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.
Chapter Twenty-One
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.”
Incoming? Tania frowned. What the heck was he—
“Tania! Oh my God...oh thank God!”
Turning in Mac’s arms, she glanced over her shoulder. And the tears—the ones she’d been battling for over a month—surfaced in a heartbeat. As the first pair slid free, rolling over her bottom lashes, she shoved out of Mac’s arms. He let her go, and she spun. The soles of her bare feet digging into gravel, she ignored the sting and ran toward her best friend. They met each other halfway, colliding in the center of the driveway, wrapping each other up in a hug and...
Let the blubber-fest begin. Which went something like...laugh, cry, talk at the same time and over one another. Pause to take a breath. Rinse, repeat, start all over again.
Coming up for air, Tania wiped both eyes with the backs of her hands. Then hugged her best friend again and whispered, “Holy jeez, I’m so glad to see you.”
Myst sniffled. “Me too.”
“I totally thought you were dead.”
“Via serial killer?”
“And wood chipper.”
“Gross.” Her best friend made a face, then grinned through her own tears. “Nothing quite so spectacular, though.”
“Yeah, right. If a gaggle of dragon-guys isn’t spectacular, I don’t know what is,” she said, and...uh-huh. There it was, the understatement of the century. The memory of Mac bumping down on top of her car winged through her mind. A pang for her Mini Cooper throbbed through her. It was stupid, really, to mourn its loss, but...she’d loved that car. Had spent hours in the body shop with her mechanic fixing it up, taking it from rust bucket to beautiful. And hon
estly? When she thought of her girl at the bottom of Puget Sound, well...she glared over her shoulder at Mac. “Who like to kill cars.”
“Motherfuck,” he muttered. “Thought we settled that.”
Myst blinked. “They wrecked your car too?”
Tania frowned. Too? She opened her mouth to ask, but didn’t get the chance. In her typical take-the-bull-by-the-horns fashion, Myst grabbed hold and, dragging her past a cluster of gorgeous boxwoods, hustled her up the wide-faced steps. “Come on. I’ve got a ton of stuff to tell you.”
And just like that, Tania was through the front door and into the house, being towed behind her best friend like a water-skier behind a powerboat. A minute later, a kitchen came into view at the end of a hallway. Myst streaked into the room. Glossy white cabinets and marble countertops flashed beneath halogens. Beautiful. The decor was right out of one of those fancy design magazines: sophisticated with a hint of homey.
Skirting the huge center island, her friend yelled, “Hey, Daimler!”
A door flapped open at the opposite end of the kitchen. With a joyful hop, a guy popped over the threshold, a spatula in one hand, a cupcake in the other. “Yes, my lady?”
Myst hit the pause button on the dash-and-tow routine. “Meet my best friend, Tania.”
“Oh, how lovely!” Exuberance plain to see, he clasped his hands together. The icing-smeared spatula dipped dangerously a moment before he righted it and smiled. His gold front tooth winked at her. “Welcome to Black Diamond, Lady Tania.”
Swallowing a laugh, Tania thanked him. It was impossible not to...he was just too adorable for words with his “my lady, this...and my lady, that” attitude. And that was nothing compared to his obvious pleasure at meeting her. But even as she returned his smile, she looked at him a little closer, picking up details. Weird, but...did he...were his ears really, ah...
Nudging Myst with her elbow, she whispered, “He’s got pointy ears.”
“Elf,” her friend whispered back.
Tania’s brows popped skyward. Oh. Well. Why not? Color her unsurprised. A gaggle of dragon-guys and an elf. What could be simpler?
Tossing her an amused glance, Myst squeezed her hand. “Daimler, would you mind whipping up something for us to eat?”
“Cupcakes?”
“With chocolate icing?” Both she and Myst’s attention sharpened on the spatula.
The elf nodded.
“Perfect.” Myst smiled at him. Daimler beamed at her in return, and Tania shook her head. Give her friend an hour, and she could make anyone like her. Give her five weeks? And yup, adoration became par for the course. “I’ll be in my room. Oh, and keep Bastian busy, would you? I’m due for some girl talk.”
Oh yes...please. Girl talk sounded better than good. And after weeks of going it alone—without the daily phone calls, coffee shop pit stops, and window-shopping while yakking—Tania needed an infusion more than a caffeine addict needed a shot of espresso.
After repeating her friend’s “thanks” to the elf, Tania pivoted and, following in Myst’s wake, beat feet out of the kitchen into another corridor. Wider than the last one, the hallway was another study in sophistication: dark hardwood floors, twin tracks of halogens marching down twelve-foot ceilings, white walls flowing behind a chunky chair rail, and—
Gad. The art. She’d never seen anything like it. Well, all right. That was a lie. The Louvre in Paris might beat what she saw with each passing canvas...by a scooch and not much more.
“Holy jeez,” she murmured, not wanting to talk above a whisper for fear a museum curator might jump out of the woodwork and shout “Quiet!” A huge painting of ballet dancers rolled by on her right-hand side. Tania’s jaw dropped. “Is that a Renoir?”
“Yup.”
Tania pointed to the next one. “Vermeer?”
“Nailed it.”
“Good lord.”
“I know, right? Crazy expensive,” Myst said. “Wick likes art.”
Oh, of course Wick liked...what? Were they talking about the same guy? The one that had given her the stink eye back in Mac’s cabin? Seemed like a bit of a stretch—from psychopath to art lover—but really, how many Wicks could there possibility be at Black Diamond? She hoped no more than one, because...wow. One nut job was more than enough for any girl to handle.
Reaching a pair of doors at the end of the corridor, Myst flipped the handle, pushed it wide, and ushered her into—
A man cave. Nothing else came close to describing it. Walls the color of eggplant. Big antique sleigh bed with a light-gray duvet. Charcoal accents. No frills. No muss. The room was a serious, masculine space.
Tania swept the decor again, picking up a few more details. Like the ratty old Barcalounger set in front of the stone-clad fireplace. Her lips twitched. Well, at least some things were normal at Black Diamond. Only a guy would keep something that ugly around—and needed duct tape to keep it together. “Bastian’s room?”
“Mine now too.”
Halfway across the room, Myst glanced over her shoulder. As their gazes met, Tania shook her head. None of it made sense. Just over a month ago, her friend had been entrenched in her life. On a career track that might’ve taken her all the way to the top of the hospital administrative hierarchy. Now? She played house with a guy who commanded a warrior clan—pack...whatever!—of Dragonkind. All under the noses of human authorities the world over.
But worse? Her friend seemed perfectly okay with the situation. She was content, happier, and more settled than Tania had ever seen her.
“God, Myst,” she said, not understanding. “What the heck happened? One minute we’re going for lattes. The next? You’re gone and—”
“Kidnapped, actually. In my car with a newborn baby screaming a blue streak.”
“What is it with these guys and cars?”
“I don’t know, but Bastian airlifted me right off the road.”
Well, since they were comparing notes. “Mac landed on mine, ripped the door off, then drove us off a bridge.”
Myst’s mouth fell open. A moment later, she laughed. “Okay, you win that one.”
“Wanna go for round two?”
“Hit me.”
Padding across the room, Tania followed her friend and hopped into the middle of the big bed. Settled on a sea of cool gray cotton, she sat Indian-style and, grabbing a pillow, plopped it in her lap and started to talk. And as the litany streamed out of her, her tension eased. God, it felt good to get it off her chest, to have someone understanding all the freaky dragon stuff. But mostly? To stop the tilt-a-whirl of worry eating her alive inside.
And Myst? Thank goodness for her friend. She nodded in all the right places, asked questions in others, and Tania got bolder, moving into more personal territory. Namely, Mac and how she felt about him. The intensity of her reaction didn’t make sense. It was bizarre and scary, and yet somehow magical too. Two opposite ends of the spectrum. And honestly, she didn’t know which way to jump: toward Mac or away.
Picking at a stray thread, Tania mangled the corner of a pillow. “So I guess you love Bastian, huh?”
“I really do.” With a quick shift, Myst reached out and grabbed her hand. “He’s the one, you know. The guy I’ve been—”
“Waiting for,” Tania said, finishing her sentence. God, how many times had she heard that? If only—the hoping, the wishing, the dreaming—had always been a running theme with them. Well, at least for Myst. Tania had never quite trusted that far. Men were tricky creatures and her independence an absolute must. Forever, after all, was a very big word. “So...”
“You gonna spit it now?”
Tania laughed. ESP had nothing on her friend. Myst knew how to read her. “I’ve been trying to figure something out.”
“What’s that?”
“How could I have slept with Mac and not remember?”
Myst sucked in a quick breath. “When did this happen? Last night?”
“No. A month ago...in your loft.” Tania cringed. Yikes, that did
n’t sound good. Nothing like telling your best friend you had sex with a guy in her bed. Without her permission. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, but...it all happened so fast. I went to your place to find you. Next thing I know, Mac walks in and...kapow. We kinda collided.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she threw Myst an apologetic look. “It’s the funniest thing, though. I didn’t remember any of it until I saw him again last night.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
Tania blinked. “Who? Mac?”
“No. Bastian.” Her eyes narrowed on the door, Myst tossed the pillow over her shoulder. Its fluffy body hit the headboard with a thump, and...oh dear. Tania knew that look. Someone was in very big trouble. It didn’t, however, appear to be her. Thank God for small favors. “Oh. My. God. He is so dead when I get a hold of him.”
Well, all right then. Suspicions confirmed. Her best friend was inbound on a train called PO’d. Why? No clue, but at least she wasn’t pissed off about the whole sex-in-her-bed thing. That could’ve gotten messy...fast. Especially considering Myst’s current state of mind. It took a lot to make her friend angry, but when the pot boiled over?
Oh boy. Watch out world.
“Freaking guy,” Myst growled, scooting toward the edge of the bed. “Trust him to gloss it all over.”
Frowning, Tania watched her go. Alarm mixed with surprise. Good lord, what the heck was going on? She opened her mouth to ask. Myst cut her off.
“Routine, he said.” Myst huffed. Looking like a gymnast, she flipped off the mattress. Her feet hit the floor with a thud. She cursed again and plunked her hands on her hips, outrage in her eyes. “And Sloan! Oh, I’m gonna kill him too.”
“Why?”
“He told me they used a hooker to stabilize Mac’s energy levels before he went into his change. Except he neglected to tell me you were there.” With a growl, Myst spun away from the bed and headed toward the door. “And then he erased your memory afterward. Mind-scrubbed my best freaking friend!”
Fury of Seduction Page 26