Chapter 9 Fill
FILL
As Mikkel shares intense insight into what Baldur hides with his vast inner rage, I know he’s got Baldur’s number.
The two drakes have history, thanks to their long association through Mikkel’s clubs; it shows now, as Mikkel unleashes his electric-accurate truth bomb about my Fourth Drake, though none of us know the full truth of what Baldur hides.
Before we can say anything else, however, Mikkel’s belly rumbles hard. Mine follows suit; I’m famished, as I get a raging dose of dragon-hunger after our ridiculously hot sex.
Sex that has me debating if I want more already—it was that deliciously fucking good.
“Come on. No more nookie. We both need food,” Mikkel says decisively now, however, probably having read my mind through our Bloodbond. He pushes up, sliding off the bed naked and extending me a hand. “If you would allow me to escort you?”
“Where are we going?” I ask, though I give Mikkel my hand and let him help me down from the bed like a gentleman.
“Laerke and I discovered an area of the underground complex that has kitchens.” Mikkel has a rascally glee in his dark eyes now, almost like Strom.
“Actually, it’s why we came to find you and your other drakes at the library hall; to tell you we had found quite a lot of food storage, besides what was already here in our rooms. Massive pantries, most of which still have hale preservation barriers over them.
Not only that, but my sister and I have been taste-testing the glowing forest down here; Laerke and I have a natural immunity to poison because of our power.
You’d be surprised; a lot of it is edible.
The lizards, the mushrooms, the moss and dragonflies.
While you all were checking out the library, we were hard at work doing something else as well.
It’s a surprise, though. So you have to come find out. ”
“Okay...” Warriors don’t like surprises, even on the best of days, and part of me is hesitant, though I’m also curious.
As Mikkel tugs me over to get dressed in our leathers, then we egress through the vaulted doorway of his suite, I’m intrigued. I feel his rogue energy crackle through me like a power sub-station now, renewed as we head to the dormitory passage.
It comes with a devious slide of his dragon coiling around me and tugging me along, even as part of me balks. I take a deep breath, letting him take me to whatever surprise he’s got; my curiosity piques as I recall he mentioned kitchens, and my belly rumbles to think of vast food stores down here.
As we enter a beautiful vaulted dining-hall-meets-atrium now, I see that the underground dining solar cascades with indoor fountains, which flow into natural pools teeming with fish.
Birds with luminous feathers and white eyes soar through the archways, as glowing white vines blossom over everything in a riot.
Just like everywhere else down here, the greenery has run wild, though this place’s ancient, lost magic has preserved the stonework, if not the furnishings.
Beautiful sky-blue silk settees are rotted, covered in flowering vines; chandeliers full of crystals throw the light everywhere, over tarnished silver, glass, and crystal tables.
We’re not stopping here, though, as Mikkel tugs me through the dining area to the kitchens he’s discovered.
Ample, those kitchens aren’t like modern ones of steel and chrome as we push in through a set of towering silberskrae doors, but made of gleaming, smooth-polished alabaster stone and beautiful vaulted silberskrae timbers.
With massive open fire-vaults, plus enormous ovens made of some kind of tarnished silver-white metal I can’t even begin to identify, it’s like an Elvish-Norse dream kitchen, with stone racks and prep tables everywhere, through the flowering vines and moss.
Clearly, this was intended as a place to cook for hundreds of people; behind massive vaults, I see ancient storerooms with insane food stores, covered by those same magical barriers that keep things hale in our rooms.
As we enter, I see figs, dates, pomegranates, plus oats and cornmeal to make hot cereal, and several other things that aren’t traditional Norse foods, already liberated from the stores and piled on one prep table.
I’m astonished, as Mikkel leads me over to the prep area and a set of stoves and ovens that have fires going, and I see one table positively laden with already-cooked food.
Not just cooked, but ornate dishes fit for a five-star restaurant, as Mikkel whistles a jaunty tune now and whisks over to a set of ovens.
He opens the doors, sliding in silberskrae paddles—hauling out gourmet pizzas.
“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, kottbullar for you Swedes, stegt flaesk for Laerke 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 Laerke and I came to find you.”
“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? Laerke? 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 Laerke 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 the underground 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.
“That was 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; Laerke 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’re truly 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?”