Santa’s Frozen Heart

Chapter 15: A Different Kind of Christmas

Nicholas had never been a man of hesitation.

He was decisive, a leader who made swift, calculated choices without second-guessing himself.

But this—her—had undone him.

Everything he had ever known about control, about distance, about keeping himself guarded had shattered the moment Alina walked into his life.

And now, as he stood in front of her, watching the firelight flicker across her skin, his resolve crumbled completely.

She was waiting for him.

Not just physically, standing near the fireplace, wrapped in warmth, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

She was waiting for an answer.

For truth.

For him to finally say what they both already knew.

And Nicholas—he was tired of pretending.

"You left," she said quietly.

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t anger.

But it was something else.

Something raw.

Something uncertain.

Nicholas exhaled. "I had to."

Alina folded her arms, studying him. "Had to do what?"

Nicholas hesitated.

Then, slowly, he pulled the crumpled letter from his pocket and tossed it onto the table between them.

Alina’s breath caught as she recognized the wax seal.

"You went to them."

Nicholas nodded once. "I made sure they won’t bother you again."

Alina swallowed, the flames reflecting in her wide blue eyes. "Why?"

Nicholas clenched his jaw. "Because they don’t deserve you."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Before he could temper them, soften them, make them less real.

And Alina—she heard them.

She felt them.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Because what could she say?

She had spent her whole life being unwanted. Being treated like a burden, like something to be tolerated rather than cherished.

And now, standing in front of her, was the one person who had ever fought for her.

The one person who had ever claimed her as his.

Not out of obligation.

Not because it was expected.

But because he wanted to.

Because he wanted her.

And that realization was too much.

Too terrifying.

Too overwhelming.

So she did the only thing she could.

She stepped closer.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like she was testing fate.

And when Nicholas didn’t move away—when he just stood there, watching her with those dark, storm-filled eyes—she placed her hand against his chest.

His heart was pounding.

Hard.

Wild.

Matching her own.

"Nicholas," she whispered.

His throat worked as he swallowed. "Tell me to stop."

Alina’s fingers curled into the fabric of his coat.

"I won’t."

And that was all it took.

Nicholas moved.

Fast.

One second, there was space between them.

The next, his hands were on her—gripping her waist, threading through her hair, tilting her face up as he crashed his mouth against hers.

Alina gasped into the kiss, her body arching into his as he pulled her closer, closer, never close enough.

She had imagined this.

Had spent too many nights wondering what it would feel like—

To be held by him.

To be wanted by him.

To be devoured by him.

But nothing had prepared her for this.

For the heat. The desperation. The way Nicholas kissed her like he was starving for her, like he had been holding himself back for far too long.

She moaned into his mouth, and Nicholas let out a low, guttural sound in response.

His grip tightened.

And then—without warning—he lifted her.

Alina gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the fireplace, never breaking the kiss.

Then, gently, he lowered her onto the plush fur rug.

Alina barely had time to catch her breath before he was on her again.

Hovering over her.

Kissing her deeper.

Rougher.

More possessive.

Like she belonged to him.

And maybe she did.

Maybe she always had.

Their clothes disappeared between kisses.

Between shaky hands and hungry mouths.

Between whispered words and soft, ragged moans.

Alina traced her fingers down his bare chest, marveling at the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch.

Nicholas let out a sharp breath, eyes dark with something dangerous.

"Alina," he warned, voice hoarse.

But she just smirked, nails raking down his skin.

"Are you going to stop me?" she whispered.

Nicholas growled, capturing her lips in another searing kiss.

"Not a chance."

The world faded.

The fire crackled beside them, its warmth nothing compared to the heat between them.

Nicholas kissed his way down her neck, his touch reverent, like he was mapping every inch of her to memory.

And Alina—

She gave herself to him completely.

Because she knew he wouldn’t break her.

Because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t afraid.

She wasn’t running.

She wasn’t alone.

She was his.

And Nicholas—he was hers.

When it was over, they lay tangled together on the rug, their breaths still uneven, their bodies spent.

Nicholas pulled her closer, pressing a slow, lazy kiss against her bare shoulder.

Alina shivered, but not from the cold.

She turned in his arms, resting her forehead against his chest.

"This was…" she started, trailing off, unable to find the right words.

Nicholas smirked. "Yeah."

She laughed softly, fingers tracing absent patterns against his skin.

A long silence stretched between them.

Comfortable.

Safe.

And then—

Nicholas murmured, "I’m not letting you go."

Alina’s breath caught.

Because she knew he wasn’t talking about tonight.

He was talking about forever.

She looked up at him, heart pounding. "Good."

Nicholas’s lips curled into something soft.

Something real.

And as the firelight flickered around them, Alina knew—

This Christmas was different.

This Christmas was hers.