The trick now would be getting the critically injured Jamison out of the human facility without the assholes guarding her any the wiser. A challenge. Finally. At last. Something complicated that needed a solid plan and brass balls to pull off. Wick hummed, anticipation rising as he angled his wrist and glanced at his MTM military watch.
Seven hours until sundown.
His mouth curved. Fuck him, but he could hardly wait for nightfall. Breaking her out while circumventing a bunch of clueless humans was going to be so much fun.
Standing just inside Black Diamond’s dining room, Venom watched his best friend sleep. Ass planted in an armchair, Wick sat slumped over the table, crinkled paper beneath bent elbows, cheek pressed to forearms, dark hair gleaming in the low light. Stacked in uneven piles, tattered by dog-eared corners, rolls of architectural plans littered the tabletop. Organized chaos. Made sense. Everywhere Wick went things got messy. And by the looks of it, the male had been at it for hours, buried under paperwork, researching God only knew what.
Why Wick was here, though—laid out in the dining room instead of in his usual spot locked behind his bedroom door—was a mystery.
With a frown, Venom surveyed the untidy arrangement again, zeroing in on the pencil poised between his friend’s lax fingertips. He shook his head. Wicked strange. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Wick with his eyes closed.
Or so relaxed.
Not surprising, really. Wick possessed an ultrathick guard. Was the kind of male who mistrusted most and rarely showed weakness. Oh, it had been known to happen. Bringing Forge and Mac onside and into their pack was a prime example of Wick’s willingness to lay himself on the line. But when moments like that happened, his eyes were always wide open, a wary light in them, body, fists, and a load of lethal at the ready.
Not that Venom blamed him for being so cautious.
All of the Nightfuries were to a certain extent. War did that to a male. Made him suspicious of outsiders and ever watchful, always vigilant, in search of ambush and the enemy. Which was the way it had to be…
At least, outside the lair.
But inside Black Diamond? Their home served as a sanctuary, a place of comfort and acceptance, of safety and fun, where the Nightfury warriors could let loose and be themselves. The fact Wick didn’t feel that way— wasn’t comfortable anywhere—didn’t sit well with Venom. No male should live in isolation. Especially a valued member of a Dragonkind pack.
Too bad old habits die hard. Mistrust was a bitch, caging Wick inside a prison of his own making.
No steel bars or barbwire. No guards either. But the male was trapped all the same, brutal experience and past pain locking him up tight.
His gaze still riveted on his best friend, Venom swallowed the bitter taste of disappointment. It was so much bullshit. No matter what he did—or how hard he tried—he couldn’t help. Or offer ease. Not if Wick continued to keep his distance.
Always around—with him, but not really.
The condition was a running theme with them. One that worried Venom. It was getting worse. The emotional chasm between them grew by the day. He sensed the distance, the lengthening stretch of a male in full retreat. Wick would raise a brow and brush him off. Tell him he imagined things, that the lair was a busier place with the addition of three females and he needed quiet, that was all. But Venom didn’t think so.
Something had changed in recent days.
His friend was pushing him away, setting up psychological roadblocks and emotional blockades. The kind he’d worked for years to drag Wick out from behind. A setback? To be sure. One that sucked? Absolutely. Particularly since it left Venom feeling alone. Isolated and out on a limb without the usual safety net for protection. A place he hadn’t been since he’d torn the collar from around Wick’s throat, pulled him out of the cage and away from that shithole all those years ago.
The history shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did. Wick shutting him out—his refusal to talk about what bothered him—felt like betrayal. Like a boot to the balls. Like exile without the possibility of—
Venom clenched his teeth. Hell, after all they’d survived, he deserved better from Wick. Which was… what? Inclusion. Information. Trust from a male who possessed every ounce of his. So, yeah. Here he went again. Hopping on a merry-go-round with heartbreak the main spin. A never-ending ride that revolved at the speed of light, stopping on “screwed up” every once in a while, spinning them both in dangerous directions.
With a sigh, he rolled his shoulders, and putting his combat boots to work, walked toward the end of the table. Time for a showdown. To dig in and turf the obstinate SOB he called best friend. Or kick his ass into reasonableness.
Either scenario worked for Venom.
No one, after all, fought as dirty as Wick. Great on every level. The smackdown held the promise of a double whammy: he’d get the fight he craved while making his point. And Wick? The knuckle-grind would relax his friend enough to facilitate a chat, the words Wick always struggled to find.
Without making a sound, Venom skirted the row of upholstered chairs running along one side of the table. Lined up like soldiers, the square-backed Louis XVIs faced off with the wide expanse of mahogany and the chandelier above it. Dimmed down, light refracted through the antique crystal, sending color arcing across the high ceiling. Ignoring the rainbows, he slipped behind his friend’s chair. As he moved past, he reached out and, with a quick strike, flicked the edge of his buddy’s ear.
Wick came awake with a snarl and jacked upright. He landed with a thump on the balls of his feet, big hands curled into twin fists, guard up, golden gaze aglow. His back to the double French doors, Venom retreated a step and got ready for—
On a quick pivot, Wick lashed out. Venom blocked the first punch but missed the second. He grunted as Wick connected, ramming through his guard to reach his face. Knuckles slammed against his cheekbone. His head snapped to the side, brutal sound shredding the silence. The chandelier swayed and pain spiraled, sweeping round to hammer the back of his skull. With a growl, Venom slid left and unleashed an uppercut beneath his friend’s chin.
Bull’s-eye. Center-of-the-ring accurate.
Wick’s chin came up as his head whiplashed. He stumbled backward, sliding on the soles of his shitkickers. Regaining his balance, Venom reset his stance, expecting another go-around. Except…
It never came.
Silence and stillness arrived instead as Wick shook off the last remnants of sleep and paused to take stock. Venom blinked, surprise ambushing him. Weird. Abnormal in more ways than one. And so not his best friend’s usual MO. Wick never hesitated to lash out, but retreat? Man, that wasn’t even in the male’s playbook. But as one second faded into the next, and Venom waited for the sneak attack, his friend did just that. Backed off. Dropped his hands. Unfurled his fists to settle into a more relaxed stance.
Straightening the twisted fabric of his muscle shirt, Wick scowled at him. “What the fuck, Ven?”
“Ring-a-ling-ling,” he murmured, not knowing what to make of Wick and the sudden behavioral switch-up. Something to be alarmed about? Or rejoice in? Venom didn’t know. One thing for sure, though, the change in demeanor bode watching. “Evening wake-up call.”
“Shit. Sun’s going down.”
“Umm-hmm. We got about an hour.”
Wick glanced at the double French doors. Blacked out by magic, the glass writhed, rippling like water, blocking out deadly UV rays. Same old, same old. The windows possessed a mind of their own. Good thing too. No Dragonkind male could withstand daylight—would go blind if he were foolish enough to try—so the magical shift was a necessary one, causing the spell that surrounded Black Diamond to react. The upside? Dark windows during the day—protection in its purest form—which allowed him and his comrades to move around without fear of getting fried by the sun. Soon, though, each pane would lighten, then clear completely, allowing moonlight to flood the aboveground lair.
Flexing his bruised knuckles, Wick turned back toward the table.
Venom followed, curiosity getting the better of him. As he stopped beside his buddy, his gaze wandered
