“End of an era,” Reginald says to me now, as he escorts me to my bike.
“Aw. Are you sad to see me go, hoss?” I tease him now, punching him lightly on the shoulder, which Reginald weathers with impeccable grace. “You could always keep a spot here warm for me. You know, if my drakes and I ever want to visit.”
“Any visit you and your drakes would like to have here at the Paris Hotel will be comped.” Reginald smiles sidelong at me, which is the height of humor for the stuffy, elegant Siren. “But we are vastly sorry to see you go, Rikyava; I am. I think you are making the right move, however, to be with those you love. I would make the same decision for Layla and my mates if it came right down to it. And may still, someday… to be closer to them all.”
I feel the long-distance relationship of Layla’s Bind weigh on Reginald now as he frowns, though he says nothing more. Stepping outside, we have arrived at the grand plaza where I’ve parked my new bike; taking in my souped-up fire engine red Ducati Panigale V4 with a small smile, Reginald gestures to it and I hop on.
Not caring how much my little purple mini-dress hikes up, I don my helmet, my black motorcycle jacket already on over the dress. I do up the jacket’s buckles, then flip up my visor; Reginald waits, idling with his elegant hands tucked into the pockets of his dove-grey trousers in his immaculate three-piece suit.
And now it’s time to say goodbye.
“Be well, Rikyava,” he says as he takes me in, his eyes shining far brighter blue, like the dawn sky above the ocean, as he feels our farewell. “Come visit us if you’re ever in Paris.”
“Will do.” I smile, though Reginald can barely see it with my helmet on. “Keep tabs on that bestie of mine, Layla, for me. Girl’s a handful.”
“Isn’t she just?” Reginald actually cracks a smile now, as I feel his vast love surge from him like the endless ocean for my bestie Layla Price.
I have a love like that now. My own heart beams bright at the thought of returning to my drakes because Mikkel and Lærke just opened a new flagship club in the recently rebuilt Stockholm downtown, to replace The Chartreuse in Copenhagen.
And I wouldn’t miss their grand opening party tonight for the world.
I salute Reginald, then close my visor and peel out. I don’t know if he waves back; that part of my life is finished now, as I race towards the meadow where I can shift up and head back to Sweden.
But I don’t need to thunder up into my dragon now, as I simply open my Bloodwalker power and make a portalde novoin the field, with Baldur and Bjorn’s bright powers alive inside me.
I emerge in Stockholm, riding my motorcycle through just as the sun sets, glimmering off the newly repaired buildings as it ripples over the canals and water.
Parking my Ducati in an alley near the club, I head to the club’s entrance, pushing on in. I’m inundated by riveting EDM the moment I arrive; I am also inundated by Mikkel, Lærke, and the rest of my drakes, as I come to the glossy whitesilberskraebar and promptly get a drink from Lærke shoved into my hands.
The new flagship club is beautiful; a replica of the mysterious underground city up in Magnussen lands, the place shines alabaster and sky-blue, with incredible carvings of dragons everywhere, plus runic work of Baldur’s design, flowing over absolutely everything.
The drinks they serve are divine, as I shoot mine back and then get another, laughing as my drakes and Lærke haul me out to the dance floor.
We drink, we dance; we dry-fuck each other on the dance floor as we kiss and have a grand old time, until at last, exhaustion descends. As we all make our way to the curb, I get my motorcycle, then Baldur tears open a new portal, ushering us through.
We emerge in Jurggadden as the moon shines far above with theautumnal stars, clear and cold and bright. The new lodge-house I’ve been building for us with my stepfathers is backed by hot springs on the cliffs. Crickets chirp in the autumn night as we stumble into the new lodge-hall, and I leave my Ducati outside.
My Bloodbond’s lodge-house is just up the cliffs from my stepfathers. I glance out over the drop-off beyond our front porch, seeing the lights of the newly rebuilt Jurggadden, sparkling all the way down to the quay.
Made entirely ofsilberskrae, our vaulted lodge shines in the nighttime, with magical lamps hung from the porch and all throughout the eaves. Though their stout timbers will withstand the wear of ages, our eaves are undecorated yet. We’ll have our entire lives to carve and decorate them, as we enjoy this place where our heart is.
Our private home, together.
“So, hot springs? Anyone game?” Bjorn suggests with a rumble now as we set our things down in the big master bedroom we all share.
“Oh, you know I’m in.” I laugh as I chuck my items to the floor near the big bed; the lodge is a mess right now, with piles of everyone’s furniture and personal items in silver silk fly-bags and boxes everywhere.
We each have private bedrooms in the lodge, too; but I don’t mind sharing most of my personal space with my drakes, as I change quickly into a plum silk bathrobe embroidered with dragons and snatch up a fluffy white towel.
Even Lærke has a room here, for when she wants to visit. She and the rest of my drakes shake their heads now as food is produced by Mikkel. They need to fill their bellies after dancing, but I need to soak, as I head up the winding path with Bjorn now to the private hot springs behind the house.
The others have promised to join us as soon as they’ve had a quick bite. It leaves Bjorn and me alone together, however, as we shuck our robes at the newly built changing hut and slide on in.
Ready to luxuriate in the warm water, which decadently contrasts with the chill autumn air.
“You look cold, drakaina.” Bjorn slides over to me, wrapping himself around me and cinching close, then kissing me. I luxuriate in more than the water now, as I kiss him back, tongues licking and lips biting, loving having some alone time with my First Drake.
“Not cold anymore,” I joke, as Bjorn chuckles low, then gives me an intense look.
