What a Dragon Needs

By Ava Cuvay

Dragon Council Emissary Lucia Bengtsson visits Minnesota’s clan to discover how they thwarted a recent invasion by a long-prophesized World Destroyer. What she finds is a family that welcomes her with an unquestioning warmth she’s never experienced among her own clan members, who have always judged her by the diminutive size of her Light Dragon. Only the sexy yet antagonistic Ivar Drekison offers her support even as he keeps her at arm’s-length. Arms she desperately wants wrapped around her.

Third-born son of the Star of the North clan, Ivar Drekison’s attitude is as sharp and cold as his Metal Dragon’s claws. When gorgeous yet standoffish Lucia arrives to interrogate his family on their battle strategies, he senses an underhanded betrayal brewing. While everyone else adores Lucia and her gentle manners, Ivar clashes with her in an attempt to force the truth behind her visit. In doing so, he must also battle his own overwhelming attraction to her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ava Cuvay
• Release date: Apr 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798987176320

Ava Cuvay

Ava Cuvay writes out of this world romance featuring sassy heroines, gutsy heroes, passion, adventure, and an alcoholic beverage or two... Often set in a galaxy far, far away. She resides in central Indiana with her own scruffy-looking nerfherder, kiddos who are growing up without her permission, and two kitties that make her laugh. She believes life is too short to bother with negative people, everything is better with Champagne, and Han Solo shot first. When not writing, Ava is thinking about writing. Or wine. And she’s always thinking about bacon.

Book preview

Chapter One

"T he Council sent me to understand how your clan destroyed Níðhöggr , so we can better prepare for the coming of Ragnarök."

Lucia Bengtsson forced her voice from deep within her lungs, to ensure it came out even and strong. She didn’t dare fail at making a stellar first impression on the Drekison clan leader’s family. As the Dragon Council’s representative from the motherland as well as daughter of a Council Elder, she had an image to uphold. An image which held no room for error or frailty, no matter how breathless and weak-kneed the sight of these four handsome dragon shifter brothers made her.

The rumors about these men didn’t exaggerate. Descended from Vikings like most dragon clans, yet born and raised in America, they were larger and more physically intimidating than the tall, svelte Norwegian shifters she called brethren. Massive, powerful, and fierce. And gorgeous in a brash, unapologetically sexual manner. She was no wilting flower, but her senses and self-control were nearly overwhelmed by their combined presence.

Especially the one lounging in the wooden Adirondack chair with a beer bottle dangling from his casual grip, his eyebrows quirked in haughty suspicion. While the others were as blond and blue-eyed as she, this brother was dark. Milk-chocolate-brown hair that cascaded in thick waves past his shoulders and a full, dark-chocolate beard a couple weeks past well-kept. Eyebrows the same shade arched over hazel eyes with honeyed tones that should offer warmth, but instead sent slivers of ice down her spine.

This brother was Ivar, according to the files her father had demanded she study on her flight across the Atlantic. A demand she did not require for she was fascinated about this clan, its members, and their amazing success in battle. What was their secret? How had they managed to defeat Níðhöggr the prophesized World Destroyer?

In person, Ivar was as cold as his picture in the files. That two-dimensional image was nearly twenty years old, so could not possibly capture the man he’d become. Rugged good looks—wind-tousled hair, torn jeans, work boots, and a dark cotton shirt unbuttoned at the throat—such a contrast to the refined, meticulous self-care of her fellow Norwegian dragon clan members. Yet the picture had managed to convey Ivar’s arrogant demeanor. Merely the third-son of this clan’s alpha, and not slated to be the successor alpha or even beta, he relaxed in the family’s spacious back yard, next to an odd tossing game she’d heard called cornhole, as if he were a king on the throne surveying his empire and seeing nothing of worth. Especially her.

The sensation of being found lacking shouldn’t unnerve her, having known such all her life from her own father, the other Council members, and most of the members of her clan. No matter that she’d grown into a tall woman endowed with a sharp intellect and a curving figure rivaling the Alpine ski slopes, she would always be just a slip of a Light Dragon. Useless in battle because dragons could see in the dark so had no need of her singular ability, and because she was too small to fight.

As Ivar’s cold gaze swept over her body without a single flicker of approval, her nerves gave way to resignation. Apparently, her reputation had preceded her here to Minnesota. That fact hurt more than she cared to admit.

Arkyn, the eldest son, inclined his head to her, his voice warm and respectful. "Miss Bengtsson, if you want to know how we defeated Níðhöggr, you should direct your question to our youngest brother."

He swept a hand to indicate the shorter brother, who leaned against the sturdy wood railing of the back deck, his arm draped around the shoulders of a petite Asian woman.

That woman must be Wu Lin, the black dragon, the Jewel of the East. The Council’s ancient texts had mentioned a jewel would be the key to defeating Níðhöggr, the prophesized World Destroyer which had arrived earlier this year. The Dragon Council and all the clans had been training for Níðhöggr’s arrival for generations, with little hope of success because they lacked the jewel. Their years of searching had proven fruitless because they had translated the ancient texts too literally; they’d assumed the Jewel of the East was an actual gemstone, when the texts had apparently referred to a person. To Lin, and her black dragon. The Drekison clan, specifically Ty, had solved that puzzle. With Lin’s help, they had accomplished what the other clans could not: they defeated a celestial entity the size of a continent.

Lucia had expected this great dragon jewel to be… bigger. Most women would feel petite next to these four hulking men, and Lucia was no exception even with her height above the average for Norwegian women. But Wu Lin was slender as a reed and appeared too young and frail to even lift a broadsword, much less defeat the World Destroyer.

Arkyn crossed his arms over his broad chest with a nonchalant shrug. "Our brother Ty is the one who figured out how to destroy Níðhöggr. For all our years of training and effort, we would have lost if not for him. And Lin."

Lucia turned to ask her question directly to Ty, but he seemed to have forgotten her—and everyone else—and had pulled Lin closer to his side to nuzzle her silky black hair.

He just got lucky, dontcha know. Ivar snorted with disdain and a dismissive wave of his beer. Like the others, he spoke in a brash, wide sound with long Os and flat As. The strange sing-song pattern was both disconcerting and melodic. He had himself a hot box and became a military mastermind—

For cripes sake, ya ass! Ty whirled on the seated brother, fists clenched and the cheeks above his thick beard flushed in fury. Iridescent scales flexed beneath the suddenly transparent skin on his forearms, his white dragon obviously demanding battle. Lucia had lived her whole life surrounded by volatile dragon shifters, but the power of Ty’s rage still shocked. He growled. Watch how you talk about my fiancée or I’ll rip your spine out!

"Uffdah! You blow up one gigantic entity and think that gives you balls the size of Paul Bunyan." Ivar’s relaxed demeanor morphed into battle-ready tension. Helvete! She’d only been here a few minutes and had already incited a family feud. The Council would be disappointed in her. Again.

Ivar jerked a hand in Ty’s direction. "I was making a Chinese food reference, fífl. Ya know, for Lin. What the hell did you think I meant?"

Ty opened his mouth to respond, but his jaw snapped shut and he looked at Lin, who seemed unfazed by Ivar’s caustic tone and words. She chuckled and patted Ty’s arm as if to reassure him, an enigmatic smile on her bold red lips. They gazed at each other for the span of a blink, which might have been merely two people in love but Lucia sensed there was more. As if some silent conversation occurred. Lucia’s parents often communicated with each other by a simple look, but that was due to years of marriage. Ty and Lin did not have such a lengthy relationship. Yet something in that moment had calmed Ty’s outrage, the scales beneath his skin retreating.

"Dude, I think you mean hotpot. Not hot box." Lin rolled her eyes at Ivar. Except for her exasperated dooood, her words had different vocal inflections from the others. More rounded and relaxed, with a questioning rise on the end of her statement.

Yeah. Those portioned dishes that keep foods from touching each other. Like TV dinners. The smirk on Ivar’s face was enough to shed doubt on how accidental his word choice had been.

"Okay, well that would be a bento box, which is primarily Japanese, not Chinese. We have a hotpot, which is a simmering soup stock with raw meats and vegetables on the side. The customer spears the food and cooks them in the communal pot."

The concept of the hotpot sounded like the renowned Swiss dish, and Lucia jumped at the chance to connect with these New Worlders. Ah, like Swiss fondue!

Absolutely. Lin smiled and nodded. "Just a variation on the theme. In fact, I think the Swiss have a Fondue Chinoise derived from our hotpot. Similar to the Fondue Bourguignonne—"

So your restaurant makes people cook their own food? Ivar interjected with a derisive snort.

Ty growled but Lin chuckled, unperturbed by Ivar’s condescension. "When they order the hotpot, yes. I also make them put the food in their own mouths and chew it themselves."

Ivar’s expression was aloof, even as the rest of the family laughed. But his lips flinched slightly upward before he took a drink from his beer. He hid a smile.

The rumors about the Jewel of the East were true. Lin might be small in stature, but she had all the self-assurance of a true Shield Maiden. Lucia couldn’t halt the ugly thread of jealousy which bloomed in her chest. This dragon shifter, who no one had known existed until mere months ago, had earned more admiration from the Council and all the clans than Lucia had earned her entire life. Even the surly Ivar seemed to enjoy Lin’s feisty spirit.

Lucia shouldn’t harbor these ugly feelings. Lin wasn’t to blame for the fact Lucia had struggled for every bit of standing she’d acquired, even with her father as an esteemed Council Elder. Normal Norwegians were incredibly egalitarian in their views of genders, acknowledging that women and men were equally capable. Unfortunately, dragon shifters espoused a more antiquated social hierarchy based on sheer power. And power always came from size. Lucia’s dragon lacked both.

Ya know, family gatherings weren’t this fun until you came along, Lin. Ulrik, the second-born brother, laughed from where he stood by the hot grill, flipping patties of ground meat and thick sausages. You’re the only one who can throw Ivar’s bullshit back in his face and get away with it.

That’s only because he knows he’d have to fight both of us. Ty handed Lin a small glass of clear liquid he’d poured from a brightly colored red and white bottle on the table. He can’t take us both, and she’s already kicked his ass once.

Lin clinked her glass to Ty’s with a cheerful Ganbei, and took a sip. I pinned him once because the element of surprise was on my side. That’s not an ass-kicking.

Arkyn made room for another place setting at the large patio table. It’s because he knows he’d be messing with Mother’s only current chance at grandchildren. She’d donate his body to the VFW meat raffle if he messed with that.

After she butchered him herself. Ulrik added.

Ivar stood in one fluid motion and headed toward the sliding screen door, his face set in what must be his resting expression of bored disdain. He stepped close enough Lucia warmed from the heat radiating off his body. Or was that her own temperature rising?

I’m just gonna squeeze right past ya there. He murmured as his arm brushed against hers, even though there was plenty of room to pass.

If he’d cut her with a knife, she wouldn’t have been more surprised, and she barely halted the instinctive flinch at his voluntary contact. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stifle the soft gasp that passed her lips. She flicked a glance at his face. Still bored disdain, but with a devious lift to one side of his mouth and a glint of humor in his eyes. Before she could discern his reaction or apologize for hers, he had stepped past.

"Ivar, grab Miss Bengtsson