“We will do better,” I say as I cup his face in my hand, still carried in his arms. “Once this is all over, we’ll make a home together, Mikkel, I promise. Lærke will be a part of that home, too.”
As Mikkel glances down at me, he says nothing. But even as he strides on, I can feel through our bond how much my statement touched him. He turns his head, kissing my palm now, intense. His black eyes burn a beautiful, hot copper as he does it; I’m arrested by their deep power as that stunning ring flares bright.
No chartreuse is anywhere in him now, as I find us back. As Mikkel turns one last corner, I realize we’re at the dormitory hall, right near Mikkel’s suite. His chosen bedroom, near the one I share with Bjorn and Ström, has an adjacent door to Lærke’s. She’s with Baldur now, however, and that door is shut, as Mikkel strides us into his beautiful, vaulted room.
Straight to the bed.
He deposits me firmly upon the wide mattress. Like my room, Mikkel’s suite is made of the same vaulted alabaster and blue stonework, and ancientsilberskraetimbers, copious Blood Dragon knotwork and designs covering everything.
Gargantuan trees grow up through the floor here, too, everything covered in flowering vines and mosses. The bed is untouched, though; I realize that Mikkel somehow cleansed the bed here with his magic, as it’s free of mildew or moss of any kind.
He’s made it up, too, the bed done in black silk sheets that look almost new; gods only know where he found those. A dark plum duvet, embroidered with silver thread, has been cast over it; it’s downright palatial in this almost-ruined place and I love it.
Not to mention that it suits Mikkel, as he faces me now. As he unbuckles his black leather jerkin and hauls his silk shirt open ruthlessly, he bares his decadently runner-lean body with its cascading red and black Danish-style tattoos, coiling around his left shoulder and heart.
It’s a body I just want to lick and lick—tracing every inch of his curling seas and raiding ships with my tongue, as he bares the loveliest hint of his tall, lean, perfectly muscled torso.
But he keeps the rest hidden, for now.
“Where did you get the bedding?” I ask breathlessly now as Mikkel comes to me. He crawls over me, scalding, as he makes me lie back upon the bed beneath him, a hot copper fire blazing in his eyes.
Both of us are breathing hard—very much aware of what we’re about to do, now that we’ve arrived in his room.
“I found it in one of those chests under the magically preserved vaults. It’s not the best silk thread quality, but it’s good enough.” He nods at an area that still has a magical barrier across it, with numerous chests, kegs, and crates behind it.
“Good enough for being thousands of years old, I’m sure,” I quip, but I’m just saying it because I need something to say, as Mikkel braces himself on his hands above me.
Because he’s riveting, as he lays slowly down atop me. Not wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am this time, but just as ridiculously intense, his thousand megawatt energy sears all through me now from our bond, as I feel the light in him come alive.
It produces a shimmery halo of pure copper Bloodwind in the air around us, though Mikkel does nothing but lay down atop me on this decadent, clean bedding and caress my face with one hand. That simple touch has things heating hard deep inside me, though.
As my inner dragons roil, to have all the powerful magnificence of my Third Drake in my bed.
But even though Mikkel’s found something of his inner light at last, the danger in him is not gone. Not by a long shot, as I feel how his thousand megawatt dragon-energy has somehow been intensified by his own inner light coming alive.
A fiery copper burn sears all through me now, along with Mikkel’s snake-like black and vicious, poisonous chartreuse. As he watches me, I can feel how he would kill for love as much as for retribution, as all those colors scorch through me.
He might even kill more for love, as that intense burning copper sensation floods me. It races hard into my chest and groin, searing all the way down into my fingertips and toes as he touches me.
Heady, dark—and ruthless.
As Mikkel stares at me, his gaze is beyond intense. As his hand strays down, tracing my collarbones, a sigh of intense pleasure leaves me. Everything inside me scorches as his fingers trace my neck. His hand splays wide, gripping my throat with just the right pressure.
Making everything inside me flood with passion—amok.
I’m down for some hot, kinky play in the bedroom; Mikkel already knows it from our previous bouts of spirited, unconventional sex, as he slowly squeezes my neck.
He releases his pressure, then repeats it, still watching me. The light choking has me writhing now beneath him, as everything inside me coils then uncoils, moving to his delicious danger.
Because for the first time, I feel not just danger inside Mikkel, but danger backed by love. It’s a crazy hot combination as he leans down now, whispering his lips over mine and making me wait for it as he pins me by the neck.
Trapping me beneath him, sweetly but forcefully.
It’s nothing I couldn’t get out of; everything inside me knows that if Mikkel ever did anything I didn’t like, I could drain the bejeezus out ofhim through our bond and be out of it.
I could throw him down to his back on the floor in half a second flat and be done with it. It’s like he’s reading my mind now, with this new, brighter dimension to our connection, however—about just how dominant I like my men and in just what way.
With Bjorn, I like a hot wham-bam, the more forceful the better, because I know Bjorn loves me and would never, ever do anything to actually hurt me.
