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

24. Break

24

brEAK

S trom, L?rke, and Bjorn file out of The Chartreuse’s gaming room, though Bjorn is still furious about it. I barely register it as they go. It leaves me just with Mikkel in the ornate, Victorian drawing-room with its cracking fireplace and green velvet chaises. He gestures to the chaise L?rke was sitting on, as he resumes his seat opposite.

I lower down into the seat he’s indicated, without dropping my Bloodshield or taking my eyes off him. The chess match is still on the table between us. It’s an appropriate metaphor for what I feel our dragons are doing right now.

Seething around each other, as they look for an opportunity to fuck, fight, or just go crazy with both.

“It’s never going to happen,” I breathe now as I watch him, though my inner Bloodwalker power rages for him. Both sides of my magic agree about what they want, and what he is.

“No. It’s never going to happen. But how do we tell our dragons that?” Mikkel says with a dark chuckle as he regards me, his charade of schmoozy businessman gone now .

Only the pirate left.

“I don’t know.” I am honest, my shields still up, though I haven’t felt any further movement from him to touch me with his power. “Do you?”

“No. I’ve never had this particular conundrum before.” Mikkel laces his hands around his knee, an amused smile on his face, though it’s still thoughtful. “Drakainas who have come to me have always been of two kinds. Either they just think I’m sexy and believe the persona I put out all day and night at the club, and want that in their bed. Or, they glimpse the business side of me, and want to ally with me to further their own empire. Which sometimes goes well…”

“And sometimes goes badly,” I finish for him.

He gives a subtle shrug as his dark eyes penetrate me, and I understand what badly means.

“How many dragons have you killed, securing your empire?” I ask now, blunt and needing specifics.

“A few hundred. Between hostile takeovers and covert assassinations to further my aims.” Mikkel doesn’t hold back as his dark eyes shine in the firelight. “One loses count, after a while, but they weren’t all dragons. How many dragons have you killed, under the sham of nobility doing battle for your King?”

“About the same,” I say, having been in my share of skirmishes and battles for King Huttr before I left the Blood Dragons of Sweden, and having put a few people down in my time protecting the Red Letter Hotel Paris. “I’m no saint. Though I have good reasons for what I did.”

“So did I,” Mikkel says, both of us being brutally honest as we hash this out. “So why is my killing worse than yours?” I know we’re getting to it now—the reason why there’s a barrier between us.

Though our magics desperately want us to mate.

“You did yours for selfish purpose.” I gesture to his club. “To build an empire that serves you and your sister alone. I did mine to protect good people I love, under threat from destroying forces. It’s different. ”

“I protect thousands in my clubs.” Mikkel eyeballs me. “Every person employed in my sister’s and my establishments receives more than generous pay, the benefit of our magical protection, and safe haven from harm. We protect many dragons who are Bone Mages here in our clubs, Rikyava. Whom the Council would shred to pieces… as they are not fighters, but lovers, and enjoyers of life. Does your Red Letter Hotel Paris not do the same?”

He has me there, as his words make me hesitate. “But your methods are… brutal.”

“Only with those who cross me.” Mikkel lowers his chin as his dark eyes blaze. “You must understand, Rikyava, ours is a dangerous business. Running nightclubs, as L?rke and I do, often comes with negotiations among a… seedier element. I do my best to steer clear of anyone particularly detrimental, especially if I know my people might be at risk. L?rke and I, however, are not above getting our hands dirty to game the system… so we can better provide for those we protect here. And ourselves.”

“Gambling, money laundering, coercion?” I ask him, needing specifics.

“Yes, yes, and yes, when appropriate.” He nods, though a twinkle comes into his eyes now. “You recall my Bone Magic has an affinity for reading and commanding minds, however, just as my sister’s is strong in commanding the body. We can usually win any gamble we come up against when we play our cards and magic right. Hence, gaming the system… rather than brutalizing it, like many others in our position do.”

“But something in you is… still brutal,” I say as I regard him.

Mikkel doesn’t gainsay it. “Is not something in each of your drakes brutal, as well—even yourself? You cannot tell me that as a Bloodwalker, you are entirely without brutality, Rikyava. Your power eats drakes, devouring their magic and flesh. One might say that’s the most brutal power of all, among our kind.”

I say nothing as I think about it. Because in some ways, Mikkel’s right .

I am the most brutal thing here—hands down.

“I still think taking you as a mate would seriously fuck up things for me and my drakes,” I say, trying to figure out where we stand.

“That is because I do not share your ideals; you, Bjorn, and Strom.” Mikkel cocks his head, watching me. “My business accepts a certain amount of moral cost; yours does not. You believe you are righteous, as a fighter for our King, but what you do ends in bloodshed, same as me. Death, rather than life. Though you’ve done it to hopefully save far more than were slain.”

“We’re trying to save a helluva lot more people now, going up against the Black Dragon.” I watch him. “We’re willing to sacrifice everything to bring that motherfucker down, because we understand what it did to all our people last time. Are you saying you wouldn’t fight for that?”

“At the end of the day, L?rke and I fight for ourselves.” Mikkel holds my gaze with intention. “Your quest may be noble, but we’ll only help you so you’ll help us. Reveal to us the truth about our missing memories… and who it was that tore them from our minds in the first place.”

“You want to kill Alfhild Fey—if you find her,” I say as I understand now, finally seeing that Mikkel doesn’t care about us and our quest. He’s in it for what we can do for him.

And he wants to punish the woman who fucked with him—to the grave.

“Don’t you, for what she did to Strom?” he asks, and I know he’s got my number. As a seething wave of hate washes up in me now for that red-haired woman from Strom’s missing memory, I can’t suppress it. It goes rolling around me, burning with blood-red daggers as everything inside me bristles. My Bloodshield is banished as something darker spikes out from me, replacing it.

A terrible wave of my Bone Mage energy flowing out now, like sharpened black snakes, to kill her.

“There she is…” Mikkel says with awed approval, as the darkest side of my magic comes out to play. “There is the truth behind the brightness of yo ur inner drakaina. You have a streak of blackest retribution in you, Rikyava, same as me. The only difference between us is I don’t repress it.”

“We’re different. Very different,” I insist, even as something inside me crumbles to Mikkel’s arguments.

“We’re not.” His voice is quiet as he regards me. “You’d do anything to save those you love; I’d do anything to save myself and my sister from harm. We’ve both got a ruthless streak, right to our very core. You simply haven’t fully unleashed yours yet. Despite all the adversity you’ve faced… nothing has quite made you unleash that most unforgiving part of yourself. To do what must be done and punish those that have to be punished. When need calls for it.”

“Need never calls for us to be that unscrupulous.” I lift my chin in righteous defiance.

“It does,” Mikkel says quietly, almost sad. “You’ve just not been in a situation yet that demanded it.”

As he regards me across the table now, I see another side to Mikkel I’ve not seen before. Both his devil-may-care attitude and his cold-as-death personality drop away… and there’s a third Mikkel beneath it.

World-weary, this Mikkel is tired of the games of life and death he must play, day in and day out. I see it as something in him longs for things to be simple, to still have that sense of moral righteousness my drakes and I possess.

That ship has sailed for him, though—and it’s never coming back.

“In any case,” Mikkel continues as he sighs, smiling, “we’re not going to life-mate, you and I. I wish to keep my empire and not complicate it with bonding to you, then feeling obligated to fulfill your quest. It is noble—and nobility is not in my heart anymore. L?rke and I will help you with your scrolls, thanks to the long friendship we have with Strom, and we will help each other get our missing memories back and find the enemy Bone Mage drakaina you seek. But that’s where it ends, I’m afraid. I will hold my dragon back from tasting you, and you will hold yours back from jumping me. We will all get along nicely until this endeavor ends. And you go off to finish hunting your Black Dragon, while L?rke and I take care of the person who betrayed us. That will be it.”

“You make it sound so simple.” I chuckle, wry, as I shake my head.

“Nothing in life is ever simple, though I do like to impress myself with how I can make it sound that way.” Mikkel winks at me now with some of his blithe demeanor, before his gaze drops to my chest. He’s not looking at my boobs, but at the little silver stone that is once again hidden by my dress strap. As he gazes at it, I reach up, pulling my black strap down.

A hard breath leaves him as it begins to hum and swirl with runes.

“What is it?” His dark eyes fix on Aesa’s stone. “How does it work to reveal lost memories?”

“It’s something an ancient ancestor of mine made, the sister of someone who is blood-kin to me.” I recall Aesa’s story, though I do not yet know my own ancestor’s name, she who created the Black Dragon. “It points me towards the truth, helps me illuminate my deepest instincts about things. When Strom opens up his Bone Magic, it resonates through my bond to him, along with my own Bloodwalker power. Combining those three magics produces some kind of alchemy. I don’t understand it. But it’s sent Strom into fits a few times, nearly becoming Berserk as his dragon, during which he receives flashes of memory. Only one has made sense, so far.”

“Wraith.” Mikkel corrects me now as his gaze flicks back up to me. “When Bone Mages go out of control, it’s called becoming a Wraith, not going Berserk.”

“Right. Of course.” I flush a little at my mistake.

But it’s also because Mikkel’s dark, intense eyes are pinning me again. I feel the vast power of his indomitable dragon churn inside him now, though he’s still keeping it away from touching me.

Wanting me, though we keep ourselves so carefully apart.

“May I touch it?” Mikkel asks, as his glance goes back to the stone.

“Your funeral,” I say as I wave a hand at it. “I can’t be responsible for anything that might happen to you if you touch it. You sure you don’t want a few dozen bouncers in here to help, in case you go wild?”

“I can handle my dragon.” Mikkel has far more certainty than I’ve ever felt. Though, until recently, I was quite good at wrangling my inner beast.

Standing from his chaise, he comes to me now, rounding the table with the chess match so he can sink to a seat beside me. His nearness amps my inner drakaina up high in my veins, and my Bone Magic higher than that. With a will, I haul everything back.

As I feel Mikkel haul his own Bone Magic drake back, just as hard as I’m doing with mine.

“Can you hold your inner beasts while I investigate this thing?” Mikkel asks now as he reaches out, eyeballing me. As I hold the strap of my dress down, his fingers hesitate over Aesa’s stone, about to touch it, but not quite.

“I can hold my shit,” I say, knowing I have to. “Can you?”

“Yes.” Mikkel is certain, as I feel him do something to his inner magic, like erecting an iron wall up all around it. It’s firm and impenetrable, cool as he sits beside me now. His power is no longer flowing out, but contained in a way I’ve never managed with my magic.

It tells me yet again that Mikkel is a far more powerful Blood Dragon than any of us in my Bloodbond. Though he’s not much older than Bjorn, Strom, and me, the strange and effortless way he restrains his power when it counts is something I’ve only felt ancient Blood Dragons do, like Trublut.

I wonder now how Mikkel is so vastly mature in his power, when it takes most drakes centuries. I have no more time to think about it, however, as Mikkel’s fingers touch down on Aesa’s Truthstone.

And all hell breaks loose.

I thought that Mikkel touching Aesa’s stone would have opened up his missing memories, like it did with Strom. I thought that resonance might have pushed him into going Wraith as his dragon, and that we might have needed far more muscle in here than we have to take care of it .

I was so, so wrong, as Mikkel touches that stone on my chest and it produces a massive resonance between us. Where both my dragon’s instincts and his have been telling us to mate, Aesa’s opinion is in the mix now—blasting through us both like a chorus of hammering bells with her incredible knowing.

As her silver stone roars at my chest now, a towering wave of battle-brimstone magic crashes through me, along with a blinding wash of crimson-gold light. It’s my own Bloodwalker power, united now as it resonates with Aesa’s stone—harder than I’ve felt it yet.

As it does, that massive resonance hauls Mikkel’s and my magic together, hard. As Mikkel’s old-world herbal cocktail scent inundates me, flooding me with heady smells and dark bitterness, everything inside me screams, mate!!

It crashes Mikkel’s iron wall in an instant as it hauls our bodies together. Mikkel’s mouth is suddenly on mine, and I’m eating at his lips like a wild thing as all that power crashes through us. Because it’s so much more than either of us, alone. We’re experiencing the resonance of what we could be together; the incredible power we could have, joined rather than separate, as we devour each other with our kiss.

Our dragons crashing together, hard.

Mikkel thrusts me down and I grunt as I hit the couch, power exploding out around us in the room as both our dragons go wild inside us. But it’s a good grunt as he’s on me, all that energy and power grinding onto me as I thrust up, devouring him like a demonic wildfire has possessed me now.

I don’t even know what I’m doing or where my hands are as a passion so hot and blistering, yet so cold with our mutual darkness, rips through me, scalding through the room in a searing Bloodwave. It leaves me breathless as Mikkel shreds his shirt away, reaching down and ripping off the black strap that covers Aesa’s stone on my chest as he presses our bodies together, skin to skin.

Skin contact is essential for shapeshifters; it makes us go wild. I am a wild, insane thing as I rage and buck now up into Mikkel’s kisses, thrusting into him as he heaves down hard into me.

Dry-fucking on the couch with our dragons’ powers braiding through the room isn’t what either of us wants, however. We want the whole kit and caboodle, as Mikkel hauls me up with his hands under my ass and I wrap my arms and legs around him, clinging to him like a monkey.

He strides us to the nearest wall, slamming me back on it as our joined magics surge. It knocks my breath out, but it only roars my fires hotter as I growl and dive into him now, biting at his kiss for hurting me that little bit.

I want so much more, as my Bloodwalker power seethes inside me and my dark Bone Magic roars. I grip him tight to me now by my legs up around his ass, as Mikkel grinds upon me and slams me into the wall yet again.

It’s the best kind of pain; pure, renegade passion unleashed as I roar at him and twist my fingers into his hair, pulling it hard and making him succumb to me as I bite kisses into his throat. Mikkel groans, shuddering with the dark, massive ecstasy of everything I’m doing to him, and what our powers are doing now as they braid together, hard. Because when a dragon bites the neck, we’re claiming our partner.

A true mate—we just want to fuck, and fuck, and fuck.

He roars now as he rips his neck away from my bite, staring down at me with dark eyes blazing with copper and cinnabar fire. There’s very little human left in those eyes; Mikkel’s beast is staring at me now, like he’s ready to devour me and let me devour him until we both come, and come, and come.

I know then that fucking him will be brutal, in the best kind of way, as our joined powers surge all around us and dance. I want it—just as he does—as our mutual darkness, powerful in the extreme, explodes from us now.

Twisting completely together in the night.

I feel our Bloodbond form, then. Like with Strom, there’s a precursor to such things; it’s a space where our magic connects and we realize we could be true partners, if we play our cards right.

With Bjorn, I know now that initial connection happened long ago, when we were first together in my youth. With Strom, it was a latent thing, discovered these past weeks as we reconnected.

Now, with Mikkel, it’s an instant thing. Because this is only the second time we’ve met, and I know our love could be great, as we bond our inner darkness and fire.

Powerful together—always.

But even as Mikkel dives into me again, I know something between us is also bright. Like Strom, Mikkel’s power has the capacity to be endlessly dark—but there’s something inside every Bone Mage that is somehow incredibly bright, despite the temptation to use their power for nefarious things.

Though Mikkel has been far more dark than Strom over the years, regretting his darkness far less, there’s a part of him, too, that would like to be the brighter side of his nature. I feel him realize it, then, what he could be with me and my drakes.

Though it would mean giving up L?rke—the twin he has lived for, and loved, all his life.

I feel Mikkel realize that with a start, as a massive shudder rips through his power. Even as he hauls his kiss back from me, he slams me up against the wall again, grinding into me and growling into my face now from his immense frustration. Because L?rke means everything to him, I know, as his power twists into mine. She to him, and him to her.

And despite all his heartlessness, he could never abandon his sister like that.

As Mikkel realizes it, our beasts roar from the delay—twisting so hard into each other that our bodies are hauled completely into this maelstrom. As his powerful herbal alcoholic scents floods me, he heaves my short skirt up high over my hips now, shredding my lacy thong away with one rip of his hand. He tears open his own belt and fly so fast, I hardly realize it.

I feel him, though, hard and ready, pressed up against me through my soaking wetness. I cry out, sliding upon him and angling my hips in for a better placement as he grips me with powerful hands gone to talons now, pulling me in to take me.

Just then, the door crashes open.

And in rush Bjorn, Strom, and L?rke—with a whole bunch of muscle behind them.