Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) (46 page)

No way she would let that happen. Not while J.J. lay bloodied and broken, surrounded by a bunch of people who didn’t give a damn about her.

“Look, I know it’s hard,” Sloan said, his tone full of understanding. “But you need to stay here. Give me some time, Tania. I’ll get into the hospital records...get a status report on your sister’s condition.”

Raking the loose tendrils of hair away from her face, Tania hesitated. God, she hated to do it. Didn’t want to deflect Sloan, but what other choice did she have? She couldn’t sit on her duff and do nothing. J.J. needed her. And Tania needed to be there, protecting her, making sure her sister got the best care. So screw right. She was diving straight into wrong.

“All right, I’ll stick,” she whispered, shoving her conscience aside. “But promise me something.”

“What?”

“The second...the
millisecond
...you know something, you’ll come get me.”

“Done,” he said, his dark gaze on her face. “Where will you be?”

“In the gym...with Myst and Angela.” Oh, the lies. They just kept coming. She had no intention of staying put. Knew exactly where the garage was situated from her flight to Black Diamond and Mac’s landing beside it. All she needed to do was sneak past the girls, backtrack to Mac’s room, slip through the window, hop over some
hedgerows, and...bingo. She’d be steps away from the car she required to make a fast getaway. The perfect plan. Well, except for the lying, cheating, and stealing part. “I can’t stay here and watch you. I’ll go nuts with nothing to keep me busy and—”

“Go, female. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

His trust sent regret prickling through her. Her lack of integrity made her want to cry. Tania swallowed the tears and turned toward the door. Her conscience squawked again, trying one last time to dissuade her. She ignored it and, with a whispered “thanks” and a silent
sorry
, crossed into the corridor, one thought on her mind.

Mac.

Please, God, let him understand. Her sister couldn’t wait. And neither could she.

The stench of decomposing human flesh rose like steam from a gutter grate, making Ivar’s stomach roll as he tossed the last body into the fire pit. The corpse rolled, skin sloughing off its flopping limbs as it bumped into its neighbor. Revolting...inferior...stinking race. Even in death, humans were disgusting. Proof positive lay piled like kindling inside the stone-walled circle, each one nothing but a saggy-skinned bag of bones waiting for the moment he set the blaze.

He grimaced. Another reason to miss Lothair.

His late XO had never minded taking out the trash. Or incinerating them in the pit outside the Razorbacks’ lair. But now the job fell to Ivar, and he hated it. Despised the fact a second batch of test subjects lay here—proof of
another failed experiment—instead of out in the world, infecting others of their kind, wiping the inferior species from the face of the earth.

A waste. And total freaking fuckup.

Project Supervirus was going to kill him...with frustration.

With a sigh, Ivar rolled his shoulders and glanced skyward. Clouds darkened the view, blocking out the moon, hiding stars behind a blanket of thick, gray, and terrible, heralding the coming winter. Not his favorite season. Typical of his fire dragon roots, he didn’t like the cold. Spent more time inside from December to March than any male he knew, but...

Not this year.

With Lothair gone, the Nightfuries on the hunt, and the potential Rodin problem, he needed to stay front and center. His soldiers required a strong leader—something he could give them, but honestly didn’t want to. Full-time command of his ever-growing pack would keep him away from the lab. Not an idea he relished, never mind wanted to implement. Science required intense concentration, commitment to detail, and careful observation. So cutting his hours in the laboratory? Not the best strategy. Especially when whipping up a lethal viral load to jump-start a global epidemic.

Too bad circumstance didn’t give a shit about his plans. Or his preferences, either.

Proof positive of that sat just feet away, stinking up his airspace and the crisp night air. With a muttered curse, he refocused on the dead heap of human waste. He scowled and reached for his magic. His palm tingled as a pink fireball appeared in the center of his hand. With a flick,
he tossed the flames into the pit. Fueled by human kindling, the blaze caught hold. Ivar fanned the inferno and, enjoying the glow, watched the pink tendrils lick skyward.

Sensation crept over his shoulders, then prickled down his spine. Ivar closed his eyes and listened, waiting for...

Ah, there it was. The soft crunch of footfalls behind him.

Without turning, he returned his attention to the fire and murmured, “Denzeil. Whatcha got?”

“The female is out of pocket.”

“The one the water rat saved?”

“Solares,” Denzeil said, stepping up alongside him. Dark eyes met his. Satisfaction radiating off him in waves, his soldier handed him the iPad he carried. “Check out the green dot. She’s in a car on I-90, using OnStar to call a hospital.”

“And now we’ve got her real-time location.” His heart pounded, beating triple time as he watched the dot travel along the virtual map. Oh lucky night. The H-E female was his for the taking...destined to be number six in his breeding program after all. Anticipation streaked through him. Firelight crackled and ash danced, drifting down to land on the edge of the screen. Ivar brushed it away and handed the tablet back to Denzeil. “Where is everyone?”

“Those that are uninjured? Downtown hunting.”

“Call them all back.” Turning away from the pit, Ivar leaped onto one of the rusty backhoes littering his backyard. Heavy-duty steel groaned, bending inward as he landed on the roof and shifted into dragon form. Red, black-tipped scales expanded, wrapping over his body, around his spiked spine and the jet-black horns on his head.
Pink eyes aglow, he mind-spoke,
“Give them the longs and lats of her position. We rendezvous over I-90. I want that female, D.”

“And Hamersveld?”

“Leave him to me.”

An excellent plan from start to finish. Hamersveld wouldn’t respond to anyone else. The male was unpredictable most of the time, but wouldn’t be tonight. Ivar would bet his fangs on it. The promise of a high-energy female always brought a predator out to play.

Mac walked into the Gridiron in a wrecking-ball frame of mind. The cloying scent of perfume and hard alcohol didn’t improve his mood. Neither did the thumping bass of heavy metal nor the throbbing strobe lights. Normally not things that bothered him. But tonight, everything rubbed him the wrong way. He was on overload, keen dragon senses bombarded by the violent rush of sensory input.

Laser beams flashed above the dance floor. Technicolor streamed across the nightclub.

He turned his face away, protecting his light-sensitive eyes, but not before he got the lay of the land. Large, round bar to his right, people three deep around it. Goth decor with a death rock vibe. And the ratio? At least two guys to one girl on the dance floor. The public bump and grind should’ve amused him. It usually did. Right now, though, the sight of sex in dark corners annoyed the shit out of him. For good reason too. All he wanted to do was go home to Black Diamond...and Tania.

Ironic, wasn’t it? He’d waited four long weeks for tonight. For the green light from Bastian and the right to
join his brothers-in-arms on the hunt for Razorbacks. For his maiden voyage, so to speak. Now here he stood, a full member of the pack—fledgling status revoked...thank fuck—and all he could think about was his female. And the way he’d left things with her.

I love you.

Three little words. Nothing special alone. But together, they packed a wallop, cracking through his defenses, allowing a lifetime of hurt to spill into the open. Now he bled, for the little boy he’d been and the emotionally crippled man he’d become. So much rejection. So much “you’ll never be good enough.” So much pain.

Mac shook his head and scanned the club again, looking for a target. A Razorback—or five—to provoke. He needed a fight, a ball-busting, claw-ripping brawl to clear his head. Otherwise he would lose his cool. Go ape-shit crazy, freak out again, and—

Jesus. He couldn’t wrap his brain around it.

Tania loved him
.
Wanted to stay with him...be with
him
, a guy so undeserving of her it made his chest ache. She needed so much better than him, a male tainted by his past, unworthy of a future with a female so smart, so funny, so fucking beautiful she took his breath away every time he looked at her.

I love you.

Mac rubbed the sore spot between his brows. God, he was a first-rate jackass. He should’ve said the words back to her. Should’ve admitted what he’d known for a while but had been too much of a dickhead to realize. He loved her too. So much his heart wasn’t big enough to contain the magnitude of feeling. And as his love for her overflowed and spread, infusing every cell in his body, Mac wanted
to turn around, fly home, and tell her. Before he lost his nerve. Before she gave up on him. Before
too late
became the story of them.

The screeching wail of guitar riffs shrieked in his ear.

A throb started up between his temples. “Motherfuck.”

Stopping beside him, Forge slapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”

What? Loving Tania? Shit, he hoped so.

“Nay, you wanker,” Forge said, picking his thought out of thin air. “The abundance of noise...the sensory overload is normal at first. Dragonkind senses are much sharper than a human’s. It’ll take some time tae become accustomed tae it. So next lesson. Tae-night you learn tae control what you let in and what you block out, aye?”

As Mac nodded, a tingle slid across the nape of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder. Venom and Wick crossed the threshold and entered the club, looking like a pair of straight-up killers. A group of gothed-out guys scattered, scrambling to get out of the way. As the pathway opened, a curvy redhead hopped off a bar stool and latched onto Venom. The warrior welcomed the female with a smile, wrapped his arm around her, and, without breaking stride, brought her with him.

Tipping his chin, Mac greeted his comrades, then glanced sideways at Forge. “Can I block out Ven?”

Amusement sparked in Wick’s golden eyes.

Venom rolled his. “Only if you want your ass kicked.”

Mac grinned, liking the new arrangement much better than the old. Sometimes calling a truce was a good thing. Especially when it came to Venom. With the tension between them gone, he could tease the guy and be razzed in return without getting bent out of shape. Or suffering the overwhelming urge to rip the male’s head off.

“You need some time?” Forge’s gaze drifted over the female tucked against Venom’s side. Her aura glowed softly, nothing like the brilliance of Tania’s high energy, but enough to take the edge off a male’s appetite. “Probably should, Ven. You took a serious hit the other night.”

Anticipation sparked in Venom’s ruby-red gaze. “Private bathroom in the back. Give us twenty minutes.”

Us?
Mac blinked. Did he mean—?

Ah, yeah. And Wick made three. The redhead was in for a big surprise. Except...

Venom whispered in her ear. Peeking over her shoulder, she ran her gaze over Wick. Her lips curved up a moment before she nodded. Mac huffed. Well, all right. Crisis averted. No need for intervention. The female was all in, A-okay with the fact she would be getting two for the price of one.

Wick on the other hand? Not so much.

With a mental click, Mac refocused, shutting out the peripheral stimuli, and sent a ping out to surround Wick. Unease came back in a winding curl. His cop instincts woke up, adding observation to the intuitive swirl. Dark head bowed. Wide shoulders hunched. Dread encircled the usually lethal male, hanging like a noose around his neck as he followed Venom to the back of the club. His brows drawn tight, Mac wondered about Wick’s reaction for a moment, then shrugged it off. It wasn’t any of his business. Besides, butting in where he didn’t belong with Wick?