Fury of Desire

23

Set up on the rooftop across from Deuce’s, Venom crouched behind a low wall. Out of sight. Undetectable. His mouth curved. The quiet before the storm. The Razorbacks didn’t have a clue he’d descended on their little patch of heaven.

Just the way he liked it. Exactly the way he wanted to keep it too.

At least, for now. Later—after all the recon was in the can—would be soon enough to send a wake-up call… in the form of a firestorm.

Rotating on the balls of his feet, he shuffled left, gaze narrowed on the building opposite him. Stone face awash with moonlight, the nothing-special facade looked innocent enough. No awning out front to welcome visitors. No bouncers or doormen either. Just a plain black door emblazoned with a gold plaque. Venom huffed. Smart ploy. Big payoff. A passerby would never guess the private club existed, never mind that it catered to upscale, wealthy people with bizarre tastes.

Or so he’d heard. But after laying eyes on the place? Seeing slid into believing, ’cause… oh yeah, there were plenty of Dragonkind inside. He could feel the bastards. Not hard to do. The magical trace each male left in his wake sent out a clear signal. So did the scent of sex in the air. Hell, he could smell the coital heat from all the way across the street.

A rogue playground in the middle of Seattle.

With a hum of anticipation, Venom pinged his comrades. “We’re good to go. All’s quiet on our end so far.”

“Here tae.” Hunkered down with Mac a couple miles east of the club, Forge sighed, the sound one of exasperation. “Shouldae brought a pack of cards tae pass the time. I’m bored tae tears.”

Mac grumbled, seconding the opinion.

Clenching his teeth, Venom swallowed his amusement. No sense laughing at the wonder twins. The pair might take it personally. Which would suck. Particularly since he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not while stuck on outlook without any hope of kicking their asses when they mouthed off. Besides, his heart wouldn’t be in the squabble. He understood their impatience. Stakeouts weren’t his favorite thing either. He preferred to start shit, not sit around waiting for it to happen.

But a plan was a plan. Three fighting units: Rikar and Bastian to the north; the wonder twins to the east; while he, Wick, and Sloan kept eyes on the prize. The setup was a good one, providing three avenues of attack if Azrad screwed them over…

And the rogues came out to play.

“Stay sharp, boys,” Rikar said, the crackle of frost in his undertone. “Let it play out.”

“Fifteen more minutes.” Heavy footfalls came through mind-speak along with B’s voice. As the thud-thud got going, Venom realized his commander was pacing. Unusual for Bastian. The male was rock solid, as calm as they came under normal circumstances. But with Azrad in the mix, B’s edge was sharper than usual. “If Azrad proves trustworthy and doesn’t show, we go in. KO every rogue inside. Burn the fucker to the ground.”

Venom rolled his shoulders, beyond ready for the green light. He adored the seek-and-destroy missions. The covert ops—the thrill of the hunt—jazzed him like nothing else could. Anticipation prickled through him, cranking him tight. He wanted to go right now. Just leap over the roof edge, put feet to asphalt, and cross the street. The work of seconds, and he’d be through the outer door, in prime put-the-screws-to-the-enemy position while Wick set fire to the club. An excellent strategy, but for one thing…

He glanced to his right. Yup. No change there. Wick was still distracted as hell.

Crouched a few feet away, Wick stared at his knuckles instead of the target. Not a good sign. Venom frowned as unease spiraled into concern. He’d never seen Wick act like this before, so… well, he didn’t know exactly. Unfocused. Oblivious to his surroundings. In a world of his own, mind on something other than the mission.

Which scared the hell out of Venom.

Wick might not say much, but he always… always… paid attention. He never missed a thing and saw more than most. So, yeah… a not-so-present Wick was cause for concern. No one wanted to go into battle with Wick’s focus split. Their most vicious warrior, Venom and the others needed him onboard, raring for fight, not lost in thought. Thinking about what? Venom cursed under his breath. Making the leap from supposition to certainty wasn’t difficult. Jamison Jordan. Goddamn it. The female was screwing with his best friend’s head… all the way from the frigging lair… messing with Wick’s ability to concentrate.

A serious problem, considering the game plan.

Worry made Venom glance over his shoulder. Perched on a chimney in dragon form, scales clicked as Sloan shook his head. He registered his buddy’s tension, and the disquiet that drove it, all the same. The male knew what was up with Wick and didn’t like it either.

“Wick,” he growled, his tone harsh. His best friend flinched. Shimmering golden eyes snapped in his direction. Thank God. Wick might be acting dumb, but at least he wasn’t deaf. “Pull your head out of your ass. I need you focused… in the here and now, not half back at the lair.”

His brows furrowed, Wick nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“When it comes to the female?” Venom raised a brow, his expression all about “damned right you are.” No matter how much he disliked it, he saw no reason to lie. Wick didn’t need coddling. He needed to be dropkicked into reality. In the same way he’d been when he realized his friend had bonded with a female. But denying the truth never worked, so forget about sticking his head in the sand. It had happened. It couldn’t be undone. Time to accept it. “Yeah, you’re totally screwed.”

Wick dropped another f-bomb.

“Energy-fuse is serious stuff, Wick. I know it scares you. Hell, I don’t like it either. Change sucks, and much as I don’t want to say it, I’m going to…” Eyes aglow, a red wash rolled out in front of him, staining the icy patches on the roof as Venom shuffled sideways. Wick’s gaze narrowed on him. He glared back. It was so much bullshit: clinging to the past, being selfish, refusing to share his best friend with anyone. But no matter how much he wanted things to stay the same, they never did. J.?J. was here to stay. Wick couldn’t go back, and neither could he. “Stop being such a pansy. Accept her. Love her. Take her to mate and be happy.”

“Screw happy,” Wick growled, cracking his knuckles. “This is about her, not me. She deserves more… someone better. I can’t give her what she needs long term.”

“How do you know?” he asked, playing devil’s advocate. “You haven’t even tried.”

“Fuck off, Ven.”

Ah, and there it was. Wick’s favorite comeback, the go-to that heralded the end of a conversation.

Sloan didn’t get the memo. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “You know he’s right, Wick. Man up and grow a pair. I’d give my left nut to find what you—”

A burst of magic detonated, sending out shockwaves. As the pulse rippled, the night air warped into a wormhole. Gaze narrowed on the anomaly, Venom tensed, getting ready to move. A dragon materialized over Deuce’s, red scales flashing, pink irises aglow, power shimmering around him. And on his tail? Hamersveld, along with a miniature dragon.

Wick snarled. “Ivar.”

“Wick, don’t—” With a quick twist, he reached for Wick. His fingertips brushed leather, but… goddamn it. He missed by a mile, catching nothing but cold air. “Bastian… man overboard.”

“Shit.” The rattle of scales rippled through mind-speak. “Hold on.