Daddy Christmas

Chapter 7

N icholas opened the door, and cold air hit my face like a slap. I shivered but followed him out. My boots crunched in the snow, the sound sharp in the quiet night. Then I saw it.

The sleigh was unreal—like something straight out of one of the Christmas books I used to devour as a kid. Carvings twisted along its sides, shapes that almost seemed alive when the glowing runes lit them up. The whole thing shimmered under the pale light, soft and otherworldly. And the reindeer . . . God, the reindeer. Their coats sparkled like they’d been dusted with stars, steam curling from their noses as they stood there, calm and waiting.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What is this?" My voice barely made it past a whisper.

"Our ride," Nicholas said, stepping closer, his smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. That damn smile—it already felt warm enough to melt the frost clinging to me. He reached for my hand and pulled me forward gently, his touch steady, comforting. "Come on. It's better up close."

"Is this real life?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My eyes stayed locked on the sleigh, too afraid that if I even blinked, it would disappear.

"It’s real life," he said, his voice low, like he was telling me something sacred. He turned to me, those green eyes—so impossibly bright—catching mine. "You trust me, don’t you?"

I hesitated. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. It’s just . . . this? This felt like stepping into a dream I didn’t know I’d been having.

"Yes," I said, barely louder than a breath. And then I let him lead me to the sleigh.

He helped me climb in, his hands firm around my waist, lifting me like I weighed nothing. The seat was wide and cushioned, impossibly soft beneath me. Before I could say anything, he grabbed a thick blanket—a deep red thing trimmed with gold—and tucked it snugly around my shoulders.

"Comfy?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"Yeah," I said, though my heart was pounding too hard for me to feel comfortable. My fingers gripped the edge of the blanket like it might keep me anchored.

"Good." He climbed in beside me, moving with a grace that shouldn’t have been possible for someone so tall. With a flick of his wrist, the reins snapped, and the sleigh jerked forward.

"Wait—" But the word died on my lips because suddenly we weren’t on the ground anymore.

We were flying.

The scene below blurred as the sleigh lifted higher and higher. Lights stretched out like scattered jewels against the dark, fading fast as the world fell away beneath us. Wind rushed past, sharp and cold against my cheeks, but I barely noticed. All I could do was hold onto the blanket, my knuckles white, and stare at the endless stretch of stars opening up above us.

"Okay," I said after a moment, my voice shaky but still mine. "This is insane."

"Insane or amazing?" Nicholas asked, leaning back like this was all perfectly normal.

"Both," I shot back. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I couldn’t help glancing his way. He looked so relaxed, his hand resting casually on the reins, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. Like he did this every day. Maybe he did.

"Relax," he said, his voice smooth and easy. "You’re safe with me."

"That’s not the point," I said, gripping the edge of the seat now instead of the blanket. "You—this—" I gestured wildly, trying to encompass the impossible thing I was sitting in. "People don’t fly sleighs, Nicholas!"

"Sure they do," he said, throwing me a wink. "They just don’t believe they can."

My breath hitched when the endless sprawl of highways and buildings gave way to something else entirely.

"Look," Nicholas said softly, his voice pulling my attention. He pointed out past the sleigh's edge, his gloved hand steady despite the rush of air around us.

I followed where he gestured, my heart still hammering from the impossible reality of what was happening. Beneath us, the world had transformed. Snow stretched out in every direction, broken only by dark ribbons of frozen lakes and rivers cutting through the white. It was like someone had reached down and painted over everything—clean, untouched, and glowing faintly under the stars.

"That’s insane," I murmured, half to myself.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Nicholas leaned closer, his voice low and warm by my ear. "There are places out here that haven’t seen a single footprint. Not in centuries."

"Centuries?" That one word stuck in my head, spinning around with all the others I couldn’t quite make sense of.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he tugged gently on the reins, guiding the sleigh in a smooth arc through the sky. The reindeer responded effortlessly, their hooves leaving faint trails of light behind them, like sparks.

"Do you see those stars?" he asked after a moment, tilting his head toward the horizon. His green eyes glanced at me before sliding back to the sky. "The ones just above the auroras?"

"Yeah," I said, squinting. The northern lights were starting to ripple now, faint greens and purples stretching across the night like silk unraveling. Just above them, a cluster of brilliant stars winked in and out.

"That’s Orion," he explained, his voice taking on a storytelling rhythm. "A hunter, fierce and strong. Old friend of mine.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavier than they should’ve been. I swallowed hard, turning my gaze back to the streaks of color dancing along the horizon. For a second, I let myself forget the cold, forget the questions piling up in my mind, and just watched.

"Almost there," Nicholas said suddenly, sitting up straighter.

"Almost where—" I started, but then I saw it.

The ground beneath us wasn’t snow anymore. It shimmered, catching and reflecting the faintest light from above. Ice. Endless miles of it, glowing faintly like it had its own heartbeat.

"Hold on," Nicholas told me, though his tone was calm and easy.

The descent happened so smoothly I almost didn’t notice at first. The sleigh tilted forward slightly, the reindeer adjusting their pace. My stomach flipped, but Nicholas stayed completely relaxed, guiding us lower and lower until the ice runway came into focus.

"Runway" felt like the wrong word—it was too perfect for that. The ice gleamed beneath us, carved with intricate patterns that pulsed faintly with light. As the sleigh touched down, I braced myself, expecting some kind of jolt or skid, but it landed like falling onto a cloud.

"See? Perfectly safe," Nicholas said, flashing me another one of those maddeningly confident smiles.

"Sure," I muttered, my legs trembling a little as I climbed out, boots crunching against the snow.

And then I saw it.

"Whoa." The word fell out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Ahead of me, lit up like something straight out of a dream, was a village. No, not a village—a world. Buildings spiraled upward with candy cane supports, their roofs dusted in what looked exactly like powdered sugar. Gingerbread-like walls, glowing windows, chimneys puffing soft wisps of smoke into the night. Everything twinkled, shimmering against the snow-covered ground.

"Welcome to the North Pole," Nicholas said, stepping up beside me. His hands slid casually into his pockets, like this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"That’s not real," I whispered, shaking my head even as I took an unsteady step forward.

"Want to bet?" he asked, his grin widening.

The elves were everywhere.

They swarmed the streets like a living river of color—bright hats bobbing, tiny boots kicking up snow as bells jingled with every step. Their laughter carried on the crisp air, high and musical, like a chorus of wind chimes. I couldn’t stop staring.

"Are those...?" I started, but the words trailed off when one of them broke away from the crowd and marched right up to me. She wasn’t tall—barely came up to my waist—but her confidence made up for it. Her hat flopped to one side, and the striped scarf around his neck seemed too big for someone so small.

"Gemma!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide like we were old friends. Her smile was all teeth and mischief.

"Uh..." I blinked, taking a step back out of instinct. "Do I know you?"

"Of course you do!" She planted her hands on her hips, looking almost offended. Then she winked. "You met me at the mall, remember? I bought a book from you?"

My jaw dropped. "No way. Ella? You’re, uh, smaller?!

She giggled. “Yep. Things work a little different here. Our true natures are revealed.”

“Good to see you.” Felt like I was going to be suspending my disbelief quite a bit while I was here.

"We've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?" My voice pitched higher, cracking slightly.

"Yup! But no time for questions—there's a schedule to keep!" Ella elf spun on her heel, her scarf whipping dramatically, and darted off before I could say another word.

"Did that just happen?" I asked, turning to Nicholas.

"Yep," he said casually, stepping closer. "Come on. There’s more to see."

"More than that ?" I gestured weakly toward the spot where Ella had disappeared.

"Much more." His smile softened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes, like he knew exactly how overwhelmed I felt.

T he workshop was chaos. Beautiful chaos.

It was bigger than I expected, sprawling across several stories with twisting staircases and conveyor belts running along the walls. Sparks flew from strange machines that hummed and whirred, their gears glowing faintly with some kind of energy I couldn’t name. Elves zipped between workstations, their movements quick and precise despite the frenzy.

"Is this—" I started, but Nicholas cut me off.

"Toy production," he said simply.

"Yeah, I got that much." My head tipped back as I tried to take it all in. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, glittering with lights that looked like stars.

"Watch," he murmured, guiding me closer to one of the stations.

An elf stood on a platform, holding what looked like a block of wood. He set it down on a glowing surface, and I swear I saw the wood shimmer before it started moving—splitting apart, reshaping itself, coming together again like pieces of a puzzle. Within seconds, it was no longer a block but a perfectly carved wooden train, complete with tiny wheels that actually turned.

"That’s not possible," I whispered.

"Sure it is," Nicholas said, leaning casually against the edge of the platform.

"How?"

"Magic." He shrugged, like that explained everything.

"Right. Of course." My fingers twitched at my sides. I wanted to touch it, to prove it was real, but I didn’t dare.

"Go ahead," he coaxed, noticing the hesitation.

"Really?"

"Really."

I reached out slowly, half expecting the train to vanish the moment my hand got close. But it didn’t. It was solid, smooth under my fingertips, and warm—not like wood should feel.

"Unreal," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Very real," Nicholas corrected gently.

"How long have they been doing this?" I asked, nodding toward the elves bustling around us.

"Centuries," he said, his voice tinged with something like pride.

"Centuries," I echoed, barely able to wrap my head around it.

"Impressive, isn’t it?"

"That’s an understatement." I laughed softly, though it came out shaky.

"Come on." His hand brushed the small of my back, light enough to make me shiver. "There’s still more to see."

"Of course there is," I said under my breath, letting him lead me deeper into the madness.

T he market stretched out before us, a kaleidoscope of color and movement. Stalls lined the cobblestone paths, their awnings striped in reds and greens, twinkling with tiny lights that blinked like they were alive. I barely knew where to look first—one table glittered with ornaments shaped like snowflakes, each one refracting light like it had caught the stars themselves. Another was loaded with scarves and mittens knit so finely they looked too perfect to be real.

"Come on," Nicholas said, his hand warm against the small of my back again. He guided me toward a stall where rows of pastries steamed in the cold air. The smell hit me first—sweet, buttery, with just a hint of spice. My stomach growled loud enough that I winced.

"Hungry?" he teased, his lips curving into that maddeningly perfect smile.

"Maybe a little," I admitted, though my face burned.

"Try this," he said, plucking up something that looked like a small pie from the counter. It was warm when he handed it to me, wrapped in crisp parchment paper.

"What is it?"

"Just taste."

I bit into it cautiously, expecting it to be good but not this good. The filling was rich and spiced, bursting across my tongue in a way that made my knees want to give out.

"Okay," I mumbled around another bite. "This might actually be magic."

Nicholas chuckled, low and soft. "You’re catching on."

The vendor—a tiny elf with glasses perched on the end of her nose—beamed at me. "First time here?" she asked, her voice high and lilting.

"Yeah," I said after swallowing.

"Stick with him," she said, jerking her chin toward Nicholas. "He knows his way around."

"Does he now?" I shot him a look, but he only smirked and steered me toward the next stall.

Everywhere I turned, there was something new. A booth with glass ornaments that seemed to hum faintly when I passed. Another where an elf carved figurines out of what looked like ice, though they didn’t melt under his hands. One stall sold candies wrapped in foil so shiny I could see my reflection in them.

"Here," Nicholas said suddenly, pulling me toward a table covered in jars. Each one held a different kind of jam, the colors deep and jewel-like. He picked up a spoon, dipped it into something bright red, and held it out to me.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Trust me."

I hesitated, then leaned forward and took the smallest taste. Tartness exploded in my mouth, sweet and sharp all at once.

"Wow," I managed.

"See? Told you."

"Do you do this for everyone?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Do what?" His gaze locked on mine, green eyes sharper than I expected.

"Show them all this." I waved vaguely around us, trying to pretend my cheeks weren’t heating.

"Not everyone," he said, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Well, not anyone, really.”

"Right." I ducked my head, pretending to examine another jar while my pulse thudded embarrassingly loud in my ears.

"Over here," he said after a moment, leading me away again.

We stopped in front of a group of elves gathered around a spinning wheel. The elf working it was older, with silver hair woven into a braid that nearly reached the floor. She glanced up as we approached and broke into a grin.

"Nick!" she said, her voice warm.

"Belle," he greeted, his tone softer than I’d heard it yet.

"Who’s this?" She eyed me with open curiosity.

"Gemma," Nicholas said simply.

"Ah." Belle nodded knowingly, though I had no idea what she thought she understood. "About time."

"Excuse me?" I said, blinking at her.

"Don’t mind her," Nicholas interjected smoothly.

"Right." My skepticism must have shown because Belle laughed—a deep, throaty sound full of genuine amusement.

"Don’t worry, dear," she said, reaching out to pat my arm. "You’ll catch up soon enough."

"That’s what I’m afraid of," I muttered, earning another laugh.

"Belle runs the textiles," Nicholas explained as we walked away.

"She seems . . ." I trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Blunt?"

"Sure. Let’s go with that."

"She means well," he said lightly. But there was something in his expression—fondness, maybe—that made me pause.

"How long has she been here?"

"As long as me," he admitted.

“A long time.” Was it sinking in? All the craziness? It was hard to tell.

"Hey," he said, stopping suddenly. I turned to find him watching me closely, his brows drawn together. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn’t I be?"

"Because this"—he gestured around us—"must be overwhelming."

"It is, but . . . it feels weirdly natural.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. I can’t explain it.”

“Things word differently. Time and space. Everything. I’ve been talking to Belle about you for a while. I’ve uh, been waiting for the right time to talk to you. Belle’s been badgering me for a long time. She knows how lonely I’ve been.”

“Lonely, huh?”

“It’s been a long time. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for.”

“Am I really that special?”

He took my hands. “You are. You, Gemma are capable of the greatest, deepest love. You’ll see in time, how love will change your heart, and how wonderful the world can be when you’re true to yourself.”

He pushed a gloved hand against my chest. “You have the beautiful, innocent heart of a child, with the deep emotion and intelligence of a woman. You’re everything I’ve always wanted from my partner.”

My heart, under his hand, pounded in my chest.

For the first time, I really started to believe.

“Now come with me, there’s a special place I want to show you. Away from all this madness.”

I t was . . . an igloo?

But not like any igloo I’d ever seen before. Set on the top of a snow covered hill, the strange structure shimmered in the dim light, the walls catching and bending every color around us. It was like looking at a prism, or maybe a diamond. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until Nicholas spoke.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" I breathed, turning to him. "It’s . . . incredible."

"Wait until you see inside," he said, opening the door and gesturing for me to enter.

The warmth hit me first, cozy and inviting. Soft furs lined the floor, piled high with cushions that begged to be sunk into. Lanterns floated in midair, their light soft and golden, casting gentle shadows on the crystalline walls.

"Wow," I whispered, stepping further inside. My fingers brushed over one of the furs, the softness sending a shiver up my spine. "This is amazing.”

"Good," Nicholas said, his voice low as he followed me in. "I like surprising you."

Nicholas settled onto the cushions, his movements smooth and deliberate. He patted the spot beside him without a word, his green eyes steady on mine. I hesitated, my breath catching in my chest. The air inside the igloo was warm, but my cheeks burned hotter as I sat down, careful to keep some space between us.

"Look up," he said softly.

I tilted my head back, following his gaze. My lips parted. The ceiling wasn’t just clear—it was like looking straight into the universe. Stars stretched endlessly above us, sharp and bright against the black sky. And then they came.

The first ribbon of light unfurled slowly, almost shy, before another followed, bold and vibrant. Greens, purples, pinks—they twisted and swirled, painting the sky in waves that moved like they were alive. My chest tightened, the kind of tightness that felt good, full. Whole.

"That’s . . ." I started, but my voice cracked. I pressed my lips together, swallowing hard. "It’s—"

"The Northern lights," Nicholas finished for me. His voice was low, close enough that I could feel the weight of it settle over me.

"Yeah," I whispered. My fingers twisted in the fur beneath me, grounding myself as I stared up, unable to look away. It didn’t feel real. None of this did. But it also didn’t feel fake.

"Magic feels different when you can see it," he said. His tone was soft, measured, like he was afraid to break whatever spell we were under. "When you can touch it."

I glanced at him then, caught off guard by how intently he was watching me. Not the lights. Me. My throat went dry, and I looked back up quickly, my heart thudding harder than it should’ve been.

"Do you believe me now?" he asked, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the cushion.

I froze. The warmth of his skin sent a jolt through me, and I wasn’t sure if it was the proximity or the question itself that felt heavier. Maybe both.

I shifted on the cushion, my palms pressing into the fur as I turned to face him. My chest felt tight, like I’d been holding my breath this whole time without realizing it. His hand was still close to mine. The heat from his skin made my fingers itch to move, to close that tiny gap between us. But I didn’t. Not yet.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant for it to be. I cleared my throat and tried again, meeting his eyes this time. “Everything I’ve seen tonight… it’s beyond anything I imagined could be real.”

His gaze held steady, calm but intense, like he wasn’t just looking at me—he was seeing me. It made me feel exposed in a way that was both terrifying and comforting. My stomach twisted, but I pushed through it, letting the words tumble out before I lost my nerve.

“Yes,” I said, barely above a whisper. Then louder, firmer: “Yes, I believe you. You’re Santa Claus.”

The moment the words left my mouth, a strange sort of weight lifted off me, replaced by something I couldn’t quite name. Relief? Maybe. Or maybe it was just the sheer absurdity of saying it out loud, of admitting that this man—this man, a Daddy Dom , no less—was exactly who he claimed to be. It sounded insane, but somehow, it felt right.

Nicholas smiled, and it wasn’t the kind of smile you give someone when they’ve finally caught up to what you already knew. It was warm and earnest, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had. Like it mattered to him.

"Thank you for trusting me," he said, his voice soft but sure. He reached for my hand then, and this time, I let him take it. His palm was rougher than I expected, his fingers warm as they closed around mine. My pulse jumped, and I hoped he couldn’t feel it.

“I’ve been searching,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. “For someone to share this with. Not just the magic, but everything that comes with it—the responsibility, the joy, the challenges.” He paused, his green eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my head spin. “You have a pure heart, Gemma. Your capacity for wonder, your resilience—it’s why you’re here. It’s why you’re perfect.”

Perfect. The word hit me harder than it should have, curling around something deep inside me that I usually kept locked away. I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, that I wasn’t any of those things. But the way he looked at me… I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Instead, I sat there, my heart pounding in my ears, wondering how in the world I was supposed to live up to the faith he seemed so willing to place in me.

I blinked up at him, my chest tight and aching in a way I couldn’t fully explain. The warmth of his hand still lingered on mine, like it had left a mark beneath my skin. My fingers curled slightly, as if trying to hold onto it. The words he’d said swirled in my head, heavy and impossibly light all at once. Perfect partner. Pure heart.

I wasn’t perfect—far from it. But for the first time, maybe ever, I didn’t feel the need to argue. Not with him looking at me like that, his gaze steady and unshakable, like he knew. Knew what I was capable of, even when I didn’t.

“I . . .” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I looked away, out at the shifting ribbons of color above us, their reflection shimmering faintly in the crystalline walls of the igloo. “I don’t know how to do. . . this,” I admitted. “Any of it. I’ve never. . .” My pulse stuttered, and I forced myself to meet his eyes again. “I’ve never been part of something like this before.”

His expression softened, but he didn’t interrupt. He just watched me, waiting, giving me the space I needed. That alone made something loosen inside me, the tension I hadn’t realized I was holding easing just enough to let the words out.

“But I want to try,” I said, the words tumbling out faster now, like they were racing ahead of my fear. “I want to be part of this. All of it. The magic, the joy—the responsibility too.” My breath hitched, and I gripped the edge of the cushion beneath me, my knuckles white. “I want to help. To bring people happiness. Keep the magic alive.”

The silence that followed felt endless. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, loud enough to drown out everything else. Then Nicholas smiled—not his usual calm, knowing smile, but something warmer. Brighter. It lit up his face in a way that made my chest ache all over again.

“You already are,” he said softly.

Before I could process that, he leaned forward, closing the small space between us. His arms wrapped around me, careful and steady, pulling me into his warmth. For a second, I froze, the sheer unfamiliarity of it making every nerve in my body go haywire. Then I melted—like snow under sunlight, like I’d been waiting for this without even realizing it. My hands found his back, clutching the soft fabric of his coat as I buried my face against his shoulder.