Chapter 17 Drayke
SEVENTEEN
DRAYKE
My brothers are waiting in the war room.
Selene walks beside me, her hand warm in mine, her scent bright with the fire that now burns in her blood. She’s dressed in borrowed clothes—one of my shirts, pants that had to be rolled at the ankle—and she looks more at home in a dragon fortress than any human has a right to.
The war room is carved from mountain stone, maps covering every wall, a massive table dominating the center.
Zyphon lounges in the shadows near the far corner, violet-cracked scales catching the torchlight.
Rurik sprawls in a chair, boots propped on the table, bandage still wrapped around his head.
Auren stands at the map, posture rigid, expression unreadable.
They all turn when we enter.
“Well, well.” Rurik’s grin spreads wide across his face. “The Guardian King and his mate. Guess I owe Zyphon twenty gold pieces.”
“You bet on this?” My eyebrow arches. “I nearly died, and you were placing wagers?”
“I bet he wouldn’t claim you until after the battle.” Rurik shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Zyphon has more faith in true love.”
From the shadows, Zyphon’s voice carries dark amusement. “I had faith in desperation. Same result.”
“Charming. I see why you’re all single.”
Rurik barks a laugh. Zyphon’s shadows seem to ripple with amusement. Even Auren’s mouth twitches before he schools his expression back to neutral.
“Enough.” Auren’s command cuts through the banter. His attention fixes on Drayke, analytical and assessing. “Your dragon. It’s... different.”
I know what he means. For centuries, my dragon has been at constant war—rage barely contained, violence always pushing toward the surface.
My brothers have seen me lose control more times than any of us care to count.
They’ve watched me tear rogues apart with my bare hands, felt my fury shake the foundations of this very fortress.
Now, for the first time since my first shift, the beast is quiet.
“The claiming settled him.” I pull out a chair for Selene, then take the one beside her. Our knees brush under the table, and warmth spreads where we touch. “Her fire balances mine.”
“She tamed the untameable.” Zyphon steps from the shadows, violet gaze settling on Selene with something approaching respect. “Impressive.”
“I didn’t tame anything.” Selene’s chin lifts. “His dragon and I came to an understanding.”
“And what understanding is that?”
“That we both want the same thing.” Her hand finds mine under the table, squeezes. “Him. Whole. Happy. Not fighting himself every second of every day.”
Silence falls over the room. My brothers exchange glances—Rurik’s grin softening into something genuine, Auren’s rigid posture easing by a fraction, Zyphon’s shadowed expression shifting toward approval.
“Lucky bastard.” Rurik shakes his head. “Four hundred years of trying to control that beast, and all it took was one mouthy Fire-Bringer with more attitude than survival instinct.”
“I have plenty of survival instinct.” My voice carries the sharp edge I’ve been told makes me difficult. “I just don’t let fear make my decisions. Unlike some people who hide in mountains and brood for centuries.”
Drayke’s hand squeezes mine under the table—warning or amusement, I can’t tell. Probably both.
“Fire-Bringer exceeded all projections.” Auren’s assessment is clinical, but I catch the warmth beneath it. “Welcome to the Brotherhood, Selene.”
I blink, not expecting formal acceptance. “That’s it? No hazing ritual? No dragon trials? I don’t have to arm-wrestle anyone or prove I can hold my liquor?”
“You survived the Relic.” Zyphon’s mouth curves—not quite a smile, but close. “That’s trial enough.”
“Also, you terrify Rurik,” Auren adds. “That earns automatic membership.”
“I do not—” Rurik starts.
“You called her ‘terrifying’ three times while she was unconscious,” Zyphon interjects.
“Terrifyingly attractive. Context matters.”
I point at Rurik without looking at him. “I like this one. He has good taste.”
Drayke growls—a low, possessive sound that makes Rurik raise his hands in surrender.
“Down, boy. I’m just appreciating the compliment.” I pat Drayke’s arm. “Your territorial instincts are adorable, but unnecessary.”
The strategy session lasts hours.
Marcus’s betrayal exposed weaknesses in our intelligence network—single points of failure that enemies can exploit. Auren spreads maps across the table, marking known rogue territories, suspected hideouts, the location where we buried the fortress and the Relic beneath it.
“No more single-source intel.” His finger traces a line between two marked points. “Every piece of information gets verified through multiple channels. We got lazy. Trusted too easily.”
“Marcus had been reliable for years.” Rurik’s voice carries uncharacteristic gravity. “He fed us good intel, helped us take down three rogue cells. Who knows how long Veylor had him turned?”
“Long enough.” Zyphon’s shadows seem to deepen around him. “He knew our patrol routes. Our response times. Where we’d be and when we wouldn’t.”
Selene leans forward, studying the map. “What about the Relic? You said dormant, not destroyed. Please tell me ‘dormant’ doesn’t mean ‘will definitely wake up and try to kill us again in a month.’”
“Dormant,” I confirm. “The claiming fire sealed it, but ancient artifacts don’t die easily. Given enough time, enough blood, it could wake again.”
“Fantastic. So we’re on a timer. Love that for us.” Her gaze sweeps the map, taking in the marked territories, the blank spaces between them. “Veylor escaped. He’ll regroup. Try again. Because villains never just retire to a nice beach somewhere and take up gardening.”
“Agreed.” Auren’s attention shifts to her, assessing. “You have thoughts?”
“Several. Most of them involve creative uses of fire.” She taps the collapsed fortress location.
“He’s lost his stronghold and most of his forces.
He’ll need to rebuild, which means recruiting.
New rogues, mercenaries, anyone willing to follow a one-winged general with a grudge and questionable decision-making skills. ”
“Go on.”
“We don’t wait for him to rebuild. We track him. Cut off his resources before he can gather them. Make it clear that anyone who joins him ends up ash.” Her finger traces a path across the map. “Zyphon marked him. How accurate is that mark?”
Zyphon straightens, shadows coiling around his shoulders. “Accurate enough. I can sense his general direction. Distance is harder, but if he stays within a hundred miles, I’ll know.”
“Then we use that. Keep pressure on him. Don’t let him rest, don’t let him recruit, don’t let him breathe.
” Selene’s voice carries a hardness I’ve rarely heard from her—tactical, focused, deadly serious.
“He wanted my blood to wake that Relic. He’s not going to stop wanting it. Which means we can’t stop hunting him.”
Auren studies her for a long moment. Then he nods—a sharp, approving gesture. “Strategic thinking exceeds expectations.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is.” Zyphon’s voice carries grudging respect. “Good instincts, Fire-Bringer.”
Pride swells in my chest—mine and hers, blending until I can’t tell them apart. My mate. My Fire-Bringer. Holding her own against dragons who’ve been fighting wars since before her grandmother was born.
“We implement new protocols immediately.” Auren rolls up the map, tucks it under his arm.
“Zyphon handles internal security—anyone entering this fortress gets vetted personally. Rurik takes external patrols, expands our network of watchers. Drayke...” He pauses, glances at Selene.
“You focus on your mate. Her power is unstable. She needs training.”
“Unstable?” Selene’s eyebrow arches dangerously. “I prefer ‘enthusiastic.’ Or ‘spontaneous.’ ‘Unstable’ makes me sound like I’m going to explode.”
“You might,” Auren says flatly. “Uncontrolled Fire-Bringer power responds to emotion. You need to learn to separate the two, or you’ll burn down something important. Like this fortress. Which has stood for eight hundred years.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“He’s not wrong,” I admit, squeezing her hand. “Your fire flared three times during this meeting alone.”
She glances at the scorch marks on the table edge—marks I’d noticed her leaving but hadn’t mentioned. “Oh. That’s... probably not ideal. In my defense, Rurik is very annoying.”
“Hey!”
“Training tomorrow.” I stand, pulling her up with me. “Tonight, I have other plans.”
Rurik’s grin returns full force. “I bet you do.”
“Not that.” Though heat stirs at the suggestion. “Something else. Something I’ve wanted to show her since the first night.”
“Mysterious.” Selene tilts her head. “Should I be worried? Is it a dungeon? A trophy room full of ex-girlfriends’ skulls? A really disappointing wine cellar?”
“Better.”
“That’s not reassuring at all, but fine. Lead the way, Dragon King.”