NOVPUBWarlock Ch 419. Seducing a Dragon
Damian followed Lysandra's silent gesture and dropped onto one of the chairs near the long, cold-looking table at the center of the hall. She didn't sit across from him like a normal person. No, of course not. She slid into the seat next to him, just close enough that he could feel the ripple of her mana brushing against his.
Subtle power play.
Dragons didn't waste energy if they didn't have to—and proximity was dominance without lifting a finger.
Damian slouched slightly in his chair, stretching his legs out lazily like he couldn't care less.
It was an act. Every hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up.
He opened his mouth to talk.
And Lysandra spoke first.
"You reek of sex," she said, blunt as a war hammer.
Damian choked a little on air, freezing halfway through a breath.
Lysandra leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, one pale eyebrow arching in faint amusement. "And not just any sex," she continued, cool and detached like she was listing combat maneuvers. "You just did it with the fae princess. I can smell her blood."
Damian pressed his lips into a tight, flat line.
Right. 𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑝𝘶𝘣.𝑐𝘰𝘮
Dragon senses.
Of course.
Because why wouldn't today get even better?
He sighed through his nose, raking a hand through his hair.
"Yeah," he said, tone resigned. "I just slept with her. It's mutual, okay? No complaints. Nobody kidnapped. Consent everywhere. Can we move on?"
Lysandra's lips twitched again in that barely-there smirk.
"Mutual, huh?" she said, tapping a fingertip lightly against the stone table. "Interesting."
She leaned in slightly, close enough that Damian could feel the heat of her breath near his ear.
"If cooperation with you," she murmured, voice dropping into something almost… wicked, "means sharing a bed... does that mean I have to sleep with you too?"
Damian blinked.
Once.
Twice.
His brain bluescreened for a solid second.
Then he coughed, glancing sideways at her with a dry, unimpressed expression. "Depends," he said. "I'm afraid you'd kill me halfway through."
Lysandra chuckled—a low, rich sound that vibrated through the air between them.
"Fair enough," she said, leaning back again, the faintest glint of amusement in her golden eyes.
Damian shook his head, muttering, "Freakin' dragons," under his breath before finally straightening in his chair, dropping the lazy act.
Business time.
He folded his hands loosely in front of him on the table and met her gaze squarely.
"Why did I come here?" he echoed. "Simple. I need your help."
Lysandra didn't blink. Didn't move. Just watched him, waiting.
"The vault," Damian continued. "The Central Archive. We're hitting it tonight."
Her expression didn't change.
Not surprised. Not impressed.
Just listening.
Damian appreciated that more than he wanted to admit.
"It's not a clean operation," he added. "The fae nobles have their claws in it. The Senate might too. The kidnappings, the fake rumors about Selena… all of it's tied together."
Still no reaction.
Damian exhaled slowly.
"I'm not stupid enough to think we can get through it without a fight. Hell, we're probably going to be walking into a goddamn bloodbath. Guardians, curses, traps, political hit squads—you name it."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But if we don't move, they'll kill Cedric. And then they'll come for Selena. And then they'll come for everyone else."
A muscle ticked in Lysandra's jaw.
Progress.
Damian pushed a little more.
"I've got Cassius," he said. "I've got Victoria. Evelyn. Some shadows. It's not nothing. But it's not enough if the Senate's really mobilizing. If Marenvell and Ralvek's pulling ancient weapons out of their asses."
He met her gaze head-on, voice low, steady.
"I need an ally who can stand toe-to-toe with the real monsters."
A pause.
Then, almost reluctantly:
"I need you."
The words hung between them like a sword.
Damian didn't look away.
He didn't beg.
He just asked.
Because that's what trust looked like now—
A gamble.
A hand reaching into the dark and hoping it didn't come back bloody.
For a long moment, Lysandra said nothing.
Her eyes were unreadable, the only sound the faint crackle of mana humming through the air between them.
Then—slowly, deliberately—she stood.
Damian tensed automatically, muscles coiling under his skin.
She paced away a few steps, her armor whispering against itself, before turning back to face him.
"You know," she said, voice quiet, "the dragon tribes aren't supposed to interfere."
Damian nodded once. "I know."
She tilted her head slightly.
"But you're asking me to choose. To pick a side."
"Yeah," Damian said without apology. "Because if you don't pick a side now... there won't be a Haven left to stay neutral about."
Silence.
The light shifted through the high windows, casting long, dramatic shadows across the stone floor.
Finally, Lysandra exhaled through her nose.
"You are reckless, Kaelan," she said. "You always were."
"I'm aware," Damian said, deadpan.
"But," she added, stepping closer, her voice softer now, "you were also right more often than you were wrong."
Damian blinked, surprised despite himself.
Lysandra smiled faintly—sharp and knowing.
"And besides," she said lightly, "watching you flail around without me would be boring."
He barked a short laugh.
"So that's a yes?"
She rolled her eyes in an almost human gesture.
"It's a conditional yes," she corrected. "I'll help you tonight. But after that, we reevaluate. Understood?"
"Understood," Damian said immediately, standing too.
They shook hands—hers strong, calloused, warm even through her gauntlet.
And in that moment, despite every logical instinct screaming that this was still a stupid gamble, Damian felt a flicker of something dangerously close to hope.
Maybe... just maybe... they had a fighting chance after all.
As they pulled apart, Lysandra smirked faintly.
"One last thing, Warlock," she said, voice low and teasing.
Damian raised a brow.
"If you survive tonight..." she leaned closer, her breath brushing his ear, "maybe I will test that mutual agreement theory of yours."
Damian swallowed hard.
"You're joking," he said weakly.
Lysandra just laughed, a rich, wicked sound, as she turned away.
And Damian?
Damian had to seriously reevaluate his very fragile survival plan.
Because somehow, seducing a dragon might end up being the least dangerous part of tonight.
And that was saying something.
