24
BREAK
Ström, Lærke, 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 Lærke 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 whatbadlymeans.
“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 Lærke and I do, often comes with negotiations among a…seedierelement. I do my best to steer clear of anyone particularly detrimental, especially if I know my people might be at risk. Lærke 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,gamingthe 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 Ström.” 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?”
