Fury of Fire (33 page)

Leading the Nightfury warriors, Bastian came through the clouds. Condensation wicking from his wing tips, he leveled out over southern Seattle, city lights nothing but pinpricks below him. Flying fast, he sent his signal out in a wide sweep. Each ping looped back, directing him as scent, sound, and sonar fed him information.

The police station had been a bust. Thirty seconds circling the scene told him everything he needed to know. The precinct wall had a hole blown in the side of it, and the cops didn’t have a clue.

But he did.

Ivar. The rogue prick.

Bastian growled, baring his fangs in the cold night air. The male had taken Myst. Now she was in the hands of a psychopath without an off switch.

Inhaling deep, Bastian exhaled long and slow. He needed to keep it together. Losing his mind wouldn’t help his female, but if Ivar touched one hair on her precious head…if that asshole…

Fuck no. He couldn’t go there. Fear was useful only when turned to a purpose, and so he shaped it, honing it into a lethal weapon to use against the enemy.

No mercy. There would be no mercy tonight.

Dropping down low, he skimmed skyscrapers, mining the electrostatic bands to find Myst. Her energy was like a radio wave, a magical bandwidth with a unique signature that he could lock onto and—

His head snapped to the right. South. He needed to fly further south. She was down near the waterfront, among ocean freighters and concrete piers. Bastian banked hard and snarled in triumph. He could smell her now. Feel Myst as she sent out her energy to link with his own. He murmured in his mind, praising her through their connection, hoping she could hear him. Feel him. And know he was coming for her.

“Got her,”
he said, mind-speaking to the five flying behind him in V formation.

Rikar answered,
“You locked on?”

“Port of Seattle…the shipping containers.”

“Interesting place for an ambush.”
Rolling through the cloud cover, Venom’s green scales flashed as he took up the wingman spot on Bastian’s right.

Wick came up on his left.
“How many?”

“A fuck load.”
Bastian’s eyes narrowed.
“I sense seventeen.”

“The Scot?”
Per usual, Rikar took the shadow position, moving up and over to fly above Bastian’s spine.

“I don’t feel him among them,”
he said as Sloan completed the fighting pyramid and flew in beneath him. Surrounded on all sides by his warriors, Bastian dipped low, increasing his speed as the shipyard came into view. Spread out over a square mile, the Port of Seattle was a huge enterprise: a tangled web of shipping containers, cranes, concrete docks, and cargo ships. He zeroed in on the most remote section.

“Wick…you ready?”

Gold and black scales glinting in the moonlight, his warrior patted the electro-magnetic gun strapped to his forepaw.
“If the fucker sticks his head out, I’ll nail him.”

“Christ…a full sentence, Wick. What the fuck?”
Rikar grinned, showing fang as the others laughed.

“Fuck off,”
Wick said, getting back on his usual roll…two syllables.

Bastian ignored the byplay, too focused on Myst to join in their pre-fight ritual. Shooting the shit before battle settled his warriors, moving them into battle-zone mentality. But with his female in the mix, he didn’t want calm. He wanted rage, and as she reached out for him, he locked on, following the road map she drew him. His chest went tight. X marks the spot. Yeah…right there. He could practically see her. Less than a mile away, she was hidden in a shipping container at the back of the lot.

“Show time, boys.”
Dialed in, he fixated on his female, reading her energy. It was still strong, her life force undiminished by the fear he sensed in her. As relief rushed through him, the lethal side of him took hold, pushing him into brutality.
“Go in hot. Take all the motherfuckers out. Understood?”

“Fucking A,”
his warriors growled as a unit.

Following Bastian’s lead, they came in over the water, flying over a freighter and in between industrial cranes. A rumble sounded as Razorbacks—hidden behind steel and concrete—took flight, launching into a blitz attack, filling the moonlight sky with flashes of colorful scales.

Flipping up and over, Venom broke ranks and rotated into a spiral. He inhaled deep and exhaled smooth. With a hiss, poisonous gas rolled out in front of him, a combo of neuro-toxins and vaporized fuel. Bastian rolled hard, getting the hell out of the way. As he changed course, the toxic cloud blanketed the sky, stalling Razorbacks in mid-flight, stealing the air from their lungs an instant before Wick breathed out. Blue-white flame streamed from his throat as Wick lit the fuse on Venom’s special brand of poison and…

Kaboom!

Steel groaned as the blast went nuclear, rolling out in a toxic wave. Shipping containers flew like cardboard boxes, flipping end over end. Blown out of the sky, three Razorbacks fell, ashing out as the others scattered. Bastian jacked up the invisibility cloak, wrapping the shipyard up tight. The only human he wanted to see tonight was Myst and, well…now, that she carried his child she wasn’t 100 percent human anymore. And as he engaged a Razorback, slicing through scale and bone to snap the rogue’s neck, he couldn’t help thinking, “Fantastic, just one more thing to fuck me up.”

Myst wasn’t going to like it when he told her that.

Trapped inside the shipping container, Myst scrambled as Ivar came at her like a heavyweight boxing champion. She veered right. He countered and, swinging his arm, back-handed her. The strike sent her sideways, snapping her head back, and as her cheek throbbed, her blood flowed, filling her mouth before sliding down her throat. She gagged, but didn’t buckle. No way would she bend. The bastard could hammer her into unconsciousness, but she wouldn’t give him a single drop…not one ounce of the energy surging inside her.

Ivar raised his hand again. This time she saw the whites of his knuckles and a closed fist, not an open palm. He was running out of patience, and she, out of time.

Stay strong. Stay strong.

The blow hammered her in the ribcage. She listed sideways and fell, hitting the steel floor with a thud. Pink eyes glowing with a fierceness that terrified her, Ivar reached down, fisted his hand in her hair and hauled her to her feet.

“Give me what I want.”

Even knowing she fought a losing battle, she struggled anyway, refusing to let him win; to be a victim and go down without a fight. “No.”

“Fucking female,” he said, breathing hard, ripping at her hair with his grip.

“Asshole male,” she rasped as he pushed her face-first into the wall. “You like hurting those weaker than you, don’t you? You get off on it. What happens, Ivar, when someone is as strong as you…do you run and hide? Yeah, that’s your style, isn’t it? It’s why you won’t take on Bastian. He’d kick your ass…and you know it.”

With a growl, he shook her. Her head snapped back, and Myst reevaluated her strategy. Taunting him wasn’t the best plan. But, God. What else could she do? She needed to buy time…enough for Bastian to reach her. Keeping Ivar pissed off and engaged with her meant that he wasn’t out organizing his warriors. From what she knew, the Razorbacks required leadership in a fight. Without a strong leader pulling the strings, Ivar’s warriors would fold, allowing the Nightfuries to breach their defenses. Once behind enemy lines, Bastian and the others would take the enemy out one by one.

At least, she hoped so. She didn’t know how much more of Ivar she could take.

“No answer, Ivar? Are you so afraid of my mate that—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Shoving her against the wall, he pressed his chest to her back, crushing her between himself and the steel wall. As she struggled, he kicked at her feet, spreading her legs to thrust his thigh between her own. The invasion pressed hard muscle against her core. Pressure banded around her ribcage, stealing her air as he growled, “Maybe I’ve been going at you the wrong way. Maybe I should just fuck you instead.”

Oh, God…no. A beating she could endure, but rape? Would she be able to hold onto the energy…to hold it back and deny him as he assaulted her? Myst squeezed her eyes shut.
Stay strong. Stay strong.
She repeated the mantra over and over, biting down on a whimper as Ivar slid his hand beneath her shirt.

His palm settled flat on her bare belly. “Now, who’s the one with no answer?”

Fighting his hold, she screamed, rage driving her. The battle cry echoed, and she pushed against the wall with her bound hands. “Screw you!”

“Absolutely…let’s get to it.”

Hot breath in her ear, he tugged at the string holding her scrub bottoms in place. She bucked, flailing against his immobilizing hold, rebelling against his touch. The knot slipped. The cotton covering her hips slid an inch. Unable to hold them back, tears flooded her eyes. But Myst refused to let a single one fall. She wouldn’t give Ivar the satisfaction. He could go to hell. Bastian would send him there then—

Boom!

The explosion sounded a second before the blast wave hit. Metal groaned as the shipping container rocked, sending Ivar back a step. Thrown with him, Myst stumbled and then crumpled when Ivar dropped her. Hinges whined, the shriek of rusty steel reverberating in the enclosed space a moment before the door opened.

Lothair stuck his head inside. His dark eyes found Ivar. “Nightfuries…coming in fast.”

“Good.” His mouth curved up at the corners, he glanced at Myst. “He’s taken the bait. Is the C-four set?”

“Yeah.”

“Get that bastard in the pipe. Let’s blow the horns off his fucking head.” Ivar’s pink irises flashed, and Myst went tense with dread. Without taking his gaze from her, he pulled another flex cuff from his back pocket. As he approached, she rolled in the other direction, trying to get up. Not that she had anywhere to run. Not with Lothair blocking the exit, and Ivar bearing down on her like a freight train.

Just as she made it to her feet, he grabbed her ankle and yanked. She cried out, hitting the floor hard. Kicking out with her free foot, she aimed for his head. He dodged, slipped the plastic cuff around her ankle, and then went after the other one. Within seconds, he caught her, immobilizing her feet like her hands.

“Be a good female and stay put.” Patting the top of her head like a dog, he smiled, pushed to his feet, and headed for the door. As he joined Lothair, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be back to finish what I started later, sweetheart.”

The double doors banged behind him. She heard a series of clicks and…

Oh, no. He’d locked her in, securing the door from the outside.

Curled on her side, a terrible chill sank deep, seeping into the place where hope lived, obliterating it with one sure stroke. Myst closed her eyes. Without that lock, she might’ve had a chance. Even with her hands and feet bound, she could’ve inchwormed her way to freedom. Gotten out the door and into the alley between containers. Now? She was screwed…stuck waiting for a rescue that might never come.

“Bastian,” she whispered, finding solace in the sound of his name. “I’m here. Right here. Find me.”

Before Ivar comes back.

She didn’t voice the words. Couldn’t bring herself to say Ivar’s name. Not out loud. It seemed a kind of sacrilege, a way to give power to the enemy, and crazy or not, she refused to perpetrate the betrayal. From now on, he would be known as “the asshole” in her heart and mind.

Fighting to stay calm, Myst rocked against the steel floor. The back and forth motion helped clear the fear-induced fog. Little by little, her mind sharpened, allowing her to play out different scenarios. The game of “what if” made her feel more prepared, gave her answers to implausible questions. “If he does that, I’ll do this.”

Another explosion, closer this time, made the container sway. As it shifted and groaned, vibration rumbled beneath her, rattling her bones. Pain followed, reminding her of the beating. The bruises, she could handle. The fear of Ivar coming back? Not so much.

Against her will, her teeth started to chatter. Sensation flickered, ghosting down her spine. Bastian. God, he was close. So very close.

Rolling onto her back, she stared at the corrugated roof and screamed his name over and over, choking on the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer. Each shout came out on a sob and, twisting her wrists, she struggled to break the plastic cuffs. All she needed was a little leeway. If she could get one hand out. If she could just…

“Come on. Come on.” Stupid flex cuffs. The things worked better than ropes and chains. The plastic didn’t give at all. “Goddamn it.”

She tried her legs, flexing her feet to get her shoes off. Maybe without the Reeboks she could—

An unearthly shriek sounded overhead. Myst froze and looked up at the ceiling, afraid the asshole was coming back for her. She flinched as a clang rippled through the air. A low growl came next, then the sound of claws raking steel. Myst worked faster, rocking like a mental patient as she fought imprisonment and her terror.