All heaving deep sighs.
Aesa’s Truthstone hums on my chest then, as if supporting us in the midnight hour. As it does, I absently put a hand to it; glancing over, Ström watches it with a penetrating gaze as Bjorn scowls.
“What did you tell Aesa?” Ström asks as he looks at me. “To get that thing embedded in your chest?”
“I told her the truth about us hunting the Black Dragon, and that I would go to the ends of the earth and back to kill it,” I say now as I glance at him, curious about what he and Bjorn said to Aesa also, to convince her of their inner truths. “You?”
“She pried into my missing memories, and I told her I would never be whole until I opened up every one of them, even though I’m terrified to do it. That I’d never be a good enough mate for you until I do, even though you think I already am,” Ström says as he looks at me. I feel his sincerity as I thread my fingers through his now, and he kisses my hand again.
“Bjorn?” I glance at him, to find him simmering as he watches Aesa’s Truthstone upon my breast.
“I told her I would avenge Astrid’s death,” he says, as his gaze flicks from the stone to me. His gold eyes burn, though his dragon-aura is quiet, exhausted like us. “She asked me if I loved my father. I told her I did, even though I know I’ll still take his life someday, because my people deserve better.”
His gaze goes long then, however, as I sense with a deep inner instinct he’s not telling us the whole truth.
Aesa’s stone flashing with a red rune upon my breast, and allthrough me.
“Bjorn?” I ask him, and his gaze flicks back to me, from where it had yet again gone to the stone.
“She also asked me…” He heaves a deep breath. “Whether my love was stronger than my hate. If I would rather follow you in our quest, or kill my father for vengeance. I knew it wasn’t a choice for me. The answer was following you. Always.”
As Bjorn admits his truth to me, a deep love fills me. I move to him, threading my arms around his strong waist as I gaze up into his beautiful gold-lavender eyes.
He sighs hard, then gives in, kissing my lips. It lingers, so sweet from my strong, rageful mate.
As he admits the deepest truth of his life—that his love and his bonds to me are stronger than his hate for this father.
As I cinch in close to Bjorn and he holds me, Ström comes to us. He takes my hand, gently pulling me from our cozy cuddle as he nods for Bjorn to come, too.
Now heading for the bedroom.
“What about the box? Shouldn’t we look at the altar items tonight and start going over them?” Bjorn balks as I’m tugged away by Ström towards his modern glass and chrome bedroom with its beautiful whitesilberskraetimbers and stone.
The big bedroom is next to the main living area with its wealth of towering bookshelves and display cases, and features a massive king-plus-sized bed by the far vault, with a spectacular view over the midnight palace and city out the tower’s vaulted windows.
“You can. Rikyava and I are going to bed. It’s late and I’m pooped.” Ström calls back over his shoulder now as he tugs me to his gargantuan bed with its fluffy white duvet and taupe silk sheets. Only soft spotlights are lit throughout the bedroom now in the midnight hour.
Turning around, Ström threads the fingers of both hands through mine as he pulls me close, winding my arms around his waist. He puts his arms up over my shoulders and kisses me, slow and deep.
And my drakaina melts inside with passion.
It’s been a long time; or at least, it feels like a long time. None of us have made love since we were here last, nearly a week ago, before all the shit up in Magnussen lands went down.
Scratch that. We made love inside the altar atUnhaemmertenas we were on death’s door, thinking we were going to be dragon-wight dinner soon, if such bone-dead things even eat. That, however, was a last-ditch effort to go out with a bang before we died.
Not exactly romantic—though this is, as Ström kisses me in slow delight.
It’s calm, and deep, and it’s everything I love about him as I revel in it. I let him hold me close as we kiss with lips and tongue, just letting our bodies process everything our brains and emotions have gone through recently, not to mention tonight.
As Ström and I kiss, his fingers tracing up and down my spine over my little plum cocktail dress, Bjorn comes to us. He doesn’t interrupt our moment; just sits on the bed, falling back to his elbows with a hard huff on the duvet.
Bjorn is fetching in any position, but even more so when he lounges back on his elbows, and I just have to look. Though Ström’s kissing is decadent, his hard, lean body pressed against mine in his slim jacket, turtleneck, and jeans, Bjorn is just a hot slab of beefcake as he leans back in his dark navy suit and black tie, showing the powerful body the gods gave him.
He loosens his tie, then flings it off as Ström kisses my neck. Bjorn’s all tight, rippling pecs, biceps, and abs. I can see them perfectly now as his white shirt draws tight in his current position. He sees me staring at him, perusing every hot plane and ridge. Then he changes position—sitting up to shuck his jacket off and his shirt up over his head in two quick, fluid motions.
Then settling back down on the bed.
“No fair,” I say as my pulse pounds, heat flooding my veins asmy drakaina growls deep inside. Wetness slicks me as Bjorn lifts a sexy eyebrow.
