Adjusting his hold on her, Wick unleashed his magic and engaged the energy shield. Static crackled, prickling over his skin as the cave wall reacted. Solid stone rippled, turning milky white. Wick drew in another breath. Time to face the music and the females on the other side of the wall. Tania and Myst were waiting. He registered their presence inside the lair. Frustration poured off both, sending out a vibe that polluted the air as each paced, ready to tear a strip off him for keeping Jamison out on the LZ so long. Normal, he guessed. From what he knew, females liked to worry. Enjoyed coddling people too.
Not a bad thing. He was glad they cared about Jamison. But that didn’t mean he wanted either of them in his grill the second he strode over the threshold. So… new plan. One that would provide some breathing room. Enough to get him inside the clinic instead of accosted in the corridor.
He fired up mind-speak.
Raising a mental fist, he thumped on the energy shield, requesting safe passage. Another major first tonight. Usually, he blasted his way through, challenging the magic that safeguarded Black Diamond from outsiders. The provocation was a test of sorts—a way to make sure the shield continued to do its job, one that played out the same way. The pissy thing enjoyed taking a chunk out of him every time he walked into the lair. Wick tucked his female closer, hoping the shield would take a pass tonight.
He didn’t need another lesson. Or any of the spell’s usual bullshit.
Jamison was already hurting. Was far too fragile to be treated to another round of pain, never mind the magical tantrum the energy shield loved to deliver.
Rolling his shoulders, Wick got ready anyway. One never knew. The shield had a mind of its own. No sense underestimating the thing.
Murmuring a “thanks,” Wick knocked on the portal again. Magic hummed. Energy surged, kicking up dust motes in the musty air. Wick kept walking, his pace smooth and even, his gaze glued to the ripple of light in front of the solid stone. One moment slid into another and—
The shield snarled and stared out through narrowed eyes, locked onto him from within the void. Adrenaline punched through. His heartbeat picked up the pace, hammering the inside of his chest. Looping his magic end over end, he cocooned Jamison, leaving himself vulnerable as he stepped into the breach. A growl rumbled through the quiet, and Wick tensed. Any moment now, he’d see the flash and hear the whistle of—
Full of fury, the blue flame of a magical whip exploded across the abyss.
Right on his heels, Venom cursed behind him.
Upping the pace, Wick ramped into a run. Legs pumping, breath sawing in his chest, he watched the sharp multi-headed lash slice through the air. He turned his back to take the brunt. A second before the magical cat-o’- nine struck, the spell shifted focus, zeroing in on the female in his arms. Oh shit. Not good. The beast didn’t permit outsiders and…
Jamison twitched against him.
Wick bared his teeth. No way. Not going to happen. If the shield so much as touched her, he’d make it pay. Just KO the motherfucker. Rip it apart without conscience or mercy… Black Diamond and his brothers-in-arms’ reactions be damned. But as he held the line, threatening without words, the spell paused. Magic cracked like thunder. Wick felt the shift in intention a second before the beast reversed course. The whip swung wide, missing him by inches, and whirled away. The fiery tendrils vanished with a loud pop as it shoved him out the other side.
Light flared. The scent of pine floor cleaner reached him. His feet thumped down. Fighting to keep his balance, Wick cursed as his combat boots slid on polished concrete.
“Holy shit.” Shifting mid-stride, Rikar scrambled out of his way.
Breathing hard, Wick skidded to a stop in the middle of the corridor. Shock riding shotgun, he stood rooted to the floor.
Thank God.
“Christ, I hate it when you do that.” The grumble came from his right.
Glancing away from the top of her head, he met Rikar’s gaze.
A sour look on his puss, his XO glared at him. “Stop provoking it, and the bastard might let you through without trying to kill you every once in a while.”
“That work for you?”
“Never mind.” Amusement sparked in Rikar’s pale eyes. His mouth curved in response. He couldn’t help it. Despite the fact his XO enjoyed razzing him, he liked the tough-minded SOB. He was lethal in a fight and loyal to a fault, the kind of warrior a male wanted watching his six. “Nasty fucking thing. Always will be.”
With an “uh-huh,” Wick put his boots to good use and headed for the clinic.
“How is she?”
“Alive.”
Rikar huffed. “Always a bonus.”
No kidding. A big one too, considering the alternative. The idea of her dead, laid out on a cold slab somewhere, made his skin crawl. He didn’t want to imagine the possibility, never mind entertain it.
A few hours ago, it hadn’t mattered.
Rescuing her started out as a lark. A challenge in the form of a jailbreak. Now, though—after meeting her, holding her… talking to her—it mattered a whole hell of a lot. More than he wanted to admit. Which cranked his screw the wrong way. His fixation on her couldn’t be healthy. It was too raw. Too intense. Smacked too much of obsession to be anything other than bad. And yet, even knowing the danger, Wick couldn’t shake the fascination. Like a moth to a flame, he yearned to move toward the inferno—feel the heat, touch the flame, experience the burn—instead of doing the smart thing and back away.
The very definition of insanity.
Bypassing Rikar in the corridor, Wick strode up the slight incline. Roughhewn walls led the way, moving him past scarred stone toward his salvation. The clinic lay just ahead. Soon, he’d be able to put her down. To relinquish his responsibility, set Jamison in capable hands, and reclaim his sanity. He needed to leave her behind. Balance. Peace. A lot of quiet. Severing their connection—all the energy flowing between them—would provide all three. Retreating into the silence of his room—isolating himself from the others—would help too. But even as he acknowledged the wisdom of the plan, Wick battled the urge to hold on tight and…
Never let her go.
God, he was messed up. Beyond confused. And as Rikar kept pace alongside him, Wick considered asking the male for advice. The warrior knew a lot about females. He was mated to one, for Christ’s sake, and well… Angela seemed happy enough. So yeah. Rikar would no doubt make an excellent mentor. His XO wouldn’t bullshit him, but as Wick opened his mouth to ask, his throat closed, and he clammed up. He didn’t know how to broach the subject, never mind word it right. Shit, he was an emotional illiterate—stunted, unsure of himself, incapable of reaching out for help—so instead of asking, he shut it down, abandoning difficult in favor of easy.
“Myst ready for us?”
“Triage is set up,” Rikar said, his boots thudding in concert with Wick’s. Running a critical eye over Jamison, he raised a brow. “Not sure the female’s gonna need it, though. She looks pretty good, all things—”
The energy shield snapped behind them.
“Goddamn it!”
Wick grinned. Things were about to get interesting. About time too. Venom had been right behind him upon entry. He should’ve come through the portal long before now.
Venom snarled as the beast spit him out. Velocity set to breakneck, he flew into the corridor, head and shoulders leading the way. Twisting in midair, arms and legs pinwheeling, he struggled to get his feet under
