Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) (9 page)

The floor lights blinked off, plunging the hallway into darkness.

Rikar pinwheeled, circling his arms. “Holy shit.”

“Fuck me,” Bastian growled at the same time, his voice overlapping his XO’s.

Skidding sounded, boot soles sliding on concrete as the Nightfuries put the brakes on behind him. Mac didn’t slow. Frustration twisted his gut into a giant knot.

Reaching deep, Mac gathered his magic. Halogen bulbs sparked, electricity popping like popcorn before the light sputtered, flickering back on. His eyes on the portal, Mac watched the wall waver, shifting from milky white to clear air, opening into the cavern beyond the stone barrier.

Mac wanted to howl in satisfaction. He sped up instead, roaring through the archway into the LZ. The pungent smell of musty air and damp earth hit him. The roar of water echoed, rushing in from the tunnel mouth, bouncing off the uneven stone walls as light globes bobbed seventy-five feet above his head. Ignoring the crop of stalagmites, Mac sprinted for the edge of the LZ.

“Well done, lad,” Forge said.

“Stop patronizing him, Scot.” Wick’s growled reply came over his shoulder like a softball pitch, floating on the thick air with deadly intent. Then again, that was Wick’s MO. The guy never said much, but when he did, he meant every word. “Leave him the fuck alone.”

Mac blinked. Jesus. What was that all about? Wick never defended anyone. Black Diamond’s resident sociopath was a stone-cold killer: quiet, lethal, packing a helluva lot of vicious while he decimated Razorbacks. So his support...the fact he was ready to back Mac up? More than a little surprising.

Still running, Mac glanced over his shoulder. As he made eye contact with Wick, he murmured, “Thanks, man.”

Golden gaze narrowed on him, Wick snarled, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Well, all right then. Back to normal on the antisocial front.

Mac nodded anyway.
Fucking up
, after all, wasn’t part of his game plan. Not with Tania in trouble and the rest of the Nightfuries watching his every move.

Not wasting a second, Mac skidded around the beat-up Honda—the one Myst had arrived in after Bastian airlifted her off the road and brought her to Black Diamond. Not that he cared where the battered hatchback came from at the moment. The wreckage was the least of his problems. He needed to get airborne...right now.

Sure Wick might be on board, but the other warriors? Shit. They were playing for keeps, hauling ass across the LZ in fighting formation, acting like heat-seeking missiles instead of males. Mac snarled, struggling to get into position. His night vision sparked. It wouldn’t be long now. He could feel the sun sinking below the horizon. A few more seconds and—

Halfway across the LZ, Mac shifted into dragon form: hands and feet turning to talons, body lengthening under his bladed spine, muscle, skin, and bone stretching beneath smooth blue-gray scales. His razor-sharp claws scraped granite. The lethal sound bounced in the vast space, sending a warning as sensation swirled around the horns on his head. With a growl, Mac spun to face his comrades and crouched low, the swing of his daggerlike tail slicing through thick, musty air.

His body language spoke volumes. No way was he going back inside.

The other Nightfuries put the brakes on, sliding to a stop on the uneven granite floor.

“Frigging hell.” Ruby-red eyes shimmering, Venom retreated, granite crunching beneath his shitkickers. “Rikar, pull your head out of your ass and do something, man. Ice him up before he—”

The tips of his claws shrieked against stone as Mac unfurled his wings. Time to get airborne.

“Ah, hell,” Venom growled. “Now we’re in deep shit.”

“Relax, Ven.” Rikar jogged around the car’s back bumper. He came in tight. Mac let him, wondering what the hell his XO was doing. Raising his fist, Rikar thumped him on the chest, rattling his scales. “It’s all good.”

B echoed the thought. “Let’s go.”

Mac’s brows popped skyward.

Riding a shitload of pissy, Venom threw their commander an incredulous look.

“It’s under control.” Green eyes aglow, Bastian smiled at Venom.

“Control? Screw that.” Venom pointed at Mac. “Does Boy Wonder look like he’s in
control
to you?”

“Fuck off, dickhead.”
Tendrils of steam rising from his nostrils, Mac glared at the guy and mind-spoke,
“You’ve got two options. With me or against me...what’s it gonna be?”

The ruby-eyed SOB glowered at him.
“Pansy-ass fledgling.”

Ah, the sweet sound of acceptance. Yeah, Venom might like to call him names, but he wasn’t an idiot. Like it or not, Mac knew the male was solid. Call it the warrior code of honor. Call it pack mentality. Whatever. Once called upon, commitment to a teammate couldn’t be ignored.

With a huff, Venom glanced at Bastian.
“You really on board with this?”

B nodded.
“All in.”

Mac relaxed, blowing out a pent-up breath.

“Hope you got a plan before he pulls another flash-and-fly and goes AWOL.”

Leather creaked as B put his feet in gear. Skirting the male where he stood in the center of the LZ, he thumped Venom on the shoulder with a closed fist, then glanced at Mac.
“What the fuck are you waiting for? Get airborne.”

Venom dropped another f-bomb.

“Use your head, Ven.”
Bypassing his buddy, Wick leaped over the car. A second before his shitkickers touched down, he shifted. Black from head to tail, his gold-tipped scales flashed beneath the light globes. He landed with a thump, tossing stone dust into the air.
“Where do you think he’s headed in such a hurry?”

Venom’s brows collided. A pause, then...the warrior sucked in a quick breath.
“Goddamn, the loft. His change...he’s got the female—”

Rikar piped up.
“Bingo.”

“Glad tae have you join us, Sherlock,”
Forge said, drilling Venom with sarcasm, confusing the hell out of Mac.

His gaze ping-ponged, meeting each of the warrior’s gazes in turn. Unease shivered down Mac’s spine. They knew something he didn’t...a big something. Something none were ready to tell him judging by the looks on their faces. Mac frowned. Oh so not good. And the joke, it seemed, was on him. ’Cause, yeah, he remembered getting hauled off his boat by Rikar. Recalled the loft and the more painful parts of his change. But a female? What in God’s name were they talking about?

“Brilliant,”
Wick murmured.

Bastian’s mouth curved up at the corners.
“Glad you approve.”

“
Hey, fledgling...”
His gaze locked on him, Venom’s expression went from worried to intense.
“Whatcha got? You locked onto something?”

Locked onto something?
Shit, he was practically throbbing with it. The beacon Tania threw off was so strong, Mac tasted her on his tongue. Still, suspicion lit him up, the cop in him asking questions even as instinct told him to go. To find her and bring her home.

He retreated a step. His back paw slid off the LZ’s edge. Pebbles fell, pinging down the cliff face, splashing into the aquifer below. Bastian nudged him, urging him to take flight.

Alarm bells rang inside Mac’s head.
“Rikar—”

“Go, Mac.”
White scales flashed, winking in the low light as Rikar transformed, shifting into dragon form. He thumped Mac with the side of his spiked tail.
“Sun’s gone down. You got the signal...track it. You lead, we’ll follow.”

“Motherfuck.”
Where had he landed...Bizarroland? An hour ago none of the warriors would’ve signed off on his leaving the lair. Now? All of them were on board and
hanging back, waiting for him to take flight. Jesus. What the hell had Daimler baked into that roast beef? PC-fucking-P?
“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Go, man.”
Meeting his gaze head-on, his XO bumped him again, giving him a gentle shove.
“Tania’s waiting.”

No arguing with that. No liking it, either. He’d solve the mystery later—beat the crap out of Rikar if he needed to—but for now, he spun on his back paws. The blade riding the ridge of his spine gleaming beneath the light globes, Mac launched himself from the ledge.

“Jeez,”
Venom muttered, claws scraping stone as he followed, his eyes trained on the tip of Mac’s knifelike tail.
“Still getting used to that shit. Why couldn’t we have adopted a
normal
fledgling...one without a water fetish and serious blade issues?”

Wings spread in flight, Mac bit down on a grin. He couldn’t help it. He understood Venom’s reaction. The pack always did a double take when he shifted into dragon form. He wasn’t Dragonkind’s usual fare. No spikes along his spine or ridges on his scales. No sharp barbs on his tail tip, either. Just smooth, interlocking dragon skin, webbed paws, and a razor-sharp tail that could cut a male in half as he flew by. But what he considered ordinary, his new comrades marveled at every time he transformed.

Normal, he guessed. Despite living hundreds of years, the Nightfuries had never seen anything like Mac. Until him, Rikar had thought the existence of water dragons nothing but a myth. Which honestly should’ve set him back a step...made him feel like an outsider or less of a male. Somehow, though, it didn’t. So he was different. Big deal. Mac liked the webbing between his talons, his smooth
dragon skin, and bladed tail. All made him water-dynamic, able to swim with ease, and...yeah, there wasn’t anything better than that.

Although he could’ve done without the tattoo.

Angela and Myst thought the swirling navy-blue lines that covered half his torso were cool. His opinion differed.
Cool.
Ha. Right. Like living with tribal ink he hadn’t consented to getting and didn’t want—or understand—was A-okay. Not that he could do much about it. The tattoo had arrived with his change and stayed.

Rikar believed it was a water dragon thing...some sort of magical connection to the element he controlled. The problem? His XO didn’t know for sure. And no matter how hard he and Rikar searched in the ancient texts written in Dragonese, on the Internet, human mythology books, they both came up empty-handed on the answers front.

Beyond frustrating.

Rocketing around a tight corner, he led the pack, wing tips inches from the jagged side walls. The symphonic sound of rushing water roared through the tunnel. Mac hummed and, angling into the last turn, increased his wing speed. The waterfall lay just ahead. God, he couldn’t wait to—

Flipping sideways, Mac went wings vertical. His night vision sparked, picking up trace, but it was the waterfall that interested him. Falling in a straight sheet, the cascade tumbled off the cliff Black Diamond called home. Three hundred and fifty feet of roaring perfection, it dove toward the river below, throwing up spray, shielding the tunnel entrance from intruders. He sliced through with a splash, relishing the cold-wet-and-delicious, and came out on the other side.

Without thought, he climbed, gaining altitude in the night sky, stars twinkling above him, the river and forest floor falling away below him. Forty minutes and some fast flying later, Mac leveled out over Highway I-5. Headlights blurring into a long tail, the highway snaked into the city of Tacoma. Almost there. A little farther now.

His sonar pinged, directing him in midflight. He banked north toward the Narrows Bridge spanning the narrowest part of Puget Sound. Storm clouds gathered behind him; heavy rains and the rumble of thunder rolled in his wake.

No surprise there.

The wild-and-wet thing always happened to him. Everywhere he went, water followed as though the element knew he owned it. Most nights, though, he controlled it better. Directing the flow. Dispersing the molecules. Condensation nothing but an afterthought. Too bad it wasn’t working for him tonight. He was too distracted, all his attention focused on Tania, not the torrential downpour rushing in his wake.

“Bloody hell.”
Coming down out of cloud cover, Forge rolled in on his left side. He shook his head. Water flew, arcing off his dark purple scales.
“You mind getting a handle on the waterworks, lad? Otherwise, I’m going tae need windshield wipers installed on my eyebrows.”

Thunder boomed overhead. Mac threw his mentor an apologetic glance.

“No worries.”
Forge swiped at the water running into his eye.
“Just tell me you’re still locked—”

“Goddamn it.”
Green scales gleaming beneath the storm flash, Venom torqued into a full body spin, coming up on his other wing tip. He shook like a dog in midair, sending raindrops flying.
“Could you tone it down a bit, fledgling?”

“Shut yer yap, Venom, and deal.”
Angling his head, his mentor glared at Venom over Mac’s head. A second later, he snorted. Fire-acid flew, flaring bright orange against the night sky. With a curse, Venom ducked, avoiding singed scales and a trip to the lair’s medical clinic with a bad case of ow-ow-ow.
“Unless you want a tidal wave tae go with that...knock it off.”

Mac’s lip twitched. God love Forge. The protective SOB made him laugh. Was bang on too, ’cause...yeah, treating Venom to a face full of tsunami sounded like a helluva lot of fun.

“What do you say, lad?”
Forge threw him a hopeful glance.
“You up for drowning the wanker?”

Venom shut his yap in a hurry.

Mac swallowed his snort of laughter. Vindication in the form of silence. Sure, Venom might not trust him—might be convinced that he’d get one of the Nightfuries killed with his fucked-up magic—but at least Mac’s ability as a water dragon backed the male up a step.

Mining Tania’s signal, Mac banked right, heading away from Tacoma. True to their word, the other warriors stayed on his six, letting him set the pace. Which freaked him out. He’d never led a fighting triangle before and...

Fuck. There went suspicion again...getting inside his head, mucking up his flow until he couldn’t wait any longer. The need to know was simply too strong.

“Hey, Rikar?”

“Here.”
Little more than a streak, Rikar rocketed out of the cloud cover. Water streamed across his white scales, turning to ice a second before it blew back in his wake. Frigid air turned frosty as his first-in-command tucked his wings, then flipped into position over Mac’s bladed spine.
“You still got a lock on her?”