“Don’t argue.” His grip on her chin firmed. “Do it.”
Nylon hissed as she pulled on the strap. The buckle clicked home with a snick. Wick nodded and withdrew, letting go of her to put both hands on the wheel. Moonlight shone through a break in the trees, illuminating the trail and—
Jackpot. A small alcove between a boulder and two huge redwoods. The perfect spot to shield Jamison— and hide the SUV—while he went after the assholes chasing him.
Ancient trees on either side of the road tunneled, branches curving overhead. Wick stamped on the gas pedal. The Suburban responded, rocketing toward the lip of the clearing. Small shrubs pressed in, scraping along the running boards. Jamison flinched. Wick murmured, hoping the sound of his voice would calm her. It didn’t work. He smelled her fear. Felt each frantic beat of her heart. Heard each breath she took, the rasp and draw, the hitch in the back of her throat, and watched her curl into a ball in the passenger seat.
Fucking hell. The Razorbacks would pay for that. For scaring her. For causing her more pain. For the folly of hunting him while he protected a female.
A snarl locked in his throat, Wick rechecked his sightline. So far, so good. If he timed it just right, the rogues wouldn’t know what hit them.
The trailhead widened into a V, opening into a field. Long grass undulated, moving with the wind.
The lead rogue wheeled overhead.
Wick bared his teeth, half smile, half snarl. Come on. Come on. Almost there. Another few seconds, and he’d have the male right where he wanted him… in prime strike position and at the end of his talons.
Bright scales flashed at the end of the roadway. Eyes aglow, the enemy dragon spread his wings, stopping his flight to hang in midair, obliterating the view of the field beyond. Black horns curled over his ears, the rogue snarled. Wick tightened his grip on the steering wheel and counted off the seconds. Three. Two—
“Oh shit!” Jamison’s startled cry echoed inside the truck. Her eyes went wide. Panic struck, making her scramble on the seat as she stared at the Razorback through the windshield. “Oh… my… God… Wick!”
The rogue inhaled past razor-sharp fangs.
One!
He hit the brakes and cranked the wheel. All-terrain tires bit, swinging the rear of the truck around. The vehicle rocked side to side. Dirt flew, arching in a circle, loam and pine needles raining against the SUV’s rooftop. He heard Jamison gasp in alarm. Ignoring her, he slammed the truck in reverse and gunned the engine. Steel shrieked against stone as he sandwiched the vehicle between the boulder and the redwoods. A stream of acid flew through the air. The dragon’s toxic exhale splattered the ground, then splashed over the front bumper. Bark crackled and sizzled, smoldering into smoke. Noxious fumes puffed against the SUV’s grille, then rolled toward the windshield.
A millisecond—that’s all it took—and Wick exited the truck.
Out. Up. And over. He landed with a thump in front of the SUV. Magic exploded, swirling around him as he shifted into dragon form. Black amber-tipped scales flowed over his body to reach his spiked tail. Dragon talons took up the cause, turning his hands and feet to razor-sharp claws. In full battle mode, he slammed the driver’s door closed with his mind, enclosing Jamison inside. Her scream echoed inside his head, filling him with regret. Too bad for her. For him too. He didn’t have time to go back and coddle her. Not with the Razorback poised to strike again.
In less than a second, he closed the distance. The enemy dodged, wing flapping to avoid his upward surge. Wick wanted to snort. He snarled instead. The dumb-ass. Like a complete idiot, the male hung in the kill zone, hemmed in by trees, immobile in midair, prime pickings with nowhere to go.
Tucking his wings, Wick spiraled into a sideways flip and lashed out. Halfway through the revolution, his claws caught. Dragon blood splashed up his arm. He grinned and dug in, claws cutting through scales to find muscle and bone. The Razorback flailed, fighting the lockdown and… oh, Nelly. The screaming never got old. Neither did inflicting the pain.
The rogue bastard. Asshole male. Threaten a female, would he?
No fucking way.
He wouldn’t permit Razorback filth anywhere near Jamison. Or allow her to be hurt. Not anymore. Never again. The male deserved every ounce of agony. And as the stink of his enemy’s desperation rose, Wick showed no mercy. Clamping down. Claws ripping at the rogue’s throat. Ignoring the backlash of claws against the wall of his chest. The pain was nothing, but killing the rogue? That was everything. And as he took the male apart scale by scale, he reveled in dominance and, for once, honor. Tonight he fought for something greater than himself. To protect. To serve. For a female who needed him to shield her.
A death rattle rose on the night breeze.
Wick growled as the Razorback disintegrated in his grip. Ash flew like snowflakes, covering his talons, whirling over his horned head—as he searched the sky. Oh goody. There they were… assholes number two and three flying in fast. Leaping straight up, he unfurled his wings. The rogues attacked in tandem, tag-teaming him. He spun in midair and nailed asshole number two with his barbed tail. The rogue’s head whiplashed. Using his momentum, Wick whirled around and grabbed him by the throat. He jerked his arm back. The fucker’s larynx ripped from the front of his neck, coming away in Wick’s talon. The rogue plummeted out of the sky, ashing out before he hit the ground. Wick pivoted, hoping—
Ah, hell. No such luck.
Asshole number three was bugging out, hauling ass over the forest, no doubt praying Wick decided not to give chase. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve gone after the pansy-ass. Not tonight, though. Murder and mayhem weren’t the top priority. Too bad. He could’ve used the exercise. But with Jamison curled up in the SUV less than a hundred yards away, killing anything else tonight didn’t seem like a good idea. Wick sighed and, folding his wings, set down in the middle of the field. Shit. He’d probably traumatized her. Scared her so badly she would no doubt freak out if he came anywhere near her now.
A green blur flew overhead.
Wick bit down on a curse. Not even close. He still had Jamison to deal with.
Ruby eyes aglow, Venom dropped out of the sky. Scales rattling from the free fall, his friend’s talons thumped down, flattening the field grass a few feet away.
Venom’s brows popped skyward.
Wick ignored the show of surprise. He didn’t want to explain. Couldn’t begin to either. What the hell could he say? That his wires were crossed—tangled up, on the fritz or something—and he didn’t want another male anywhere near Jamison. That if Venom approached her for any reason, he’d be forced to tear his best friend a new body orifice. Wick shook his head. Right. Like that would go over well. The entire Nightfury crew would ask questions. Razz him about his need to protect her. Demand he explain the compulsion. Not something he wanted to get into with the other warriors when he didn’t understand it himself.
His best friend grimaced.
Uh-huh. That about summed it up.
Shifting into human form, Wick conjured his clothes. Worn jeans and a T-shirt settled on his skin, and stomping shitkickers on his feet, he crossed to the dirt road. His chest went tight as the front of the SUV came into view. Her bio-energy thrummed, pulsing in her aura, making the inside of the cab glow with fiery light. The muscles along his spine tightened with each step he took. The closer he got, the more awareness expanded, folding around him, telling all he needed to know.
She was scared shitless. And he was to blame.
Approaching the passenger-side door, he glanced through the window. Ah, hell. Not good. Tucked into a fetal position, Jamison lay curled in a ball. But worse? She trembled so hard his leather jacket shivered around
