Page 9

9

BLESSING

M ikkel’s and my talk has barely ended when someone barrels through the game room doors. We break from our intense moment as a roaring tirade of Blood Magic hits us with a wallop—Bjorn.

As Bjorn strides towards us, a heat beyond fury roars in his golden eyes. Not only that, but I feel how his power is almost completely restored from my insane fuck session with Mikkel. Somehow, Mikkel’s Bone Magic during our sex recharged Bjorn’s Blood Magic, though that hadn’t been our intention.

Now shock and relief flood me as Bjorn strides towards us. It’s incredible to see my First Drake up and concussing the room with his magnificent power in the way he should be.

Bjorn is beyond furious, however, as he barrels in, sweeping me off the pool table into his arms so fast I barely have time to growl. Corralling me back from Mikkel, he wraps the chenille blanket around me, escorting me a decent ways away. It leaves Mikkel naked and alone on the ruined pool table.

A nasty fire in his dark eyes at what Bjorn’s done.

“Rikyava, are you insane? What were you thinking?!” Bjorn growls at me, even as he checks me all over, as if for damage. What Mikkel and I did didn’t hurt me, however; in fact, it did quite the opposite, as a power like I’ve never known suddenly explodes through my magic.

And hammers Bjorn back.

“Bjorn! Enough!” I roar at him then, though I didn’t mean to. Actually, I didn’t mean to slap him back so hard with my power, either. We heave hard breaths and stare at each other now, as I see the incredulity in his eyes that I just rejected him.

Mikkel gives a nasty smile from the pool table.

“Someone’s feeling better. Thanks to my power.” Mikkel can’t help but gloat, full of his devil-may-care energy now, as he vaults down from the table. Stretching beside the table, he flaunts his glorious height and lean nakedness unapologetically before Bjorn.

“You. Shut up.” Bjorn levels a finger at Mikkel. Though from his snarl and the furious rage blistering all through his dragon, I know he wants to do a helluva lot more than just growl, since Mikkel and I just had such crazy sex together.

“I will say whatever I damn well please.” Mikkel gets dangerous now as he stalks towards Bjorn. Mikkel’s dragon roars, searing his black eyes with their nasty chartreuse ring, rather than their glorious copper. And I know we’re two seconds from a dragon-brawl, as Bjorn powers up, as well.

His scorching Bloodwind raging through the room.

“Stop it! Both of you!” I get between them with a roar, slapping a hand on each of their chests. It makes my chenille blanket drop away, and I see both drakes glance down to my nakedness.

Hey, if seeing my tits and ass gets them to pause in their quarrel, I’m all for it. Heaving real power into my action from my two inner dragons, uniting now into their massive Bloodwalker magic, I shove both drakes back hard.

And stagger them with the blazing fury of my power.

I didn’t mean to use so much force to separate them; again, it’s not my usual way of things, as I realize Mikkel’s dark Bone Magic has influenced mine far more this morning with our sex than I intended it to.

I’m going darker than black now with wrath as I snarl and regard both drakes. I can’t help it, as Mikkel’s powerful influence roars through my entire body.

Unhinged, with how much we solidified our bond today.

“If you two can’t fucking get along, then I’m done with both of you.”

My wrathful snarl is beyond cold as I address them. I can’t even believe the words that have come out of my mouth, as Bjorn stares at me bug-eyed, and even Mikkel’s full lips fall open.

But something inside me is roaring right now, going into such a dark place that I can’t even describe it. It’s terrible, and it doesn’t care if I’m nasty to my drakes. It just cares that they’re being little bitches about being in my Bloodbond together, and I can’t have that.

That I can’t tolerate any bullshit when lives are on the line.

“Rikyava…!” Bjorn’s look is pained as he eases towards me, holding out a hand like he’s dealing with a rabid wolf. “Easy… this spat doesn’t call for wrath.”

I didn’t even know the oilslick-black magic of my dark inner drake was seething all around me in the game room until Bjorn says something. I’m aware of it now, though. It pours around me in a tirade so thick and dark it looks like an oil spill has devoured the room.

As I see it, I feel a combusting sensation, deep inside. Suddenly, all that oilslick sheen seething through the air catches fire.

As the blackest part of my nature takes over now, I feel my crimson drakaina snuffed out. She’s not gone, not truly; but the towering sensation of night I feel deep inside shrouds out all else as my Bone Magic’s glittering black star-eyes come to full dominance inside me.

I’m a terror of the night; I’m the thing that devours drakes and their souls as I stare both Mikkel and Bjorn down in the fullest tirade of my wrath. Because I’m so done with my drakes not getting along.

As my black demon roars inside—to punish them .

It’s Strom’s arms that wrap around me then, making me startle out of my blackest wrath. As he sings by my ear, using the strange river-water tones of his magic, and its dark flow to pull me back from my most heinous brink, I finally snap back.

My Blood Magic roars; I shudder in a tirade as my Bone Magic recedes, thanks to Strom’s cajoling power. But even I have to admit what having such insane sex with Mikkel has just done to my magic.

Making me unstable—able to snap into my blackest wrath at the drop of a hat.

“No…!” I stagger back from my drakes now, as I heave out of Strom’s arms. I rub my chest as my black magic is put away, no longer catching fire in the room.

Everything around me is singed, however; only my drakes are not, as we stand in the slightly smoking gaming hall and they face me with terrible, astonished eyes.

Because I was beyond mean to them just now; I was cruel, even though Strom could calm me. I was vicious in the way Mikkel is—without my higher human morals anywhere in the mix.

It was only the fierce roar of my inner black dragon that possessed me as I dealt with them, my compassion and love nowhere in me. Even Mikkel looks knifed right through his heart at how I treated him, after he just opened up, sharing so much of his past.

It’s then that I understand I’m the real enemy, as I heave hard breaths, holding a hand to my chest and feeling Aesa’s Truthstone burn. In that burn, I feel her knowledge scald through me with the most terrible truth.

Find your fourth drake—or succumb to this inner madness forever .

I know I was two shakes from succumbing just now, as I glance at Bjorn and he scowls thunderclouds at me. Though he’s in one of his infamous rages, a wave of blood-heat washing around him from how I just treated him, there’s something else in him I didn’t expect. Fear.

Fear for me, at what I just did.

And what it means for all of us .

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck,” I breathe now as I see the whole horrid situation, clear as day.

“Rikyava…” Strom reaches for me, as a terrible concern takes his face.

“No!” I hold a hand up fast. My energy whips out, cracking through the room as it strikes at Strom, though I didn’t mean for it to. Despair fills me because I know he was just trying to console me. “I can’t be here right now. I… have to go.”

I don’t take a last look at any of my drakes as I swipe the chenille blanket off the floor and cover up, then rush out of the room. I’m practically running, horrified and ashamed of how I just lost my shit and mistreated all of them.

They mean everything to me, and I just acted like they were garbage. Tears fill my eyes as I stride through the palace. I don’t even know where I’m going as I surge through the upper halls in the royal wing and shove through a towering set of ornate wooden double-doors.

But as a sensation of peace lifts all around me, I realize I’ve come to the chapel wing of the palace. I’m not a praying drakaina, but as I trot right to the front of the cathedral to the altar, I stumble.

I land hard, hitting the marble and cracking both knees. The pain, added to what I just did and how I ran, plus my wretched nakedness draped only in smoldering chenille, is too much. My eyes fill; I gasp and clutch the blanket.

And lose it, sobbing my heart out.

“Somebody! Help me…” I gasp up at the beautiful winged Storm Dragon that occupies this altar in the Twilight Realm, rather than an image of Jesus or of the Madonna.

As those words leave me, flowing out of my heart in desperation, I feel Aesa’s Truthstone flare like wildfire on my chest. A blast of energy leaves it, golden-crimson magic flaring hard all around me.

It flows all through me, too, as it illuminates a golden number in my mind now. A memory returned after my crazy monkey sex with Mikkel, I recall it’s a phone number .

As I focus on that vivid golden number, reaching out to claim it, a sudden hope fills me. But despair crashes in next, because I haven’t got a phone with me to dial it. Just then, however, beautiful silver-grey wings envelop me as I kneel on the floor and sob.

Big, strong arms curling around to hold me.

Those wings aren’t dragon wings, and those arms aren’t Bjorn’s, though, as I sob my heart out hard now and cling to them. Because someone’s got me; a big, badass Archangel I know so well, yet truly don’t.

He’s someone I’d love to know better, as he holds me and I sob, his beautiful dark etheric seven-layer wings curling all around me and covering my nakedness.

Insinio Brandfort—the buffest, most badass Archangel ever.

“Easy. I gotcha, badass. Let it all out,” Insinio murmurs by my cheek now as I cling to him and roar out all my frustration and tears. His wings move in a wind of their own magic; as they do, I feel a shimmering dark garment weave around my nakedness.

Not a dress, because Insinio knows me better than that, they’re Archangel-style battle leathers that he makes for me now with his magic. I’m grateful as I feel the silvery, leather-like material coat me up to my neck and down to the soles of my feet.

It makes me feel worlds better as I hitch a last few breaths and cough, my inner rage and wrath abating. I actually can breathe now; gracious and strong, Insinio’s magic pours through me, smoothing and calming the places inside me that burn.

I can think again, returned to myself, as I wipe my eyes and pull away. Hunkering with me on the chapel’s stones, Insinio turns me by my shoulder and I let him, so we come face-to-face.

He extends a hand; I take it, and his big, strong hand hauls me to my feet. He doesn’t do it gently, but neither is he unkind. It’s the gesture of one warrior to another—to take to your feet again and fight on.

Squaring my shoulders, even as I wipe more tears away, I nod, understanding. He reaches out, cupping my cheek in his hand and smoothing one last tear away with his big thumb.

“Hey, badass. How’s it hanging?” Insinio gives me a tough but endlessly kind smile from his ridiculously handsome face. Most Archangels I’ve met are wan and thin, tall and almost impossibly beautiful, like Elves.

But though Insinio is towering, well over six-six, maybe even seven feet in height, his burly frame is strong, his brush-cut black hair unruly, even though it shines. His strong-jawed face is beyond handsome with his almost luminous skin, as he stares at me now with an intense calm in his vivid silver eyes.

Clean shaven, he’s like a motorbike Superman as he stands before me in a black leather jacket, black T-shirt, and dark blue jeans with men’s black motorcycle boots. His massive wings flow through the chapel with their haunting silver-black color, each beautiful filament somehow edged in the brightest light, like sunshine gleaming off a sword.

An actual sword is strapped across his back in a harness; a massive, ornate Archangelic longsword, it’s nearly as big as he is, as he watches me with his impressive wings sighing all around him.

I don’t know why his wings are dark grey instead of white; every Archangel I’ve ever met has had white or tawny wings, except for Insinio and his partner in the Intercessoria, Heathren Merkami.

The duo usually shows up together, though Heathren is nowhere to be seen, as the tough but rough-and-fun side of their pair watches me now. As I finally get my shit together, Insinio’s full lips crack into a smile. He nods, and it’s everything a warrior needs to head back into battle.

Because he knows I can handle it, the shit I’m going through.

Even if I seriously doubt myself right now.

“Nice leathers,” I say at last, gesturing to the ensemble he made for me. It’s my way of thanking him, and he gets it, his smile widening and his vivid silver eyes becoming appreciative as his gaze roves over me.

“They suit you. You sure you aren’t an Archangel, with all that white- blonde hair and that beyond nice ass?” He ribs me now, grinning to beat the band.

“You wish,” I grin, heaving a deep breath and reclaiming myself. Because the fact is, I like the big Archangel’s sexy teasing. Insinio and I have always had an easy, warrior-like flirtation every time we meet, and I’m grateful for it now.

It makes me feel like myself again—rather than someone I don’t know anymore.

“Hey. You called me.” He lifts his straight dark eyebrows, as he gets to asking why he’s here.

“I didn’t. I don’t have a phone.” I’m confused now, as I wonder how he did get my call.

“You called my number in your mind.” Lifting a finger, he taps his temple. “Archangel, remember? I can hear things like prayers—especially when they’re aimed at me.”

“I thought that was your phone number.” My eyebrows rise, incredulous.

“It is.” He chuckles as he pulls out a very normal-looking smartphone from an inner pocket of his jacket. “My personal phone number, rather than my Intercessoria one. So all this, right now, is off the clock, if you get what I mean. Just one badass warrior of an Archangel helping a friend, one badass warrior of a Blood Dragon. You get me?”

“I get you.” I know what Insinio’s saying. Though he came to my call, he won’t be able to use any Intercessoria resources to help me with whatever I need him for.

And that’s fine by me—as I still don’t even know why I called him, or how he can help.

“Talk to me, chica.” Insinio stretches his wings wide—and then they resorb into his spine until there’s nothing left. He unbuckles his sword harness, laying it down gently upon the floor before he turns, taking a seat on the lowest stair before the altar and patting for me to sit. I do, shoulder-to-shoulder with his towering hugeness .

Grateful.

“I don’t even know where to start,” I say as I shake my head.

And then my entire story, ever since the blast at that Outer Island when we saw each other last, comes tumbling out of me.

Insinio listens, nodding and occasionally making a soft noise of amazement in his burly chest as I tell the most insane parts of my past two months. He nods as I tell him about the Black Dragon, the Council, and my memories—currently crystal-clear thanks to Mikkel, even though being with him seriously destabilized my magic today.

All through it, Insinio listens. Occasionally, he asks clarifying questions, and I fill in the details. As I come to the end, telling him about my current destabilization in power thanks to Mikkel, Insinio heaves a hard sigh. As I fall silent, he does nothing, just sits with me in blessed silence for a long moment.

Then he glances at me—silver fire roaring in his eyes.

“Those fuckers who did this to you are gonna pay,” he growls now as he watches me with that fire of Archangelic vengeance roaring in him. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed, as I grip his burly arm and squeeze it in thanks.

He sets his big hand atop mine, solid.

“Rikyava, I need you to know this is some big shit,” he says now as he watches me, warning in his intense silver eyes. “I know you’re a strong drakaina… but you need to know that you have been thrust right into something so big, even the Intercessoria are buzzing like hornets about it. You may feel overwhelmed, you may feel at your limit right now… but that’s because this is something so bad, so scary, that even Archangels fear it—and they have a right to. You get me?”

“Tell me more.” I heave a hard breath, because Insinio’s words have suddenly made me feel a helluva lot better at what I’ve been up against.

And a whole helluva lot worse.

“Though the Intercessoria have forbidden us to officially help in this matter,” Insinio rumbles now, “due to the top-priority classification of the Dragon of All Souls, I can tell you right now that they know squat about it. Everything I’ve heard from you right now is more than the Intercessoria has discovered ever since the blast that freed it. Other than tracking its movements, they’re currently working on a massive containment system for it. They’re hoping to capture it before it reaches its fullest strength… since they have zero idea how to kill it.”

“What? Are you fucking serious?” I ask him as I blink, astonished.

“Yup,” he says back, his tone dire. “Because the IC shut you Blood Dragons out of the investigation right away, they haven’t been liaising with your shamans, your Jarls, or your King about it. It’s hamstrung them; Heathren and I have been pushing the top brass to at least get your King involved, since this thing threatens your people, practically to extinction. They’re resisting us, however—for what reason, I don’t know. Even with all our Archangelic power, it’s already growing too strong for us to fight; we have to understand the curse-work that created it, in order to bring it down. But the top brass are so shit-scared of how it got so out-of-hand last time—in a way even we had no hope of controlling—that they aren’t hearing reason.”

“That’s cooperation our King could desperately use right now, to have Archangel firepower on his side,” I fume now, knowing that my uncle and cousin have already been tracking the Black Dragon’s movements.

As I pray they haven’t tried to engage it yet.

“We fought it the best we could last time,” Insinio says as he watches me. “I wasn’t born yet, and the IC wasn’t even created yet. Archangels fought it, but it was the Blood Dragons who finally brought it down. It didn’t just kill Blood Dragons, though; it razed the countryside indiscriminately, killing all creatures in its path. Including our kind.”

“So it does kill indiscriminately.” I draw a hard breath, letting it out slowly before glancing at him. “I had no idea it could kill Archangels, though.”

“It can. And it has.” Insinio eyes me, intense. “Which is why the top brass are keeping this whole fucking shitstorm so silent. Because they’re scared—just like they were the first time.”

“And if all this provokes another Blood-Ice War, they won’t help with that, either.” I know, because the Intercessoria historically has never gotten involved in the constant squabbling of the Blood Dragons and Ice Dragons.

“You got it,” Insinio says.

“Which leaves my people out in the cold. Without a single fucking hope.” I growl now, feeling black inside once more, as both my inner dragons gnash their teeth.

“Not necessarily.” Eyeballing me, Insinio gestures for me to get up. “On your feet.”

“Why?” I frown at him but do as he says, because I know the big Archangel has something up his massive, muscular sleeve.

Something that might help us.

“Heathren and I have been forbidden to help you in this matter by passing you any official Intercessoria information,” Insinio says now as a subtle grin steals around his lips, “but they said nothing about me not giving you just the teensiest little boost, energetically-speaking, to give you what you need to continue your journey. Since you’re our only hope.”

“ Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope. ” I laugh sarcastically as I quote Star Wars, though I’m listening. Because if Insinio has something he can do to help us, anything, I’m all for it. I’m beyond game, as I stand alert before him now.

Ready.

“Square your shoulders, spread your feet,” Insinio says as he stands before me, eyeballing my stance. “Hold on to your pants, Rikyava, and get your dragon-aura ready to take a big blow… because this is gonna be a doozy.”

“Lay it on me, pal. I’m ready.” I do as Insinio says, spreading my dragon-aura around me in a massive wave, ready to absorb a tremendous hit .

“Ready for a blessing? Because this is gonna hurt.” Insinio grins wide, though his eyes blaze a searingly bright silver, as his massive silver-black wings snap out from his spine again.

Roaring through the chapel.

“Don’t blessings always?” I chide now, though something about watching the big, bad Archangel power up has got me shivering to the end of my soul and back, wondering what comes next.

“Then get yourself blessed, girl,” Insinio says, as he gives me a huge grin.

And then all those wings hammer at me like a battering ram as Insinio slams his palm to my chest.

And I’m catapulted out of my body, right into the fucking cosmos.