned how to deal with the tree’s spiky needles. This time, there was no accident.
With careful hands, she placed the dragon in the spot of honor, all the way at the top of the tree.
Jonathan helped her down, only to wrap her in his arms and kiss her.
“Our first Christmas,” he said softly.
Angel couldn’t stop smiling.
So what if this museum of a house was old and dusty and filled with years of work. It was the sort of work she loved—and they’d made good progress with their cataloging and renovations. By this time next year, they should have at least one of the wings open to the public.
As soon as the small, local paper heard the news that the mansion had finally been sold, it had run a story about them and their plan to return this place to what it had been. And just a few days later, the first calls from local schools had started to come in.
It seemed that quite a few of the older teachers in the area still remembered the days when they’d taken their kids on a day trip to Uncle Jeremy’s museum—and they were excited to start up the tradition again.
The house would never be famous. Her name would never be known as a curator of the latest archaeological finds or modern painters.
But she’d have a house filled with the treasures and memories of past generations—as well as the laughter of children.
She couldn’t think of a better cause to devote her life to.
Then, all of a sudden, there was the sound of a car pulling up outside.