Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) (35 page)

Incredible. “You’re so warm.”

“Dragonkind is hot-blooded.”

“No relation to the reptile family then, huh?”

He huffed. More steam rose, flirted with the breeze before drifting away. Shifting his weight, he turned one of his paws palm up, showcasing the tips of his claws. “Ready?”

She hesitated.
Ready.
Huh. Really good question. One she wasn’t sure she could answer. At least with any amount of intelligence. The strange factor was just too, well...let’s put it this way. She was touching (and talking to) a dragon. A
dragon
! So, yup.
Strange
and surreal qualified in the screwed-up situation department.

Ocean waves crested, rushing sound up the cliff face. His chest rose and fell beneath her hands. Chewing on her lip, she glanced up. Familiar aquamarine eyes met hers. “We’re not doing the air bubble thing again, are we?”

“No. I’m going to fly you home.”

Oh. Well, all right then. Flying was good. Much better than—

Tania blinked, cutting off that thought. Good lord, she really had lost her mind. Hello, Crazytown. Goodbye, sanity. But even as the realization registered, Tania pushed it aside. Despite his rapid change, the man-dragon (dragon-man...whatever!) was undeniably Mac. And she trusted him. To keep his word. To keep her safe. And take her to Myst.

So instead of fighting, she added faith to her list of accomplishments and slid into the middle of his paw. Huge talons closed around her. She squeezed her eyes closed and held on tight as he unfurled his wings and dove over the cliff edge into the night sky.

Shitkickers planted in the middle of Black Diamond’s driveway, a protein shake in one hand, half a toasted bagel in the other, Venom watched Bastian’s female pace. He cursed under his breath. Goddamn, she was fast. The one-minute mile had nothing on her. Up. Down. Back and forth. Round and round she went, nervous tension lighting her up from the inside out. Her aura flared bright white then streaked in her wake, the abundance of energy making her look like a long-tailed comet.

Or a supernova.

Whatever. The analogy didn’t matter. Myst’s upset, however? No question. That mattered, bothering Venom more than he liked. All that agitation couldn’t be good for her. Shoving the rest of the bagel in his mouth, he frowned. Could it? He didn’t know. Had never been anywhere near a pregnant female before, never mind one that belonged to a male in his pack. Seemed safe to say her anxiety wasn’t the best idea, though, and...

“Ah, hell,” he muttered around the mouthful.

Bastian wouldn’t be happy when he got home. Not good for anyone, but especially not for him. His commander would take one look at his mate’s current state of distress and flip out...go ape-shit crazy on his ass. And B in a snit? Oh so not advisable. No male with two brain cells to rub together wanted to be in that situation.

No getting around it, though. Venom knew he deserved the ass kicking coming his way. Hands down. Without a doubt. Break out the ibuprofen, ’cause, oh yeah, he was going to need a crateful when B finished reaming him out.

As the last of his snack hit the bottom of his stomach, Venom grimaced and, following Myst’s movements, wracked his brain. He needed a new angle, the best way to calm her down. He’d tried talking to her. A no go. He’d threatened her. She’d flipped him the bird and just kept pacing. Next he’d turned to pleading, which...you guessed it. Got him absolutely nowhere.

Goddamn it. He never should’ve told her Bastian was on the move...with Mac, Tania, and the rest of the crew in tow. Now Myst couldn’t stay still. And while she waited for her best friend to show up, she stomped around Black Diamond’s front yard, charting a route that went something like...march up the flagstone walkway, take a sharp left at
the third shrub, hustle down one side of the driveway, then up the other in front of the garage doors.

She completed another circuit, arms swinging, gravel crunching beneath her small, booted feet, the rhythm of her footfalls nonstop. His eyes narrowed on her, he wiped his buttery fingers on his shorts. Time for another try.

“Myst,” he growled at her as she approached, skirting between two shrubs. “Reel it in, female. You’re driving me frigging nuts.”

She glared at him on the flyby. “Where the heck are they?”

“Any minute now,” he said, repeating the same thing he had the last four go-rounds.

“Why is it taking so long?”

“She’s safe, Myst. Mac’s got her. Says she adjusting just fine, so—”

“Shut up.
Fine
by your standards means butt-fuck crazy by mine. I did this with Bastian five weeks ago, remember?” An abrupt about-face put her nose to chest with him. Violet eyes intense, she pointed at him. Venom flinched as the tip of her index finger stopped an inch from his nose. “Got airlifted in my goddamned car, for God’s sake! So don’t you dare tell me she’s
fine
.”

Venom opened then closed his mouth. Jeez, the language. He’d never heard Myst swear before. Talk about out of character, and even more shocking for the fact she spent most of her time scolding the warriors about dropping f-bombs inside the lair. Well, at least around G.M. (aka Gregor-Mayhem, Forge’s biological son and Myst’s adopted one). A furrow between her brows, she dropped her hand and circled around behind him. She paused to kick a rock across the pathway, and Venom
held his breath. Was she stopping now? He hoped so, because—

Ah, frig. There she went...stomping up the driveway for another go-round.

He sighed, then glanced toward the front entrance, hypersensitive senses registering the sound of footfalls. A moment later the handle clicked and the door swing wide. Red hair flashing beneath the porch lights, Angela emerged and, with a slam, closed the heavy cedar monstrosity behind her.

One hand pressed to his belly, he limped up the path toward the steps. Pain sawed along his side and then—oh goody, just his luck—paused to chew on his leg. Biting back a curse, Venom stopped at the bottom tread. He tipped his chin at Angela and said, “Help. Crazy female at three o’clock.”

Her palm closed around the gun holstered on the outside of her thigh a second before she saw Myst. Her gaze ping-ponged back to him. She snorted. “No way. I’m not touching that one.”

“Ah, come on. Talk her down.” Using his ruby-red eyes and thick eyelashes to effect, he gave her his best pleading look. “I’m injured.”

“Suck it up, flyboy.”

Venom blinked.
Flyboy?
“Heartless wench.”

“You know it,” she said, grinning at him.

He returned her smile, thankful for the truce between them. Ange was cool, a tough female with a wicked vibe. Right up Rikar’s alley and exactly what his XO needed. Thank God. The male had been more relaxed lately, less of a hard-ass, more of a buddy. Good all the way around and—

Speak of the devil.

Sensation tingled along Venom’s spine, telling him his XO was coming in hot. A second before his claws clicked down on gravel, Rikar uncloaked. Poised on his back paws, white scales gleaming in the moonlight, he wing-flapped, sending stone dust rising in the frosty swirl. The temperature dropped and Angela purred, trotting down the steps to greet her mate as he shifted to human form.

“Hiya, gorgeous.” Meeting Rikar at the end of the walkway, she hugged him. An instant later, she popped up on her tiptoes and gave the lucky SOB a firm kiss. “The others?”

“On my six.” Rikar met his gaze over the top of his female’s head. He tilted his head in Myst’s direction. “What the fuck?”

“I tried,” Venom said, shrugging.

Forge and Wick came in next, landing in tandem at opposite ends of the driveway. As each transformed, boots crunching on gravel, B rolled in like a thunderstorm. The wind picked up, gusting over the treetops. Thick trunks bent nearly in half, wood creaked, and Bastian tucked his wings. He dropped like a stone. Huge paws thumped down in front of the garage doors, making steel clank and the ground tremble as the midnight-blue spikes along his spine rattled. Baring his fangs, he snorted, then shook his horned head.

“Bastian!” Moving like an inbound missile, Myst ran toward her male. Green eyes aglow, his commander’s focus landed on his mate. With a snarl he shifted, leather trench coat settling across his shoulders. Stepping up, he caught Myst midleap. As B wrapped his arms around her, she asked, “Where are they? Is Tania okay? Please tell me—”

“It’s all good,
bellmia
.” Kissing the top of her head, Bastian pointed to a spot above the tree line.

Venom’s eyes narrowed, sweeping across the sky. What the hell? He couldn’t see—or detect—a frigging thing. No spike in energy. No fledgling vibe coming his way. Nothing but the pine-scented night air as his brothers-in-arms joined him by the front steps. Except...

Hold everything. Venom inhaled, putting his nose to good use. Brine. The ocean. He smelled salt water.

A second later Mac appeared from out of nowhere. He flew in fast, coming in like a blue-gray viper. Venom’s brows collided. Holy Jesus and a bread basket. Blockhead could cloak himself. When the hell had that happened?

“Oh, how our laddie has grown.” A feigned hitch in his voice, Forge pressed his hand to his heart and pretended to wipe a tear from beneath his eye. Venom scowled at him. The warped Scot chuckled. “Get ready, dickhead. Mac learned a few things while away.”

No kidding. The ability to cloak was a big deal. It meant Mac could fly out on missions. Would be paired up with a more mature male to complete his dragon combat training in the field. Live and prime-time action. Mac was about to see a crapload of it. He locked gazes with his commander. B raised a brow. And Venom got a bad, bad,
bad
feeling. He hoped he was wrong, but...

Hell. Bastian was just that smart—or cruel...Venom couldn’t decide which. His commander liked a tight-knit group, expected all the Nightfury warriors to get along and present a united front in a firefight. So no question...that look—the one B hammered him with right now—told Venom all he needed to know. Blockhead was about to
become his new best friend...the third warrior in his and Wick’s fighting triangle.

Venom clenched his teeth as he watched Mac land, a pale-faced female in the palm of his paw. Lord help him. Looked like he’d be keeping his promise to Angela after all and making peace with their resident water rat.

Which would suck...in every way that counted.

The second Mac touched down, Tania squirmed inside the scaled paw that held her. She wanted out. Right now. To be on terra firma again, her feet planted on a whole lot of normal-nothing-special, not hanging in midair, clouds bathing her in mist while treetops galloped beneath her. Still a few feet from the ground, Mac’s paw jogged. Her heart dipped into her rib cage, stirring her stomach, throwing bile up the back of her throat.

Tania gagged but breathed through the heave-ho. She refused to lose it now and embarrass herself. Again. For oh, she didn’t know, maybe the gazillonth time in less than twenty-four hours? Well, no thank you. She was done being a scaredy-cat. Done with her body’s insubordination too. She wanted it to get with the program. But her muscles? Nothing but Jell-O, wibble-wobbling as she tried to make her limbs work.

Another tremor rolled through her. Tania clenched her teeth. Lovely. Just what she didn’t need...a physical meltdown to go along with her mental one.

Forcing her arms into compliance, she wedged her palms between her breastbone and one of Mac’s talons. As she pushed, he put her down feetfirst and opened his dragon paw. Suffering from a crapload of
holy shit
and a smattering of
dear God
, her knees buckled. Mac caught her and—

Tania looked up. Oh thank heavens. Mac...back to looking like a man, wrapping his very human arms around her. She shuddered and, unable to help herself, nestled deep. Slipping her arms under his leather jacket, she pressed her body against his and her face into the side of his throat.

Holding her close, he rubbed circles down her back. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I like heights anymore.”

“And you did before?”

“I wasn’t sure, but now I am.”

He smiled against her temple. “Heads up, honey. Incoming.”