Chapter Sixteen
Sven
As the party wound down, Sven’s attention was drawn again and again to Bryn.
She glowed, but not in the way of a woman who is merely happy.
This was something deeper and brighter. It was unmistakably magical that made her aura almost a living entity.
He could tell his mother had noticed it too; her eyes lingered on Bryn with quiet intensity.
His grandmother, sharp as ever, didn’t hide her interest. “There’s something special about that girl.”
“What is it though?”
She patted his cheek. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but I would advise you to find out. Time will tell all, but time isn’t a luxury that you have at the moment. You might have to do things a little ass backwards.”
He had laughed, but he was relieved. They saw what he saw.
Bryn herself remained blissfully unaware.
She laughed at something said and brushed a strand of hair from her face, completely unbothered by the attention.
That innocence both warmed him and twisted something inside his chest. She had no idea what she carried, what she was.
But he was now determined to find out for himself.
Later, as the guests were leaving, Lars sidled up beside him. His voice was low and curious.
“You see it too, don’t you?”
Sven didn’t need to ask what he meant. He gave a short nod.
“What’s it mean?” Lars pressed.
Sven gave a shrug. “I have no idea.” He didn’t have an answer for himself, let alone Lars. He muttered something about magic resonating differently with outsiders, but it was a flimsy excuse. Lars gave him a look that said he wasn’t convinced, though he let it drop.
A heavy weight settled on Sven’s shoulders when he finally got ready for bed.
He’d kept too much from Bryn. She didn’t know the ritual meant mating for life, especially now that he had felt the pull of a true mate.
He had never experienced it before and had never expected to.
If he were honest with himself, he knew that an heir would be produced when they mated.
But Bryn didn’t even know about the dragon buried in his blood or what it might do to hers. The guilt pressed like stone.
After a fitful night of not sleeping, Sven headed to talk to Martin the next morning. He needed to understand a few things before he could even think about approaching Bryn.
Martin didn’t even act surprised. “I figured we’d have this conversation sooner or later.”
“What do I do? If she gets pregnant with dragon DNA, what happens?”
Martin’s expression made him nervous. “It depends. The child would be half-dragon, half-human. The pregnancy could be difficult and dangerous, but possible. But you need to tell her, Sven, so that she can make up her own mind. Before it happens.” He pursed his lips.
“Although, after seeing her last night at the party, I’m beginning to think there’s more to our girl than we know. More than you realize.”
“Is it possible that she could be something more than just human?”
“It’s possible,” Martin answered, “and I could do a few tests on her if you want. Make up some royal mumbo-jumbo about blood work, but we’re running out of time.”
“I don’t want to lie to her.” Sven didn’t think he could handle it if she rejected him.
“Haven’t you already, even if it’s just by lack of admission?”
The words rang in his mind long after they parted even though Sven didn’t want to admit how much Martin’s simple question had hurt. Be honest with her. He already intended to, but the risk felt sharper now.
Later that morning, Sven called Bryn to his chamber room. She yawned as he led her into his private office off to the side. She glanced around the sparsely decorated room before she grinned at him. “You really need an interior decorator. These walls are so blah.”
He sat behind his desk, mostly to put something between them. The urge to pull her into his arms was almost overwhelming. “I need to ask you about–”
Before he could finish the comment, she stiffened and got a strange look on her face. She rubbed her fingers before she walked around his desk. Before he could stop her, she pulled a drawer open.
“My ring!” She grabbed it and slid it on her finger.
“How did you know that was there?”
Her eyes were wide. “I don’t know. It’s like when I went into that thrift store when I was just a kid, the one where I got the ring in the first place. I was just walking by and felt this…pull. Like I just felt when we came in here. How did you get it?”
“It was in my hand when Lars brought me back here after I was shot with the arrow. It must have slipped off your hand and I held on to it.”
Bryn’s lips curved. “I thought it was lost forever. I’m so happy to have it back.” She turned her hand, letting the sunlight reflect off the silver. “I don’t know why I was drawn to it. It always felt like a good luck charm. Made me stronger somehow.”
“How so?” Sven really wanted to know everything about her.
Her voice faded a bit. She told him about her mother who was brilliant, career-driven, and perpetually disappointed in her oldest daughter. Bryn had grown up feeling more like a project that was never good enough, always pushed aside for the next promotion, the next conference.
“The ring was mine,” she finished. “My anchor. Like someone out there thought I was worth giving a piece of magic to.”
Something fierce and protective surged through Sven at her words. He knew the ring meant something, but he had no idea what. It just felt like destiny.
“Was your whole family like your mother?”
Bryn sat on a chair. “My grandmother was the most wonderful woman ever. She always told me I was special and one day I would realize just how much. She died when I was young. Car accident. She and my mother never got along and I often wondered if she was the reason that Mom worked so hard, to put distance between her past and future. My father loved me but he never could stand up to her.”
He smiled at her. “Maybe someday we’ll figure out why the ring is so important in your life. I’m just glad that you have it back.”
“Why did you bring me here?” Bryn motioned around the office. “It certainly wasn’t for the view.”
His throat tightened and once again, he was unable to voice the words that needed to be said. Fear kept him from telling her what he really was. Or asking her if she knew what she herself was.
“I just wanted to give you the ring back before I forgot again. But it did it all by itself.”
He silently berated himself for his cowardice, but still no words would come.
They spent the rest of the day with Hilda and Freya. Sven noticed that Hilda kept eyeing the ring but held her tongue. With the ritual so close, he didn’t have time to discuss her curiosity, but he made a mental note to figure it out later.
When the time for the mating ritual arrived, Sven expected the discipline of tradition. Instead, he was distracted by the pull. It clawed through him, magnetic and undeniable. Every part of him ached toward Bryn, recognizing her not just as a partner, but as his match.
Sven stood with Bryn by his side before the Visionary Trust Council outside of the mating chamber.
While he could see that they approved of her, there were still a few feelings of doubt that hung in the air.
To try and ease the distrust, he bent to kiss her.
It should have been brief and ceremonial.
Instead, the kiss stretched long, his lips lingering against hers, unwilling to let go.
Bryn surprised him by kissing back and was hesitant for only a heartbeat before melting into him.
At last, he drew away. His breath was ragged as he led her toward the mating chamber, the pull between them stronger than anything he had ever imagined.
The door sealed behind them and all Sven could hear was his own pulse. The chamber glowed with firelight and shadows shifted across stone carved with ancient symbols. He had been here before, but none of that mattered. The only thing that existed was Bryn.
His dragon blood roared and recognized her as his mate, and every muscle in his body strained toward her.
Bryn stood in the circle of light, uncertain but unafraid. Her chest rose and fell and he could feel her passion rise. Her gaze flicked around the room before it locked back onto him. That hint of nervousness only made him want her more.
He crossed the distance in two strides and framed her face with his hands. The moment his skin touched hers, the heat between them flared and licked through him like wildfire. She gasped softly, but didn’t pull away.
Sven kissed her, and this time there was nothing ceremonial about it.
His mouth pressed hard against hers, demanding, hungry.
She responded with a surprising urgency, clutching at his shoulders, rising on her toes to meet him fully.
Her lips parted and he deepened the kiss, tasting her, losing himself.
His hand slid down her back and pulled her flush against him. Her heat seared through the thin barrier of clothing. She made a soft sound in her throat that sent a shudder through him.
“Bryn,” he murmured against her lips, “you don’t know what you do to me.”
She kissed him harder in answer. Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him closer. Her body pressed into his and fit perfectly, as if she had always belonged there.
The magic rose around them. Physical need and raw chemistry consumed him. His control frayed with every breath and every brush of her mouth against his. The ritual demanded a bond, but what he wanted was more primal. He wanted to claim her fully, to show her she was his and he was hers.
Her ringed hand slid against his chest, and he felt it burn through him like a brand. She looked up at him then, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with something that mirrored his own desire.
He kissed her again, slower now but deeper, and Sven knew the moment had come.
He pulled her into his arms, carrying her toward the enormous bed in the center of the chamber where the ritual would be sealed. The last thought that flickered through his mind before the world narrowed to her was simple, fierce, and absolute.
Mine.
Sven lay her down, but the pull between them refused to let him step back. She reached for him as he pulled his shirt off. Their mouths met again and the last threads of restraint snapped.
Her response was fierce and he could feel her hunger was as great as his own. They shed their clothes in a frenzy and his hands memorized every curve of her body.
Bryn gasped when his mouth trailed down to her throat. She pressed into him and her fingers clutched his shoulders. The sound she made unraveled him completely. The fire in his blood, both dragon and man, demanded he claim her and bind her to him in every way.
“I have to tell you something.” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable. He forced himself to stop. He had to give her the choice.
Her eyes met his in the firelight. “What is it?”
“I’m not fully human. I have dragon blood coursing through my veins, and this consummation is normally done in dragon form.”
He watched her as he waited for revulsion to reflect in her eyes. He didn’t dare breathe. He wouldn’t survive rejection from her.
Instead, she leaned up and kissed him. “I know. I don’t know how, but I do. But I can’t be a dragon.”
“You don’t have to be. You’re perfect as you are.”
She gave him a grin that would make a blind man weep. “Then make love to me.”
That was all the encouragement he needed.