Then the cheers erupt again, deafening, stomping, clapping, whistles cutting through the night. Pippa swoops low, shouting, “Seal it with a kiss!”
The crowd takes it up like a chant. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
I glance at Dralgor, ready to snap, to insist we don’t owe anyone anything. But he’s looking at me with that steady, unflinching gaze, the one that strips away every wall I’ve spent years building. He doesn’t move closer, doesn’t push. He waits, like he always does now. The choice is mine.
And damn it, I want to.
So I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his. The world erupts around us—cheering, stomping, the crackle of fire, the twinkle of lanterns—but all I feel is him, solid and warm, steady as the mountains. His hand finds the back of my neck, cradling instead of claiming, and for a moment, I forget we’re surrounded.
When I pull back, my heart is hammering. His eyes are darker, softer, and I know I’ve just crossed another line I can’t uncross.
The rest of the night blurs into laughter and dancing. Fiddlers strike up reels, couples spin in the snow, cider flows until cheeks glow red. Dee drags me into a circle dance, and when I stumble, Dralgor catches me before I can fall, his hand steadying me without a word. Pippa weaves through the crowd, blessing people with frost that melts into their hair like glitter, declaring everyone “married to the snow” until even the grumpiest elders are chuckling.
At one point, Henrik stands and raises his mug. “To family,” he says, voice rough as stone. “Not the one we’re born with. The one we choose.”
The toast echoes through the square. I look around—at Dee’s flushed cheeks, at Pippa’s mischievous grin, at the mayor smiling like a proud uncle, at Dralgor standing tall beside me—and something tight in my chest finally eases.
This is home. Not just the lodge, not just the ridge, but these people, this chaos, this warmth. I left once, chasing something bigger. I didn’t know then that bigger doesn’t mean better. Home is right here, messy and stubborn and full of noise.
I blink hard, but the tears still slip free. Dralgor notices, of course he does. He doesn’t say anything, just reaches for my hand, his grip solid, anchoring me in the swirl of firelight and song.
I don’t resist.
CHAPTER 28
CLARA
The soft glow of the fireplace casts flickering shadows across the room, the warmth of the flames matching the heat pooling low in my belly. Dralgor’s hands slide up my arms, leaving trails of fire in their wake, as he pulls me closer. His breath is warm against my neck, his lips brushing against my skin in a way that makes my knees weak.
“I’ve waited too long for this,” he murmurs, his voice rough, sending a shiver down my spine.
I tilt my head back, catching his mouth with mine, and the kiss deepens instantly. His tongue tangles with mine, exploring, claiming, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. His hands roam down my back, slipping beneath the hem of my dress, and I arch into him, craving more.
He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he pulls the dress over my head, letting it fall to the floor. His fingers trace the lace edge of my bra, teasing, before he unhooks it and lets it join the dress. His touch is firm yet tender as he cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation.
I reach for his shirt, fumbling with the buttons until he helps me, shedding it along with the rest of his clothes. His body is allhard lines and muscle, and I can’t resist running my hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips. He groans as I drag my nails lightly down his back, arching into me.
He lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed and laying me down gently. His hands slide down my body, slipping beneath the waistband of my panties, and I lift my hips to help him remove them. His fingers find my pussy, already slick with want, and he teases me, circling my clit until I’m writhing beneath him.
“Dralgor,” I gasp, my voice trembling with need.
He doesn’t make me wait any longer. Positioning himself between my legs, he thrusts his cock into me slowly, filling me completely. I cry out, wrapping my legs around his waist as he begins to move, each stroke driving me closer to the edge. His pace quickens, his breathing ragged as he pounds into me, and I cling to him, nails digging into his back.
His body presses into mine, the weight of him solid and grounding. Every thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through me, his cock stretching me in the best way. The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the way I take him. My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on as the heat between us builds.
“You feel so good,” he growls against my ear, his breath ragged.
I arch beneath him, meeting each movement, my body already tightening around him. His hands slide down to grip my hips, pulling me harder against him, and the friction sends sparks skittering up my spine. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with our ragged breaths.
He shifts, angling deeper, and I gasp as he hits a spot inside me that makes my vision blur. My legs tighten around him, urging him on, and he groans, his pace turning rougher, more desperate.
“Clara—” His voice is rough, strained, and I know he’s close.
I drag my nails down his back, my own climax coiling tight in my belly. “Don’t stop,” I pant, my voice breaking.
His thrusts grow erratic, his grip bruising, and then he’s shuddering above me, his release spilling hot inside me. The sensation tips me over the edge, pleasure crashing through me in waves. My body clenches around him, drawing out his pleasure as my own pulses through me.
He collapses against me, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us breathing hard. His fingers trace lazy patterns along my side, his touch tender now, almost reverent.
