Chapter 2 Safe
SAFE
Iwake, wrapped in brawny arms and hearing a soft snore beside me in bed.
Bjorn’s massive body feels good cuddled around me, despite the smell of mildew upon my pillow.
As I surface from dark dreams of the Black Dragon, I let my gaze wander over the sky-blue silk canopy above me and the threadbare covers pulled up to my chest.
I lay in our massive bed of ornately carved silberskrae in the underground citadel and I give myself a moment to come all the way back. I don’t even care that everything around me in the once-beautiful bedchamber is in tatters. My drakes and I are safe, and that’s all that matters for the moment.
Everything else just details.
As I stare up at the ruined silk drapes on the bed’s canopy, however, some part of me notes this mysterious place we’re in is thousands of years old, if it’s a day.
Everything here comes from a far-away time in our Blood Dragon past; even the bed mattress sprouts mushrooms and is half-devoured by the roots of a silberskrae tree, grown right up through the floor.
Some ancient magic still lingers here, however, keeping this place far more hale than it has any right to be. As I glance at the walls, I see a bare shimmer move through copious silver and gold runes, a detailed inlay that curls around every column and through every vault.
As I take in that ornate runic script, plus the sumptuous furnishings, I understand this bedchamber, in a quadrangle of them we found, was once meant for royalty.
From the delicately carved silberskrae furniture, to the sumptuous textiles and clothing nearly gone to dust, this was a place for kings and queens of our Ancestors, I know.
Yet despite the last threads of magic that still live here, everything has been overtaken by luminous mosses, trees, and vines. I watch an orange and green gecko scurry up the tree grown through the bed now, its tongue licking out to seize a glowing purple moth in its jaws.
At least this place has a bed, the bed still hale enough to use. That, plus the four fireplaces embedded in the walls, which flare at a low burn now, makes the vaulted room nice and cozy despite its towering height.
It’s magic long-lost to Blood Dragons, as those fireplaces burn with no fuel, lighting the moment we entered the room. Transparent barriers with a shimmering sheen remain around the room, as well—storage areas of the ancients.
Filled with items we can use.
I had thought to only find rot and ruin behind those barriers when we first arrived—and was amazed to find massive stores of still-fresh food and beverages, from someone who had placed them there and never used them.
The food Bjorn and Laerke found, plus their battle-leathers and magical torches, came from those caches. I haven’t rummaged through them yet, though; sleep was most important after we finally had warmth, food, and safety.
My well-rested body is howling for food now, though, as I ease out of bed to not wake Bjorn or disturb the still-out Baldur on my other side. Strom was with us when we fell asleep, though Mikkel and Laerke took a room next to ours, which was in as good a condition as this one.
As I focus on Strom now through our bond, I feel him wandering some place else in the underground city. He’s well, as I feel his energy stable like mine, though still tired.
It’s enough for him to go exploring now, however, as I feel his curiosity—to see if there’s anything else in this underground citadel that can help us in our current predicament.
My focus is on food, however, and maybe something to wear, as I glance at the glimmering caches in the vaults all around the massive bedchamber. I take a few dippers from a fountain of fresh water burbling out of the wall by the bed, then head over to the nearest cache, which holds food.
It’s far more than regular Blood Dragon high-north fare; I find another bag of dates and wolf them down greedily, then a big bag of jerky which tastes like beef, rather than venison, and set to.
The jerky is dry and I have to chew a lot, but the meat refills my energy in a way fruit just can’t.
As I eat, I wander over to a collection of silberskrae trunks that hold clothing.
I rummage through Blood Dragon battle-leathers thousands of years out-of-date, seeing how they’re all ridiculously ornate.
Tooled with gold and silver sigils, they’re the garb of elite warriors from our long-ago past. I find a woman’s set in my size, done in a tawny fawn leather like Laerke’s, then haul on the leather breeches as I find a silk singlet to go under the jerkin, covering my nakedness at last.
As I do up the silver clasps of the jerkin’s crossover flap, though not all the way, leaving my upper chest exposed, I feel a fighting energy fill me at last. It’s good, as the last remnants of battle-magic simmer through the silver and gold sigils, tooled upon the leather in artful Blood Dragon designs.
As I pull on the tall boots, that magic comes to completion, locking home inside me. I square my shoulders and set my jaw; determination floods through me as I feel that ancient magic hold me. I heave a deep breath in the bedchamber’s quiet.
Feeling like me again, at last.
I say a solemn thanks to my Blood Dragon Ancestors who last used this place, leaving all this down here, as I take in the room again. As I do, munching my jerky and ripping off big chunks to swallow, Bjorn finally wakes with a snort.
He sits up in bed, his fierce golden eyes pinned to me. His irises blaze with the hot all-gold of his drake; as our connection renews with his waking, I feel how he was mired in bad dreams, too, just like me.
As understanding finally fills him of where we are, he takes a moment to check Baldur’s pulse, grunts, then rolls out of bed, coming to me. As Bjorn arrives, fully clothed because he went to sleep that way, he glances down and I look up, feeling my inner bright drakaina stir eagerly in my veins.
Though I’m dressed like him, we’re both still disheveled from bed; I don’t know where my white-blonde locks end and his long, lion-gold ones begin, as we stand together in the crackling silence.
My bright inner drakaina slithers deliciously through my body now, to have him so close with me. Bjorn’s bright drake echoes it, his inner dragon coiling up hard with mine as I feel his drake rise to my drakaina.
Our magics twine together in a furious wave of power now; a deep, decadent mate-taste. We’re both feeling better enough that our power can spark, and it’s an excellent sign, as I feel my eyes burn fiery crimson and gold, blazing white from my inner dragons briefly uniting into my Bloodwalker magic.
My First Drake’s eyes burn molten gold in response, flashing with bright white from my power now. I lift a hand, setting it to his cheek and running my thumb over his lips. Bjorn turns his head, kissing my palm.
Intense, rageful, and loving.
I revel in him as I stare up at my ridiculously handsome Norse god, feeling his body, like a hero of legend, pressed against mine. His strong face with his level golden brows, high cheekbones, and cut jaw holds an elegance and brutality that avenging Archangels would cry over.
But the best thing about Bjorn is that he understands me, deep inside. Staring up at him now, feeling this intense sensation tighten between us, I have to lift up. I have to kiss him, deep, as that urge of our dragons devours me.
The same urge devouring Bjorn—to the max.
I lift my lips as I close my eyes, feeling his descend. There’s nothing like the perfect kiss to take your mind off things; Bjorn and I kiss slowly but fiercely, now that we finally have a moment.
That moment is pure bliss as we lick and press, and bite each other’s lips, reaffirming our possession of each other. It’s far more than a life-mate’s possessiveness, however, as we pull in hard now, reveling in the ancient relief of living another day.
Because we still have each other, and everyone we love, and are still able to do this, despite all the shit we’ve been through and how it’s nearly destroyed all our lives. Bjorn and I immerse ourselves in it now, before we at last heave hard breaths and part.
My biggest, most badass First Drake tucks me into his brawny arms as he sets his lips to my forehead. Gratitude spills out of him in a loving wave as I cinch close to his rock-solid muscles. He heaves a short laugh, then.
Rare for Bjorn—and glorious.
“You look good in those fighting leathers, drakaina,” Bjorn growls appreciatively now, as he kisses the top of my head and pulls back. Because although he and I are hot for each other right now, we both know checking on our people comes first, before we can indulge.
We need to take stock of things here this morning, in this strange place we now call home.
Because I’m still not entirely sure where here is, as we recover from our near-disastrous encounter in Copenhagen, not to mention the barrage of enemies at the Jarl’s palace that left my entire Bloodbond reeling.
Bjorn and I share a thought now as he glances at the bed. I understand, feeling the same; though he’s asleep, we need to give Baldur a more thorough check, now that we’re at least moderately recovered.
I offer Bjorn my bag of jerky and he wolfs it down as we return to the bed. I sit, placing a hand on Baldur’s chest as Bjorn checks his pulse again.
As I close my eyes, I feel my way into my Bloodbond with Baldur. I can feel him way out in the Void of Ancestors as he slowly gathers runnels of pure sunlight to him.
As if regenerating his power from the stars themselves, it’s a magnificent process, nothing I could even begin to understand, which he’s practiced his entire life. It’s stabilized him, for now. The question is, will it be able to heal him, as I glance now at his body.