Fury of Ice

by Callahan, Coreene

  “I’ll behave,” he said, feeling like a chastened four-year-old after a full-blown temper tantrum. Not that it mattered. She’d brought his son, so…fuck it. To hell with his pride. “May I see him…please?”

  Myst leaned down and gathered up the blue bundle. As she settled his lad in the crook of one arm, she murmured to him. The bairn cooed back. Forge exhaled, already fighting tears. Seconds ticked by, lasting forever as Myst adjusted the blanket and approached his prison cell. The barrier snapped, crackling in warning, and she flinched, stopping a few feet away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t come any closer. The current will hurt him and—”

  “I know,” he said, the wait nearly killing him.

  With a soft smile, Myst tilted her arms, and he got his first glimpse of a wee face. His heart went loose inside his chest, and as the damn thing flopped around, he lost the battle. Tears gathered, blurring his vision. God, he was beautiful, so perfect it made him ache from the inside out.

  Wiping beneath one of his eyes, Forge studied his lad. Eyes wide open, he chewed on his fist, baby drool glistening on chubby fingers, dark Mohawk of hair shining in the low light. Unable to stop them, Forge’s fingers curled. He wanted to hold him, feel the slight weight of him in his arms, and listen to each happy sound he made.

  “Thank you,” he rasped, his throat so tight the words came hard. “Thank you for bringing him.”

  “He’s your son. You have a right to know him. Caroline would’ve wanted that.” Tears in her own eyes, she stroked the bairn’s cheek with her fingertip. “I named him Gregor.”

  He grimaced. “A human name?”

  “Oh, for goodness sake.” Making a sound of exasperation, Myst glared at him. “You guys and your stupid names.”

  “Stupid,” he murmured, watching her closely. “Gregor is just as—”

  “Say it, and I swear to God I’ll find a gun and shoot you.” With a grumble in her tone, she said, “His middle name is Mayhem, okay? So don’t get your panties in a wad.”

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Mayhem’s good, strong…a warrior’s name.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. His grin broke free and, for the first time in a long while, he felt lighter somehow. Like he’d been touched by an angel, one who’d taken pity and lifted his burden, if only for a minute. The carefree moment sobered him and, as Myst returned his smile, shining light into his darkness, the urge to warn her took over.

  “Myst,” he said, his happiness fading into seriousness. “Your mate is right not tae trust me.”

  “Maybe. But you and I both know the truth.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And what is that?”

  “I know you’re not a bad guy…” She paused to drill him with her violet eyes. “…and so do you. Bastian’s fair-minded, Forge. Make peace with him. Otherwise, you stay locked up here, away from your son and everything that’s important.”

  Uh-huh. A pretty speech. Too bad he’d been there, done that, and didn’t deserve a do-over. “You cannae save me, female.”

  “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

  Wonderful. Just what he needed…a female on a quest. Shite. He might as well add stubborn to her list of qualities. Though pigheaded might be a better word. Aye, definitely. He liked that one much better, and as he—

  Door hinges creaked, metal clicking against metal.

  “My lady?” Edged by urgency, the British accent floated into the cellblock. “Myst?”

  Her arms still snug around his son, Myst pivoted toward the exit. “What is it, Daimler?”

  “Oh, thank goodness…I found you.” Twin tails of his tux flapping behind him, the male Numbai—a member of serving class to Dragonkind—pranced into view. Pointed ears visible beneath hair pulled back at the nape, Daimler danced to a stop in front of his mistress. “Master Rikar needs you, my lady. He’s inbound with an injured female and—”

  “Angela?” Forge asked.

  The Numbai’s gaze flicked to him a second before settling back on his mistress. As he opened his mouth to answer, Myst cut him off. “How bad is she? I need details, Daimler, and an ETA.”

  “I don’t know. And ten minutes, my lady,” Daimler said, answering each question rapid-fire. “Master Sloan’s already in the clinic, setting up triage.”

  “Can I help?” The second the question left his mouth, Forge felt like an idiot. What the hell was he doing? Offering to lend a hand? Playing the hero? Jesus, he needed his head examined. Aye, that, and a swift kick in the arse to smarten him up. But even as he told himself to zip it, his mouth opened and, like a pathetic pea brain, he dug his hole a little deeper. “I’ve been trained as a paramedic.”

  His offer made Daimler’s mouth fall open.

  Myst wasn’t surprised.

  “Told you,” she said, a smirk on her face. “Keep it up, Forge, and I’ll make a good guy out of you yet.”

  “Bloody hell.” Forge wanted to growl at her…he really did. Instead, he stood stone-still, fists clenched and heart aching as she strode to the stroller and settled his son inside. Out of sight, but never out of mind. “Myst, could you—”

  “No,” she said, tone sharp, her expression serious. “Play all the games you want, it won’t work with me. You want out? You want more time with your son? Grow a brain and make peace with my mate. Otherwise, you’ll stay exactly where you are for a very long time.”

  An ultimatum with teeth. Deadly, and oh…so…tempting.

  Could it really be that easy? Hit one knee, bow his head, and swear loyalty to the Nightfury pack and…bam! Instant acceptance.

  Forge shook his head. No way. Nothing was ever that simple. The visit today. Myst’s warning. All of it smacked of conspiracy, one older than time. Show the prisoner something he wanted—would kill to possess—then take it away unless he gave up the goods. Bastian wanted information about energy-fuse; the ins and outs of how a male used it to protect his female through the hungering when the Meridian realigned, her pregnancy, and finally, the birth of a child.

  The strategy was diabolical. And right up Bastian’s alley.

  As suspicion banged around inside Forge’s head, his admiration for Myst grew. Aye, she’d brought his son, but not out of kindness. It was psychological warfare. She would never be his ally. He would never win her over. Even knowing it, however, didn’t stop the urge to call out and beg her not to walk away with his son.

  He almost did it. Almost opened his mouth and asked her to come back.

  Almost, but not quite.

  He was stronger than that, a warrior born and bred. So he killed the temptation to give in and swallowed the plea. But as the door clanged closed behind her, his cell got a little smaller, and the collar much, much tighter.

  Chapter Ten

  The murmur came from somewhere south of sanity, pulling Angela through thick mental fog. Floating inside her own skull, she kept her eyes closed and listened to the voice. A hint of an accent in the undertone, the timbre broke through the noise inside her head. She clung to each note. Listened to the pitch and swell. Let it hold her high. Away from the pain. Away from terror. Away from the unknown.

  Except that wasn’t right.

  She knew who—correction…make that what—held her. Remembered the beach as she’d come to, felt the swaying glide of flight and the hard scales against her cheek. Another dragon; white scales to the rat-bastard’s black. That had to be a good sign, right? Heroes and saviors always wore white. Or did that only happen in fairy tales?

  Angela frowned. She couldn’t remember. Her brain was stuck deep in fluff and mental feather down. Not much made sense. Not the flight. Not the warmth of the dragon’s scales. Nor the fact he held her gently in the cradle of his talons.

  Maybe that’s why she wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t struggling. Was just floating, lost inside her own mind while her white dragon in shining scales talked to her. God, it was nice; the depth of his voice, the words, and how safe he made her feel.

  Which was j
ust plain nutso. But sometimes, Angela decided, crazy made sense.

  “Just a little further, angel,” her dragon said, soft tone full of reassurance. And there she went again, falling into each syllable, taking solace from the sound of his voice. “Almost there.”

  Almost where? She shifted in the palm of his talon and cracked her eyes open. Yellow flashed up ahead, pushing a gentle glow through the darkness. Angela squinted. Was she really seeing that? Or were her eyes playing tricks, screwing with reality? Seemed like a good guess because that looked like a cliff wall. Or the inside of a tunnel, one with jagged outcroppings and narrow ledges.

  His wings angled, the dragon swung around another corner. The light became stronger, illuminating a wide landing pad. An abrupt shift. A moment suspended above the solid rock outcropping, and then…

  Touchdown. To the accompaniment of claws scraping stone.

  All right. Now was probably a good time to start screaming. Or searching for a weapon. Anything to hold him at bay. But something malfunctioned, crossing her mental wiring. She didn’t want to do any of those things. Didn’t feel the need to, either. All she wanted was to hang onto the voice, to hear him talk to her some more.

  “R,” she whispered, a soft call for comfort.

  “Shh, baby,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I’m gonna get you help.”

  Help sounded good. Excellent, really, because…God. Now that she was more alert, her leg hurt like hell and, as the pain poked at her like a bully with a sharp stick, each breath came a little faster. A little harder, one on top of the other.

  With a whimper, she reached for him, needing something solid to hang onto as she opened her eyes. She expected to see a dragon. A man’s pale gaze met hers instead, and wham! Sparks lit off, exploding into a kaleidoscope of color inside her head. The wall around the memory—the one she hadn’t been able to touch—collapsed, and images flashed like playing cards. McGovern’s bar. The cracking sound of billiard balls, the gorgeous guy making her laugh, helping her relax and drop her guard. His callused hands on her bare skin. The soft rasp of his whiskered cheek against her own…the unbelievable pleasure.

  “Rikar.” His name came out like a question, though she didn’t mean it like one. She remembered now. “You’re a…big…jerk.”

  Cradling her in his lap, his mouth curved. “Bang-on, angel.”

  Not true. Angela knew it, but man, if felt good to give him a hard time. The show of spirit meant she was still alive. And as her focus sharpened, her mind followed suit, turning over enough to give him heck for McGovern’s and the fact she’d woken up alone…with a chunk of her memory missing. Something weird—and okay, half-wonderful too—had happened between them that night.

  So, yup. Whatever the details, he owed her and would be the “jerk” for a while longer. At least out loud. In secret, she’d call him awesome. He’d come after her when no one else had. Fought like hell to get her back, away from the rat-bastard. Angela’s throat closed, thankfulness ripping her wide open. If he’d been one minute later…if Lothair had…

  She gagged as her stomach heaved.

  “Angela?” He cupped the back of her head. Concern tightened his features a second before he pushed to his feet with her in his arms. “How we doing, baby?”

  “I c-can’t…b-breathe.”

  “Hang tight…one more minute.”

  His footfalls echoed at a fast clip, jarring her with each stride. Too tired to keep her eyes open, Angela let them drift closed. Bad idea. Without the cavern walls to ground her, she went topsy-turvy, her mind cartwheeling into thick, gray fog. The tumble spun her around, and unconsciousness circled like a shark looking for its next meal. As it sideswiped her, she told herself to be strong, but the siphoning pull seduced. Whispered in her ear, telling her to relax and forget. And as her chest rose and fell, each breath became more difficult than the last.

  She wasn’t going to make it. Her body knew it, and so did she.

  “Rik-kar?”

  He dipped his head, brushing her hair with his mouth. “Yeah?”

  “D-don’t leave me, ok-kay…p-please don’t—”

  “I won’t, Angela.” Her ear pressed to his chest, she listened to his heartbeat, each thump a lullaby, the last one she would ever hear. “Just stay with me. Baby, please…stay with me.”

  Angela tried—she really did—but as agony gathered she saw the shark swim toward her through the mind fog. Sharp teeth bared, the dark shadow attacked, dragging her down before swallowing her whole.

  Rikar cursed as Angela went limp in his arms. Hitching her higher against his chest, he held on tighter, afraid if he let her go he’d lose her. Zip. Bang. Gone forever…just like that.

  Hurry.

  The word banged around inside his head. He ran faster, sprinting across the LZ, each of his footfalls booming against uneven cavern walls. The light globes’ bob-and-weave caught the beat, swaying against the ceiling, sending stone dust drifting in the damp air. A thousand sparkles lit off, each fine grain grabbing onto the dim light like leeches onto bare skin.

  God, why had he landed so far from the lair’s entrance?

  A vast space, the LZ could launch four dragons at a time. And like a dumb-ass, he’d set down on the corner farthest from the door. But after the rough flight through storm clouds to reach Black Diamond, the need to check her with human hands—see her through human eyes—had overpowered him. Now Angela was in serious trouble, her bio-energy so low she wasn’t even shivering anymore. Her body had tapped out, and even though he cocooned her with his magic—

  Christ help him, it wasn’t enough. And as her vitals took a nosedive, he felt her slipping away.

  A howl of denial locked in his throat, Rikar slowed his roll. Not the brightest thing to do under the circumstances. He needed to reach the clinic, but he couldn’t share his energy with her on the run. That was if he could feed her at all, but…shit. He had to try. If she took from him, she stood a chance. The question was: Would she accept the healing energy he offered?

  He’d never shared his energy with a female before. Had only watched from the sidelines while Bastian fed his mate, and honestly? The exchange freaked him out. But afraid or not, there was no other play. Angela needed him. So yeah, no matter how tricky, he would deliver. Would crack himself wide open, bind himself to her heart, body, mind, and soul through energy-fuse if it meant saving her life.

  Which was a total mind-fuck.

  Energy-fuse was a forever kind of commitment, a mating bond forged without the possibility of separation. Once he connected and she accepted, he would belong to her. Life without possibility of parole.

  Angela twitched in his arms.

  “Fuck it,” he said as desperation dragged him to the edge, then pushed him over.

  Closing his eyes, he sank deep into the rawness of the Meridian’s energy stream. Power crackled, making him tense as he connected to the uniqueness of Angela’s bio-energy. The electrostatic current that fed his kind surged, rising in a wave to meet him. With a twist, Rikar looped the band, wrapping them in magical splendor, refolding the stream, blocking the life-giving flow. The magic whiplashed. He grabbed its tail and reversed course, redirecting the healing current from him into Angela.

  She flinched, fighting the intrusion.

  “Please, angel…take it.” Concentrating hard, he pushed the plea into her mind. “Please, baby, let me feed you.”

  A pause. Less than a heartbeat in time. She hummed, the sound warm, soft, and—

  Rikar sucked in a quick breath. Sweet Christ. She’d linked in, accepted him, snuggling closer as she took what he offered.

  Drunk on sensation, Rikar swayed. Widening his stance, he planted his shitkickers and…hmm, that felt incredible. And he wanted more. Needed to give her every last piece of himself.

  Sinking to the cavern floor, he settled her in his lap. “That’s right, love…take all you need.”

  Dumb-ass thing to do. Stupid on so many levels, but God, he couldn’t resist her. Or deny his com
pulsion to feed her. Savage need ripped through him as energy-fuse grabbed hold. Undeniable. Powerful. Addictive. The magical bond rooted him to the stone floor, made him cup the back of Angela’s head, press his cheek to hers, and align them temple-to-temple.

  With a moan, she nestled in, brushing the corner of his mouth with her own. Warm breath on his skin. A flick of her tongue. A gentle grazing of her teeth. The pleasure of her in his arms.

  God give him strength. No wonder B loved serving his female this way.

  Unable to resist, he slipped his hand under the hem of her hospital gown and put them skin to skin, spreading his fingers wide across her lower back. Connected at three junction points—nape, temple, and spine—the Meridian amplified, marrying their energy streams. Rikar growled, relishing the rush as Angela drank deep, drawing him into her veins. Within seconds, her vital signs stabilized, each breath coming a little easier as her muscles unlocked and her heartbeat leveled out.

  “There’s my angel,” he said in Dragonese, using the language of his kind to soothe her. “I see you now.”

  She whispered his name.

  Tears flooded his vision as his throat went tight. Rikar accepted the gift, then put it away. No time to wallow in the intensity of the mating. Angela might be stable now, but she wasn’t out of danger yet.

  Pushing to his feet, Rikar skirted the beat-up Honda in the center of the LZ and jogged toward Black Diamond’s underground lair. Ten seconds out, he banged on the magical door with his mind, triggering the energy shield. The powerful current crackled. Blue-white sparks flew, the snap-crackle-n-pop warning him to slow down.

  Rikar ignored the hint. He could handle the pain of coming in too fast. His female’s need took precedence and every second counted.

  Upping the pace, he thumped on the barrier again. The cave wall rippled, shifting from solid stone to clear and wavy. Curled like a shield around Angela, he tucked his chin and braced for impact. He hit the energy shield head-on. The invisible doorway hissed then whiplashed, throwing the magical equivalent of a temper tantrum. Rikar snarled at it. The thing retaliated, sideswiping him with electrostatic shards, and sensation exploded into pain. Holding his breath, he gritted his teeth and waited for the shield to spit him out the other side.