Fatigue beyond anything I’ve ever felt in a dragon.
“Bjorn. Sit down before you fall down.” Mikkel chuckles as he feels what all of us do—that my First Drake is beyond tired.
In fact, Bjorn is exhausted to the max; I know it’s because he’s weathered a severe metaphysical shitstorm lately, which Mikkel’s Bone Magic has caused between us.
As my Mikkel-enhanced Bone Magic went rogue this week, desiring retribution from the Black Dragon Knight’s High Council, Bjorn’s been fighting to balance it all. His power’s been working overtime, Bjorn often waking from a dead sleep just to pour whatever he can through me to stabilize my wrath.
My most stubborn drake will never admit it, but he’s outnumbered and outgunned in our Bloodbond now. He’s the only pure Blood Sage in our bond; the only person balancing our blackest magic, as he trembles now on the sand. It’s a situation that would be beyond almost anyone else’s capabilities.
But they’re not Bjorn—and he doesn’t show fatigue lightly, nor concede defeat.
It’s wearing on him, however, as he struggles now to hold our bond steady against all this dark Bone Magic with my Third Drake so close.Bjorn’s knees buckle; a fast movement from Ström is just enough to prevent him from hitting the sand as Ström shores him up beneath one arm.
As my most furious, most hard-headed drake stares at me, the fire leaves his eyes. He’s toast; bitterness fills Bjorn’s features as I approach.
I cuddle close with my arms around him, kissing his chest.
“Bjorn. You should go rest.” I snuggle in to my burly First Drake, despite his sweat. Inhaling deep of his scent, I let his good smell of pipe tobacco, peat whiskey, and battlefield char envelop me as his powerful arm wraps around me possessively.
Though I note how he hasn’t made Ström stop helping him.
“I’m not leaving. Not while he’s around.” Bjorn juts his chin at Mikkel before kissing the top of my head. He’s just that tall, though I’m not short.
“He’s her mate now, too, Bjorn. Or didn’t you hear?” Ström acts casual, though even I can hear his own biting bitterness that I now have a third mate in our group. Ström stands like an iron rod at Bjorn’s side, however, holding the bigger drake up with ease from the extra power Mikkel gives our Bone Magic. It’s firepower we’ll need if we’re ever going to go up against the Knights Council, or our true enemy.
The Dragon of All Souls—what we call the Black Dragon.
“I’m still not leaving you alone with him.” Bjorn snorts as he looks down at me. His arm still around me, Bjorn is possessive in Mikkel’s presence, in a way he’s not around Ström anymore.
“I’m a big drakaina; I’ll be fine.” I lift up, kissing his lips. Though everything else on him is ultra hard muscle, Bjorn has the softest lips. They whisper like silk over mine before he presses me in a hard kiss that leaves me breathless.
A sudden need to jump him floods me, deep into my veins. He sets his forehead to mine, growling down at me in frustration.
He and I both feel how much his dragon wants to rise to mine, to geton down to pound town, but it can’t. Bjorn’s done—good and done from everything our magic has put him through in the past week.
Fighting my wrath all morning hasn’t helped; though his ardor struggles, wanting to match mine, it can’t. I don’t even feel a single nudge from his cock, though I’m pressed hard to him.
Just like it’s been this entire week.
In the end, Bjorn sighs, then kisses my forehead. I feel him give in as he turns his head, setting his cheek to the top of my head and curtaining me in all his glorious hair. He wraps both arms around me now, standing on his own, though I can feel how much metaphysical energy Ström is sharing with him to keep him upright.
“I think I just need a quick nap. Then I’ll be back in the game,” Bjorn says as he gives me a squeeze.
“Go,” I say, knowing that anything else I might say would impugn Bjorn’s manhood.
Nodding, he pulls back. He stares down at me with bereavement in his far more normal, gold-crimson eyes now. Taking his hand, I grip it. I know why Bjorn is bereaved. Once, he was my strongest drake. Now, he’s my weakest.
When we need his rageful power more than ever.
Bjorn goes. Nothing more needs to be said between us, though he tolerates a solid clap on his shoulder from Ström. Bjorn glares at Mikkel with a scalding heat as he passes my Third Drake, though nothing comes from his magic.
Bjorn stumbles, however, as he gathers up his discarded fighting-singlet from the sand. Ström narrows his eyes on Bjorn, even as I feel Bjorn’s power gutter. He stumbles hard then, slamming to one knee in the sand at the edge of the fight ring.
Ström whips to him in a moment, shoring him back up and getting only the smallest glare from Bjorn.
Go,I tell my Second Drake telepathically through our life-mate bondas he glances at me, lifting his eyebrows.Get Bjorn back in bed; he’s toast. I’ll speak with Mikkel. A little chat between us is overdue, anyhow.
Are you sure?He’s far more genteel than Bjorn, but even Ström worries for me, leaving me alone with my Third Drake. Because although Mikkel and I are bonded for life now, our magic has done disastrous things in each other’s presence ever since we met.
