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 color 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.

Angel frowned. “Didn’t you say your family wanted to arrive tomorrow?”

Jonathan shrugged. “From what Maya told me, at least. They’d planned to stay with her and Vincent tonight.”

Angel tilted her head, amused when she could hear the by now familiar voice of Jonathan’s mother outside.

She’d never known a person as energetic and spontaneous as Jonathan’s mother. She was tiny—at least a foot smaller than her son—but entered any room with the force of a whirlwind.

Being around Jonathan’s family was never boring. Which was a blessing, because Angel hadn’t ever felt awkward, even for a second, about not being a shifter at one of the family gatherings.

A moment later, their doorbell rang as if on command.

Jonathan shook his head, laughing. “At least they waited until we finished decorating.”

Angel bit back a smile. The floor was still covered in empty boxes—but maybe the bright tree would distract from the chaos.

“I guess we’d better let them in, before someone tries to use their dragon powers again,” she said cheerfully.

Jonathan hesitated by her side instead of hurrying for the door. “Ready for the holidays? If it becomes too much, just say the word and I’ll tell them to go take over Maya’s home again.”

At Jonathan’s throat, his dragon’s heart stone shone with a soft, gentle light. Outside, snow was falling again. Angel could see it start to pile up outside the window.

The music they’d put on while decorating the tree was still playing.

“To face unafraid the plans that we’ve made, walking in a winter wonderland...”

A woman’s voice sang the verse with cheerful longing, her voice smoky and warm.

“No,” Angel said, giving Jonathan a loving look. “You know I like them. And is it really the holidays without family around to drive you a little crazy?”

The doorbell rang again, and Jonathan chuckled.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, his heart stone pulsing between them. From the corner of her eye, she could see the snow start falling more heavily.

“Hey!” Vincent shouted dimly from outside the door. “We know you’re there! Stop trying to turn us into ice statues!”

They were both laughing by the time Jonathan pulled back.

“Let them in,” Angel said, nodding towards the door. She couldn’t stop smiling.

There’d be time enough for evenings in front of the fire, just the two of them. A lifetime of it.

But today the house would be filled with music, laughter and excited voices. Today, she’d see Jonathan smile, reunited with his family.

Through the mate bond, she felt the warmth that filled his heart down to the last corner.

No more guilt. No more loneliness.

And while the snow kept falling outside, there was no more ice in her ice dragon’s heart.

From now on, winter would be a season of warmth and light—and all the love in the world.

Exactly how it had always been meant to be.