Chapter Ten #2
“When I was young—too young—I was married. We met in law school, and I…well, I thought he was the love of my life. It was great for a while, but then my career started to take off and his didn’t…
and I guess he couldn’t handle that. He got jealous, started to cut me down, made me feel small.
Luckily, I got out before it got too bad—a quick divorce, but… ”
Kenai squeezed my hands, encouraging me to go on.
“Even though I knew it wouldn’t work, I wanted him to at least try. Try to fix it, try to stay—but he just left. Like it had never mattered at all.” Oh god, I was a mess.
Kenai’s arms came around me, so warm, his scent filling my nose and something deeper in my soul until the sobs stopped.
“I found you because of your work. But what I feel for you—that’s real.
It started before I ever met you, this sense that you were important, that you mattered.
And now that I’ve actually met you, been with you, smelled you…
” He took my hands. “You could never help us with a single case, and I would still want you. The bond would still be pulling at me. You’re not a means to an end.
You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Sylvie.
I’m sorry that he couldn’t see your value, but I’m not sorry he gave you up.
Because I don’t intend to. I’ll stay, and I’ll fight, and I’ll never let you go. ”
The heat surged again, stronger this time, and I gasped. But underneath it was something else—something warm and right and terrifying in its intensity.
“I want to try,” I whispered. “I want to trust this. I want to trust you. I’m just…scared.”
“I know.” He pulled me up from the chair, steadying me when my legs trembled. “But you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what trust means, Sylvie. You’re not alone anymore.”
Through the windows, I could see fresh snow beginning to fall, coating the pines in white. The chalet felt warm and safe, insulated from the world outside. And Kenai was looking at me like I was something—someone—worth fighting for.
Maybe it was the magic of the season. Maybe it was the bond humming between us. Maybe it was just exhaustion making me reckless.
But for the first time in longer than I could remember, I wanted to let the ice I’d grown around my heart melt away.
“Show me,” I said, my voice steadier now. “Show me what you are. If I’m really going to trust you, I want to see all of who you are.”
Kenai went very still. “Sylvie, the shift can be…intense for humans to witness. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He studied my face for another long moment, then nodded. “Stay where you are. And don’t be afraid.”
He moved to the center of the room, giving himself space.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and I watched in fascination as his features started to change.
Small snowflakes drifted around him, sparkling like a galaxy of stars.
The shift began subtly—his ears becoming more pointed, his cheekbones sharpening—but then it accelerated.
His body stretched and expanded, muscles reshaping, limbs elongating. His antlers grew, magnificent and branching, pure white like fresh snow. Within moments, where a man had stood, there was now the most beautiful reindeer I’d ever seen.
He was exactly as I remembered from the road—all lean muscle and graceful power. His coat was pristine white, almost luminescent, and his antlers spread wide and elegant above his head. But it was his eyes that took my breath away—the same silver eyes, watching me carefully for my reaction.
I could see the scars now—over his snout, across his flank, scattered down his legs. Evidence of every fight he’d ever lost, every time he’d stood up anyway.
“Oh,” I breathed, and then louder: “Oh my god, Kenai. You’re beautiful.”
He took a cautious step closer, and I reached out slowly, giving him time to pull away. My fingers traced the scar across his snout, then buried in his fur. It was impossibly soft and warm beneath my palm.
Something in my chest settled. This was real. This was magic—but it was real. And I was safe.
“You’re like something out of a Christmas story,” I whispered. “I guess…you are.”
He nuzzled my hand, and the gesture was so gentle, so trusting, that tears pricked my eyes again.
“I believe you,” I murmured. “About the recognition, about caring too much. I see it in you too. All those scars—you keep fighting even when you know you’ll lose. Just like me.”
The shift back was quicker—a blurring of forms until Kenai stood before me again in human form, breathing hard from the transformation.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice hoarse. “For not being afraid.”
I reached out and set my hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath my palm. I had seen it with my own eyes—magic. Literal, fucking Christmas magic. If that was real, then maybe true love could be too.
His hands came up to cover mine, warm and steady. “Your heat’s getting stronger again.”
“I know.” I could feel it, narrowing everything down to him, to the need thrumming through the bond. “I don’t want to fight it anymore. I want you, Kenai. Will you have me?”
His answer was in the way his eyes darkened, the way his hands tightened around mine.
“I know what you need.” His smile was devastating. “And I’m going to give it to you—all of it. But we do this my way, remember? You’re going to let me take care of you.”
His mouth found mine, and this time I didn’t hold back.
I kissed him desperately, hungrily, letting the heat finally take over.
My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer—needing more contact.
I groaned into the kiss as his hard body pressed against every inch of me, and for once, I let myself stop thinking and just feel.
But even as the desperation built, even as my body demanded more, Kenai kept his pace aggravatingly slow. His hands teased despite my whimpers of protest, despite how I threw myself against him.
“Beautiful,” he murmured against my skin. “So beautiful when you stop fighting it.”
“Less talking,” I managed. “More—oh—”
His laugh was low and warm. “Patience, Sylvie. I told you, this time we do it my way. I’m savoring this.”
“I’m going to die. The heat is going to kill me, and it’ll be your fault.”
“So dramatic.” But his hands were moving lower now, finally giving me some of what I needed. “Trust me, Sylvie. Let me make this good for you.”
And despite everything—despite my fear, despite my walls, despite every instinct telling me not to trust this—I did.
I surrendered.