Chapter Four: Henrik

The next morning, snow was falling gently while the sun was shining down onto all the white outside the kitchen window. Henrik was making coffee when a familiar sensation rose up inside him—a cross between warning and greeting. This was the age-old instinct that let him know another dragon was in his territory.

The sensation did not alarm him. There was only one dragon who’d dare to enter his lands, and it was high time for his uncle to drop by for a visit. He usually came to check up on Henrik before Christmas, even though he’d never stayed for long. Not that Henrik begrudged him that: Alistair Drakeson loved big cities with all their bustle and excitement, and Henrik was well aware that his quiet, remote Christmas evenings here in the family castle couldn’t compare to the Tokyo clubs and LA bars his uncle loved to frequent.

Still, Alistair would surely stay for a day or two, and it would be good to catch up with him. Especially now that Dara was around…

Sudden worry sprung up inside Henrik as he watched a dark spot in the distance slowly grow in size. Soon, he could make out the silhouette of a large, black dragon making his way towards the castle.

What would Alistair say to Dara? Would he be pleased that Henrik had finally found his mate?

His uncle had always tried to talk him into leaving his self-imposed exile behind—but the more his uncle tried to make him believe that none of what had happened was Henrik’s fault, the worse the pain got.

After all, Henrik knew perfectly well that it had been his fault. If it hadn’t been for Henrik, his parents would still be alive.

That was the terrible truth, and nothing his uncle said could change that.

Still, perhaps it was possible to find some happiness after all.

Fate had led Dara here. Fate had sent his mate to him. Maybe this was a sign that Henrik had been forgiven?

In any case, for the first time in twenty years, Henrik remembered what happiness felt like. And surely his uncle would be pleased by that.

Henrik watched from the window until the large dragon vanished from view—descending onto the tower to land there.

Several minutes later, his uncle came into the kitchen, looking as cool and unperturbed as ever, although there were snowflakes still melting on his hair and the expensive black suit he wore.

“You should really dress more sensibly before you fly out here, Uncle,” Henrik said, and then smiled and clasped his hand.

“Nonsense,” Alistair said, gratefully taking hold of the coffee Henrik pushed into his direction. “Thanks. And I’m not going out until I’m flying back. I know you love all this snow, but it’s just… white. White nothingness. A desert of white. I don’t know what anyone sees in it.”

Henrik suppressed a chuckle. “No snowball fights then?”

Alistair shuddered as he took a sip of the hot coffee. “You seem remarkably cheerful,” he said instead of an answer. “Anything happen since my last visit?”

“Oh, not much,” Henrik said with pretended nonchalance. “The usual. I read a couple books. Polished a few jewels. Rescued my mate from a storm.”

“Rescued your—what?” Alistair froze, then turned abruptly to stare at him.

Pleased, Henrik gave his uncle a grin. “Can you believe it? After all this time? I know you were worried I’d just fade away, the way I holed up in here… but for some reason, fate led her to me. She nearly died outside in the snow.”

“Is that so.” Alistair reached out for his cup of coffee again, taking another sip as he studied Henrik. Then he broke out into a smile and slapped his nephew’s shoulder. “Then I guess congratulations are due! I’ve always told you that you need to find a way to put that guilt behind you. Your parents would have forgiven you, you know that.”

Henrik swallowed. “I… I want to believe that. I always thought I could never forget what I’ve done—but she makes me want to try regardless.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.” Alistair put his cup aside at last. “That was a long flight. I think a nap is in order for me. But I’d love to meet the woman who drew you out of your castle. Shall we have lunch together?”

“Gladly!” Relief flooded Henrik.

His uncle had taken the news very well—and he’d love Dara. It was impossible not to love Dara, who looked at every falling snowflake with the joy of a child, and who’d filled these cold, empty rooms with her warmth as if she’d lived here forever.

“I’ll see you later. And Henrik—I’m really very happy for you,” Alistair said softly. “The past is the past. You can’t change what happened. We all deserve to be loved.”

Henrik’s smile was a little forced. As soon as his uncle had left the kitchen, it died away completely.

Did he deserve to be loved?

Did he deserve happiness, when the parents he had loved so much had lost their lives and their chance at a long and happy life?

His uncle had said that his parents would have forgiven him, and maybe Alistair was right.

But did Henrik deserve to be forgiven? There were some things that could never be undone, some wrongs so terrible that they could never be righted.

Still, now that Dara was here, everything felt so right…

“Morning.” Dara’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Dara was wearing nothing but one of his large shirts, worn gray cotton clinging to her delicious curves. “Did you get lost on your way to the coffee maker?”

Belatedly, Henrik realized that he’d forgotten all about the coffee he’d wanted to carry back to his bedroom.

“Sorry,” he said ruefully and pushed the cup towards her. “My uncle showed up unexpectedly—he likes to drop in before Christmas to check up on me, but he never stays for long. Doesn’t like my gloom. Anyway, he went off to sleep off his jet lag, but maybe we could have lunch together?”

Dara tilted her head at him. “Gloom? There’s nothing gloomy about you. You… shine. It’s like I can see your dragon in your eyes. Like shards of ice glistening in the winter sun.”

Henrik stepped closer and ran a hand up her side, loving the way she sighed at his touch, her eyes still watching him with warm amusement. The sight of her soft, bare skin made something inside him ache with need. He wanted to pull his shirt off and kiss his way down her skin—and most of all, he wanted to decorate all that delicious, bare skin with gold and jewels. He wanted to drape her in the finest pieces of his dragon’s hoard, claiming her in the way his dragon needed to claim his mate.

But doing that meant bringing her to his hoard—and that meant returning to a place he’d locked away for many, many years. Returning to a part of himself he’d locked away for a good reason.

Suddenly uncomfortable, he shook off the depressing thoughts. He’d have to tell Dara sooner or later—but not now. Not yet. Not here in the kitchen, with her body still soft and warm from sleep, her bare thighs tempting him with the pleasure they could find in one another, her eyes tempting him with the love she had to give.

He’d stopped believing that he deserved to be loved. Yet now that Dara had appeared to simply love him, as though just being himself was enough for her, no questions asked, he didn’t want to live without that love anymore.

I deserve to be loved, he told himself, and his dragon roared possessively within him as he drew her closer.

Just for today, I deserve to be loved…

 

***

They had lunch in the dining room, overlooking the snowy courtyard. It had stopped snowing by then, and sunlight was glistening on the ice sculptures outside. Alistair had come down for lunch still dressed for business, and Henrik couldn’t help his small smile as he saw him sitting next to Dara, who was wearing a comfortable wool dress.

Alistair didn’t come visiting often, but Henrik really couldn’t begrudge him that—even here, just having lunch together, Alistair looked out of place in his smartly tailored black suit. There was some gray at his temple, and only one ring on his finger: a wedding ring.

Not that Alistair and his wife spent much time together. It had been purely a dragon’s marriage of convenience, giving Alistair access to the Asian markets his wife’s family had invested in. Henrik supposed they were well-suited to each other, but they weren’t mates. Although Henrik had never thought about it before, he wondered whether his uncle wasn’t lonely sometimes.

“This is excellent!” Alistair declared, digging into the chicken casserole Dara and Henrik had prepared together.

Usually, Henrik had his food delivered in the boxes sent from Christmas Valley every week. But now that Dara had arrived, he was starting to remember how much joy there was to the ordinary things in life. Like cooking together, or going through old crates to find some clothes for Dara—or decorating a tree together.

“I’m quite surprised,” Alistair said when they were done, giving Dara a warm smile. “I saw the tree in the living room. He hasn’t had those things out in years! It’s good you’re drawing him out of his shell.”

“It seemed a shame to live in a snow castle and yet have no Christmas decorations up,” Dara said. She toyed idly with her dress. “And he saved my life; did he tell you that? The least I can do is help with the decorations.”

Alistair smiled innocently. “I’m sure that’s not the least you do.”

Henrik gave Alistair a sharp look—had he detected some sort of hidden mockery there? But no, Alistair was still smiling at Dara and now reached out to press her hand.

“I’m very grateful you’re taking such good care of my nephew,” Alistair continued. “I can’t afford to drop by too often—we’ve opened a new office in Beijing just last year, and it’s such a long and exhausting flight, you see. But I always worry. It’s not right that someone should live in this place all alone, with nothing but ghosts.”

His uncle’s words hit Henrik with a familiar pain. Both Dara and his uncle went on to discuss the size of the castle, and how many people it would take to have it run smoothly. But as he leaned back in his chair and listened, all Henrik could feel was the familiar, hollow emptiness at the heart of him.

My parents should be here. Dara should be talking with Mom about my childhood adventures. Dad should be needling me about the jewelry I need to find for my mate. But all I have are ghosts. How can they be happy for me when they’re dead, and it’s because of me?

“Henrik. Are you still with us?”

At his uncle’s question, Henrik straightened and put on another smile. “Sorry, I was just thinking. It’s been a while since I’ve had such pleasant company—and such good food. A drink, Uncle?”

“Gladly,” Alistair said. “In fact, I wanted to talk to you about the Beijing office; one of the shareholders—”

“I’ll make us all a coffee,” Dara said and stood.

Henrik gave her a grateful look.

“I promise I won’t keep him too long from you with my business talk.” Alistair winked at Dara. “He’s terribly bored by it all, but his manners won’t let him protest. His dad would be proud.”

Henrik could barely hold back a flinch at the mention of his father. Would his dad be proud? How could he be proud when Henrik had done something that could never be forgiven?

Dara vanished into the kitchen. The loving look she cast at him let him know that she wanted to give him and his uncle some privacy. Suppressing a sigh, Henrik walked with Alistair to one of the large windows.

“You know I trust you when it comes to business decisions,” Henrik began. “You’ve taken good care of the family fortune. If there’s a problem with one of the shareholders—”

“There isn’t,” Alistair said, his gaze becoming more penetrating. “Everything is going well. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Henrik straightened. Is this about Dara?”

“It is.” Alistair stared at him, his eyes piercing, as if he was looking for the smallest weakness.

Henrik could barely suppress a shudder. He had nothing to hide—especially not from his uncle, who’d really done more for him than he had to. Still, Alistair knew about the terrible thing he’d done. While everyone else kept telling him to let go of his guilt, his uncle was the only person alive who knew that he had every reason to feel guilty.

“She’s a nice girl, Henrik,” his uncle said slowly. There was a brief smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it had shown up. “You know I don’t care much about old traditions. She’s a human, she adds nothing to the family fortune—that’s fine. She makes you happy, I can see that, and that is an even greater treasure. But Henrik—you know I have to caution you, exactly because I like her.”

Alistair sighed deeply, turning to look out at where they could see the entrance to the maze in the distance.

“Is it truly fair to bring her into this?” Alistair murmured. “If this is what your dragon has decided on, I can hardly argue with that. But you know what I have to say now, Henrik. You know it pains me, but I must say it. Can you trust your dragon? Can you trust your dragon with her?”

Henrik took a step back as though he had been slapped. A wave of cold washed through him.

His uncle gave him a pained look. “I want to see you happy more than anything. But think of what happened before. If your dragon overwhelms you… if she’s harmed because of your dragon… how would you feel then?”

Sudden dread filled Henrik. Once again he saw that terrible day happen: his own recklessness, the wildness of his dragon’s nature which he hadn’t been able to keep under control—the sight of the smashed car, the grief that had very nearly killed him…

“Take some time,” his uncle said softly, pressing his shoulder. “Take some time and think. I couldn’t bear it to see you hurt again, you know that.”

Henrik swallowed against the emotions welling up inside him. For a moment he couldn’t breathe past them, as though they were stuck inside his throat like a large, heavy rock. Finally, wordlessly, he nodded, and Alistair stepped aside to allow him to gather himself.

“Will you make my excuses to Dara?” Henrik said when he was able to speak again. His mind was a whirlwind of pain and memories he’d tried so hard to keep buried.

He almost felt angry at his uncle for dragging them all out into the light of day again—but he knew that Alistair was right to warn him. It wasn’t just Henrik’s happiness that was at stake. There was Dara. Dara, who wanted a family and companionship.

But she didn’t know what a dragon was capable of.

The dragon within him roared, and suddenly Henrik knew that he couldn’t keep him at bay any longer.

It was dangerous for him to shift. He’d tried to leave that part of himself buried with the past, to ensure that he’d never cause harm to another person again.

Despite that, he’d allowed his dragon out to rescue Dara from the storm. To shift twice in so short a time would severely weaken him—but what did it matter now?

“I’ll let her know,” his uncle said, looking at Henrik with compassion in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Henrik. Please be safe.”

Henrik nodded jerkily, and then he fled, running from his uncle and Dara and the past, which he knew now he’d never be able to escape.

He ran until he reached the top of the tower. There, with the icy wind tearing at his hair, he spread his arms until they turned into wings. Once more, the glorious, terrible power of his dragon took over and he raced off into the clouds until there was no pain, but only wind and cold and snow.