Page 27 of Sleigh Bells and Dragon Spells

“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 thatdanced 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.

TWENTY-EIGHT

The fire burned low in Falkor’s hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls of his cabin. Outside, the supernatural storm raged with renewed fury, its howling wind carrying echoes of ancient sorrows. Inside, strings of twinkling lights—Briar’s insistent addition to his spartanly decorated home—created pools of warmth in the growing darkness.

On the couch, Briar watched Falkor searching through his books for spells, noting how the firelight played across his strong features. Even troubled, he was breathtaking—all sharp angles and contained power. His golden eyes reflected the flames, and her heart skipped when his gaze briefly met hers. The attraction between them had been building steadily, an electric undercurrent that made even silence feel charged.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she ventured, her voice gentle. The words seemed to float in the space between them, carried on tendrils of wood smoke and magic.

Falkor’s gaze flickered to her face, lingering this time. Something in his expression softened. “Just thinking.” His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Setting aside her tea, Briar moved to sit closer to him. “Sometimes it helps to share what’s on your mind.” The subtle scent of pine and smoke that clung to him filled her senses. “I’m told I’m a pretty good listener.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “You’re good at many things, little witch. Including breaking down carefully constructed barriers.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” She tilted her head, studying him. “Breaking down barriers?”

“You’ve been doing it since you arrived.” His voice carried a note of wonder. “Like water wearing away stone—gentle but persistent.”

The admission hung between them, heavy with meaning. Briar reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. The contact sent warmth spreading through her palm. “Maybe some barriers need to come down.”

Falkor didn’t pull away from her touch. Instead, he covered her hand with his larger one, his thumb tracing small circles on her wrist. The casual intimacy of the gesture made her breath catch.

“There are things about this storm... about me... that you should know,” he began, his voice low and intimate in the quiet room. “Things I’ve never shared with anyone.”

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