Chapter Ten
Sylvie
Kenai guided me to the oversized armchair by the fire while Taimyr disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water that I accepted gratefully. My hands were still shaking.
“This is a lot to process,” I admitted, taking a sip. “I mean, I just—we just—and now you’re telling me you want to mate with me?”
“Sylvie, like I said, it’s not about want.”
I looked into his eyes, and there was no lie. God, I don’t even do normal relationships. How am I supposed to handle whatever this is?
Taimyr and Kenai must’ve seen the panic in my gaze, because they exchanged a look.
“Maybe,” Taimyr said carefully, “I should give you some space. This is too much, too fast.”
“Tai—” Kenai started.
“No, he’s right.” I pulled a blanket into my lap. “I need to think. I need to—” Another wave of heat rolled through me, making my breath catch. “Okay, maybe I can’t think right now, but I need…I don’t know what I need.”
Taimyr squeezed Kenai’s shoulder. “I’ll go check the perimeter, make sure we’re secure. Take your time.” He looked at me with those dark, knowing eyes. “For what it’s worth, Sylvie, you’re not a homewrecker. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with Kenai and the crackling fire.
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the pop and hiss of the flames. I tucked my feet underneath me, trying to organize my scattered thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” Kenai said finally. “I should’ve explained everything before we—”
“I didn’t leave you much choice.”
He flinched. “You’ve never experienced a heat before. You’re human—you shouldn’t be dealing with it at all. I don’t blame you for being a little out of control.”
I couldn’t stop the tears that rose to my eyes. So being in heat was like ovulating and being on your period at the same damn time. Why couldn’t I stop crying?
“That’s all I’ve ever had—my control. Making sure everything around me was just right. But ever since I met you, everything has been completely out of control.”
Kenai knelt in front of me and gently wiped away my tears, his thumbs cradling my face.
“Yes, I know this must be overwhelming.” He gave me that grin that had me melting even more than I already was.
“But you’re not alone in this. I’ve never been so attracted to a human before either, and everything about your kind is confusing.
” His eye lit up, grin lopsided, and I knew he was trying to cheer me up.
It almost worked.
“So, you think it’s good—what happened?”
His grin dropped into a scowl. “I never wanted this to happen to you, for you to be in pain or come to harm. But I can’t deny that it forced my hand in a way I might’ve hesitated to before, and I have no regrets about what happened between us. About how I feel.”
“How can you say that so easily? You hardly know me.”
Kenai was quiet for a long moment before he dropped his head, his antlers catching the firelight. “I have to be honest with you Sylvie. I…was looking into you before we met.”
He looked up at me with such big, sad eyes that I didn’t even have time to be upset about it. “It’s not what you think. Gods, everything I’ve told you today probably makes you think—but the truth is, it was just your career. Please, hear me out.”
I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself but nodded, listening.
“I think you’ve caught on to our struggles, how we’re trying to get better conditions for working at the North Pole.
But the truth is, this fight has been ongoing for decades, and we haven’t made any progress.
There’s no one in the magical world willing to go against the North Pole.
They’re too powerful—the biggest and most influential magical entity there is. ”
He let out a sharp huff. “Old Jólnir has always been a crafty one, and he realized that in order to maintain his magical superiority with the changing times, he needed to embed himself in the human world. Humans are the source of all magic, even if they can’t use it.
Their emotions, their feelings, their…” Kenai trailed off for a moment.
“Their ability to love so deeply. That’s what powers magic—and I think you know Christmas is a time full of all kinds of emotions.
He drives that with his mythos and, as such, controls the flow of the majority of magic. ”
“So he’s evil,” I said, not a question.
“He’s a businessman.”
“That’s what I said.” I dared to give Kenai a small smile. “Exploitation dressed up as necessity and tradition,” I murmured, my lawyer brain trying to kick in. “I’d never realized Santa was the Jeff Bezos of holidays.”
“Exactly.” His eyes lit up. “Because how do you organize against Christmas itself? Against the magical entity that literally makes the holiday possible?”
He laid his head in my lap, careful of his antlers. My hand immediately started stroking his soft hair. It felt so natural to be close like this, touching like this. Like we’d done it a thousand times before.
“We were desperate, and well…desperate times, desperate measures. If no one in our world would stand against him, I thought maybe someone in the human world would. I started looking into lawyers who might be able to help us fight. Then I found you—well your legal work, your reputation for taking on impossible cases and winning them. I’ve been following your career for months. ”
“Following my career?” The heat in my body was building again despite the serious turn in our conversation. “Why?”
“Because we need someone like you. The reindeer clans have been trying to organize for decades, but we can’t overcome ancient rivalries and old grudges.
We need someone from the outside. When I heard about the employment lawyer who got a class-action settlement against Uber for misclassifying drivers…
” He turned to look at me directly. “I thought you might be our answer.”
I blinked. “You were planning to hire me?”
“Eventually. Once I figured out how to approach you without scaring you off.” His mouth quirked into a rueful smile. “Then you ran into me.”
“I swerved.”
His head popped up, and he grasped my hands in his. “Barely,” he countered with that perfect grin.
He was so unbelievably beautiful, and his thumbs started tracing small circles on the back of my hands.
“So, this was always about getting my help.”
“It started that way…” He trailed off, and the intensity of his gaze had me looking away. Then his hand gently tilted my chin. “Sylvie, look at me.”
I met his gaze, and the heat there made my breath catch.
“I read an interview you gave about three years ago. The interviewer asked why you took on so many pro bono cases. Do you remember what you said?”
I shook my head.
“You said, ‘Because somebody has to give a damn. And if that costs me a corner office and a six-figure salary, at least I’ll be able to sleep at night.’” His silver eyes met mine.
“I recognized something in those words. Someone else who understands what it’s like to care so much it’s slowly killing you. ”
The heat building in my body seemed to pause, just for a moment, as his words sank in.
“For years,” he continued, “I’ve been trying to negotiate better conditions for the Peary reindeer clan.
We get the most dangerous assignments because of our stronger magical abilities.
Our mortality rate is three times higher than the other subspecies, but we’re too few in number to have any real leverage.
I’ve lost friends—family—watching them get ground down by a system that treats us as expendable. ”
His voice roughened. “And I can’t stop fighting it. Even though every negotiation ends the same way, even though I’m exhausted, even though Taimyr begs me to let someone else carry the weight for a while. I can’t. Because if I stop, who will?”
I instinctively leaned forward, my hand moving to touch his face before I could stop myself. “That’s why you have all those scars.”
“Fight scars, mostly. Peary reindeer are the smallest subspecies. We don’t win many physical confrontations.” He turned his face into my palm. “But I keep trying anyway. Just like you keep taking impossible cases.”
“We’re both idiots,” I whispered.
“Probably.” The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “But that’s what I saw in you, Sylvie. Long before I ever met you. Someone who fights even when the odds are impossible. Someone who cares more about what’s right than taking care of herself.”
The fire popped, sending sparks up the chimney, and I realized I was crying. Again.
“This isn’t fair” I mumbled. “You’re not allowed to see me this clearly. Nobody sees me this clearly.”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.
“No, you’re not.” I laughed. “You did this on purpose. Made me feel things.”
“Guilty.” His brushed away my tears again. “Is it working?”
I wanted to say no. Wanted to pull back, rebuild my walls, protect myself from the inevitable hurt that came from letting someone in. But sitting here with him—his scent so comforting and perfect, seeing my own exhaustion and determination reflected in his eyes—
Maybe I was tired of being alone.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted. “I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.” He shifted closer. “One step at a time. No pressure, no expectations beyond what feels right to you.”
“What if I’m terrible at it?”
“Then you’ll be terrible at it.” His smile was gentle. “I’ll be patient.”
“What about Taimyr?” I asked.
“He’s my mate. He understands. What I need from you is to stop worrying about others—just for a little while.”
The certainty in his voice made something crack open in my chest. Not the professional armor I wore like a second skin, but something deeper—the part of me that had been alone for so long I’d forgotten what it felt like to want more.
My mouth opened, and I found myself telling him something I hadn’t told anyone except my therapist.