“Fig and goat cheese pizzas? With caramelized onions?” I laugh now, my eyebrows practically lifting off my face as I see the veritable feast Mikkel’s made for us.
“Plus beef bourguignon, quiche lorraine, köttbullar for you Swedes, stegt flæsk for Lærke and me, and my version of French apple tarts.” Mikkel grins like a brigand now as he slides the pizzas off the paddle and onto the laden prep table. “Thankfully, the ovens seem to be magic, and take as long or as little time as you need them to. Otherwise, these pizzas would be burned to a crisp when I forgot about them as Lærke and I came to findyou.”
“I had no idea you could cook, Mikkel. And at such a high level.” I’m impressed as I survey everything, giving a whistle.
“I’m a gourmet, Rikyava,” he says as he moves around with his brisk, do-it-all nature now, tasting this and that, nodding in approval. “Who do you think worked with all our chefs and head bartenders at each of our clubs to make sure everything our customers consume is as good or better than the world’s best Michelin star restaurants? Lærke? Hardly.”
“I guess I thought you’d have hired somebody for that and been more hands off.” I walk around the prep table, inhaling the ravishing scents.
“Never.” Mikkel’s dark eyes twinkle as he takes up a knife made of the same strange white-silver metal as the ovens, and cuts one pizza into slices. “The food at each of our clubs is my passion. I’ve worked directly with the chefs to design all our menus, and with the head bartenders for every drink. All our locations are wildly successful, not just for their unique themes and attention to lush detail, but because each club holds a fascinatingly different culinary experience. People tour our clubs, trying everything Lærke and I have created for them. You’ll see, once we get everything back. Then I can really treat you like the queen you are.”
“I guess so!” I laugh, impressed. I’m beyond hungry now, though, as my belly gives a disastrous rumble.
“Let’s eat!” Mikkel claps his hands with his rapid gusto, then fetches two plates from a stack. As he loads them up with pizza, plus all the other delicacies he’s prepared, I can’t help but laugh.
Because something feels so much lighter inside me, after such incredible sex with Mikkel today. Although things with Baldur aren’t good, things with Mikkel are way better, as he tries to live in his brighter side, at last.
I feel it, singing all through him as he dishes up all these incredible things he’s made. It’s a delight, as he sets one plate before me and I inhale deep of the incredible, five-star scents.
Ready to clean my plate.
Ravenous, I inhale Mikkel’s gourmet dishes as he and I eat in theunderground kitchen. Dragons get hungry when we’ve been drained by battle, curses, and hot sex; even though I have mates to pull from in an emergency, I’m no exception. I’ve hardly blinked when my plate is empty, my belly growling for more. Mikkel refills us; we go through four rounds before I’m full.
Though it won’t be long before I’m ready for another go.
“Thatwas amazeballs.” I finally set my fork aside. “I feel like I’m at one of your clubs. Just eating back in the kitchen, rather than out in the public areas.”
“Eating in the kitchen is my favorite.” Mikkel produces a bottle then, popping a crystal cork with a flourish and pouring an unknown beverage into two crystal goblets. It’s a vivid lavender, with gold swirls running through it. I lift my eyebrows, but he just nods. “It’s not poison; Lærke and I shared a bottle of this stuff earlier. It tastes like lavender champagne, with honey. A nice after-dinner treat.”
Mikkel and I clink glasses, and I take a sip of the strange beverage. As the sweet, effervescent cordial flows across my tongue, tickling up my nose with bubbles, I swallow.
Burning suddenly—with power.
“That’s got… quite a punch.” I say as I set my goblet down. Suddenly, it makes sense why Mikkel’s not more exhausted after everything that’s happened, if he had a bottle of this stuff earlier today.
Inside, a deep heat from the alcoholic drink rushes all through me. It’s fortifying, as I feel both my inner dragons roar, ready for battle. I know it won’t last, but this was a drink made for fighting, as that deep heat moves me.
Making everything inside me snarl now—to get the fuckers who wronged us.
“A little more, I think,” Mikkel says astutely as he refills us. I down my glass fast this time.
Getting a pointed look from him, as he knows what’s up.
“Take your time drinking this, or fly off half-cocked before we’retruly ready to face the Black Dragon, drakaina.” Mikkel teases me now as he lifts a dark eyebrow and shoots his back entirely, matching me. I feel both our dragons roar now, as they share in the heating sensation.
Not to mention everything our wild sex gave us earlier.
“Hey, you got this beverage out.” I jiggle my glass at him for another pour. “Why do that, if not to get us ready to fight?”
“Battle will come. Until then, we revel.” Mikkel grins rapaciously as he pours. “Our task now is to simply rebuild our strength. You and I are well on our way, after everything we just achieved. I’m sure you, Bjorn, and Ström willlift your spirits, shall we say, soon. But Baldur? Not unless he gets a handle on his curses, and why his inner rage is resurfacing, driving them. Or all the healing Lærke and I can do on him will be a moot point.”
As Mikkel sets the bottle aside now, empty, I take a moment to process. Because I can feel what he does in our Bloodbond; that Baldur’s curses are still hauling at us, maybe even worse now that his resurgent inner rage is making them repopulate upon his flesh.
Already, the crazy energy that sex with Mikkel gave me is waning. About a third of it has already been ripped from me, even though my belly is full now and my lust satiated by what we did.
And I know it’s not enough.
“We have to banish Baldur’s curses completely, somehow.” I thunk my glass aside, making eye contact with Mikkel. “Or the legacy of the Black Dragon will still devour us, given time.”
