Fury of Desire

her. Remorse struck him chest level. Wick smothered the reaction. Emotion was a bad idea. And feeling sorry about something he couldn’t change? Complete folly. It wouldn’t help him, never mind her. He needed to get her moving—and head to Black Diamond.

“Jamison.” Reaching out, he popped the truck door open.

Her head snapped toward him. Wide, terror-filled eyes met his. “D-don’t! Don’t touch me!”

“Easy.” Standing in the V—between the open door and the truck frame—he held his hands out to the sides, the move one of reassurance. “It’s just me… Wick. Remember?”

“W-wick.” Huddled inside his jacket, a tear spilled over her bottom lashes. “You… I saw y-you. You’re not… n-not…”

“Human?”

Another tear fell. “What are you?”

“Dragonkind. One of the good guys.”

Incomprehension in her gaze, she shook her head. Wick didn’t blame her for not believing him. He’d never been one of the good guys. Didn’t look or act the part, so… she was right on the money. It was only natural for her to fear him. But that didn’t change the facts. Or what he must do. And yet, he wanted to give her a moment to acclimate. A chance to understand. To come to terms with the idea that he intended to touch her again.

“Look, vanzala. I know it’s hard to understand, but I want you to trust me a little longer.” Meeting her gaze, he stepped forward. Trapped by her injuries, hemmed in by him, she squirmed on the seat, retreating even though she had nowhere to go. He watched her a moment, feeling helpless, not knowing how to help her, then leaned in. Angling his body through the open door, he planted his hand on the center console. As she whimpered, he said, “I won’t hurt you.”

“Liar,” she rasped. “I saw you. I saw you change into a… a…”

“Dragon?”

Her small hands made an appearance between the lapels of his jacket. Curled into twin balls of fury, she leveled her white-knuckled fists at him. Amusement sparked. Respect for her followed. Jesus. What a spitfire, a female with courage and the chops to hold her own against him. So, time to change tactics.

Wick smoothed his expression. No sense pissing her off. Laugh at her, and he knew she’d pop him with a left jab. “You wanna see your sister?”

She blinked. “You have Tania?”

“Yes.” Short, sweet, and to the point… always the best strategy.

“If you’ve hurt her, I’ll—”

“No need to threaten,” he murmured, his respect for her rising another notch. “She’s in good hands… mated to a friend of mine.”

The news flash made her mouth fall open. Wick took advantage of her momentary confusion and, tucking her fists away, tugged his jacket closed around her. Half a second, and he scooped her up, one arm supporting her back, the other beneath her knees. A quick reverse in course. A nifty shift to the left. A tight turn, and he walked away from the truck with her in his arms. All before she could protest.

She squirmed against him.

Wick secured his hold on her. “Relax, female. It’s all good.”

“Relax,” she said, her sarcastic tone all about “yeah, right.” Face half covered by the collar, she coughed into the leather, the sound raspy with pain. “You gotta be kidding me with that crap.”

His chin brushing the top of her head, Wick’s mouth curved. After a moment, he gave in to impulse and grinned. He couldn’t help it. He liked her moxie. Admired her for not crying like a baby too. All right, so a few tears had fallen. No big deal. Most females would be sobbing by now—be in postdragon freak-out mode or some shit. So, yeah. Jamison got full marks for keeping it together. He only hoped she continued on that track as he strode into the clearing toward his best friend.

Still in dragon form, Venom tipped his chin.

Wick nodded. Getting a load of Venom in all his scaly glory, Jamison gasped. He murmured, trying to reassure her, and called on his magic. Power sparked, warping the night air as she whispered “this isn’t happening… oh my God, this can’t be happening” against his shoulder. Careful to hold her gently, he shifted into dragon form. As he transferred her into his left talon, she winced, but settled fast, making him proud, slipping past his guard to touch a soft spot deep inside him.

Unprecedented. Not very smart either.

No matter how intriguing he found her, Wick refused to be lured. He wasn’t wet behind the ears, a green warrior without the sense God gave him. He didn’t want to feel anything for Jamison. Or be plagued by the need other males suffered for a female. He wasn’t built for connection. Didn’t want to experience closeness or yearn for another. He was a lone male, best suited to solitude, not to keeping a female happy.

Unfurling his wings, Wick nodded and leapt skyward. Exactly. Perfect. Excellent conclusion. A no-brainer, really. He didn’t want her. She clearly harbored no liking for him. Now only one job remained… reach Black Diamond. The sooner he handed Jamison over to her sister, the better it would be for both of them.

Hamersveld snarled as Ivar dragged him away from the female. Black eyes half-open, the tattoo bracketing his spine still glowing, the male fought the pull and reached for her again. With a muttered curse, Ivar tightened his grip and muscled the male to one side of the prison cell. Enough was enough. Tapped out already, she couldn’t afford to give another ounce of energy. And the warrior in his arms didn’t need anymore. But as she collapsed into an unconscious heap on the floor, he shook his head.

Hell’s bells. He’d never seen anything like it. Hamersveld was voracious. So hungry, energy-greed drove him, propelling him toward female after female, KO’ing reason in favor of self-preservation.

Not surprising considering the Norwegian’s condition, never mind his crash landing in the backyard. Since then, he’d gone through three HE females, mainlining energy the way an addict injects heroin. All in between salt baths. In. Out. Lift, carry… dunk. He’d been doing it all night, hauling the warrior away from one female after another, lifting him in and out of the tub between feedings. But that was over now. The worst had passed. At least, Ivar hoped so, ’cause…

God, his arms were about to give out.

Muscles screaming with fatigue, Ivar slung his new friend’s arm around his shoulder. One hand gripping Hamersveld’s wrist, the other around his waist, he turned toward the front of the cell. Wet skin touched his. He ignored the slip ’n slide and half carried, half dragged the male toward the glass stretched wall-to-wall across the front of the cell. Satisfaction hummed as he admired the seamlessness. Perfection in application, a clear expanse of quadruple-paned glory instead of steel bars… more fishbowl than prison.

Modern. Contained. The perfect cage for his exotic collection of human birds.

Pleasure filled him as he glanced at the unconscious female. Curled up on the floor, blond hair in disarray around her head, the number three was branded on the back of her shoulder. A fitting mark, one that reinforced her purpose. She was livestock, captured for one reason… to breed the next generation of Dragonkind, and hopefully—if the serum he’d created proved successful—produce the first female offspring of his kind.

It was a lofty goal. A risky venture too. One he needed to work.

Science drove him. The thrill of discovery its twin as he hunted for the chromosomal sequence to unlock dragon DNA and lift the spell that cursed Dragonkind. No other outcome would be satisfactory. The promise of freedom burned deep inside him, driving him to do better. To find the answers and save his race from inevitable destruction. He’d seen the path long ago. With females of their own, Dragonkind would no longer rely on humans to survive.

And the moment that happened? He’d eliminate the inferior race. Wipe them from the face of the earth once and for all.

The pissants deserved no better. Only a horrible death would do. Why? It was simple, really. No matter how many times Mother Nature warned them, the humans refused to act responsibly. The proof lay in the pudding… or rather, the result. Global warming. Catastrophic weather patterns and extreme storms. Species all over the planet driven into extinction. Air pollution, ozone reduction, oil spills, and the poisoning of groundwater. The list went on and on… and on.

Each one when added to the next equaled one thing…