Fury of Ice (46 page)

No training, her ass. Look at him go.

Blue-gray scales nothing but a blur in the gloom, her partner leapt skyward. The enemy dragon stopped short, trying to compensate, hanging in midair. Mac struck, grabbing the SOB’s spike tail at the top of his jump. With a snarl, he yanked. The Razorback squawked as Mac dragged him out of the sky. As Mac’s talons touched down with a thump, the rogue slammed into the ground. Rock dust flew, clouding the clearing as the brown dragon slid toward the cliff edge.

Mac leapt on top on him. Angela dove for cover, using jagged pieces of fallen rock to hide her movements. She needed to get to the other end of the open space. With her partner pummeling the bastard, she couldn’t get a clear shot at the Razorback’s head. A bullet to the temple would help Mac out, but only if she didn’t hit him by mistake.

Adrenaline made her fast. Her mind made her lethal as she beat feet to the opposite end of the clearing. Her gaze narrowed on Mac, a plan took hold. She’d climb. Get to higher ground, protect her partner, and shoot the bastard from above. Even in the dark, she could see a stretch of rock she could scale.

Holstering her gun, she sprinted toward the steep wall, looking for hand and toeholds. She checked Mac’s position, watched him push the Razorback toward the cliff edge, and yelled, “Mac, don’t go over the—”

Ah, crap.

With a snarl, Mac screwed up her plan, launching himself and the Razorback over the ledge. Her heart stopped beating as she watched them fall. Within seconds, the pair disappeared, tumbling through thin air toward—

Splash!

—the ocean.

All went quiet.

Not trusting the stillness, Angela searched the sky. Pinpoint stars winked at her, belying the seriousness of her situation. Mac had a hold of one dragon, but the other still hid, waiting to strike. Her heart in her throat, she backed toward the overhang, the narrow crevice that would protect her from Razorback claws. Loose rock crunched beneath her boot treads, sounding loud in the silence. Holding the gun against her thigh, Angela curled her finger around the trigger and waited, forcing herself to breathe through the fear.

“Come on, Mac…hurry up,” she murmured, trying to make herself believe her partner was seconds away from reemerging over the cliff face. “Come on, man.”

Ten feet from her hidey-hole. Now eight. She was almost there, but unease kept her eyes on the sky. She refused to turn her back on the clearing. The instant she did, the rat-bastard would make his move. So she backed up slowly, desperate to anticipate, knowing the sadistic bastard was out there…watching her, enjoying her fear, wanting her to feel it to maximum effect.

“Here, kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty.” The awful hiss came from right above her head.

Angela went stone-still, the voice affecting her like slow poison, shutting down her ability to think. Those words…oh, God, his words. He’d used the same ones the night he chased her through the woods toward the beachhead. The memory kicked at her. She eviscerated it, reaching for every ounce of courage she possessed.

The mental readjust snapped her into motion. Angela scrambled for the jagged opening of the crevice. The rat-bastard growled. A gust of air blasted her back, shoving her forward. She lost her footing and went down, but she wasn’t out.

Spinning into a speed roll, she hurtled toward safety, twisting to avoid the huge talon as it swiped at her. The womp-womp of heavy wings sounded overhead. Angela increased her tilt-a-whirl, her arms tucked tight to her chest, chunks of shale biting through her BDUs as she rolled faster. Razor-sharp claws glinted in the moonlight, reaching for her. An instant before Lothair caught her, she zipped beneath the overhang and into the opening.

“Fucking she-cop.” The sharp click of claws echoed just outside her hidey-hole.

Her lungs so tight she could hardly breathe, Angela shuffled back into the fissure. She wanted to go farther, but…goddamn it. It only went about twelve feet. Surrounded by dank, slimy rock, she wedged her shoulders in tight and grabbed a handful of silt. She rubbed it on her shirt, drying her sweat-slick palm, then shifted her gun to the other hand and repeated the procedure. She couldn’t afford to have her weapon slip.

The rat-bastard snarled. “More trouble than you’re worth.”

Finished with the drying routine, she leveled her Glock at the crack, toward the thin strip of moonlight. “Go home then, why don’t you?”

Taunting him probably wasn’t the best strategy, but she didn’t know what else to do. Other than blow his head off if he crouched down to look at her. Please God, let him be that stupid. ’Cause, yeah. He might have her cornered, but the second she saw the dark glint of his dragon eye or he shifted into human form and came after her, she’d put a bullet through his brain.

Mining his female’s energy, Rikar tracked her through the rough terrain. His eyes narrowed on the craggy coastline, he rocketed around another bend. The ocean roared, waves frothing, smashing against the base of the cliffs, throwing up cold spray. Slick with mist, water wicked from his scales, turning to ice before blowing back behind him in a frosty swirl. He increased his wing speed, scanning, searching…his aggression factor set on apocalyptic.

He needed to find her. Close. He was so freaking close. Less than a minute away.

Which was way too long. He could feel her fear through energy-fuse, heard the hitch of her breath, the hammer of her heart as if it were his own.

Fucking hell. Something nasty was going down. Angela didn’t scare that easily. Add that to the fact he couldn’t raise Mac through mind-speak, and situation critical took on a whole new meaning.

Night vision pinpoint sharp, he picked up all kinds of trace and discarded most of it. She wasn’t on the beach or anywhere near the secondary location. Which meant she was stuck on the trail, up in the cliffs above the churn and chop of water. Flying harder, wings stretched to capacity, Rikar banked hard, heading inland. He came in low, following a rough trail up from the beachhead. Almost there. Another rise. Another fall, and he crested a sheer rock face. He heard the growl and the sound of claws on stone a second before he spotted the rogue.

The bastard was digging, clawing at the ground beneath a narrow overhang. Good Christ. Angela was under there, avoiding Lothair’s deadly talons as he swiped at her.

Baring his fangs, Rikar came in hot. Arctic air whistled from his throat and ice daggers flew. Reacting to the magic hurtling toward him, Lothair’s head snapped in his direction. Rikar snarled. Too late. The fucker wouldn’t get airborne before—

Wham!

The frozen knives struck the Razorback XO, piercing his scales. Blood splatter arced as Lothair snarled and spun to face him. His velocity supersonic, Rikar swooped in and hammered the rogue broadside. His claws found flesh and bone. With a roar, he clamped down, ramming the ice daggers deeper as he spun his enemy away from Angela. Lothair’s head whiplashed, exposing his throat. Rikar ignored the pain as the SOB’s talons ripped at his shoulders, and flipped the bastard. Jumping on his spiked spine, he grabbed the rogue’s wings and cranked, popping them from their sockets.

Lothair shrieked in agony, thrashing beneath his hold.

Rikar showed no mercy. With a twist, he snapped the male’s spine, severing his spinal cord. Paralyzed from the chest down, Lothair screamed. Rikar applied more pressure, giving his beast free rein, and growled, “She’s mine. You dare to touch what’s mine…you die.”

And fuck, he wanted to do it. To finish Lothair—deliver the death blow and punish him for hurting Angela. For taking what by right should’ve been hers to give. But he couldn’t steal that from her. His female deserved justice, needed closure to heal from the pain. And if pulling the trigger helped her recover, he’d forgo his own need for vengeance in order to give it to her.

His claws buried in enemy flesh, he called to her, “Angela.”

“Rikar?”

“Are you all right, love?”

He heard her move in answer. The shuffle sounded loud even though it shouldn’t. Other noises trumped that…the crashing churn of ocean waves, the labored breathing of the enemy male he pinned to the granite. But his focus was absolute, and all about her. His dragon senses picked up each miniscule shift of movement, tapping into her heart rate, mining her emotional state.

The biofeedback bounced back like a boomerang. Scared, but all right. Rikar exhaled in relief. She wasn’t hurt. Thank Christ.

The Glock clutched in her hand, she scrambled around the edge of a boulder, then froze. Just stopped short, hazel gaze widening as they landed on him. Pressing his prey into the ground, he tipped his chin at her, knowing what kind of picture he made. Blood spattered. Deadly. Aggressive. A bonded male presenting a gift to his female.

Tears flooded her eyes. She breathed his name, a thank-you in each syllable.

“Come finish it, angel.”

One tear fell, streaking through the dirt on her cheek. She moved forward, the gun bobbing against her thigh, her attention shifting to the bastard who’d hurt her. As she approached, Lothair whined, pawing the ground, trying to get away even though he had nowhere to go. Rikar wrapped one talon around the rogue’s front paws, holding him immobile, protecting Angela, refusing to feel sorry for the bastard.

The execution might not be nice, but was deserved. Justice at its best.

Stopping less than three feet away, Angela raised the Glock. She met his gaze, hers full of pain, his full of understanding. He nodded. She pulled the trigger, ending Lothair’s life and his reign of terror. Over her. Over them. Over the females yet to be freed.

As the Razorback ashed out, throwing gray flakes into the air, Angela’s breath hitched into a heartbreaking sob. Christ help him. Here it came, the emotional breakdown. Her pain was raw, too deep…and so necessary.

She needed to cry. To release the helplessness and sorrow, every ounce of pressure that had been building steadily inside her. Now that she’d ended Lothair’s life, she had closure and could let the injustice she’d suffered go.

Shifting into human form, Rikar pulled her into the shelter of his body. She accepted his embrace like the gift he meant it to be, leaning on him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and let the tears fall.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured against the top of her head. Picking her up, he walked them both away from the ash pile and the stink of death. “Let it go…let it all go.”

He kept talking to her, using his voice to comfort her. She didn’t cry long. But then, he didn’t expect her to. His female was battle honed and warrior strong. And now that the storm had passed, she’d mourn her loss and move on. Exactly as he or any one of the Nightfury warriors would have done.

“My beautiful female,” he murmured, stroking his hand along her back. “You make me so proud.”

“Rikar…” She trailed off. And he waited, giving her the time she needed to collect her thoughts. She burrowed deeper against him, holding him tight. “I know this probably isn’t the best time to tell you, but…I love you. Even if you don’t love me back. Even if you don’t want me—”

“Sweet Christ, angel,” he muttered, surprise blindsiding him. “I love you too. So much it wrecks me.”

“Oh.” She sniffled then raised her head to look at him. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been going nuts, trying to read you. To figure out if you want me to stay.”

Brushing a tear from her cheek, he marveled at the irony. “What a pair we make.”

She frowned and met his gaze, a question in her own.

He answered it without hesitation. “I’ve been holding back, afraid if I told you how I feel…that I want a future with you…it would freak you out. You’ve been through so much, Angela, and I didn’t want to be
that
male. The one making demands, pushing you into something you weren’t ready to accept. Expecting something you might never be able to give.”

“Rikar?”

“Yeah?”

“You should probably know something right up front,” she whispered, wiping at the corners of her eyes, making her eyelashes tangle together. God, she was incredible. So damned beautiful she took his breath away. “I’m okay with you making demands. All kinds of them.”

“Good to know.” His mouth curved as he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, undemanding, nothing like he wanted, but all that she needed. “The energy-fuse…and feeding me…doesn’t bother you?”

“Not even a little.” Her mouth tipped up at the corners, she ran her hands over his shoulders. “Fate, remember? You’re my mate. We are meant to be together.”

“Bang-on, angel,” he murmured, his heart so full of her he felt close to bursting. “So…on the demand front. I’ve got another for you.”

She kissed him softly. “Go for it.”

“There’s a ceremony, one Forge says will cement the bond we share.” Nerves got the better of him. His stomach twisted as he said, “Would you—”

“Yes,” she said, agreement quick, tone sure. She smiled, then popped up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Yes to everything and then more after that.”

He laughed. “You should probably hear me out, love. Get some details before you agree to anything.”