Fury of Desire

was wicked. He liked the cause and effect. No splashdown. No wet scales or chilly blow back. Just clear sailing as he went wings vertical. The sound of rushing water roared in his ears. His heartbeat picked up as he threaded the needle—slicing through the opening, wet curtain flowing on either side of him—and rocketed into the underground tunnel. Musty air rushed at him. Complete darkness descended. His senses spiked, narrowing until his night vision took over. The red glow of his gaze rolled out in front of him, guiding him, illuminating the darkness, allowing him to see each jagged edge.

Navigating the tight space, Venom banked into the last turn. A soft yellow glow penetrated the gloom, narrowing his flight path. He closed the distance and flew into the cavern. The domed ceiling rose above him. Held aloft by magic, light globes bobbed, bumping into each other seventy-five feet above his head. Quick on the trigger, he tucked his wings and set down fast.

The pads of his talons slid against stone.

Venom dug in and, claws shrieking, shifted into human form mid-skid. With a mental flick, he conjured his clothes and hightailed it to the rear of the landing zone. Standing around wasn’t a good idea. Not with the lethal group hot on his heels. His pack would turn him into a bowling pin—eighty-six his ass as each one landed—if he didn’t get out of the way. The LZ might be long, wide, deep, so expansive it launched four dragons at a time, but…

Hell. He’d chosen to lead the flight home. Which made him lucky number five tonight.

Circling around the Honda in the middle of the LZ, Venom watched his brothers-in-arms rocket into the cave. True to form, Mac and Forge landed in tandem at opposite ends of the platform, leaving lots of room for the final two. As both warriors transformed, stomping their feet into their shitkickers, Wick flew in with Sloan on his tail. The work of seconds, his best friend set down. Poised on his back paws, Wick wing flapped once and shifted into human form. Sinking to his knees on the stone floor, he wrapped his arms around J.?J.

Cradled in his lap with her eyes squeezed shut, her bottom lip quivered.

“It’s all right,” Wick said, his tone soft and sure. “Jamison… look at me.”

She shook her head.

Venom’s heart sank. God, she looked so small. So pale bundled inside the harsh black of the too-large leather jacket. Way too scared to weather the storm and come through unscathed.

Not that he blamed Wick for her near panic.

His best friend was doing all he could—holding her gently, using a reassuring tone, being sympathetic instead of sociopathic… acting like a normal male might under similar circumstances. But Venom knew the truth. Wick wasn’t normal. Honed by brutality and abuse, the male wasn’t equipped to interact with a female, never mind give her what she needed. And any minute now? His friend would freak out. Lose his cool. React as he always did when faced with a female.

The realization drew Venom tight. He needed to step in. Step up. Intercede and neutralize Wick in order to save J.?J. from additional pain, but… hell. Convincing Wick to release her wasn’t going to be fun.

Rolling his shoulders, Venom fisted his hands, then uncurled his fingers and repeated the process. Flex. Release. Open. Close. The movement helped him think. Strategy was paramount when it came to Wick. If he moved too fast, his friend would fight. If he didn’t move fast enough, J.?J. would suffer the consequences. Not something he wanted to contemplate, never mind explain to his commander. Bastian might be reasonable—well, at least most of the time—but fact was fact. B didn’t tolerate ineptitude, never mind idiocy. His commander appreciated neat and enjoyed tidy.

Especially when it came to protecting females.

So… yeah. No time like the present to put his ass in gear. The sooner Wick handed her over, the better it would be for—

“Venom.” The deep voice thumped the inside of his skull.

As the vicious vibe played ping-pong between his temples, Venom sighed. Great. Just perfect. Exactly what he didn’t need. “Yeah, B?”

“What’s taking so long?”

His gaze cut to the couple intertwined a few feet away. “Got a bit of a situation.”

“Well, figure it out,” Bastian said, impatience in his tone. “My female’s wearing the soles of her shoes thin in here, begging me to open the portal. No way I’m doing that until I know it’s kosher out there.”

Venom stifled a snort. Kosher? Right. The word didn’t come close to describing the situation. Not with Wick playing keep-away with a female.

“How’s Tania?” Mac asked.

Bastian snorted. “On a hair trigger.”

“Hold on.” As Mac jogged across the LZ, the thud-thud of his boots echoed in the vastness, making the light globes sway above their heads. Stone dust drifted from the ceiling, sprinkling Venom’s shoulders as Mac engaged the energy shield that protected Black Diamond, hiding their home from outsiders. Static electricity buzzed. The cave wall rippled, opening the magical doorway into the underground lair. “I’m coming.”

“Thank fuck,” Bastian murmured. “I don’t know what to do with her.”

Venom could relate. He didn’t know what to do with Wick either.

Looking for help, he glanced in Sloan’s direction. Shitkickers planted beside the decapitated Honda, his buddy shrugged and turned his hands palm up, the gesture one of “how the hell should I know?” Wonderful. No help from that quarter, but maybe…

Glancing over his shoulder, he met Forge’s gaze.

The Scot shook his head. “Donnae look at me, lad. You know him better than anyone.”

True enough. “Give me the floor, guys. I’ll get him moving.”

As the guys “uh-huhed” and beat feet toward the exit, Venom strode in the opposite direction. A couple of feet from his target, he crouched in front of his best friend. “Wick, let me—”

“Tell me what to do, Ven.”

Venom blinked, not understanding.

“I don’t know how to soothe her.” Nestling his cheek against the top of J.?J.’s head, Wick met his gaze. Venom flinched, getting nailed by the concern in his friend’s eyes along with, well… something else too. Panic maybe? Worry too? Wick’s expression bordered on both. Except that didn’t make any sense. Nothing made Wick lose his cool. Ever. “You’re good at this shit. Tell me what to do.”

He wanted to say “give her to me,” but knew that wouldn’t fly. Wick was too tense, and after getting told not to touch her in the park? He didn’t like his chances of surviving a hostile takeover. Wick would fight to keep her, and… yeah. All of a sudden—and as strange as it sounded—helping his friend care for her seemed like a better option than taking her away.

A healthier one too.

“Keep talking to her.” Balanced on the balls of his feet, Venom rested his elbows on the tops of his thighs. “You’re doing fine.”

“Should I… I mean…” Wick trailed off, his hesitation palpable. “Touch her or something?”

Like a sucker punch to the gut, the question stole his air and… holy hell. The situation had just gone from semi-weird to full-on sci-fi. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Frowning, Wick broke eye contact, looking lost—so confused it broke Venom’s heart. So damaged. So unsure. So stuck in the past. His friend was the poster boy for abuse. But as he stared at Wick, realization struck. He stood on a precipice, the defining moment that might change Wick’s life. Right here. Right now. Surrounded by stone and musty air, possibility held Wick in the palm of its hand. Venom recognized the opportunity. Saw the difference in the male he’d known almost all his life. Wick wanted to help—to give of himself—instead of turn away. “She liked holding my hand in the truck. Said it helped with the pain.”

Venom cleared his throat. “Then go for it.”

“All right.”

Inhaling deep, Wick exhaled smooth and raised his hand. His fingertips stroked over her temple, brushing