Fury of Desire (36 page)

“Very good, Ivar. You’re a quick study.” Hands moving in continuous sweeps, he stroked his pet’s scales. Fen purred in reaction. “The tribal ink I wear acts as an outlet… a kind of conduit. Whenever Fen is hungry, he plugs in, becoming one with the tattoo and connects to the Meridian through me.”

“And only a male with the right ink can own a wren.”

“Exactly.”

“How can I get one?”

“You can’t. The marking comes with the
change.
Either a male is gifted with the ink or he isn’t. No negotiating it.” Hamersveld’s focus cut to the journal in his hands. “The moment a male transitions, the tattoo sends out a beacon, allowing the colony of wrens to detect him. After that, it’s a race to the finish line. All wrens wish to return to Earth. It’s
a better life. But only the strongest and fastest will reach the Dragonkind male first and—”

“Create the bond necessary for him to remain on Earth.”

As Hamersveld nodded, Ivar cursed. “So the Nightfury water-rat?”

“He wears the ink. It is only a matter of time before a wren reaches him.”

“How soon will it happen?”

“Depends. The journey out of the Ether is a long one. It took Fen almost a year to reach me.”

“We need to kill him before that happens.” As in… right fucking now. “Bastian has enough weapons at his disposal. With a wren in their camp… Jesus. We don’t need that kind of trouble.”

“The whelp may not live through the bonding period. Only the strongest males survive it. I became very sick when Fen melded his life force with mine.” Lost in the memory, Hamersveld shook his head. “But don’t worry. One way or the other, my son will be dead soon enough.”

Ivar blinked. “Your
son?
”

“Only a water dragon can breed another, Ivar.”

“Will killing him be a problem for you?”

“Not even a small one,” Hamersveld murmured, a deadly thread in his tone. “I am unique among our kind. I have killed my offspring for centuries to ensure I stay that way. The Nightfury will be no exception.”

Well, all right then. Crisis averted. In the nick of time too. He wanted to get back to the lab. After losing days caring for Hamersveld, he’d fallen behind on Project Supervirus. So much to do, so little time. Ivar thumbed the tattered pages of his notebook. He needed to round up a new batch of humans to—

“What’s in the journal?” Holding his gaze, Hamersveld raised a brow.

Ivar hesitated, playing a game of should-he shouldn’t-he with himself. How much should he share? Every detail? Or only the basics? He debated a moment, intuition urging him to take the plunge while logic advocated caution. Up until this point, only one male had known the ins and outs of his plan. A pang hit him chest level as he thought of Lothair. God, he missed the male, but mourning him didn’t change the facts. His best friend was dead, long gone thanks to his enemies. Now he must start over. And Hamersveld—a warrior who was willing to kill his own son? Hell, he might never find a better counterpart in the war he waged against the Nightfuries, and by extension, humankind.

“How much do you know about science?”

“Enough.”

Satisfied with the answer, Ivar nodded and laid it out. As he talked, Hamersveld interrupted here and there, asking questions, making astute observations, affirming his choice to bring the warrior into the fold. The Norwegian was wicked smart with an equal dose of lethal. Happiness sank deep, lightening his mood. Fantastic. The male was more than he had hoped, and everything he needed to continue his work.

As Ivar finished the rundown, Hamersveld shoved Fen aside and pushed to his feet. With a stretch, he worked out the kinks and plugged him with a thoughtful look. “Why work out of the lab? Why not release a virus directly into a human population? See how it performs in the wild?”

“I haven’t perfected the viral delivery system yet.” His brows furrowed, Ivar abandoned his seat and paced to the far end of the room. Skirting the bar and a wall of flat screen
TVs, he pivoted and strode back toward the bed. “I need to be certain it’ll take before—”

“What if I can guarantee it’ll take?”

“How?”

“You provide the superbug,” Hamersveld said. “I’ll introduce the virus into the water supply. Any human who drinks it will become infected.”

Hitting the pause button on the pacing, Ivar stopped in the center of the room. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Jesus. That was brilliant.

“But we test it first.” Magic whispered on the air as Hamersveld conjured a map of Washington State. Folded into pamphlet size, he tossed it to Ivar. “Pick a small town. Some place rural with a water treatment plant.”

“Then we sit back and watch how it spreads.” Excitement spiked, hitting Ivar with a shot of adrenaline. “Record and process the data. Make adjustments as needed.”

A nasty gleam in his eyes, Hamersveld grinned.

Ivar returned the smile and unfolded the map. Fucking hell, he couldn’t wait to get started.

The frosting smelled like fresh strawberries.

Seated on a stool at the kitchen island, J. J. smiled as she scooped more pink icing out of the bowl. Who would’ve guessed she’d enjoy baking so much? Not her, that was for sure. A little over an hour ago, she’d scoffed at the idea. Now she couldn’t wait to tackle the next cupcake. For some reason, the simple task relaxed her.

It was strangely freeing. No one telling her what to do or how to do it. Just her, a homemade batch of frosting, and a butter knife. Nothing but scads of mini-cakes to decorate any way she saw fit.

J. J.’s smile widened into a grin. All the taste testing didn’t hurt either.

She held up her next victim and eyed the white cake top with consideration. What to do… what to do? Tried and true? Or should she elevate her game and test her new skill set? With a quick twist of her butter knife, she iced the top, leaving swirls in its wake, then glanced at the toppings beside her. Set out in small bowls, the sheer variety blew her away. Colorful sprinkles. Candies and chocolate curls. Marzipan decorations of all shapes and sizes. She perused
the selection crowding the marble countertop, then looked at the already finished cupcakes. Sitting on a plate tree with three tiers, her pretty creations made the rounds, filling up most of the available real estate on Sweet Street. Only a few more left to do, so…

She reached for the piping bag full of chocolate icing.

“Ah, getting brave, I see.” British accent full of approval, Daimler raised a brow.

J. J. crossed her eyes, making a funny face at him.

He snorted and, tapping a wooden spoon on the edge of a huge pot, turned away from the six-burner stove. Like everything in Black Diamond’s kitchen, the range looked expensive. Gourmet on top of gourmet, hard-core gas burners surrounded by steel and stylish designer cabinetry. Not surprising, really. Anyone with eyes could see Daimler was a culinary tour de force. And honestly? The sophisticated white-on-white décor suited him.

An elegant space for an elegant elf.

Bridging the distance between stove and island, he examined her handiwork. “Well done, my lady. I had a feeling you would make a wonderful baker.”

The compliment pleased her. The title on the other hand? J. J. fought the urge to cringe.
My lady.
Right. As if she deserved to be called such a thing. “Daimler, for the millionth time, please call me J. J. I’m not comfortable with—”

“These are gorgeous, my lady!” His exclamation rolled over her request. J. J. sighed. She couldn’t win the argument. No matter how many times she objected, he ignored her wishes. Something told her that was typical behavior. His claim to fame… politely disregard anything he didn’t like and go on his merry way with every intention of doing whatever he wanted. Like now, while he twirled the cake
stand in a circle on the countertop, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, gushing compliments… making her want to hug him so hard his head popped off. “It’s such a treat to have you here.”

Uh-huh. And there it was… distraction in the form of a compliment.

J. J. knew she shouldn’t fall for it. Should stand strong in the face of obvious manipulation, but… well, crap. Just crap. She enjoyed the way he treated her—how quickly he had accepted her, despite her shady past. Her chest went tight under the weight of heavy-handed thankfulness. God, it felt good: to be valued, to be welcomed, to be included. A novel experience after five years of receiving the complete opposite.

“Thanks for letting me do it,” she murmured, listening to the low hum of female voices in the adjoining room. Beyond the wide timber-beamed archway, a long table occupied the center of the dining room. A magnificent chandelier hung above the mahogany surface, cut crystal reflecting the light, casting an ethereal glow over the three women in its circle. Her gaze landed on Tania, then bounced, sweeping over Myst and Angela. Busy doing Daimler’s bidding, the trio circled like sharks in a holding pattern, laying plates, cutlery, and wine glasses in prearranged places. “It’s a lot more fun than setting the table.”

“Complete selfishness on my part, I assure you.” Gazing at her like a proud papa, Daimler watched her pipe fancy chocolate trim around the edge of the cupcake. He grinned, gold front tooth winking at her. “You’re a natural, my lady. I’ll make a master baker out of you yet.”

J. J. huffed. “And I’ll end up gaining three hundred pounds.”

He laughed, and she fell head over heels for him. He was just too cute with his elfin face and pointy ears peeking through his dark hair. Daimler was a definite keeper.

With a steady hand, she set a marzipan flower in the frosting. A little nudge. A slight adjustment and… perfection. Now all she needed was some well-placed sprinkles. Maybe even a few leaves to propel the cupcake past pretty into gorgeous. “What are all these for anyway?”

“My wedding.”

J. J. jumped in surprise, squishing the candied leaf in her hand. Her gaze snapped to the left. “Jeepers, Tania. Sneak up on a body, why don’t you?”

“Ah, back to the good old days.” Brown eyes gleaming with mischief, her sister threw her arm around her shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

“Better be careful, Sis. You know I’ll get even and—”

“Ten times worse, no doubt.”

“Exactly. So watch your ass,” she said, enjoying the taunt and tease, ’cause… yeah. Tania was right. It did feel like old times. “And while you do… fill me in.” J. J. raised a brow. “Wedding?”

“A double feature.”

J. J. frowned, meeting her sister’s gaze while she racked her brain. Although, she hadn’t met him yet, she knew all about Mac. Tania couldn’t stop talking about him. Or rather… singing his praises. Every time she mentioned him, her brown eyes sparkled and J. J. smiled. She couldn’t help it. She loved her sister. Wanted to see Tania happy and fulfilled. And after a lifetime of listening to her fantasize about Mr. Right? It pleased her beyond anything to see her sister’s dream come true as Mac stepped into the role.

She pursed her lips. But back to the original puzzle. A double feature meant…

Ah, yes. “Ange and Rikar too?”

“Mac and Ange are best friends, so it only makes sense to do it at the same time.”

“Thought you always wanted a lavish ceremony?”

“I don’t care about that anymore.” Tania gave her another squeeze, then let go to settle on the stool next to her. “All I want is him.”

“You love him that much?”

“More.”

“I’m so happy for you, Tania. Proud of you too. You found him… held out for the right one,” she whispered, emotion filling her heart so full the words came out raspy. Tears filled Tania’s eyes. Hers followed suit. J. J. breathed through the emotional heave-ho, and fighting to stay even—breaking down in the presence of candy and frosting, after all, seemed counterintuitive—used the only weapon at her disposal. “Here. Have a cupcake.”

Wiping beneath her eyes, Tania huffed. “I’ve had two already. There won’t be any left for later if we eat them all now.”

“Screw it. We’re celebrating.” Picking the prettiest one off the plate, J. J. handed it to her sister. “Daimler and I will just make some—”

“Speak for yourself, my lady.” Made a little teary-eyed by their exchange, Daimler tried to pull off a stern look. He ended up sniffling instead. “You eat all the wedding feast cupcakes, and you’re on your own. I’m not explaining their absence to my boys.”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “
Boys.
You do realize you’re talking about grown men, warriors who…”

Tania’s breath caught on the last word, stealing the rest of her sentence.

Perplexed, J. J. stared at her sister, then flinched as a tingle ghosted over the nape her neck. Awareness expanded, morphing into a signal inside her head. Her focus snapped toward the hallway leading toward the front door. Wick. He was close… so very close she felt his proximity as sensation prickled. The heated curl clung a moment, then changed course, swirling down her spine in a—

“Oh!” Tania whacked her on the arm with the back of her hand. As J. J. said “ow,” her sister hopped off the stool and made a beeline across the kitchen. A second before she disappeared into the corridor, she said over her shoulder, “Come on, baby J. They’re home.”