Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

DRAKE

D rake stepped into the grand hall of the high-end gala event, taking a moment to absorb the sheer opulence surrounding him. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow that danced off the polished marble floors. The room was elegant, filled with guests clad in the finest attire, their laughter and conversations blending into a sophisticated symphony.

The room was a kaleidoscope of wealth and power, with people from all walks of life mingling under the sparkling chandeliers. Shifters, humans, and individuals from the darker corners of organized crime moved through the party, their conversations a low hum beneath the classical music played by a live orchestra. Drake tightened his grip on Megan's hand, their pretend coupledom feeling all too real as they navigated the opulent space.

The auction was the evening's focal point, with an array of rare and exquisite bourbon bottles displayed on a stage adorned with rich, dark velvet drapes. Waiters in crisp, white uniforms moved seamlessly through the crowd, offering trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres. The mingling scents of expensive perfume and aged bourbon created a heady atmosphere, perfectly complementing the event's high-end allure.

Drake felt a surge of anticipation as they navigated the crowd, his eyes constantly scanning for familiar faces and potential threats. As diverse as the crowd was, everyone in attendance was united by their shared passion for the rare spirits up for auction. The energy in the room was electric, with each new lot introduced sparking intense bidding wars that only added to the excitement.

Beside him, Megan moved with grace and determination, her presence a steadying force amidst the chaos. The elegance and sophistication of the event stood in stark contrast to the tension of their mission, but Drake remained focused. Tonight, amidst the glittering glamour, they would find the clues needed to uncover the truth.

As they made their way through the crowd, Drake's thrill of the hunt mingled with his undeniable connection to Megan. This evening was not just about the auction but the delicate dance of deception and discovery. And Drake was ready for whatever the night would bring.

Megan's dress, a sleek black number that clung to her curves, drew appreciative glances from many of the attendees. Drake couldn't help the surge of possessiveness that flared within him. He pulled her closer, his hand resting on the small of her back. The bond between them, forged by the claiming bite, thrummed with a mix of tension and unspoken emotions.

"We need to stay focused," Megan murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "We're here for information."

"Of course," Drake replied, though he couldn't shake the feeling that their charade was dangerously close to reality.

He scanned the room, his eyes landing on Michael O'Brien, their host for the evening. He didn't like O'Brien. O'Brien was surrounded by a group of men, his laughter booming across the room. Drake noted the way people gravitated towards him—respect and fear in equal measure in their eyes.

"Let's mingle," Megan suggested, guiding them towards a group of well-dressed guests. As they moved through the crowd, they exchanged pleasantries and small talk, while keeping an ear out for useful tidbits of information.

"Isn't it fascinating," Drake said, his voice light and engaging, "how these auctions bring together such a diverse group of people?"

Megan nodded, her eyes never leaving their surroundings. "Indeed. You never know who you might meet."

They approached a table where a trio of men were discussing the latest trends in the bourbon industry. One of them, a burly man with a thick beard, seemed particularly knowledgeable.

"I heard there's a lot of pressure on some of the smaller distilleries lately," Drake interjected smoothly.

"Rumors of buyouts and hostile takeovers."

The bearded man grunted, taking a sip of his drink. "You're not wrong. It's a tough market. Some folks don't play fair."

Megan leaned in, her eyes wide with feigned curiosity. "That sounds dangerous. What can you do in a situation like that?"

"Not much," the man admitted, shaking his head. "Either you sell, or you get crushed."

Drake exchanged a meaningful glance with Megan. This was the kind of information they needed. As they continued to work the room, they gathered more snippets of conversation, each piece adding to the puzzle of the smuggling operation they were trying to uncover.

Despite the seriousness of their mission, the act of pretending to be a couple felt disconcertingly natural. Drake found himself drawn to Megan, the bond between them making every touch, every shared glance, feel electric. It was becoming difficult not to find a corner away from all of this where he could remind her of what they had.

He reminded himself that for her, this was just a cover, that their relationship was part of the charade, but he sensed it had become more than that for her. As the night wore on, Megan seemed to find it harder to maintain that distance. The way Megan's eyes sparkled when she laughed, the warmth of her body against his, it all felt too real.

"Megan," Drake whispered as they moved to a quieter corner of the room, "we're getting close. I can feel it."

She nodded, her eyes meeting his. "Just a little longer. We need something concrete."

As if on cue, Michael O'Brien's voice cut through the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way to the auction hall; the main event is about to begin."

Drake took Megan's hand, guiding her through the throng of people. The auction hall was even more opulent than the main room, with rows of chairs set up before a grand stage. They took their seats, their eyes scanning the room for any sign of suspicious activity.

As the auctioneer began introducing the first lot, Drake leaned in close to Megan. "Stay alert. This is where things could get interesting."

She nodded; her expression serious. "I'm ready."

The auction proceeded smoothly, the bids escalating rapidly as rare bottles of bourbon were brought to the stage. Drake watched the faces in the crowd, noting the tension and excitement that filled the room. It was a high-stakes game, and the players were all too eager to outbid each other.

Then, as the final lot was introduced, Drake's senses went on high alert. There was a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle undercurrent of anticipation that told him something significant was about to happen.

The auctioneer's voice rang out. "And now, for our final item of the evening, a rare batch of bourbon with a storied history. The bidding starts at one hundred thousand dollars."

The room went silent for a moment, then the bids started coming in, fast and furious. Drake watched as Michael O'Brien made his move, signaling his intent with a casual lift of his hand.

"Why is he buying his own bourbon? I mean it's his auction, right?" asked Megan, confused.

Drake nodded. "Part of the proceeds are going to charity. O'Brien donated most of the bourbon being auctioned off. Rumor is he decided he didn't want to let that one go." Drake grinned and then raised his hand, upping the bid. "Let's see how bad he wants it."

Megan shook her head and O'Brien scowled their way. The other bidders took their cue from Drake and ran the price up. Competition was fierce, but O'Brien's confidence was unshaken.

As the bidding war raged on, Drake felt Megan's hand tighten around his. He looked at her, seeing the determination in her eyes. They were on the verge of a breakthrough, and they could both feel it.

Finally, the gavel came down, and the auctioneer declared, "Sold, to Michael O'Brien."

The room erupted in applause, but Drake's mind was already racing ahead. This was their chance to gather the evidence they needed. As the crowd began to disperse, he leaned in close to Megan.

"Now we move," he whispered. "Stay close."

Together, they navigated the throng of people, their eyes locked on O'Brien as he made his way towards a side room. Drake's heart pounded in his chest, the thrill of the hunt mingling with the electric connection he felt with Megan.

They were getting closer to the truth, and with Megan by his side, Drake knew they had the strength to face whatever came next. Their bond, forged in the fires of danger and deception, would guide them through the darkness. And tonight, they would finally see the light.

The evening had been a whirlwind of mingling and subtle questioning, each interaction bringing them closer to uncovering the truth behind the bourbon smuggling operation. Megan stayed close to him; their partnership was an unspoken bond as they navigated the glittering crowd.

As the night wore on, a tip from a chatty guest led them to a secluded part of the mansion. Drake and Megan slipped away from the main event, following a corridor that grew increasingly narrow and dimly lit. At the end, they discovered a hidden door, slightly ajar. With a shared glance, they entered, finding themselves in a room filled with shelves of bourbon bottles.

Drake's eyes narrowed as he scanned the labels, noticing subtle differences between the bottles. Megan stepped closer, her keen eyes catching the same inconsistencies. "Counterfeit," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He nodded, feeling a mix of triumph and tension. They had found the heart of the operation. But before they could investigate further, the sound of approaching footsteps sent a jolt of urgency through them. Drake grabbed Megan's hand, pulling her into a small niche behind the racks of bogus bourbon bottles.

Remembering her dislike of cramped spaces, he rumbled soothingly down the link. She looked up at him, her expression grateful. He had plans to help her to see small, enclosed spaces as good things, and his groin tightened at the thought. As they squeezed together, Drake's heart pounded, not just from the danger but from Megan's proximity. Her breath was warm against his neck, her scent intoxicating. The footsteps grew louder, and he could hear Michael O'Brien's voice, commanding and irritated.

In the tense silence, their eyes met, and Drake felt a surge of emotion he couldn't hold back. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Megan responded instantly, her hands gripping his shoulders as the kiss deepened. For a moment, the danger beyond their hiding spot was forgotten, replaced by the primal intensity of their connection.

The sound of Michael's voice faded, and the tension in the air dissipated. Reluctantly, Drake pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. "We need to get out of here," he murmured.

Megan nodded, her breathing uneven as she smiled. "Yeah, let's go."

They waited until the footsteps receded before slipping out of the closet and back into the main hall. The rest of the night passed in a blur, the things they had learned weighing heavily on their minds.

From the back seat of their elegant SUV limo, Drake watched her carefully. He realized that while she could maintain the fa?ade she needed to work undercover, when she was with him, she let the mask slip. He knew there were still things she was keeping to herself, but he was pleased that as her drakaina began to take hold, she instinctively knew she could trust him.

"Drake…" she started.

Not wanting to hear any more of her doubts or denials, he leaned over and pressed his lips firmly against hers. They might have different backgrounds and different kinds of shifters, they were now bound together as mates, and nothing would change that bond.

Megan didn't fight against him at all, giving in to his kiss; surely she had to be feeling everything he was. There was no fighting what they were. They were fated mates, and they were destined to be together.

When they arrived home, Drake swept her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and carried her up the stairs to their room. Once inside, they fumbled together—each seeking to render the other one naked, they crashed together as their lips molded together, a surge of electricity shooting through his veins. The taste of her, a subtle mix of sweetness and defiance, ignited a wildfire within him. He deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of possessiveness and longing into it.

Megan's hands found their way to his chest, her fingers curling into tight fists. She was fighting against herself as much as she was him—and she was losing on both fronts. A soft moan escaped her lips, muffled by the intensity of their connection. With each passing second, the doubts and insecurities that had to be clouding her mind began to dissipate.

Pulling away, Drake breathed heavily, his forehead resting against hers. Their breaths mingled in the heated space between us. "You feel it too, don't you? The pull." His voice was husky with desire, tinged with the unspoken promise of pleasure that lay ahead.

She nodded; her eyes glazed over with a feral hunger. "I never knew it could be like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A flicker of frustration washed over him as he silenced her protests. The mating bond demanded surrender—a surrender that she seemed hesitant to give. "This is who we are now. Neither of us can fight this bond. You are mine… and for what it's worth, I am yours."

Megan's eyes searched his for any sign of doubt or deception. Finding none, she exhaled softly, releasing the tension in her body. "I want to believe you," she confessed, tracing circles on his chest with her fingertips.

Cradling her face in his hands, he looked deep into her eyes. "There is no other reason for the way we're feeling. I know you didn't come here looking for a fated mate, and trust me, I had long ago given up the hope that I would have one of my own. But when I hold you in my arms. up close and personal, I know that this is right and as it was always meant to be."

Megan sucked in a sharp breath and nodded. Her eyes drifted to his lips and the connection was so strong. Drake slid a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her tighter against him, slamming his lips against hers.

Their movements were quick and sharp, moving as quickly as they could, the desire between them leading their charge.

Their bodies crashed together in a frenzy of need, a primal hunger that consumed them both. The heat of their passion fueled the flames that licked at their skin, igniting a fire that threatened to bring down any and all barriers in its path.

As their lips molded and melted against each other, a symphony of moans and sighs filled the air. There was an urgency in their movements, driven by a yearning so powerful it eclipsed all rational thought. Hands roamed, exploring every inch of exposed flesh, igniting sparks that sent shivers down their spines.

His fingers fisted her hair, tugging gently as he claimed her mouth with an unmatched fervor. There was something wild and primitive about his need for her. The taste of her lips, soft and pliant, fueled his desire and left him hungry for more. She reciprocated with equal fervency, her nails digging into his back as she pulled him closer.

They stumbled backward, trying to find balance amidst the chaos of the storm of passion and need that enveloped them. There was nothing but bare skin and the sweet scent of lust hanging heavy in the air.

A flicker of uncertainty flashed through her eyes before being replaced by a resolute determination. "Yes," she breathed against his mouth, her voice husky with desire. "I want this."

With those words, any remnants of doubt or hesitation vanished into thin air. Their bodies collided once more, fusing them together in a dance as old as time itself. Pleasure washed over them in waves. Drake lifted her up and placed her in their bed, following her down and covering her body with his own. He lined his hard cock up with the entrance to her core. She was soft and wet, begging for him to thrust up into her.

With a primal growl, he sank into her depths, relishing in the tightness that enveloped him. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of ecstasy coursing through his veins. They were no longer two separate entities, but one entity melded and forged in the flames of fate and desire.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, as if urging him to explore the uncharted territories of their pleasure. He obliged willingly, setting a rhythm that matched the beat of their pounding hearts. Every thrust brought them closer to the precipice, to the edge where bliss and oblivion merged.

Their bodies moved with an innate synchrony; a harmony born from a longing so profound it transcended mere physicality. They were lost in a maelstrom of sensation, where time ceased to exist, and nothing else mattered except the pleasure they bestowed upon each other.

Her nails dug into his back, leaving crescent-shaped imprints as she arched against him, desperate for more. He obliged, reaching between them to tease her swollen clit with his thumb. Her body tensed around him in response, her walls clenching with a voracious hunger that matched his own.

The temperature in the room rose to an unbearable degree as sweat beaded on their foreheads, glistening under the dim light. The intoxicating scent of sex floated through the air.

The walls of her pussy encapsulated his cock, making it harder with every thrust. She felt like a siphon around him, begging him to fill her up.

"Fuck, Drake. This feels so good," she moaned.

Her words only added fresh tinder to the wildfire that raged within him, pushing him further into a state of primal lust. He could feel himself losing control, succumbing to the intoxicating rhythm of their bodies. Their moans intertwined, creating a symphony of pleasure that reverberated through the walls.

"Keep taking my cock, Megan," he growled.

He gripped her hips tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust deeper, harder. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, drowning out any semblance of rational thought. It was as if they'd entered a realm where only their desire mattered, where the only goal was to push each other to the pinnacle of ecstasy and beyond.

With every stroke, he sensed her unraveling beneath him. Her body trembled, her breath hitched, and he knew she was teetering on the edge. He wanted nothing more than to see her come undone, to prove to her that their bodies were in perfect sync.

Drake increased the pressure on her swollen clit with his thumb, circling it in teasing motions that elicited a throaty moan from deep within her. Her muscles tightened around him, drawing him in further as if begging for release. And when he finally granted her wish, it was like an explosion ripped through both of them.

Megan's back arched off the bed, a primal scream escaping her lips as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body. He watched as she rode out her climax, her nails leaving red trails down his back. Her orgasm triggered his own release—a veritable flood that consumed him completely.

Drake filled her up, but he wanted to keep fucking her, continuing to fill her up with his seed before collapsing on top of her, giving her his full weight before rolling to his side, and dragging her up next to him.

In the early morning light, Drake woke with a start, the bed beside him cold and empty. Panic surged through him as he realized Megan was gone. He threw on his clothes, his mind racing. She wouldn't just leave without a word, would she? If she had, he would make damn sure she would never do it again.

Rising from their bed, he walked out onto the balcony. He shifted into his dragon form, his massive wings unfurling as he took to the sky. The early morning air was crisp and clear, and he soared above the treetops, scanning for any sign of her. He reached out through the bonding link. It wasn't completely established, but it was strong enough that he could sense her direction.

Banking in what he now knew to be the direction she was heading in, he spotted her SUV on a winding road, heading away from the distillery. With a powerful dive, he landed in front of the vehicle, shifting back to his human form and forcing her to swerve off the road in order to avoid hitting him. Megan slammed on the brakes, her eyes wide with shock and anger.

"What the hell, Drake?" she yelled, throwing the door open and storming towards him. "You could have killed us both!"

Before he could respond, a flash of movement caught his eye. He realized it was a bobcat-shifter as the thing leaped from the underbrush, aiming straight for Megan. Without thinking, Drake tackled her to the ground, his body shielding her from the attack.

The bobcat's claws raked across his back, but Drake ignored the pain, rolling to his feet and shifting back into his dragon form. He roared a fierce, guttural sound that sent the shifter scurrying back into the woods.

Megan stared at him, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. "Drake…"

Reaching down to help her up, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, still shaken. "What was that?"

"Assassin," he said grimly. "We need to get out of here. Now."

He led her back to the SUV, but instead of letting her drive, he lifted her into his arms and shifted into his dragon, his massive wings carrying them both into the sky. The flight back to their home was swift, the urgency of their situation pushing him to his limits.

Once they landed, he gently set her down on the balcony, his eyes scanning for any further threats. "You're safe here," he said, his voice firm.

Megan looked at him, her eyes filled with questions. "Drake, what's going on? Why did you come after me?"

"Because I can't lose you," he said , his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face "We're in this together, Megan. No matter what."

She sighed, leaning into his touch. "I just needed some space to think."

"I know," he replied, pulling her into a tight embrace. "But we're stronger together. We'll figure this out. Together."

Megan nodded, her arms wrapping around him. Amidst the chaos and danger, they found a brief moment of peace. And for now, that would have to be enough.