Mikhail: A Royal Dragon Romance (Brothers of Ash and Fire Book 2)

by Lauren Smith

  Mikhail shrugged. “A bit of both.”

  Piper raised a brow. That answer left the door wide open for a dozen more questions.

  “Last night you said the jewels were yours, that the Belishaw family gave them to your family as part of a treaty long ago. Was that true?” Maybe she could catch him in a lie now.

  “All true.” He walked over to a small side table near the fridge and retrieved a packet of letters bound with twine. He carefully slid a letter out of the middle of the stack and set it down in front of her. He kept the other letters carefully out of reach.

  “I pulled these from my private safe earlier this morning. I thought you’d want to read them.”

  The yellowed parchment was crinkled when she unfolded it to read. The ink had changed from black to brown with age, but she could see the date, 1559, inscribed at the top of the letter. She squinted at the letter but was eventually able to stumble through the words. It was from the Belishaw family to the Barinov family, detailing a treaty between the two noble houses with a payment of an immense hoard of jewels to the Barinovs. In exchange, the two families would be tied by an oath to come to the defense of the other in times of war.

  There was an itemized list of jewels which included: boxes of rubies, an emerald watch, diamonds, emeralds, amethysts, a cloth sack of pearls, and many other special items, including a fist-sized ruby in the shape of a person’s heart. That one she remembered clearly, the Dragon Heart Stone. The piece was so valuable that they had not even put it on display at the V&A museum or at the reception last night. It had stayed safely locked in a vault at the Thorne Auction House. Piper read the rest of the letter. It was clear the jewels had belonged to Mikhail’s ancestors, assuming the letter was real.

  She set the letter down. “How did the jewels end up in Cheapside if they belonged to your family?” She was ready to unravel his story if she found a single thread to pull on. A lot could happen to a family in five hundred years, and it was entirely possible that the jewels could’ve been lost, sold, or stolen. They could rightfully belong to someone else now. The options were endless.

  Mikhail collected the letter and carefully tucked it back into the stack before he finally answered her.

  “My family was betrayed. Elizabeth I took advantage of—my ancestor—and drugged his wine and tricked him into revealing where he’d stored the jewels. My ancestor was forced into prison but he never forgot what she did with the jewels.”

  “But why?” Piper asked. “It wasn’t out of some kind of greed, was it?”

  Mikhail considered his words. “No. She believed herself to be in the right. She believed the jewels were a part of her father’s royal treasury, and they had been, once. But her father had given them to the Belishaw family in the early years of his reign for their services. And the Belishaws, in turn, had given them to us. Henry, however, grew to resent the deal in his later life and no doubt told all who would listen that he believed them to be rightfully his. He was a bitter man, petty and vengeful. And there were other voices that poisoned the queen against my ancestor…” Mikhail’s face darkened, a host of storms surging in his green eyes, and once again he spoke as if he had been there.

  “So Elizabeth imprisoned him? Your ancestor, I mean?” Piper asked.

  He nodded, his eyes solemn. “Yes. For forty-four years. And the real tragedy was that he loved her. And she might have loved him, had things been different. Instead, she repaid his love with shame and imprisonment. To make matters worse, his own father exiled him from the family afterward. He was not allowed to go home until he recovered the jewels.”

  A tic worked in Mikhail’s jaw as he spoke, his words soft and heavy with sorrow. Piper was lost in the lingering pain behind his eyes that seemed centuries old, as though he knew how his ancestor must have felt.

  “That’s awful.” She had no other words to express her thoughts of such suffering.

  “Five centuries is a long time for injustice. But now my family will have peace.” The last of his words was barely more than a whisper.

  “How long have you been trying to find the jewels?” she asked.

  “A long time,” he said with a rueful laugh. “Feels like centuries sometimes.” He rapped his knuckles on the wooden table in an affectionate gesture, then smiled brightly. “Well then, little dove, am I still a fierce villain?” He reached over and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. His fingertips left a delicious tingle that traveled down her body.

  “Maybe you aren’t so bad,” she finally replied, a blush flaming her face.

  His responding laugh was dark and sinful. “Oh, I am bad. Very bad. But you haven’t had a taste of that yet.” He stroked a fingertip down her nose in a playful gesture and then collected her plate and put it in the dishwasher.

  She got up to follow him. “But you just said you were trying to prove you aren’t bad.”

  He turned to face her, a smug smile on his face. “I’m not someone you should fear,” he said. “But I am a very bad man, in a very specific way.” He slid closer, his hands settling on the counter on either side of her hips, trapping her. Piper’s heart jumped in her chest, and she tried to catch her breath.

  “What—way?” She knew where this conversation was going to lead, and her body was begging for it.

  “In the last half hour, I’ve imagined no less than a dozen ways to strip you of your clothes. I want to take you in a dozen different positions until you can no longer move.” He growled as he leaned in, nuzzling her cheek.

  His breath was hot against her, stirring the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. A sharp shiver ran through her, and her womb clenched in anticipation. God, he knew just what to do to make her crazy with desire. This time there was less fear. He wasn’t as scary as she’d thought last night, and knowing that made her body’s response to him feel less like she had betrayed herself.

  One of his hands cupped the back of her head, and the other gripped her hip possessively as he sank his teeth into her neck in a playful bite. Her clit throbbed in response, the nipping sensation turning her legs to jelly. She fell against him, grabbing his arms as she tried to stay upright. His rumbling laugh moved through her.

  “Beg me. Beg me for it,” he murmured against her ear. “Ask me to take you upstairs and possess you…every part of you. I could pleasure you for hours if you wish. All you have to do…is beg.” He licked up the side of her throat and bit her earlobe. A rush of heat exploded between her thighs, and she clamped them together, but it didn’t stop the almost violent need that slithered just beneath her skin.

  “Beg,” he rasped again. His hand on her hip slid to her lower back and then beneath the waistband of her jeans and under her panties. He cupped her bottom, squeezing it hard. That was all it took to drive her out of her mind. She opened her lips, ready to beg, but the jarring sound of a cell phone vibrating nearby was a splash of cold water over them both.

  After a breathless moment that left her inwardly cursing, Mikhail let her go and picked up his phone from the counter.

  “Belishaw, what—” Mikhail went silent and turned away from her, raking his hand through his hair.

  Piper blew out a slow breath as her body descended from the heights she’d been climbing as he’d teased her in every way possible.

  “But she isn’t a part of this. I thought we—” He cursed softly in Russian and faced her, keeping the phone to his ear. “Fine, keep me informed.” He hung up, his green eyes as dark as a primordial forest where the foliage was too thick for the light too penetrate.

  Her heart lodged in her throat. Something had happened. “What is it?”

  “It seems there was one hidden camera we missed last night. Before I left the reception at the auction house, I accessed the camera feeds of the rooms I planned to enter. They were all looped to show empty rooms. But I missed one.” He paused, and Piper waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “I’m afraid you were seen helping me load the jewels into the car. Scotland Yard is searching for y
ou. Your friend Ms. Harkness spent all night being interrogated as to your involvement and whereabouts.”

  Piper gasped. “Jodie was with the police? Oh my God, is she okay?”

  “She is fine. Belishaw has connections and influence. She isn’t a suspect, so they couldn’t hold her for long.”

  Piper exhaled in relief and leaned back against the counter.

  “But you are a suspect,” Mikhail said. His lips firmed into a thin, grim line.

  “Me? But I…you made me!” Panic seized her entire body. The terror and stress of the previous night flooded back.

  Mikhail caught her by the shoulders, staring down at her. His green eyes smoldered, and the irises seemed to shift and swirl with honey-gold fire. “Calm down, little dove. I won’t let anything happen to you. You will not take the blame for my actions. Understood?”

  She gave a shaky nod, but she didn’t know how he could make a promise like that. Scotland Yard was searching for her, and they had proof that she’d helped Mikhail. There was no evidence that she’d been coerced, no way to back up her version of the story. To all outward appearances, she’d helped Mikhail of her own free will and run off with him like a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.

  “Breathe, just breathe,” Mikhail urged her, one hand on her hip again, but she shoved him away.

  “Breathe? That’s your advice? This is all your fault! If you hadn’t used me to get to the jewels, they wouldn’t think I was part of your plan!”

  She brushed past him and dashed up the stairs to her room. The harsh, explosive sound of her slamming the door and the echoing rattle of the doorknob offered her only a tiny bit of satisfaction.

  “Piper,” Mikhail said through the door. “Let me in.”

  “I just want to be alone. Please,” she begged. “Haven’t you done enough?”

  There was a long, deafening silence, and then he spoke again. “Very well. But I promise, I will clear your name.”

  His soft footfalls retreated, and the creak of the stairs assured her that she was indeed alone. She should’ve been glad about that, but Mikhail’s absence left her feeling strangely hollow inside. She walked over to the windows and looked at the cliffs by the sea.

  She lost herself in her thoughts for a long time, until she noticed a figure walking away from the house toward the cliffs. It was Mikhail. Despite the biting wind and the misting spray of the sea butting against the rocks, he was outside without a coat, walking straight toward the cliffs.

  9

  There were cliffs there,

  And forests made of mists. There were bridges spanning the void, and that great gray blind lake which hung above its distant bottom

  Like the sky on a rainy day above a landscape.

  —Rainer Maria Rilke

  THE MIST ROLLED through the coast of Cornwall like a silent wave, blanketing everything with dampness and chill. For the first time in a long while, Mikhail felt cold. A dragon’s blood runs hot, even in the deepest of Russian winters. But today he felt a bone-numbing ache and cold. It seemed to cut deep, freezing the edges of his very soul.

  Belishaw’s call had been a grim reminder of reality. He’d lived so long outside of the world that he’d lost track of the rules, forgotten about things like consequences. He’d involved Piper, and now her life was crumbling around her. He could see how much it might cost her, and it wounded him as much as it had terrified her. The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt his future mate.

  I never think things through. Not five hundred years ago and not now. His father had made a grave mistake choosing him to oversee the transport of the jewels from England. The treaty with the Belishaw dragons had been crucial; if his family ever needed to fight the Drakors back in Moscow, they would need as much support as they could get. While the treaty itself still held fast, the shame of losing the jewels had weakened the Barinov reputation. It was why, even now, he could not go home to Russia, not until he’d seen his mission through and brought the treasure back with him.

  Mikhail let the icy wind cut through him, but the punishment would never be enough for his sins. Sometimes when the wind, fog, and rain built around the coast like this, he felt his dragon stir with madness, a sense of unfathomable grief that couldn’t be contained.

  It wasn’t the first time the past had come back at him, dragging old memories into the light. His dragon became too strong then and took over their shared body. He closed his eyes, remembering nights long past, even though he wished he could erase those memories forever.

  The dungeon had been cold and damp, the smell of smoke from the torches of the guards thick and cloying. He lay there in the corner of his cell, his food always drugged and leaving him weakened. It had been midday, but there was no light here, not in the dungeons.

  “Bring me a light.” Elizabeth’s voice had cut through the heavy darkness, and he’d stirred.

  “My queen?” he croaked, hopefully. He’d spent the last two years hoping for this, or was it longer? But his cries had gone unanswered. Had she finally come to free him from this place?

  Fire blazed suddenly past the iron bars, and he could see Elizabeth. She was wearing a gold-and-cream gown, pearls studded her sleeves and bodice, and a white ruffle was laced around her creamy neck. Her red hair was bound up in a fashion suitable for court, and her hand gleamed with jeweled rings.

  “My dear, sweet Mikhail,” she said with a tragic tone. “I am so sorry. I’ve learned the truth, but I fear it is too late. I can’t fix what is broken, my love, but I can ensure there is some measure of justice.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Mikhail. “Are you here to free me?”

  Elizabeth looked away. “I wish things were that simple, but they are not.” She studied one of the rings on her fingers. His ring. The one that had a serpent biting its own tail. An emerald stone was set in the snake’s eye. That ring had never belonged to her family. His father had given him that ring on his two hundredth birthday.

  “My…ring, that is mine. A gift from my father,” he whispered and stumbled to his feet. He collapsed against the bars, relying on their strength to hold him up. Whatever his jailers had put in his food had been doubled in its dosage, no doubt because they’d been warned that this meeting would take place.

  “It is. And I am afraid I must keep it, as I must keep you. Though not like this. Not for much longer.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Mikhail.

  “I have been used, manipulated most cruelly by one who saw you as a threat to his own plans. He taught my most trusted advisor just enough about your people to distrust them, and he learned just enough on his own to know how to weaken them. It is because of him that you now rot here.”

  Mikhail found some strength in his bones and shook the bars. “Then free me. Free me, and I will destroy him.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes hardened. “No. I will destroy him. Slowly. In the way I had at first devised for you. You do not realize the depths of this man’s treason. It goes far beyond driving a wedge between us. He wanted to use me, to rule this kingdom, and drive away all opposition, starting with your friends, the Belishaws.”

  Mikhail’s eyes widened upon hearing the name.

  “In a way, I must thank you,” Elizabeth continued. “It was because you sought to woo me that this man was forced to change his plans and turn his eye toward you. Because of that, I became suspicious of him later when he sent whispers my way about the Belishaws and how he felt they should be dealt with.

  “That was when I learned the truth, all of it, both about your people and the evil schemes laid against me. Despite his words of praise and flattery, I believe he always felt I was a weak and feeble woman. He knows now that this is not the case.”

  Mikhail tried to smile, tried to hold on to some hope. “Then you know my feelings for you were true. That you are my true mate.”

  Elizabeth looked away but nodded. “I do. And I feel the same for you. But not even love can be greater than the needs of a country and its people. If your family were
to learn of what I did to you…” She played with his father’s ring on her finger. “If I killed you, they would have no reason not to declare open war upon me. But as a hostage, their hand is stayed.”

  “My queen, please,” he begged as he never had before. “It does not have to be this way. Set me free. I—”

  “And have you burn London to the ground?” She shook her head. “Or return to your family to plan revenge? I know what you are, Mikhail, what you can do. And as much as I wish I could believe you, trust you, my own betrayals have doomed me to this path. It is far too dangerous to let you out. You will remain here, but your comfort will be looked to. You have my word. I only wish I could do more for you. Goodbye, my love.” She turned away and left him in the dark.

  “Elizabeth!” He roared her name, and the walls of the prison rumbled, but he couldn’t get past the iron bars. Iron, the one metal his people held no power over. Combined with the elixir they always mixed with his food, he was as close to mortal as he might ever be.

  She was true to her word. He remained imprisoned but was moved to better quarters, with a comfortable bed, a library, and whatever he asked for, within reason. The elixir dosage was reduced, for the walls, floor, and ceiling were all reinforced with iron.

  Of the man behind his woes, he never learned his name and never clearly saw his face. They met only once, as he was being moved to his improved accommodations in a different part of the castle. It seemed the villain was to take his place chained and shackled in the darkness, bound by iron, forever.

  Elizabeth never came to see him again, nor wrote to him, but whatever he asked for, short of his freedom, the staff did their best to provide. In time he came to understand the impossible position she had been put in, and he felt only pity for her. When it came to personal matters, it seemed the most powerful person in England had absolutely no power at all.

  Forty-four years later, he’d heard the church bells tolling. The virgin queen had died. His dragon had keened inside his head, mourning the woman who could have been its mate. The pain had been strong enough that he’d felt his life hanging by a thread. Would the mate-grief kill him as it would a fully mated dragon? Or would he lie there suffering in the darkness on the edge of death?