“Just working with what God gave me.”
A sparkle lit in Rodin’s eyes. Ivar narrowed his and unleashed what he did best. Analysis. Ferreting out facts. Putting each into context. Funny, but… huh. He swore the gleam in the older male’s eyes approached paternal pride. A strange thing considering Rodin was as cold-blooded as they came. Hell, the prick had never looked at Lothair that way, and his late XO had been Rodin’s youngest son.
Turning his head to one side, Rodin tapped his pen against the keyboard. “Check your accounts. I just wired you another half mill.”
“In exchange for?”
“Information and… your honesty.”
Weighing the pros and cons, Ivar examined the idea, searching for pitfalls. Truth, after all, was a tricky beast. It owned varying shades of gray. The kind a male could manipulate if he were smart enough to see the shift in color. “What is it you wish to know?”
“I hear there is a member of the Scottish pack in Seattle.”
Ivar frowned, not liking the implication in the inquiry. The intel was far too accurate. Forge, the only Scot he knew, had arrived a few months ago. The warrior had briefly danced to the Razorback tune before switching alliances to join the Nightfury pack. The loss still rankled, leaving a bad taste in Ivar’s mouth. Clenching his teeth, he bit down on a snarl. The backstabbing Scot had promised one thing, but delivered quite another.
The lying bastard. Forge had screwed with his plans.
Not that it mattered now. The past belonged where it already sat… in the
Not surprising. But by no means good either.
In order to function well, Ivar needed less scrutiny, not more. So, what to do, what to do? Share the information or stonewall Rodin? Misdirection, after all, was his specialty. Ivar debated a moment, determining the course that would best service him and—
Why not? “His name is Forge. He is a member of the Nightfury pack.”
“One of Bastian’s warriors now,” Rodin said, his pallor turning ashen.
Ivar nodded, wondering at Rodin’s reaction. The male didn’t scare easily. He knew it firsthand. Had witnessed the older male wield his power while under the Archguard’s thumb. But something about the Bastian/Forge connection shook the male from his lofty perch.
Interesting. Maybe even fortuitous.
With Rodin shaken up, now might be the time to cut through all the bullshit, get straight to the point, and reveal Lothair’s death.
He’d held onto the information, hiding the truth for fear of Rodin’s wrath. Not against him. Ivar could handle whatever the asshole sent his way. What he didn’t want was the male in Seattle. He needed to avenge his best friend without any outside interference. And Rodin, with one of his death squads in tow, amounted to a serious disruption.
“One other thing you should know, Rodin.”
Dark eyes snapped back to his.
“Lothair is dead… murdered by the Nightfuries.”
Rodin snarled, baring his teeth as rage flamed in his gaze. Raising his hands, he slammed both fists against the desktop. Wood crackled. The computer jumped, jarring the image. With a roar of fury, the male exploded in a flurry of movement. Mouth hanging wide open, Ivar watched the leader of the Archguard lose control from halfway around the world. A blurry swipe of arms, a brutal thrust of a booted foot, and… slam-bang! Lift off. The desk toppled, sending the computer tumbling end over end. Pale walls whirled past in the frenzy. The screen slammed into something. Static came through the breach, replacing the picture as the connection shattered.
12
Ahead of the pack, Venom came down through the clouds like a serial killer in search of his next victim. Alert. Focused. Watchful. Too bad he didn’t have a target. He’d left all hope of one behind in the city… along with the rogues. Now nothing but thick forest stretched out for miles, staring up at him as a storm gathered in the sky above him. Rain threatened, the distant rumble of thunder a warning, the thick mist that hung over the land another.
Condensation gathered, wicking off his scales as he glanced over his shoulder. His gaze landed on the warriors flying in his wake. Venom’s mouth curved. Man, what a sight. Symmetry in motion, his brothers assembled behind him, a lethal collection of kick-ass flying in perfect formation. The forest thinned in front of them. A rock face rose, jutting out at odd angles into the night sky. Angling his wings, Venom banked into a tight turn. Curls of air swirled from his wingtips, rushing over the side of the cliff. Shale rattled and let go, tumbling down the rocky outcropping as he flipped into a fast roll and rocketed over the beachhead. Settling into a smooth glide over the river, he followed the snake-like flow, his gaze on the surface of the water below.
Another round of thunder rumbled overhead.
The first raindrop hit, splattering over one of his horns. Sensation swirled at his temples as Wick fired up mind-speak.
The female cradled in one of his talons, Wick raised the other, curling it over her head, protecting her from rain. Magic gathered between his friend’s claws. Venom frowned. Holy jeez. His friend’s reaction to her was bizarre. Way beyond the pale. Outside his usual boundaries, using his body heat and a spell to keep her warm.
Good for J.?J. Confusing as hell for him. He’d never seen Wick act so… so… goddamn protective. Of anyone.
Tucking her closer, Wick shielded her from the rising wind.
Forge grunted.
Good plan. They were almost home.
The river rushed into a 45-degree turn.
Increasing his wing speed, Venom wheeled around the corner. Majestic and full, the waterfall cascaded from three hundred feet up, roaring toward the river below. Mist bellowed, rising in wet clouds, tumbling into spray as each tendril reached for the sky. Upon approach, Mac did his thing, suppressing the drizzle, subduing the fog and…
The waterfall split in half, parting like curtains.
Mac laughed.
Wick growled in approval.
Venom grinned, agreeing without hesitation. Their resident water dragon deserved the accolade. The move
