Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) (39 page)

Bastian’s breath caught. “
Bellmia
.”

“Are you worthy of the female I give unto your care?”

“No.” Bowing his head, Bastian adhered to the ritual and said, “I am unworthy.”

“And so you are.” Releasing her hand, she moved in behind Myst to unclasp her cape. With a flick, she removed the velvet and bared her best friend’s shoulders. As Daimler stepped up to take the heavy throw, she said, “But you have been chosen by this female and have now been accepted by me. Come, warrior...claim what is now yours by right.”

“
Mervais, zi lyzemai
,” Bastian said in Dragonese, thanking her for the privilege. Without hesitation, he stepped over the ancient inscription and into the heart of the crest.

Tears in her eyes, Myst reached for him. With a murmur, he accepted and stepped in close. The air stirred, and electrostatic current rising, he slipped his right hand into hers and cupped her cheek with the other. “My love...almost there.”

Tania’s chest grew tight as she watched them. Amazing. Heart-stopping. Beyond beautiful. She’d never seen anything like the love they shared...or their commitment to one another. She saw the way Bastian looked at her friend. Felt their connection with every breath she took. Recognized forever in Myst’s eyes and the rush of awe in her own veins.

Meant to be. These two were undeniably meant to be.

Her own tears rose. Tania pushed them away. She didn’t have time to cry. Not right now. Later would be soon enough to turn into a blubbering idiot. To rejoice in Myst’s good fortune and let the tears of happiness fall. To become her best friend again and leave the role of
lyzemai
behind...for good.

“Rise all,” she said. “Gather round to bear witness to this male and this female.”

Taking a calming breath, Tania paused to collect her thoughts as the Nightfuries obeyed and rose. Their bare feet whispered in the silence, and she dug deep to remember the words. Nothing surfaced. She blinked. The big blank expanded, wiping out memory. Panic grabbed hold. Mac moved into her line of sight, taking his place on the outer rim of the crest with the other warriors. His gaze met hers. He nodded, encouraging her, steadying her, the confidence in his eyes absolute.

The words popped back into her head. With a shaky exhale, she sent a silent thank-you Mac’s way, then raised her arms, held them wide, and said, “Let the covenant begin, and so to the vows, the strength of which will bind hearts, marry souls, ring throughout this chamber and upon the ages...
iazen
.”

The final amen echoed, rising toward the dome, and Daimler stepped forward. His head bowed, the Numbai presented her with a length of yellow ribbon. As it slid through Tania’s fingers, she approached the bride and groom and, with careful precision, threaded the silken length over and around their already intertwined right hands.

Finished tying them together, Tania stepped back to take her place outside the circle.

The second she settled, Bastian spoke, holding his female’s gaze, reciting his vows in the language of his kind. His deep voice rose and rang inside the rotunda. The inscription embedded in the floor began to glow. Like moonbeams, the illumination spread, rising up from the letters, bathing each of them with soft white light. Between one heartbeat and the next, the brilliant tendrils twisted, blew inward, ghosting across the floor to surround Bastian and Myst.

Tania’s breath caught, the beauty more than she could bear. The tears resurfaced, filling her eyes. Uncaring, she let them come and, pressing her hand over her heart, listened with profound gladness as the Nightfury commander’s vows came to a close and Myst’s began.

Strong and proud, her friend’s voice rang out, “Fate of my fate. Light of my light. Kindred of spirit without shadow or slight. You are mine. And I am yours. Two hearts intertwined, forevermore.”

As the last word was spoken, the light flared, rushing up to surround their bound hands. The ribbon ashed, falling into a wispy gray pile on the floor. Wind gusted through the room, tugging at Tania’s unbound hair. Lightning forked overhead, fracturing the gloom. Myst gasped and, wide-eyed, watched the white-hot glow encircle her index finger, then travel across the back of her hand. Intricate lines formed, an ancient tattoo inked in shimmering silver on Myst’s skin. A muscle twitched along Bastian’s jaw as identical lines burned across his knuckles.

The mating mark.

Forge nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face.

Thunder boomed, shaking the rotunda. One more crack of lightning and...

All went quiet.

Frowning at the pale lines of his new tattoo, Bastian flexed his fist. With a laugh, Myst shook out her hand, joyful tears in her eyes.

“And you may kiss the bride,” Tania said, interjecting a human custom into the Dragonkind ceremony.

The baby cooed as Angela jostled her with an elbow and grinned. “Good one.”

“I thought so.” Returning the smile, Tania reached out to stroke G.M.’s cheek. Waving his chubby fists in the air, he squawked, talking to her baby-style. She smiled and murmured back. He was so cute: dark mohawk sticking straight up, making happy sounds, tiny feet peeking out from beneath the navy-blue outfit that matched the Nightfuries’ ceremonial robes to a T. Unable to resist, Tania rubbed the baby’s belly. “Hello, beautiful boy.”

“Lads arenea beautiful. We’re tough.” Stopping next to them, Forge held out his hands. Angela rolled her eyes but obliged, transferring G.M. into his arms. “Isnea that right, laddie?”

His focus riveted to his father’s face, the baby gurgled in agreement. A moment later he stuck his fist in his mouth and sucked on his knuckles.

“Och, now.” Cradling his son, Forge patted his small bottom and turned away, the love in his eyes unmistakable. “Hungry, are we?”

The baby kicked his legs, pumping his knees like pistons, and Tania’s chest started to ache. God, what a sight...a loving father caring for his child. What a gift. One she’d never had the privilege of experiencing, but as Forge walked away, gladness filtered through her. G.M. would never know neglect, not with Myst and the Nightfuries in his corner.

Rubbing her hand over her heart, Tania watched the pair retreat and—

A gasp sounded behind her.

Tania glanced over her shoulder and suppressed a grin. Good lord. Bastian was on the rampage, in full “just married” mode: kissing Myst deep, swinging her into his arms, heading for one of the archways.

Just before he descended the stairs, Bastian relinquished her friend’s mouth and glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up. We won’t be around for a while.”

“Us, either.” Scooping Angela up, Rikar tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the exit.

Tania blinked, then swallowed a laugh, listening to the detective squawk in indignation. Funny thing, though? She noticed Angela didn’t struggle. Was actually fighting a smile as she got carted off like a sack of potatoes.

From the opposite side of the rotunda, Forge said, “Yo, Daimler. You got anything cooking?”

“Oh yeah,” Venom said, hot on the Scottish guy’s heels. “I could eat.”

Daimler came to attention with a happy hop. His mouth as quick as his feet, he scurried ahead of the Nightfuries, a long litany of everything he’d prepared for the “mating feast” trailing like a ticker tape behind him. Tania watched them go, a smile threatening. After a moment she gave in and, with a grin, put her pretty footwear to good use and—

A big hand curled around her wrist, stopping her midstride. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The deep growl sent her pulse thrumming. Oh boy, he sounded good, like a hot-blooded male with only one thing on his mind. His touch confirmed it—soft, seductive, a decadent slide up the inside of her arm. Pausing at her
elbow, Mac stroked over sensitive skin, cranking her tight, and moved in close. His chest bumped her from behind. She shivered as he gathered up her unbound hair, twirling it around his hand. With a gentle grip, he tugged her head back, raising her chin, giving himself access. She arched under the pressure. He took advantage and dipped his head. His whiskered cheek prickled her a second before his mouth brushed the side of her throat.

A soft kiss. A gentle nip. The tease and tug on her hair. That was all it took for her to lose her way. Sensation swirled in a heated coil, making her tingle.

Fisting her thick strands a little tighter, he growled, “You stay with me.”

Better than any rope, he tied her up with his words. But even as she surrendered, wanting what his closeness promised, she refused to go easily. He liked her feisty. Tania liked herself that way too, and with Mac? Shyness wasn’t an option. Neither was backing down.

Anticipation whipped through her. Oh yes. This was going to be so damn good.

“What if I don’t want to?” Stepping back, she bumped him, then settled, her back to his front.

“You promised me
anything
earlier.” Pressing his free hand flat against her belly, he claimed all the real estate between her hip bones. Wrapped tight to his muscled length, Tania bit down on a moan. He smiled against her throat, then drifted up to nip her earlobe. “I’m here to collect.”

“Payback?”

“The best kind.”

No argument there. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her again. To ride him hard and be ridden in return. To hold him skin to skin and have his taste in her mouth.

Twisting in his embrace, she tugged on her hair. Mac growled in protest. Tania insisted, applying pressure until he let her go. The instant his grip loosened, she turned in the circle of his arms. Face-to-face now, she reached up, traced the contours of his lips before sliding her hands into his dark hair.

Meeting his gaze, she whispered, “You gonna show me?”

His nostrils flared. “You gonna let me?”

Playing the tease, she scraped her short nails along his scalp, holding him on the razor-sharp edge of desire, heightening her anticipation, forcing him to wait. After what seemed like forever, but was only a moment, she asked, “You want me to let you?”

“Motherfuck, yes.”

“Say please.”

His eyes narrowed on her. She held her ground, refusing to back down. He needed to give to receive, and she wanted it all. Every last piece of him before he laid her down.

“I’m going to make you pay for it,” he murmured, warning in his tone. “Make you beg again.”

“You first.”

A muscle twitched along his jaw. “Please,
mo chroí
.”

Caressing the tops of his shoulders, Tania smiled. “I’m all yours.”

And she was. As much as she wanted to deny it, she
was
his. Logic and all the dragon stuff be damned. Intuition ruled, and the truth hit home. She belonged with Mac in every way that mattered. But even as she acknowledged it and offered him her mouth, fear slithered through her. He would hurt her in the end. Tania knew it deep down, no need to explore further.

She was headed for a fall. Heartache inevitable.

She wanted him too much. Couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of his company, the heat of his body, or the decadence of being held in his arms. And as he accepted her invitation and kissed her—tangling their tongues, tasting her deep, making her moan—Tania gave up the fight. She couldn’t say no, never mind walk away. That would take bucketfuls of willpower, and right or wrong...

She simply wasn’t strong enough.

The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Ivar. He’d always suspected he would lose Lothair, in one manner or another. The inevitability had been written in the stars. The sands of time...whatever...fate turning its indestructible wheel. He saw that now. His best friend had been too reckless—his temper too volatile, his personality too obsessive—for him to survive long inside the Razorback ranks. In a war that took no prisoners.

Still the loss hurt like a son of a bitch.

And therein lay the irony.

He never felt.
Anything.
And yet weeks had passed. Over a fucking month, and no matter how hard Ivar tried he couldn’t let it go. The pain stayed with him, swelling like a balloon inside his heart and mind, pushing at the edges of his control, and...he mourned. Grieved for a male lost too soon. Raged at the unfairness. Wanted to level the nightclub—and every soul in it—as he folded his wings and touched down in the parking lot behind Deuce’s.

Streetlights flickered, reacting to his magic as his claws clicked against asphalt. He shrugged, flicking the
condensation from his bloodred scales, and, shifting to human form, conjured his clothes. The expensive suit fit him like a glove, settling across his shoulders, folding with precision around him.

Quick. Easy. No fuss, no muss. Ivar tugged at his shirt sleeves, adjusting his favorite cuff links. He didn’t have time to mess around. Not tonight. Or any other, for that matter.

Skirting a row of dumpsters, he ignored the foul stench of human waste, blocked out the crunch of broken glass beneath his shoes, and strode toward the back entrance. The moment he reached the concrete steps, the human bouncers snapped to attention. In a flap of movement, each picked a door and wrenched the glass sliders wide, saving the fuckers from the smash-bang routine Ivar yearned to deliver.