“They did, for many years.” He nods, as a ghost of a smile touches his lips. “They saved many people back then, informing Emil over and over of when the Jarl had planned to do surprise raids, and the like. Emil got people out. If he could not, he protected them inside his hotel. If the hotel was raided with too much firepower, he got people into the tunnels below Copenhagen, ones only he knew, which continue to stump the Jarl to this day, thanks to Emil’s power. Our numbers were growing; our people and Bloodwalkers were flourishing again in Copenhagen—until the Jarl found out what was happening. And had my parents imprisoned for their efforts.”
“It wasn’t just imprisonment, was it?” I ask, as I feel us come to the worst part of Mikkel’s tale.
“No.” He glances at me. “It was torture, for days, weeks, months… but what the Jarl didn’t know was that my mother was already pregnant with me and Lærke. To weather the constant torture and preserve her pregnancy, she put herself into her shifted state, gestating us only as her dragon for all the months it took for us to grow. She masked her pregnancy from the Jarl and his staff with her mind-magics, which Lærke and I inherited. But towards the end, she slipped, and a servant who brought her just enough meals so she didn’t starve saw. That servant was sympathetic to our mother’s plight. Our mother forced our birth that same night, getting the servant to spirit us away before anyone else knew. And then she died from it… and our father died, too, from feeling his life-mate fail at last, in the Jarl’s cells.”
“You and Lærke were born as your dragons.” I realize it suddenly, so much about the twins now making sense. “Dragons who are born in dragon-form rather than human tend to have copious magical abilities, but almost bestial natures. Most dragons gestate in human form, because it’s far easier to manage, and the chances of everyone surviving the birth are far greater. Your mother did the opposite: ensuring your and Lærke’s survival and strength… while sacrificing her own.”
“Like I told you once before, our mother was a determined drakaina.” Mikkel’s smile is sad now, but also dark, as he recalls it. “Thanks to her mind-magics, we have memories of her and our father, from their entire lives together. We have that, at least; the beauty of their love before they were caught and tortured. But we have all the torture memories, as well… of what the Jarl did to them. Wanting to leave them just alive enough to survive it, and make their torment endless.”
“So you and Lærke were born with vendetta in your veins.” I understand, as a dark knowing fills me. “Not just that, but you were both powerful Bone Mages, your magics enhanced by gestating and being born in dragon-form, rather than human. It makes your dragon’s urges to kill, maim, and destroy dominant… rather than your more human values, morals, and restraint.”
“We’ve learned those things over the years. We had to, to fit in, at least a little.” Mikkel chuckles now, though it’s dark as he continues. “We were delivered to Emil Beck at our mother’s behest; he gave us a place at the Forgyldt Bur, where he protected us as we grew up. We worked there, learned from him, figured out how to be genteel as we nursed our wrath for revenge. Emil shared our wrath; he encouraged it, helping us dig into the seedier elements of Copenhagen society so we could build a name for ourselves, and power, rather than go after the Jarl directly, just yet. We grew up amongst gamblers, thieves, and con-artists, learning how to grift,pull heists. You name it. And when we were ready, we opened our first club—The Chartreuse. Named for our viciously poisonous magic… which ever seeks revenge for what was done to our parents, and to us.”
“Was the Jarl aware of you?” I ask, wondering what the current situation in Copenhagen is.
“Not at first.” Mikkel shakes his head, though his look is dire. “Emil protected us well during our youth until the Jarl finally put two and two together about us. After that, he had it out for us. He sent goons to trap us, assassins to kill us; anything he could think of to catch us in schemes and ruses, and get us out of the way. We held on, protecting each other with Emil’s help. Eventually, after The Chartreuse, we built an empire in foreign locations he could not touch. And because of our association with Emil and the passages under the city, he could never crack our flagship club, either. So he waits now for us to slip up, while we constantly work to undermine him by building a power base so strong, wealthy and connected, that we might overcome him someday. And rip him down from his high seat—leaving us free, at last.”
“Do you and Lærke want it? The Jarldom?” I ask now, curious about Mikkel’s ambitions.
“No. Neither of us wants it,” he says at once, as he glances at me. “We’re content just to bring the Jarl down and let everyone know who therealpower is in Copenhagen, letting some patsy vie for the next Jarl’s seat.”
“So this is your long-con.” I whisper my fingertips over his bare chest. “You pay your taxes and give your dues to your Jarl, pretending to play nice while building an army of loyalists. Until it’s time.”
“Until it’s time.” Mikkel nods, then heaves a sigh. “Lærke and I are vicious for retribution, but our Jarl is strong. I’m not sure if he’s a Bone Mage, but he’s powerful in his magic, and well-protected. We can’t match his army yet… but we will.”
“You’re worried, though, that bonding to me and mybudding band ofheroeswill disrupt your end game, rather than further what you want.” I understand, as all the pieces fit together.
“Something like that,” Mikkel says, sighing again. Trapping my hand to his heart, he watches me a long moment. “I want to be with you, Rikyava. Something deep inside me tells me this is right, ever since we met at The Vault. And yet…”
“There’s this question of whether my mates and I will support you in your aims, when the time comes,” I say as I watch him.
“Or if you’ll let Lærke and me do what we need to—when the time comes.” Mikkel’s eyes darken now, and I see all the retribution in him flood back in a tirade.
We had been getting to something that was real and good inside him, with him telling me his tale. Now, it’s almost like we’re right back to square one, as his gaze darkens and the wrath inside him swirls.
I don’t know what he wants to do to the Jarl of Copenhagen once he gets there, but I know it’s nothing good as I gaze into his eyes and see nothing but his inner black dragon.
Poisonous with wrath.
As it makes my dark dragon roil inside me now, livid with my own retribution, I realize why Mikkel is my most challenging drake. He’s not completely human in his aims or instincts, as he roils now with an inner darkness and power I can’t even begin to fathom.
It coils up with mine, making me want the same darkness and destruction as him. I pull away to sit up, and Mikkel lets me.
He watches me with knowing eyes—understanding that darkness inside me is being pushed by his.
I don’t know if he wants me to go there with him; to spiral down into the darkness and never look back. I know that’s the temptation I’m feeling, though, as we watch each other in the late morning, and I feel uncertain where we stand.
Just when things had gotten so good.
9
BLESSING
Mikkel’s and my talk has barely ended when someone barrels through the game room doors. We break from our intense moment as a roaring tirade of Blood Magic hits us with a wallop—Bjorn.
As Bjorn strides towards us, a heat beyond fury roars in his golden eyes. Not only that, but I feel how his power is almost completely restored from my insane fuck session with Mikkel. Somehow, Mikkel’s Bone Magic during our sex recharged Bjorn’s Blood Magic, though that hadn’t been our intention.
Now shock and relief flood me as Bjorn strides towards us. It’s incredible to see my First Drake up and concussing the room with his magnificent power in the way he should be.
