Chapter 20 #2
“An elf library,” Aleksi said quietly. “From before the territorial agreements—before the North Pole operation became what it is now. When Santa expanded his corporate structure, many older establishments were abandoned. This one was forgotten entirely.”
I moved deeper into the space, drawn by the sheer weight of knowledge surrounding us. “How did you find it?”
“By accident, about ten years ago. Some of my crew were doing deep-forest reconnaissance and stumbled across it. It hadn’t been touched in decades—maybe centuries.”
His voice hardened. “I didn’t know what it was then, but I knew it was precious. Like some ancient magic had drawn me here, knowing I would need it. We’ve been protecting this place ever since—preserving what we could, learning what it contained.”
I ran my fingers along a shelf of aged texts, feeling the history hum beneath my skin. “What’s here?”
“Everything,” he replied, reverence in his voice. “Historical documents. Employment contracts going back centuries—original versions, before the revisions and creative interpretations. It was likely a records storage facility for the North Pole, before everything went digital.”
I turned to stare at him. “Original North Pole employment contracts?”
“And financial records. Profit distribution agreements. Evidence of how things used to be.” He moved to a section near the back, pulling out a leather-bound volume with practiced ease.
“I’ve been studying them for years, trying to understand the legal implications.
But I’m not a lawyer. I didn’t know what half of it meant—or how to use it.
And I didn’t have the time, not with quotas increasing every year. ”
I took the volume from him with shaking hands, opening it carefully. The pages were yellowed with age, but the text was clear—an employment contract from three hundred years ago, written in the kind of formal legal language that was second nature to me.
“Aleksi,” I breathed, scanning the terms. “These clauses—they’re nothing like the current contracts. The working hours, the medical care, the magic sharing—”
“I know,” he murmured. “Or I suspected. But I needed someone who could read the legal language properly, who could understand what had been changed—and why.”
I looked up at him, seeing him in yet another light. “You’ve been reading all this?” I gave him a teasing smile. “So a brute and a nerd.”
He huffed, shifting uncomfortably. “I read. When there’s time. It helps me think.”
“What do you read?”
“History.” He hesitated, clearly debating whether to continue. “Poetry, sometimes. Finnish mostly, some elvish, some more modern.” His cheeks flushed slightly. “It helps me…understand different perspectives. See beyond my own anger.”
I set the book down gently and stepped closer. “Do you know what everyone sees when they look at you?”
He met my eyes warily. “A brute. A thug. Too aggressive for diplomacy. Too stubborn for compromise.”
“And what do you think I see?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with vulnerability.
“I see someone brilliant enough to recognize the value of knowledge—and protect it when everyone else would’ve walked away.
Someone who reads poetry to understand others, who taught himself because he knew his people would need him.
” I reached up to touch his face, feeling the slight rasp of stubble against my palm.
“Someone who hides his intelligence and gentleness behind aggression because the world demands you be strong—and you’re terrified that showing softness means failing the people who depend on you. ”
His breath caught. “Sylvie—”
“You’re not just a protector, Aleksi. You’re a leader who cares so deeply that you’ve made yourself into exactly what your people needed, even when it isolated you from everyone else.” I held his gaze. “I understand that.”
For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then his hands rose to cup my face, his touch achingly gentle despite his size.
“No one has ever…” He stopped, struggling for words. “Everyone sees aggression—a bulldozer to be pointed at problems or a threat to be contained. But you—you look at me and see…”
“My mate,” I finished softly. “Someone worth knowing beyond the armor you wear.”
“I’m not good with words,” he rasped. “Not like this. I read poetry, but I can’t write it. I understand the problem, but I can’t negotiate without losing my temper. I—”
“You don’t have to be good with words,” I murmured. “You have me now.” I smiled at him.
“Do I have you, kisu?”
“You’re starting to.”
At that, he grinned. “Well, I can be happy with that—for now.” Something shifted in his expression—hope, fragile and tentative, but real. “Can I show you something else?”
He led me deeper into the library, to a small alcove I hadn’t noticed before. A worn desk sat there, its surface covered with books and papers filled with notes in a neat, precise hand.
“This is where I come when the burden gets too heavy,” he explained. “When I need to remember why I’m fighting—what I’m hoping to build.”
I looked at the papers, the draft proposals for reformed labor agreements. “You’ve been working on this for years.”
He nodded, his antlers catching the warm library light. “Always alone, because I didn’t know who to trust with it.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me…with us. This is going to change everything.”
Before I could stop myself, I reached up and stroked his cheek again. I liked the way his beard felt under my fingertips. He leaned into the touch immediately, his antlers swaying as his head tilted toward my hand.
“You already have me wrapped around your finger, kisu,” he admitted with a small grin. “I’d do anything you ask.”
“Then tell me what kisu means.”
His grin deepened into a smirk, his voice dropping an octave. “It means kitten—or perhaps…pussycat.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks—and then lower, that new cascade of hormones I still wasn’t used to. He inhaled sharply as his pupils blew wide, running a hand up my thigh before wrapping it around my waist and pulling me closer.
“My omega…” He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his tongue lapping over that sensitive spot below my ear. My whole body shivered. “You smell so good.”
He did too. Pine and leather, underscored with a sweet, spicy hint of ginger.
I couldn’t deny the pull between us—just like the one I shared with Kenai and Taimyr.
If you’d asked me a few days ago whether I believed in soulmates or fated mates, or whatever this was, I would’ve given an extremely cynical answer.
But I knew what I felt. Magical cocoa curse or not, I knew in my heart of hearts that it was real—just like I’d once known Christmas itself was magic.
When I was young, I’d loved that it was the only time of year our family ever seemed to come together, and Grandma Rose’s guilt about not being there the rest of the year always manifested as a mountain of presents.
But there was more to it than that. There’s something that happens when the days grow short and the nights long—something ancient that wakes within us all, welcoming the return of the light and the promise of a new year and new opportunities.
And, apparently, an entire corporate architecture designed to make sure magic gets pumped from every home on the planet.
I tangled my fingers in the hair at his nape and moaned softly as his tongue swept over me again.
“Fuck, Sylvie…don’t make those noises. I’m barely holding it together,” he groaned. “I know you’re human. I know you might not feel what I do, but…”
“I do feel it.” My grip tightened on his neck. “Every logical part of me says this is insane, but…” I took a steadying breath. “I want you to show me that I should trust this feeling in my heart instead.”
The back of his knuckles traced along my cheek. “I would like nothing more.” His hand slid to the back of my neck, grasping gently as he pulled me into a kiss. It was all-consuming—his tongue sweeping over my lips, asking permission before deepening it.
My hands found his surprisingly narrow waist as I opened for him, and his taste reignited the heat I thought had finally quieted. I groaned as our tongues met, starving for more.
He looped his hands under my thighs, lifting me onto the desk, pressing my legs apart with his hips. He ground against me where I was already slick with want—and he was enormous. I clenched just from the thought.
If this was us holding it together, my mind spun with what it would be like when we weren’t.
He traced his fingers along the inside of my thigh, then over my clit, pausing at the button of my pants.
“Aleksi…wait…”
My mates.
I knew reindeer shifters saw polyamory differently than humans did, but this was still new to me—and felt wrong, somehow, to do this without them.
Would I even be here if Kenai hadn’t taught me to trust again, if Taimyr hadn’t shown me that a heart could be shared without jealousy?
As Aleksi threaded his fingers through my hair and kissed me again, I hesitated.
He felt it instantly and pulled back. “Sylvie, what is it?”
Open communication—that was the key to any relationship. We couldn’t start this without it.
“It doesn’t feel right, not having Kenai and Taimyr here. It…feels like betrayal.”
“That’s not how reindeer feel,” he said without judgment.
“Yes, but it is how I feel.”
His eyes softened at that, his gaze roaming my face. It was so full of wanting I could practically feel it—but he restrained himself. He let out a long snort and dropped his head so his forehead rested against my shoulder, his antlers brushing my hair.
“If that is what you desire, kisu, then of course I would—”
He was cut off as two figures slid around the stacks we’d found ourselves behind. He shifted instantly, his massive body shielding mine, as Kenai and Taimyr stumbled into view—antlers clashing, tangled together as they both tried to round the corner at once.
They struggled to right themselves, then finally straightened and stared at Aleksi, who was still poised between my legs.
“Starting without us?” Taimyr quipped with a mocking grin.
Aleksi’s grip on me tightened. “How did you find this place?”
“Same way you found the chalet,” Kenai answered. “She’s ours. We’d find her anywhere.”
For a long moment, none of them moved—but their chests heaved with aggression. Alpha pheromones flooded the air until my head was spinning. The bonds between us vibrated with escalating hostility, but I knew there was a much better way to release that than through a fight.
“Aleksi…” I cupped his cheek and gently turned his face toward mine. “Do you trust me?”
A tiny bit of the fight drained out of him. “With everything, my omega.”
“Then you can trust them.”
For a heartbeat, his armor slammed back into place—but I didn’t let him retreat. “You don’t have to do that,” I whispered. “I see you, Aleksi. Not for your strength—or at least not only that. You’re exactly what we need. Someone who will stand with those who need protection until the very end.”
I held his gaze. “Be mine, Aleksi. Be ours.”
The bond between us softened, no longer pulled taut by doubt but loosened by surrender. This massive, battle-worn alpha who everyone saw as a brute—he’d been starving for exactly this. To be seen. To be understood. To be valued for more than his physical strength.
He looked at my two mates again, then nodded once. “Whatever our omega desires.”