Rake My Lust (Dragons of Blood and Bone #3)

22. Mystery

22

MYSTERY

A s we maneuver through the underground hall, we soon leave Emil Beck and the Forgyldt Bur hotel far behind. We’re in a network of tunnels deep beneath Copenhagen; as we continue past vaulted stone halls and countless closed doors, all sprouting through the underground, we’re guided by sorcerous violet-gold torches that blossom to life just as the one behind us darkens.

It’s like following a trail of breadcrumbs through a Hans Christian Andersen fairytale, as we hear strange noises through the dark halls. Some doors down here look beyond old, warded and seething with power we’re not about to touch. Ancient, those wards feel like what we experienced beneath Seerselen.

Remnants of a past forgotten by all, except the most ancient Blood Dragons.

At last, we reach the end of our journey. As we turn a corner and are confronted by a dead end hall with an ornate iron door, the violet-gold torch beside that door flares to life. With an 1800s design of flowers and alchemical equipment, the iron door before us features beautiful gold lettering which shimmers to life with a spring green light. The Chartreuse, it says in an elegant 1800s block script.

Strom gives a sudden sigh, as tension leaves him.

As I tap into his emotions now, I realize that some part of Strom was afraid Emil would lead us astray. Despite them being friends, Strom has never told Emil his real name, or divulged to the man his true identity. And though Emil is all smiles, he’s never really done the same. They’re aligned, but on a basic level, they don’t trust each other. Some part of Strom was worried Emil had sent us down here on a fool’s errand.

To die some place hidden, far from the light.

But Emil had no reason to betray us; we all know it as Bjorn reaches up now, pulling a long iron chain beside the door, with a gilded ironwork handle. We hear a series of chimes within. As they cease, dozens of locks behind the door chunk open.

The door swinging out—as a massive bouncer in black regards us curiously.

“Yes?” He crosses his bulky arms over his chest, barring our way inside. He’s so big, I can’t even see what’s beyond him. As his black t-shirt strains over his frankly enormous muscles, even bigger than Bjorn’s, I wonder if this guy is half-giant.

His magical signature says Blood Dragon, however, as it sears around him, crimson with a dark copper undertone. But Rock Giants and Dragons have been able to interbreed in the past. Perhaps this guy is one of their offspring as he stares down at us now, lifting a serious eyebrow.

Waiting.

“We’re special friends of Emil Beck.” Strom steps forward, smiling but holding the man’s gaze intently. “He said The Chartreuse might be able to help us?”

The man’s eyebrows rise now as he blinks. Though he’s fierce, I see shock come into his dark crimson and copper eyes, as he says, “Wait a moment.” He steps back, then slams the door in our faces. We’ve been waiting so long, I’m just about to tell Strom that Emil’s ruse hasn’t worked and we need to try to use our chartreuse tattooing to get in the normal way when the man hauls the door back open.

Then steps back into an alcove—inviting us inside. “This way.”

We don’t hesitate, as Strom takes point again, leading us inside. I go second and Bjorn guards our rear, all three of us looking around now as we scan the shadows for threats.

Even Strom is in uncharted territory now, with Emil’s secret entrance to The Chartreuse. As we receive an indication to hand over our weapons, me turning over all my knives just like Strom said would happen, we’re led through a dark series of plain back hallways that are clearly for the staff.

I know this isn’t a normal entrance to the club, as we head past dressing rooms for bartenders, then other areas for performers and musical acts. We move through a backstage spot, and I hear riveting EDM music, much like what Mikkel and L?rke had going at The Vault near the Old Palace.

We bypass those areas, however, and soon come to a quieter 1800s-styled parlor, entirely decorated in spring green and gold. It’s like the Victorian era never died, with a wash of green fairy opulence and Absinthe, as couples chat on vibrant spring green velvet lounges all around.

Ornate mirrors and chandeliers absolutely dripping with crystal throw that heady green color everywhere. I know how The Chartreuse got its name now, as I see what was the original styling of the club in this sprawling, secluded parlor.

But as I get a glance at people coming in through spring green velvet curtains, I see the club beyond is more modern now, done mostly in gold and black. It still has elements of Victorian styling and splashes of vibrant chartreuse color everywhere, though, in massive pop art pieces on the walls, and graffiti murals.

We’re led through the chartreuse foyer, then in through a heavily guarded white silberskrae door into a private VIP area. The door is guarded by security personnel in black t-shirts and jeans, who are all packing black kevlar shoulder holsters and modern, military-issue handguns.

They’re Mikkel and L?rke’s best, I know, as we’re ushered into the VIP area beyond. This area is decorated just the same as the Victorian salon, though far more cozy. An opulent smoking lounge and gaming area, it’s vacant right now, except for two people lounging at a set of spring green scrollback chaises near a crackling fireplace.

Idly, they reach out, making moves on an ornate mother-of-pearl and black onyx chess set on a gilded table between them. As they sip chartreuse cocktails in matching martini glasses, I feel their dark, massively intense energy.

And I know it’s Mikkel and L?rke Thorsen before they even notice we’ve arrived.

They do now, however, as both stand and turn towards us, setting down their drinks. Statuesque, L?rke is as white-blonde as Mikkel is gloriously dark.

Wearing a spring green cocktail dress with cream lace at the shoulders, L?rke’s exceedingly long platinum blonde hair is braided half-back from her crown in Viking style, cascading down her back to her butt. Her bright lavender eyes hold a fiery ring of crimson at their center, her full lips so red and her complexion so pale, she looks almost like a Vampire, except for her roaring energy, which is all dragon.

Mikkel is just as arresting as his sister, with his glorious lean height and dark brown hair that’s nearly black, slicked back tonight in a short, rakish style that suits him. He’s almost casual compared to her, wearing only a crisp white shirt and charcoal slacks, his shirtsleeves rolled up and the same silver and gold dragon ring on his left index finger I saw last time we met.

But Mikkel’s handsome Adonis face and chiseled, sculpted beauty with his full lips make him drop-dead gorgeous. It’s an all male beauty, however, as his dark eyes pin me.

The cinnabar color of his dragon flaring in them—roaring to see me.

Reprimand is on L?rke’s tongue as she opens her full lips, however. Fury is in her eyes that she and her twin were interrupted—until she sees us.

Her demeanor goes ice cold now as her fiery eyes pin me. Strom she notes with wariness, Bjorn with a tight frown, but I’m definitely on her shit list, as she comes right to me, her energy surging in a tirade to pummel me.

Even as she does, Mikkel moves in fast. He holds a hand out in front of his twin, stopping her from accosting me—even as my energy surges up fast for a fight. His eyes pin me again as wariness—and eagerness—war inside him to see me. He holds out a hand to me, asking me to stand down now, and for some reason, I do.

As Mikkel turns to his sister—pinning her with his dark eyes.

“L?rke,” he says firmly now as he stands between us. “These are friends of ours. Can it.”

“They’re going to lead the Black Dragon Knights’ Council right to us, if they haven’t already by their stupidity coming here!” L?rke huffs now, as she throws a hand up at us. She’s not menacing me with her magic anymore, as I feel its terrible, dark coils ease back from where they were about to cinch me up like a boa constrictor, but she’s not far from it.

Suspicion and wariness in her, as she regards us.

“These ones came in through the underground gate,” our bouncer says now as he juts his chin at us. “Said they’re special friends of Emil’s.”

“Are they?” Mikkel’s gaze looks surprised now as he blinks, then looks quickly at Strom. “I didn’t know you were a personal friend of Emil Beck, Strom Eriksson. You have many surprises.”

“And many more to come, I’m sure.” Strom nods, even as he flashes a hard smile at the twins. “In any case, we didn’t come into your club via normal means, so I doubt the Council trailed us. We’re staying at the Gilded Cage; you know their searches can’t penetrate Emil’s wards, and his protection goes with whoever stays there, for a time. Even if we’d waltzed in through your front door, the Council wouldn’t have been able to tail us. So leave off.”

“He’s right, L?rke.” Mikkel’s gaze pins his wrathful sister, who has crossed her arms now as she fumes, tapping her foot. “Emil’s wards are potent; even you and I could not crack them. He’s ancient and has his ways… far stronger than us modern Blood Dragons, by a lot.”

“Emil’s old?” I blink then, having not gotten that feeling from him at all.

I know now just how strong he was to hide it.

“Three, four thousand years, maybe. No one really knows. Or his real name, for that matter,” Mikkel says. As his dark gaze pins me again, his eyes flash cinnamon red and copper besides. I feel it as his massive drake slithers around inside him now, hot to see me.

Just as hot as I am to see him.

I feel our dragons rub past each other, then, in a deep mate-taste, just like before. Scintillating and wild, the sensation shudders me to my bones as his scalding, dark scales glide past mine. We’re not even touching; neither Mikkel nor L?rke have offered to shake hands this time. But as my drakaina sparks with hot desire all through me, rushing through my veins like bright lava now, I feel my dark inner drake rise.

Both my magics want Mikkel Thorsen—but my Bone Magic wants him like the tides want the moon as it surges up high inside me, obliterating me with its starry void of night. I’ve never been able to pinpoint his scent before; it comes to me now, subtle yet intoxicating, like a wickedly strong kick-your-ass herbal cocktail with exotic bitters in it.

It’s heady and strong, as power thunders between us. Our beasts of magic brush each other close as we devour each other’s scents. A hard thunderclap of magic suddenly hits the air, as Mikkel’s Bone Magic drake rushes at me. I feel it twine me up into its dark, luscious coils as a furious, commanding energy blisters all through me from Mikkel’s hundred megawatt personality.

Like a blast of illicit uppers, power and passion surge through my system, making everything inside me roar. As a scalding wave of white, red, and gold Bloodwind whirls from me, my dual magics united in how much they want Mikkel, I’m ready to throw down in a fuck or a fight with him.

And probably both.

Just then, Bjorn and Strom’s hands seize me—preventing me from rushing to Mikkel and just jumping on him, straddling him like a monkey. Because that’s what we were about to do, as red clears from my vision and I quickly come back to myself.

Not only are Bjorn and Strom holding me back from rushing Mikkel, but L?rke and our bouncer have an iron grip on Mikkel now, holding him back from jumping me. His eyes are flaring entirely copper and cinnamon, hot, as power crashes from him in waves.

Those waves are dark, bright, burning, and cold all at once; the craziest party and drowning, even as they’re unstoppable. It’s everything my Bloodwalker power needs to bring my Bone Magic to full maturity inside me.

I know it now, as I feel our resonating magics roar, dark and wrathfully strong, even as they are blisteringly heady. Strom is a talented Bone Mage, but what I’m feeling from Mikkel is not even close in its raw, insane might.

I realize then why Mikkel moves five thousand miles a minute, as he heaves hard breaths and fights to not shift now before me and I do the same. Because his dragon is just that powerful.

And could give me so much, if I let it.

As if confirming my thought, Aesa’s Truthstone blazes upon my chest now. I feel her white-gold light seethe inside me with a scalding flash of red; it staggers me as she confirms what my instinct already told me—that Mikkel should be mine, and I his.

But I don’t want Mikkel as a mate; and it’s clear he doesn’t want me either, as he fights to regain control of himself. I feel him wrestle all that magnificent power back as he clears his throat—even as I corral my own power down to a simmer inside my bones and veins. Shaking his head, Mikkel hauls himself upright, then removes his arms from his sister and his club bouncer.

“I’m fine. Release me, it’s nothing.”

Though his gaze comes back to me—pinning me like firebrands as his power still fights to taste me.

“Bullshit,” L?rke says, even as I regain control of myself with some deep breathing, Bjorn and Strom both flooding their power into me to stabilize this resonance with Mikkel. L?rke’s gaze pins me, furious. “She wants you; she wants to claim you and undo everything we’ve built here as you go gallivanting off on whatever mission she’s got for you, just like she did these two drakes.” L?rke nods at Strom and Bjorn with a snort.

And I suddenly understand why she’s pissed at me.

“I’m no threat to your empire, L?rke Thorsen,” I say solidly now, as I’m finally able to remove my arms from my drakes. My magics are mostly under control again, Aesa’s stone quieting in my chest, though I feel my twin dragons’ glittering eyes still watching Mikkel like food as I smooth my hands down my tight ruched cocktail dress. I give L?rke Thorsen my severest eyeball. “I don’t want your brother as a Bloodmate. End of story.”

“What? You don’t?” As L?rke blinks at me, her pale eyebrows shooting up in surprise, I see the crestfallen look that dashes across Mikkel’s face. It’s so quick, I might have imagined it.

Except for the matching dip I feel in his insane devil-may-care energy for the briefest moment.

“Mikkel’s not my style.” I pin him with my gaze, letting the fury of my drakaina be felt now, even as I hold the hot, sexy part back. “I don’t take pirates as mates.”

“Pirates?” It’s Mikkel’s turn for his eyebrows to shoot up, though it comes with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m a Proprietor, not a pirate.”

“You know what you are.” I jut my chin at him as I give it to him straight.

“Yes. I know what I am. And I have made many walk the plank ,” Mikkel says with a darker smirk now as he basically admits he’s killed a lot of people for crossing him. He may be a gentleman pirate, but I still know what he is—a bastard.

His roaring energy is still careening around us, however, making me want to lose control and take a big ol’ taste, or a big snort up my nose. Like a drug, I know Mikkel’s power is something I couldn’t quit if I ever got started.

So I best not start—ever.

My drakes hold me grounded now, as they understand I’ve made my choice. Mikkel doesn’t unleash his dragon to mate-taste me again; for some reason, he’s as reticent to bond me as I am him. He gives me a deep nod now, as if aware of our unspoken agreement.

We just have to keep reminding our dragons who’s boss, as they continue to try to slide past each other, and lunge at each other. As Mikkel’s power comes too close to mine now, I feel the entirety of my melded Bloodwalker drakaina flash out and take a bite. He grunts, his dark eyelashes flickering as he sways, like it was both erotic and painful, as I haul back my power.

His dark eyes are open, full of cinnamon and clove fire. No more. I hear clearly in my mind as his full lips quirk. No more… or I might just lose all this hard-won restraint I am fighting for right now, to keep us both safe. I am a darker man than you think, Rikyava. I don’t belong in your budding band of heroes. I never did.

My lips fall open now, as Mikkel admits mind-to-mind that he’s not my answer. I need another Bone Mage as a Bloodmate to fully mature my power; but we both know it will not be him, as I haul my power back with an iron fist now, nodding to him.

He nods back, and I know we’ve reached an accord. Still, some part of me feels desolate, like he was, as Aesa’s stone mourns upon my breast.

That we will not be mates—ever.

“Strom. Why are you here, you and your trio? Do you need haven from the Black Dragon Knights?” Recovering his brisk, businessman do- it-all nature, Mikkel’s gaze snaps to Strom as he thrusts his hands in his trouser pockets.

Like he has to keep them there to prevent himself from claiming me.

“Yes and no.” Strom cocks his head, watching Mikkel and me. “The Council knows I’m a Bone Mage now, same as both of you. They’re after me—but that’s the least of my problems right now. The biggest part of my problems is something you both may be able to help me with. But another problem is something I’m not sure you can help me with… though you’re the only clue I have at the moment.”

“Intriguing! I like a good mystery. L?rke, shall we get started on whatever new mystery our stormcrow has brought for us?” Mikkel’s dark eyes shine with copper as he claps his hands together now, rubbing them and grinning eagerly, back to his showman’s ways.

“It’s something that’s going to get us killed, and you know it.” L?rke sighs now as she crosses her arms, tapping the toe of one stiletto on the floor. Mikkel gives her a sad, fake-mopey look as he actually whines like a dog. L?rke scoffs, as she throws up her hands. “Fine! Fine. Whatever it is, we’ll talk. But no promises. And if I catch even a whiff of danger to our persons or our clubs, when we are already under such spitfire from the Black Dragon Knights Council, the three of you are out the door. Fast.”

“We understand. Completely.” Strom places his palm to his chest, giving them a short bow.

“Enough flattery, Jarl-Heir.” Mikkel laughs, his energy soaring now as he claps Strom on the shoulder. “What is this first mystery you’ve brought us?”

“Rikyava. Show them your phone.” Strom nods to me as he indicates to show them the pictures I’ve taken of our cypher scrolls from Unhaemmerten . I slip my phone from a pocket of my dress and find one picture, then move forward to hand it to the twins.

Mikkel moves forward to accept it, but something in me jolts before our hands touch; an instinct floods me that his sister would be safer, as I turn to L?rke .

Depositing my phone in her hands, rather than her brother’s.

Mikkel’s eyebrows shoot up at my denial of contact. He doesn’t gainsay me, only crowds close over L?rke’s shoulder now as she sucks her teeth and swipes through a few shots.

“Ancient Bone Mage cypher scrolls. From around the time of the Great War, by the looks of them,” she says, surprise in her lavender eyes as she glances at us. “Where in the gods’ names did you find these?”

“ Unhaemmerten . Up in Magnussen Lands,” Bjorn growls, though he’s been silent this entire time, just standing at my side like his own kind of bouncer, should anything turn nasty.

“These are priceless.” Mikkel hums in agreement as he looks at the phone, tapping a lip distractedly with one finger.

“Can you read them?” I ask, focusing on why we’re really here tonight.

“If you give me a little time with them, yes.” His gaze pins mine, on fire with intrigue now, even as they scorch me, hot. “These scrolls use a cypher L?rke and I know well; we use it for our clubs all the time. It was used in ancient times by our people, but fell into obscurity, so we revived it for our secret club communiques. Even upon initial perusal, there are many words in this document here that I don’t know, however.” Mikkel taps his finger on my phone, frowning down at it. “It seems like some kind of instructional manual… for something called the Dragon of All Souls?”

“You would know that as the Usurper.” I nod my chin at my phone. “The ancient Black Dragon that an ancestor of mine created, which nearly wiped out all of Blood Dragondom five thousand years ago during the War. It’s been resurrected from its secret grave. We’re after it; we’re going to kill it once we find it. The woman who engineered it wrote those scrolls and they may hold clues on how to take it down—for good this time.”

As L?rke’s lavender eyes practically bug out of her head, Mikkel’s full lips fall open. Horror sears in L?rke’s gaze as Mikkel’s shines with vivid intrigue .

“Oh, yes,” Mikkel says, as he grins hugely at me and Strom. “ That is a mystery I would very much like to solve. L?rke?”

“ Hell no,” L?rke says, almost in the same breath as her twin. She hands me back my phone, pointing at the door. “Get out. Get the fuck out now, or I will personally throw the three of you out and put such incredible wards on our every hiding place that you will never hear from us again, much less be able to find us. Ever.”

I take my phone, but give L?rke Thorsen my shittiest gaze ever.

She raises her chin.

Her massive Bone Magic cinching around me like a boa constrictor, to escort me out.