Fury of Desire (24 page)

Instinct warned him. Logic hammered the truth home.

Energy-fuse was serious stuff, a magical bond, a connection that only occurred when a male’s dragon half found its mate. Not exactly something a male could fight. At least not for very long. B, Rikar, and Mac were proof enough of that, which meant sooner or later Wick would succumb too. The realization reached deep, made him ache from the inside out, stirring up ugly emotion.

Everything was about to change.

And Venom knew… just
knew
… it wouldn’t be for the better.

A warm bundle, Jamison lay like a gift in his arms. So relaxed. Too trusting. Beyond precious. Wick clenched his teeth, his footfalls echoing as he approached the magical barrier into Black Diamond. At some point in the last few hours, he’d lost his mind. It was the only explanation for his
behavior, never mind his promise. Add that to the fact he kept likening her to a
gift
and…

Jesus. No doubt about it. He needed his ass kicked. Or his brain rebooted. One or the other, and in the next few minutes. Otherwise, he’d suffer another short circuit and wade even further into the land of holy fuck. A huge first for him.

Like that damned promise.

Wick cringed. He never should’ve given his word. Being there when she woke up wasn’t a good idea. A clean break would be better for all concerned. But oh no, he’d deviated from the plan. Now he was hemmed in, stuck between two schools of thought, which… oh goody… happened to be polar opposites.

Help or hinder. Keep his promise or head for safer ground.

He couldn’t do both. Couldn’t stay and go at the same time, and as opposing forces stretched him thin, his head started to pound. He cradled Jamison closer, looking for guidance, fighting the urge to bail on her, wishing he wasn’t so screwed up. A normal male would know what to do to make it right for her. He huffed.
Normal.
Right. As if. He didn’t know what ordinary entailed. Or how to act the part.

Case in point? Jamison needed gentle. He’d never been kindhearted or soft-handed in his life. She required care and comfort. He didn’t have the first clue about how to deliver either. She trusted him to keep his word and be there for her. He couldn’t wait to put her down and beat feet in the other direction.

The comparisons made his stomach cramp.

Fucking hell. He deserved to be drawn and quartered. Hung by his entrails. Taken out and shot. Take your pick.
The method of torture didn’t matter. Not while he contemplated betraying her trust. Abandonment with the backlash of duplicity. God help him, he hated the mere idea of it. But fact was just that…
fact.
If he broke his word, he was nothing but a first-class cheat. A betrayer. A coward for abandoning the credo he’d lived by all his life. Granted, the list of principles was a short one, but at the top sat one unbendable dictate—a promise made was a promise kept.

Wick sighed. Shit. He couldn’t do it. Jamison was too important. Honor demanded he finish what he started. His dragon half concurred, refusing to let him retreat or cause her any more pain.

So… here he went, veering away from safe and straight into fucked up.

Adjusting his hold on her, Wick unleashed his magic and engaged the energy shield. Static crackled, prickling over his skin as the cave wall reacted. Solid stone rippled, turning milky white. Wick drew in another breath. Time to face the music and the females on the other side of the wall. Tania and Myst were waiting. He registered their presence inside the lair. Frustration poured off both, sending out a vibe that polluted the air as each paced, ready to tear a strip off him for keeping Jamison out on the LZ so long. Normal, he guessed. From what he knew, females liked to worry. Enjoyed coddling people too.

Not a bad thing. He was glad they cared about Jamison. But that didn’t mean he wanted either of them in his grill the second he strode over the threshold. So… new plan. One that would provide some breathing room. Enough to get him inside the clinic instead of accosted in the corridor.

He fired up mind-speak.
“Mac.”

“You coming through?”

“Yeah.”

Raising a mental fist, he thumped on the energy shield, requesting safe passage. Another major first tonight. Usually, he blasted his way through, challenging the magic that safeguarded Black Diamond from outsiders. The provocation was a test of sorts—a way to make sure the shield continued to do its job, one that played out the same way. The pissy thing enjoyed taking a chunk out of him every time he walked into the lair. Wick tucked his female closer, hoping the shield would take a pass tonight.

He didn’t need another lesson. Or any of the spell’s usual bullshit.

Jamison was already hurting. Was far too fragile to be treated to another round of pain, never mind the magical tantrum the energy shield loved to deliver.

Rolling his shoulders, Wick got ready anyway. One never knew. The shield had a mind of its own. No sense underestimating the thing.
“Make sure the females stay in the clinic.”

“Already done,”
Mac said, a female voice rising in the background. Wick’s lips twitched. Wow, she didn’t sound happy and… Mac cursed. A scraping noise came through the cosmic connection, echoing inside Wick’s head as his comrade grunted. The scuffle continued a moment before all went quiet.
“I got her. You’re good to go.”

Murmuring a “thanks,” Wick knocked on the portal again. Magic hummed. Energy surged, kicking up dust motes in the musty air. Wick kept walking, his pace smooth and even, his gaze glued to the ripple of light in front of the solid stone. One moment slid into another and—

The shield snarled and stared out through narrowed eyes, locked onto him from within the void. Adrenaline punched through. His heartbeat picked up the pace,
hammering the inside of his chest. Looping his magic end over end, he cocooned Jamison, leaving himself vulnerable as he stepped into the breach. A growl rumbled through the quiet, and Wick tensed. Any moment now, he’d see the flash and hear the whistle of—

Full of fury, the blue flame of a magical whip exploded across the abyss.

Right on his heels, Venom cursed behind him.

Upping the pace, Wick ramped into a run. Legs pumping, breath sawing in his chest, he watched the sharp multi-headed lash slice through the air. He turned his back to take the brunt. A second before the magical cat-o’-nine struck, the spell shifted focus, zeroing in on the female in his arms. Oh shit. Not good. The beast didn’t permit outsiders and…

Jamison twitched against him.

Wick bared his teeth. No way. Not going to happen. If the shield so much as touched her, he’d make it pay. Just KO the motherfucker. Rip it apart without conscience or mercy… Black Diamond and his brothers-in-arms’ reactions be damned. But as he held the line, threatening without words, the spell paused. Magic cracked like thunder. Wick felt the shift in intention a second before the beast reversed course. The whip swung wide, missing him by inches, and whirled away. The fiery tendrils vanished with a loud pop as it shoved him out the other side.

Light flared. The scent of pine floor cleaner reached him. His feet thumped down. Fighting to keep his balance, Wick cursed as his combat boots slid on polished concrete.

“Holy shit.” Shifting mid-stride, Rikar scrambled out of his way.

Breathing hard, Wick skidded to a stop in the middle of the corridor. Shock riding shotgun, he stood rooted to
the floor.
Holy shit,
indeed. Crazy too, considering the energy shield had left him untouched. He glanced down at Jamison. Relief rolled through him. Fast asleep in his arms, she was none the worse for wear. He tapped into her bio-energy anyway, wanting to make sure. Heartbeat steady. Energy levels good. Each breath soft and even.

Thank God.

“Christ, I hate it when you do that.” The grumble came from his right.

Glancing away from the top of her head, he met Rikar’s gaze.

A sour look on his puss, his XO glared at him. “Stop provoking it, and the bastard might let you through without trying to kill you every once in a while.”

“That work for you?”

“Never mind.” Amusement sparked in Rikar’s pale eyes. His mouth curved in response. He couldn’t help it. Despite the fact his XO enjoyed razzing him, he liked the tough-minded SOB. He was lethal in a fight and loyal to a fault, the kind of warrior a male wanted watching his six. “Nasty fucking thing. Always will be.”

With an “uh-huh,” Wick put his boots to good use and headed for the clinic.

“How is she?”

“Alive.”

Rikar huffed. “Always a bonus.”

No kidding. A big one too, considering the alternative. The idea of her dead, laid out on a cold slab somewhere, made his skin crawl. He didn’t want to imagine the possibility, never mind entertain it.

A few hours ago, it hadn’t mattered.

Rescuing her started out as a lark. A challenge in the form of a jailbreak. Now, though—after meeting her, holding her… talking to her—it mattered a whole hell of a lot. More than he wanted to admit. Which cranked his screw the wrong way. His fixation on her couldn’t be healthy. It was too raw. Too intense. Smacked too much of obsession to be anything other than bad. And yet, even knowing the danger, Wick couldn’t shake the fascination. Like a moth to a flame, he yearned to move toward the inferno—feel the heat, touch the flame, experience the burn—instead of doing the smart thing and back away.

The very definition of insanity.

Bypassing Rikar in the corridor, Wick strode up the slight incline. Roughhewn walls led the way, moving him past scarred stone toward his salvation. The clinic lay just ahead. Soon, he’d be able to put her down. To relinquish his responsibility, set Jamison in capable hands, and reclaim his sanity. He needed to leave her behind. Balance. Peace. A lot of quiet. Severing their connection—all the energy flowing between them—would provide all three. Retreating into the silence of his room—isolating himself from the others—would help too. But even as he acknowledged the wisdom of the plan, Wick battled the urge to hold on tight and…

Never let her go.

God, he was messed up. Beyond confused. And as Rikar kept pace alongside him, Wick considered asking the male for advice. The warrior knew a lot about females. He was mated to one, for Christ’s sake, and well… Angela seemed happy enough. So yeah. Rikar would no doubt make an excellent mentor. His XO wouldn’t bullshit him, but as Wick opened his mouth to ask, his throat closed, and he clammed
up. He didn’t know how to broach the subject, never mind word it right. Shit, he was an emotional illiterate—stunted, unsure of himself, incapable of reaching out for help—so instead of asking, he shut it down, abandoning difficult in favor of easy.

“Myst ready for us?”

“Triage is set up,” Rikar said, his boots thudding in concert with Wick’s. Running a critical eye over Jamison, he raised a brow. “Not sure the female’s gonna need it, though. She looks pretty good, all things—”

The energy shield snapped behind them.

“Goddamn it!”

Wick grinned. Things were about to get interesting. About time too. Venom had been right behind him upon entry. He should’ve come through the portal long before now.

Venom snarled as the beast spit him out. Velocity set to breakneck, he flew into the corridor, head and shoulders leading the way. Twisting in midair, arms and legs pinwheeling, he struggled to get his feet under him.

“Christ.” With a wince, Rikar grimaced. “Did I say nasty earlier?”

“You did,” Wick said, watching his friend’s free-for-all scramble.

Cursing a blue streak, Venom landed with a thud. Forward momentum made him slide. Wick winced as he collided with the stone wall. Rolling belly-up on the floor, Venom groaned, “Son of a bitch.”

“Whatcha think, Wick?”

“Eight out of ten. He didn’t stick the landing.”

“Nice,” Venom said, sarcasm out in full force. Looking ready to kill something, he pushed to his feet. As he dusted
himself off, he grumbled, “How can I hate that thing, yet love it at the same time?”

Rikar laughed.

Wick fought an eye roll, but as he continued walking, the contrast wasn’t lost on him. Love and hate. Polar opposites that created one helluva combination. One he now owned when it came to Jamison. Not that he hated her. Far from it. The way she made him feel—confused, uptight… out of control—wasn’t her fault. She’d done nothing wrong. The defect belonged to him. He was the damaged one, not her.

And yet, he continued to feed her… even though he knew he shouldn’t. It would only bring him more grief in the end. Too bad his dragon didn’t care. Despite his will to control it, instinct won out over common sense, and he submitted, allowing her to take from him. Without ever putting up a fight. She needed him too much, and as strange as it seemed, he couldn’t deny her, increasing the flow of healing energy the moment she asked for more.

Awful. Complicated. Undesirable.

All three applied, turning him inside out.

Throat gone tight, Wick shook his head. He was in big trouble, the kind that came with a label… energy-fuse. The realization cracked him wide open, making him feel sick. But even as his stomach clenched, he rejected the truth. Impossible. The conclusion couldn’t be right. He was a soulless bastard, well past the point of saving. Intimacy wasn’t his thing. He didn’t want it to be either. Every ounce of kindness—along with the instinct that drove a Dragonkind male to mate—had been beaten out of him years ago.