Fury of Desire (45 page)

Jesus be merciful. Forge.

The warrior was in bad shape. Worse than
bad.
He looked dead: unconscious, toes of his boots dragging on the ground, blood covering his torso—as Mac and Wick carried him into the clinic, leaving bloody streaks on the floor in their wake.

Head pounding like a motherfucker, Wick lifted his injured comrade onto the examination table.
Injured.
Fuck, what an understatement. Forge was torn wide open, still bleeding like a sieve, so close to death Wick didn’t know what to do. Scream in agony for his fallen comrade. Or pick up a scalpel and gut himself for hurting his friend.

Death seemed preferable. To the pain. To the shame. To the guilt.

Fisting his hands in his hair, he stepped back from the table, but refused to look away. From the blood. From the gaping wounds. From the certain knowledge he’d put Forge at death’s door. Fucking hell. He’d done this. Was the cause and effect. The one responsible for all the chaos and pain. Had he done his job and stuck to the plan, instead of jumping the gun—going off half-cocked into battle, dragging his pack with him—his comrade wouldn’t be laid out on the table. A heartbeat away from losing his life.

His fault. It was all his fault.

“Jesus,” he rasped, glancing down at his hands. Smeared with blood, he watched them tremble. His throat clogged as remorse and self-loathing collided. The sound of ripping fabric brought his head back up. An intense expression on her face, Myst cut Forge’s blood-soaked shirt away, revealing the extent of the wounds. His eyes stung as he met her gaze. “You have to save him. Please save him, Myst. What can I do? Tell me what to—”

“Get out of the way,” she said, her tone so calm it jolted him. In control. In command of her domain. In her element. The realization gave Wick hope. He took a step back. And then another, giving her space, doing what she asked, praying hard as his shoulder blades collided with the back wall. “And get Sloan. I need another set of hands.”

Pacing the floor in front of him, Mac spun toward the exit.

The glass doors slid open.

“I’m here.” Sloan sprinted into the room, cutting Mac off. “Talk to me.”

Her hand rose, then fell as Myst sewed another suture. “Get an IV going.”

“On it.” Boots thumping, Sloan rounded the end of the table. He slid to a stop next to a rolling table. Grabbing a bag filled with clear liquid, he prepped the kit, and working around Myst, pierced Forge’s vein. Tape hissed as Sloan peeled it from the roll. As he secured the IV, he treated Wick to a worried look. “Get Angela and J. J. in here. Myst can’t feed him because of her pregnancy, and he needs an infusion of energy. And Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“Go get Tania. We may need her too.”

Mac nodded. Wick cringed as his buddy ran for the exit. Shit. Jamison feeding Forge. The idea struck him as dangerous. Particularly since the thought made his dragon half rise with aggression. A bonded male didn’t share his female. Ever. But as he watched Myst work, Wick knew no other option existed. Nothing else would work. Forge needed to feed. If he didn’t, the warrior would die. Wouldn’t survive the hour, never mind last the day. Even with the energy-fuse, he might not make it anyway, but—

The airlock hissed, opening the door into the corridor.

Out of breath, Jamison jogged into the clinic. “Mac said you needed us.”

“What can we do?” Angela asked.

“A lot.” Eyeballing Jamison, Sloan waved her over. “J. J., you first. Come here. I’ll talk you through it.”

With a nod, his female headed toward the table. A growl rolled up Wick’s throat. Primitive. Possessive. Predatory. The soft snarl curled through the quiet. Like razor-sharp dragon claws, warning gouged at the underbelly of sanity, taking Wick out of his head into another place. A space
where instinct ruled and logic didn’t live. His gaze on his female, he bared his teeth. Magic thundered through him, rumbling in his veins, making him twitch with the need to possess her.

His hands curled into fists, Wick took a step toward her.

Seeing his expression, Jamison sucked in a quick breath, and halfway across the clinic, stopped short. Her gaze locked on him, she whispered his name. In welcome. With need. With so much heat, Wick lost all sense of himself and his surroundings.

He wanted her. Right now. He needed to dominate. Prove his dominion and show everyone that Jamison belonged to him. She was his.

All
his.
No one else’s.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Dark eyes shimmering, Sloan fired up mind-speak.
“Venom, get your ass in here. Bring B and Rikar with you. Wick’s losing it.”

Staring at him, Jamison licked her bottom lip. Lust spiraled deep, igniting a longing so profound Wick couldn’t contain it. Another growl rolled out of him. Venom skidded to a stop in front of the clinic with B and Rikar on his heels. A cacophony of cursing drifted in from the corridor. Unclenching his fists, Wick went after his female. His best friend vaulted over the threshold. In less than a second, Venom grabbed hold. Fighting the lockdown, Wick spun full circle and raised his arm. Bone cracked against bone.

Venom’s face snapped to the side. “Goddamn it!”

He cranked his fist back again. Right. Wrong. Neither held sway. Only one thing mattered. Jamison. He needed to reach her. Now. Before anyone touched her.

“Oh my God.” Shock flared in his female’s eyes. The uncertainty came next, making her raise her hands. She held
them palms up, the gesture one of reassurance. “Wick, stop. It’s all right. Don’t—”

He lunged toward her, dragging Venom with him.

“Fuck,” Bastian growled, entering the fray. Electricity crackled, supercharging the air. Hard hands clamped down. Wick roared as he got hauled backward. Away from Jamison. Over the threshold. Out of the clinic into the hallway. Tag-teamed by B and Venom, he struggled, muscles straining, shitkickers sliding on concrete, his dragon half fixated on
her.
He surged forward again. Bastian’s grip slipped. “Holy shit. Rikar…”

“Got him.” Frost spread over his leather jacket as Rikar joined the party. With a roar, Wick twisted. His XO cursed and went hard core, pushing arctic air into his lungs. Oxygen disappeared. He wheezed, using what little remained to yell “no!” as his brothers dragged him from view. “Sloan… get it done, then get her into the corridor. We’ll keep him locked down until she’s finished.”

Flipping him belly down, Bastian pinned him to the concrete floor. Still fighting, Wick tried to break his hold. B dropped another f-bomb, and grabbing his arm, cranked it behind his back. Then sat on him while Rikar secured his legs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my brother, but Forge needs it. He
needs
it, Wick.”

“No,” he rasped, even though he knew the truth. But shit, it wasn’t about being reasonable. Or doing the right thing. The territorial bastard inside him had taken over. Now he couldn’t control his reaction. Or think straight. “She’s mine.
Mine.
I can’t… don’t…”

“I know.” On his haunches beside him, Venom cupped the back of his head. “But it’ll be over soon. Hang tough. Just give it some time.”

Some time?
To what… feed another male? Fuck that. “Let go.”

Bastian tightened his grip. “In a minute.”

One minute turned into two. And then four. Wick counted off the seconds, each ticktock drove him closer to the edge of insanity. Taut muscles grew tenser, then started to shake. Venom murmured, trying to calm him. It didn’t help. He wanted to kill everyone. Rip his brothers limb from limb for getting in his way. For throwing Jamison in the hot seat, and him into emotional meltdown. And as mind fuck expanded, turning his skull into a pressure cooker, Wick groaned in agony. Even after years of battle, all the injuries, he’d never felt pain like this. Wretched. Debilitating. Life-altering anguish. It drilled deep, boring into him until heartache bubbled through the fissure, hollowing him out until all that remained was an empty shell.

His face pressed to cold concrete, Wick moaned her name.

“Here, baby. I’m right here,” a soft voice whispered from behind him. Her scent reached him on a heated curl. Wick exhaled hard, needing every little piece of her. “Please, take your hands off him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, J. J.,” Rikar said, refusing to let him up.

“He’s too wound up. He might—”

“He won’t hurt me. I can handle him, Bastian. Please, let go.”

B loosened his grip. Baring his teeth, Wick threw off the clampdown. An explosive surge landed him on his feet. His brothers scattered, backing off as he spun to face his female. Serious blue eyes met his. Whispering his name, she reached for him. He didn’t hesitate. Desperate for her,
he exploded into her arms. Palming her bottom, he picked her up, wrapped her legs around his hips, and dipping his head, invaded her mouth. Unable to resist, he tangled his tongue with hers. With a hum, she buried her small hands in his hair. Heat went cataclysmic as desire blew sky-high. She kissed him harder, opening wide, inviting him in, her nails scraped over his scalp, her hips rocking into his, egging him on.

Shivers exploded down his spine. Oh God. Jesus help him. She tasted so good. So hot. So needy. So sweet. And as he deepened the kiss and carried her down the hall, Wick knew he was done. On the verge, about to ignore right and dive headfirst into wrong. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t resist her allure. Or stop the awful pull.

Pure madness. Selfishness made manifest.

But Wick didn’t care. He needed her. She wanted him. So fuck it. He would take her. Make her slick with need. Ride her long and hard. Let her love him blind in return. The future didn’t matter. Tomorrow could wait along with the consequences.

Stripped to the skin, laid out in the middle of the gym, J. J. struggled to catch her breath. An impossibility. Wick refused to let up. Or give her a break. He pinned her to the exercise mat instead, driving her toward pleasure and the pinnacle waiting at its summit. As she gasped, begging for release, he growled her name. Showed her no mercy. Spread her thighs wider. Thrust deep only to retreat and come back, making her moan as he pushed her beyond reality into a world fueled by passion. By devastating delight and—

Oh God. Ecstasy times a million.

He moved like a dream. Felt unbelievable in her arms, and she wanted more. More of his scent on her skin. More of his taste on her tongue. More of the pleasure he fed her.

But only if he let her come. Right now.

“Wick…”

“Mmm, baby.”

“Now… please, now.”

“Not yet.” Planting one hand beside her ear, he palmed her knee with the other, drew it up, pushed it out, opening her wider. He stroked even deeper. Her breath caught, bliss unfurling fast, the fury of it driving her closer to the edge.
Wick raised his head. Shimmering gold eyes met hers. He snarled at her. She sobbed, so ready to come she clenched hard, the pleasure-pain making her writhe beneath him. “Not until I say.”

“No fair.”

“No one said it would be fair,” he rasped, chest brushing over hers. “No mercy,
vanzäla.
”

“Why?”

Dipping his head, he licked over her nipple. “I still smell him on you.”

“What… oh Jesus,” she gasped, losing her mind as he sucked, drawing on the sensitive peak. He nipped the tip, then moved on, lavishing its mate with equal treatment. God help her. He was going to kill her… with rapture. Normally not a problem. She wanted to die happy, but as heat spread, setting a blaze beneath her skin, need turned to desperation. “W-who?”

With a growl, he upped the pace, rocking her hard, punishing her with pleasure. A bliss-filled cry left her throat. Beyond pride, she arched, grinding her hips into his. Sensation spiked, then spiraled on a jagged wave. Catastrophic. Desperate. Beautiful. Desire turned incendiary.

His breath hitched.

J. J. pressed her advantage.

“It’s mine.
Mine
… do you hear?” Fisting her hands in his hair, she pulled his head down and licked into his mouth. He groaned. She took it up a notch and sent her hands searching. Caressing his back, she pressed her palms to the base of his spine. He bucked in her embrace. She sucked on his tongue and… yum. He tasted like exotic lands and spiced rum. A deadly combination, one that made her bold.
Breaking the kiss, she bared her teeth. “I want it. Give it to me. Now!”