Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5)

by Coreene Callahan

  Goddamn his protective side. Playing knight-in-shining-armor sucked.

  Gritting his teeth, Venom shook his head. He’d been so sure. So damn sure letting Evelyn go had been the right thing to do, but—

  He cursed under his breath.

  Maybe Forge was right. Maybe releasing her back into the wilds of human society qualified as a boneheaded move. Maybe flying home alone signaled failure instead of wisdom. He blew out a long breath. A cloud of frost shot from between his fangs, picking up the moon-glow before swirling over his horns on his head. The blow back brushed his scales, making him look more black than green in the weak light. Muscles taut, he increased his wing speed. Faster. More ball-busting velocity. Another round of muscle-stretching torque. He needed it all to stay sane—to remain on course instead of hunting down his female.

  Half an hour max.

  A quick about-face.

  A fast fly into Seattle before he turned north.

  That’s all it would take. Wham-bam, no-holds-barred, and he’d have her in his arms again. Be tasting her deep. Pleasing her well. Getting what he needed while he gave Evelyn her due—everything she demanded of him. Temptation banged on his mental door. Venom held the line, refusing to open it, never mind step over the threshold. He’d made his decision. Now he must honor it, along with her right to choose. No matter how painful he found the separation.

  Angling his wings, he forced himself to fly for home. The woodlands dipped beneath him. He rocketed over the next rise. A rural road cut a swath through the forest, two lanes slipping between towering oaks and one-hundred-year-old pines as though it belonged. As though humans hadn’t invaded pristine wilderness and tried to make it their own. The nature of the beast, he guessed. Humans enjoyed the idea of supremacy. Conquer or be conquered, a mantra the destructive race lived by. Although, he had to admit the idiots were getting better. Well, at least in the environmental arena anyway.

  Government agencies were working hard, protecting endangered species, cleaning up the groundwater, pushing for stricter pollution regulations for corporations. Lobby groups had cropped up in recent years too, putting the screws to the US Senate and Congress, expecting more from elected officials. And the global population as a whole? Getting better by the day, jumping on board to support recycling programs and reduce waste. It wasn’t enough. Not yet, anyway. But it wouldn’t be long before the planet felt the effects.

  A good thing if it meant cleaner air to fly through when he left the lair each night.

  Leaving the slither of blacktop behind, Venom spotted the twin cliffs. Eyes narrowed on the pair, he went wings vertical. The spikes along his spine rattled. Slivers of shale rumbled, tumbling down the rock face as he rocketed between the bluffs. Thick forest greeted him on the other side. The landscape launched more debris at him. He hummed. Good luck hitting him. Velocity supersonic now, the forest didn’t stand a chance of grabbing hold of his tail.

  Neither did his buddies.

  Left to play catch-up, the Nightfury warriors flew in his wake. Fine by him. He’d taken the lead position for a reason. Namely—to keep his sanity. He didn’t need to be treated to any more of Forge’s sidelong glances. Or the doubt that eclipsed him every time he caught the Scot’s eye. He knew what the male thought. Knew what the rest of his pack thought too . . . even if B and the others were too polite to say it out loud. Despite all the congrats and high fives in the clearing, none of them understood his need to woo Evelyn. To take her out. To treat her right. To initiate her into the Dragonkind way of life gently. Kidnapping—at least in his brothers-in-arms’ opinions—was much more expedient. Safer. Smarter. More in keeping with his protective nature too, so—

  He huffed. Yeah. No question. Better to leave that argument alone. Far behind and for another time. Particularly since he flew toward the demilitarized zone.

  One with a name—Wick.

  Venom grimaced. No way around it. He was in trouble. In for a fight the second he landed at Black Diamond. Forget Bastian. The true threat stood just outside the front door, a hop, skip, and jump away from the driveway and the aboveground lair. Waiting. For him. To land. Ah, hell, had he said trouble? Strike that and call it screwed instead. Again. For the, well . . . shit. He didn’t know how many times he’d been neck-deep in uncharted territory tonight.

  More than was wise, for sure.

  With a sigh, he settled into a glide. The trees creaked, approving the downgrade from supersonic to slow and smooth. The webbing on his wings fluttered as the forest started to thin. A minute tops, and he’d be face to face with his best friend, trying to explain why he’d gone AWOL. Not that Wick would care why he’d broken the rules. The male didn’t give a damn about protocol. He’d be angry for another reason. One that began and ended with Venom leaving him behind tonight.

  Not a great move. But even headed into the impending showdown, Venom refused to regret it. Pulling a flash’n fly might not qualify as smart, but it had produced results, providing what he needed, so . . .

  Screw it.

  Wick could tune him up every night for the rest of his life. Venom didn’t care. He’d found her. Goddamn, he’d found her. In a sea of wrong females, he’d finally met the right one.

  “Evelyn,” he murmured, testing the phonics.

  His mouth curved. Even her name sounded perfect. Just right. The absolute best thing he’d ever heard as he pictured her face and relived her taste on his tongue. Desire clawed through him, putting a shoulder to his mental door. The thing groaned, threatening to shatter. Satisfaction spilled through the gap, warming his chest, raising his internal barometer, making him want to forget the game plan and go after her. Rocketing into the last bend, he leveled out and tapped into her bio-energy. Gorgeous and full, the thread of her life force expanded between his temples.

  His sonar pinged.

  His dragon half rose, riding a voracious wave of need.

  With a growl, Venom fine-tuned the signal, zeroing in, chasing her bio-energy across rough terrain and . . . oh, baby. There she was: just north of Seattle, surrounded by forest, somewhere inside the Cascade Mountain Range. Without coaxing, the buzz of recognition solidified inside his head. He could track her now . . . from miles away if necessary. All right, so it wasn’t perfect. No matter how strong the ping, he could only approximate her location. At least, right now. That would change soon. The second he touched her again—took another sip and fed from the source—the mating bond would strengthen. Become more powerful as it locked him into place, aligning his life force with hers. For now, though, he must accept the limitations of their first encounter and be patient.

  Even though it pissed him off.

  Eyes narrowed, Venom tucked his annoyance away. Tilting his head, he mined the signal instead. Forget the limitations. He couldn’t curb temptation. He wanted to get a more accurate lock on her. Needed to feel her. Craved the warm buzz of her energy in his veins.

  Adjusting the cosmic dial, he felt the buzz amplify and . . . hmm, yeah. Definitely. She must be home by now. Was probably slipping out of her killer stilettos. Stripping off her sexier-than-sin cocktail dress. Putting on too-big pajamas before sliding between the sheets to snuggle into bed. Maybe even thinking about him. The idea burrowed into the back of his brain. His heart pounded harder. Oh, please. God, yes. He wanted to be on her mind. Needed her to wonder. Wanted her taut with anticipation. Full of yearning as she imagined their next meeting, his plans for her, the way he would touch and taste her.

  Arousal spiraled deep, making his scales tingle and—

  “Venom, you asshole.” The vicious growl cut through mind-speak like a knife. Venom winced. Lovely. Just frigging great. Wick had a lock on him. Was still waiting outside, a load of pissed off headed into full throttle. “Get down here.”

  Delaying the inevitable, Venom slowed his wing speed. “Give me a minute.”

  “No.”

  “Wick,
” he said, a warning in his soft tone.

  “Don’t start. Land or I’m coming up there.”

  Not a good idea. Pissed off in human form, his best friend was a handful. But an angry Wick in dragon form? Venom grimaced. Only an idiot invited that kind of trouble. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m coming up over the last rise.”

  Wick growled something inaudible.

  Venom ignored the nasty undertone. He’d expected it. More than deserved it too for playing fast and loose with the rules. Not that he regretted leaving Wick at home. His friend needed the R & R. Had earned some serious downtime with J. J., but . . . well, hell. After getting yanked out of the sky and tuned up by Bastian? Venom swallowed the bad taste in his mouth. The last thing he needed was another reprimand.

  Or a showdown with Wick.

  With a sigh, he shook his head and corrected his trajectory. Almost home. Five hundred yards and closing fast. Which meant he’d better come up with an excuse. Faster than fast. A couple of creative one-liners would do it. A tactical two-step, the perfect dodge in the verbal arena. Little else would appease Wick. Then again, maybe he’d just go with the truth. Tell him about Evelyn. Ask his advice. Which . . . yeah, come to think of it . . . might be straight-up brilliant on the strategy front. A way to avoid his friend—and the nasty convo—without giving any ground.

  Despite his new status as a mated male, the sharing and caring shit never went over well with Wick. He didn’t embrace emotion, much less show it. Not with Venom anyway. J. J. on the other hand? Hell, she’d cornered the market—bonding with his best friend, drawing Wick out, accepting her mate without hesitation even as she got him to talk, if only behind closed doors. A good thing. Wick needed someone to talk to, but . . .

  Venom bit down on a curse.

  He might as well admit it. He wanted to be the one Wick confided in. Which made him a total idiot. A jealous asshole too. He should be happy for his friend—and was, at least, most of the time. Some days, though, yearning seeped through the cracks, preying on him like a pack of piranhas. Eating him alive. Stripping him to the bone. Hurting him deep. After all they’d been through together, he deserved better from Wick. Inclusion. Trust. Whole-hearted respect, the kind that bonded brothers. Particularly since Venom had done the unthinkable to save Wick’s life.

  Sorrow turned the screws inside his chest. It always did when he remembered that awful night. His heart reacted to the memory, aching so hard he wondered how it kept beating. Murder. He’d committed murder. Slain his sire to pull Wick from hell and keep him safe. Not that he’d meant to do it. He hadn’t known his own strength. Hadn’t understood that the change—and his first shift into dragon form—would bring such startling results: unholy strength, raging power, a venomous nature that was second to none. Now it didn’t matter. He couldn’t retrace his steps and go back. Couldn’t temper brute force, find a better way, or stop the accident from happening.

  Couldn’t wash the blood and dragon ash from his hands either.

  It was too late to make amends. Inexorable guilt wouldn’t let him.

  The tree line thinned, then dropped away, revealing the sprawling complex nestled in the center of a large plateau. Black Diamond. His home. The one place on earth he belonged. And yet, his mind traveled, taking him away from Washington State, back to another time, inside another place, planting him in the past. To the moment of his change, and his sire’s decision to thrust him headfirst into the hypocrisy of Dragonkind aristocracy . . . and the twisted games played by the Archguard.

  Wick had been a victim of the fallout.

  So had he, but even with sixty years between then and now, Venom struggled to forget. To shake the brutality and move on. Time didn’t heal all wounds. Whoever had said that was wrong. The hurt remained fresh. The rage remained untouched. And his savior complex—the need to compensate for his crime by protecting others, by beating back injustice and fighting for the underdog—never went away. His cross to bear. Penance for a legacy left by his sire and the tainted blood running through his veins.

  Goddamn his father.

  No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t understand. How could his father—a general with influence among their kind and Rodin’s ear—be so uncaring? So amoral? So corrupt and without conscience? How could he have—

  A shiver rolled through him, rattling his scales.

  He hated the memories. Didn’t want to remember the past. Too bad he couldn’t forget. Or leave the psychological trauma behind. Not after witnessing his sire’s cruelty. Not after watching beardless boys in combat—knives raised, fighting for their lives, dying horrible deaths to entertain Dragonkind elite. Learning of the fight clubs had been terrible. Seeing the cages backstage where young males lived had been worse. Being ordered to load a dying Wick onto a truck bound for Tanzenmed, the Dragonkind prison renowned for torture, had proven to be his breaking point.

  He hadn’t been able to stomach it.

  Not after looking Wick in the eye. Not after seeing the blistered wound and raw skin. Not after recognizing the sequence of numbers burned into Wick’s forearm—all the while knowing what awaited the young male he hadn’t known then, but now considered his best friend.

  The savagery of it struck him. As the injustice tunneled deep, infecting his heart, his sense of right and wrong reacted. It always did, causing a chain reaction. Past. Present. It didn’t matter. His feelings remained the same. Disgust. Sorrow. Incurable rage. A fury so profound, he’d lost all restraint sixty years ago, turned on his sire and—

  “Ven,” Wick growled, cutting off Venom’s reunion with the past.

  Folding his wings, Venom dropped out of the sky. Unleashing his magic, he released the cloaking spell. The invisibility shield flexed around him, then ripped wide open. He sighted the ground. The wind picked up, whistling in his ears, pushing the scent of cedar and clouds across the night sky. The moon disappeared behind the coniferous tumble, enfolding him in darkness. His talons thumped down in the center of the driveway. Gravel rolled, pinging off industrial-size garage doors, crunching beneath his claws, digging into the sensitive pads of his paws. Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs and, preparing for the showdown, glanced toward the house. Porch light spilled down the walkway leading to the front door, bouncing off his dark-green scales, illuminating Wick in the low light.

  Golden eyes aglow, his friend snarled at him.

  Venom growled back. Probably not the best idea, but . . .

  To hell with it. He refused to apologize again. Once tonight had been enough. Quota filled. Guilt assuaged. Looked like another ball-busting fight on the horizon, though, ’cause . . . yeah. Wick looked more than unhappy. The male embodied fury. Toss lethal into the mix. Add a dash of holy hell and get ready for the explosion. His friend was cranked to full throttle. Foot to the floor going two hundred miles an hour, wearing an expression that said, “I’m gonna rip your face off.”

  Now nothing but a fight would alleviate the tension.

  But as Venom shifted into human form and prepared for the fallout, he knew he shouldn’t let it happen. It was his fault, not Wick’s. A few well-placed words would slow his brother down. Long enough for Venom to explain and tell him about Evelyn. Too bad he couldn’t find a single thing to say. Didn’t want to either. After getting nailed by Bastian, he needed the brawl almost as much as his friend. So instead of calling it off, he waited, fists raised, fighting stance set, and watched Wick ramp into a run, coming down the flagstone path like a runaway locomotive. Which meant . . . screw placation. Set up the party parade instead. He was headed into a knuckle-grinding brawl with his best friend. Collision not only inevitable, but assured.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dragon senses run amok, Gage stumbled on an uneven patch of stone floor. Righting his balance, he swallowed his growl of disgust. The underground passageway smelled the same way it looked—dark and dank with a nasty hit of eau d
e grunge. He grimaced as his shoulder brushed the wall. The wet chill registered, sliming his skin with . . . fuck. He didn’t know what the hell he’d just touched. Something cold. Something long past putrid. Something he didn’t want to think about, never mind identify.

  Slick stone walls funneled into another intersection.

  The kid paused on the lip a second, then turned right. Gage followed, keeping a firm hold on Osgard. His muscles squawked, spotlighting his injuries, setting fatigue center stage.

  One hallway slid into the next. This one narrower than the last.

  Another round of revulsion punched through, competing for airtime inside his head. Fighting the pain, Gage beat back his aversion. He flexed his hand, bunching the back of Osgard’s T-shirt against his palm. He needed the handhold along with the stability. The kid might not be full grown yet, but he was strong. An excellent hitching post. Or trailer hitch. Whatever. Gage wasn’t sure right now. All he felt was grateful. The youngling was leading the charge, head up, feet moving without making a sound, towing him through the enemy labyrinth with stark efficiency.

  Another round of thankfulness washed through him.

  Go figure. Osgard was a godsend. An excellent find considering Gage didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. Agony amplified by the moment, draining his already-low energy reserves. The sharp dip sent him into uncharted territory—energy-greed. A state most males feared. And like it or not, he wasn’t an exception to the rule. Which meant he needed to feed . . . and soon. Otherwise he’d spiral out of control, tumble down a rabbit hole, and hurt the first female he encountered. His stomach pitched. Lightheadedness hit, making him sway on his feet as he reached another perilous conclusion.

  Haider would be in the same state. Maybe even worse than him.

  Gage gritted his teeth. Talk about hazardous. Two males in the throes of ravenous hunger headed into the light of day. Nowhere near advisable. He huffed. The situation couldn’t get any worse.