Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

DRAKE

D rake felt a surge of possessive triumph as he scooped Megan up into his arms. Her curvy frame was taut with barely contained fury; her muscles coiled as if ready to strike. The claiming bite, fresh and vivid on her skin, pulsed with the electric connection that now bound them. He rumbled soothingly, his deep, resonant voice a stark contrast to the storm brewing in her green eyes.

"Megan, you're mine now," he declared, his tone unapologetic. "There's no going back."

She glared up at him, anger blazing in her gaze. "You had no right to claim me without my consent, Drake."

Drake shrugged. "Dragons don't really concern themselves about such things, especially alphas." His lips curled into a smug smile as he carried her to their bed, laying her down amidst the soft linens, down comforter, and antique quilt. He sat beside her, exuding a calm confidence that only fueled her anger. "What's done is done. You'll end up agreeing that I did the right thing."

He made a rumbling sound that was part purr, part growl, and all together seductive and erotic.

"Don't do that," Megan snapped. "You're an arrogant bastard."

"And now you're bound to me."

"I've got a Glock that says differently." When he said nothing, she continued, "You think you can just take whatever or whoever you want?"

Drake's eyes darkened with a mix of amusement and determination. "I did what had to be done. You'll understand in time."

Megan's hands clenched into fists, but she didn't back down. "You think you can control me? Think again. If you think just because I wasn't born drakaina, I'll be easy, you couldn't be more wrong. I won't be a docile mate."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "I don't want docile. I want strong. Fierce. Exactly what you are."

The bond between them, forged by the bite, thrummed with a volatile mix of emotions. Drake knew they needed to navigate this alliance carefully, but he wasn't about to apologize for his actions. He had claimed her because it was the only way to secure their fates, to intertwine their quests for truth. By establishing the bonding link, he could be sure that he would know when she faced danger and needed his help.

He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of her continuing to work with the ATF. This would be her last undercover assignment. He would see to that, but if he could get Jasmine attached to her as some kind of special liaison, there might be a way for the SEALs, the Coast Guard, and the ATF here in Alaska to work together more efficiently. It was an idea worth pursuing.

"You came here to try and figure out what is going on with your case. I want to know if my father was murdered, and if so, by whom. I think the two are intertwined. We need to share everything we know," Drake said, his tone brooking no argument. "We can get Jasmine assigned to the case specifically to help. She should be able to provide whatever tech support is needed."

Megan nodded. "Jasmine Chen is an ace hacker and her intelligence gathering and analysis skills are second to none. Anything that might help us understand the bigger picture would be good." She sat up, looking into his eyes while hers flashed defiance. She really was extraordinarily beautiful, and she was his. "But if any of this is going to work, we need to set some ground rules. First, you don't get to make unilateral decisions that affect me." He nodded. "Second, no more secrets."

"Agreed," Drake said, his expression serious. "Anything that might help us understand each other and what's happening would be to our mutual benefit."

Megan let out a bitter laugh. "Your aunt is not going to be happy. I don't think she's going to be too happy to learn I'm not just your fiancée but your fated mate, and that you've claimed me."

A slow smile lifted the corners of Drake's mouth. "Aunt Victoria has always had strong opinions, but they have no influence on my decision-making. She can either accept or leave. Don't get me wrong; I love her. Having never found a mate of her own, she stepped in when my mother died. She's been more of a mother than an aunt to me, and she's very protective."

Megan's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like she's in for a rude awakening."

Drake admired her fiery spirit, the way she stood her ground even in the face of his arrogance. "Snow leopards are tougher than they look, I've heard."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the hint of a smile. "Count on it."

The tension in the room remained palpable, a volatile mix of distrust and burgeoning understanding. Drake reached out, taking her hand in his, the bond between them humming with a new, tentative trust. They were allies now, united by their shared quest and the bond that linked their fates.

"We'll figure this out, Megan," Drake promised, his voice firm and unyielding. "Together."

She squeezed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "Together," she echoed, her temper still simmering beneath the surface. And for the first time since the bite, Drake felt a fierce satisfaction. They would be fine, and his clan would be all the better for having such a fierce first lady.

Drake woke to the feel of Megan's warm body spooned against his, her soft breathing a gentle rhythm that matched the beat of his heart. A satisfied smile spread across his face as the events of the previous night replayed in his mind, vivid and undeniable. They hadn't been a dream. He had claimed his fated mate, and she was here, nestled in his arms.

Careful not to wake her, Drake shifted slightly, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. The bond between them pulsed with shared emotions, a heady mix of excitement, trepidation, and undeniable connection. He tightened his hold on her, savoring the sense of rightness that came with having her so close.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Megan stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of sleepiness and wariness.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

She blinked, taking a moment to orient herself. "Morning," she replied, her voice husky from sleep. "So, it wasn't a dream."

"No," Drake said, a smug smile playing on his lips. "It wasn't a dream."

Megan sighed; a hint of resignation mingled with acceptance. "Well, I suppose we have a busy day ahead."

Drake nodded, reluctantly releasing her as they both sat up. "We do. We have a private jet, and it should be ready to go shortly. I have a meeting scheduled with one of the larger-batch distilleries near Anchorage."

Megan stretched, a playful glint in her eye. "You know, as dragon shifters, we could have flown ourselves. It would have been far more environmentally responsible."

Drake chuckled, shaking his head. "True, but it's harder to discuss business strategies while navigating air currents."

She grinned, the tension from the previous night easing into a more comfortable banter. "Excuses, excuses."

After a quick breakfast, they made their way to the airstrip, where the sleek Northern Lights private plane awaited them. The flight was smooth and uneventful, the Alaskan landscape unfolding beneath them in a breathtaking panorama of snow-capped peaks and endless forests.

Upon landing, they were greeted by the head distiller, a burly man named Gregor. He led them on a tour of the facility, his enthusiasm for his craft and the bourbon he produced evident in every word. Drake listened intently, noting the changes in production techniques and market demands.

During this tour they overheard a heated argument. The distillery owner, a grizzled man with a stern expression, was in a tense confrontation with Michael O'Brien, a figure Drake recognized from his investigations and from the annual tasting event.

"How did he get a ticket to the event?" asked Megan.

"Unsure, but it's something worth checking out."

"You can't keep up these pressure tactics, O'Brien," the owner growled, his voice low and dangerous. "We're barely making ends meet as it is."

O'Brien's reply was a sneer. "You'll do as you're told, or there will be consequences."

Drake exchanged a quick glance with Megan, both understanding the gravity of what they were witnessing. They continued the tour, but the atmosphere had shifted, tension crackling like static electricity in the air. Gregor was summoned by the owner and left Megan and Drake to explore the warehouse where the bourbon barrels were torched.

As the day drew to a close, Drake and Megan found themselves alone as they prepared to leave. Suddenly, the acrid smell of smoke filled the air, followed by the blaring of alarms. Flames leaped from the distillery, a blazing inferno consuming the structure with frightening speed.

"Fire!" Megan shouted, her eyes wide with alarm.

Drake's dragon instincts kicked in. "We need to get out now! If push comes to shove, I'll shift and get us out."

"I can shift myself…"

"The transition might not be complete. Stay with me," he grabbed her hand. Megan started to pull away and then thought better of it. "Never forget, dragons don't burn."

Together, they navigated the chaos, dodging falling debris and bursts of flame. The heat was intense, but Drake's protective nature and Megan's agility saw them through. As they made their way down a narrow hallway, a burst of flames blocked their path, forcing them into a nearby storage closet.

Inside the confined space, Megan's breath quickened, and her eyes darted around wildly. Drake could feel her fear through the bond, a sharp, almost suffocating sensation. The fear hadn't frightened her, it was the small, closed space.

"Megan, look at me," he commanded softly, taking her face in his hands. "Focus on me."

She tried to nod, her breath coming in short gasps. "I... I can't…"

"I know. It'll be fine. You aren't alone. Nothing will ever harm you as long as there is breath in my body."

She nodded but trembled. Drake's heart ached at her vulnerability. He leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a tender, yet demanding kiss. The intensity of his kiss was meant to pull her focus away from the claustrophobic space and anchor her in the here and now with him. She stiffened at first, but then her body slowly relaxed against his. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she kissed him back, the connection between them flaring to life, pushing the fear back. The bond pulsed, soothing and strong, a reminder that they were in this together.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. "We're getting out of here, I promise. Just stay with me."

Megan nodded, her breathing more controlled now. "Okay."

Drake listened for a moment, judging the fire's progress outside. When he deemed it safe, he cracked the door open, peering out. The hallway was still ablaze, but the flames had moved further down, leaving a path clear for their escape.

"Now," he said, grabbing her hand.

They dashed through the hallway, dodging falling debris and bursting out of the building just as part of the roof collapsed behind them. The cool night air hit them like a wave, and they stood there, breathing heavily, hearts pounding from the adrenaline.

Once safely away, they watched the distillery burn, the orange and red flames licking the sky. Drake wrapped an arm around Megan, pulling her into his arms.

"That was too close," Megan said, her voice shaky.

"But we're alive," Drake replied, pulling her closer.

The fire had forged more than just physical danger; it had solidified their trust in one another. As they stood there, watching the flames die down, Drake knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. Their bond had been tested by fire and was the stronger for it.