Dragonfury 01 - Fury of Fire

pulled at the strands, battling the ache and the unknown. If what his friend said was true…if the theory held? God. It opened up a whole new world—the possibility of keeping Myst in his life. “Are you sure about this? You’ve got to be—”
    “Shit, B.” Reaching out, Rikar wrapped his hand around Bastian’s wrist and squeezed until Bastian raised his head and met his gaze. “You can feed her energy…healing energy. Do you know what that means? With you present, there’s a good chance she’ll survive birthing your son.”
    A good chance. Not a 100 percent one. “When did this happen? How long ago did the Dragon Queen die?”
    “The journal dates from over a hundred years ago.”
    “Are her sons still alive?”
    “The two eldest died in battle with their sire, but the third might still be alive.”
    “Name?”
    Releasing his wrist, Rikar grabbed the book off the table edge. Leather creaked as he cracked the spine and flipped through the pages. Near the back, he pulled out a long piece of paper folded into four equal parts. He unfolded it like an accordion, and Bastian caught a glimpse of black ink sprawled into the branches of a family tree.
    Rikar traced his finger over the bottom half. He stopped on a name. “Forge.”
    Bastian sat back in his chair, his mind churning over a plan.
    “What are you thinking?” Rikar asked. “The Scottish pack won’t answer a summons. And no way we can get to Scotland without some serious—”
    “We don’t need to jump the pond.” The thick burl of the Highlands ringing inside his head, he replayed a recent conversation. “You know the fucker in the rail yard…the Razorback rocking fire-acid?”
    “Yeah.”
    “From the Scottish pack.”
    The corners of Rikar’s mouth curved. “We need to cage him. Find out what he knows.”
    “Um-hmm.” Bastian stared at the rows of books over his friend’s shoulder, seeing them, but not really. His mind was fully engaged, turning over the plan, looking at it from all angles. He needed to clip Deep Purple’s wings. The only way to do that? Reel him into the kill box…close enough to zap him with some serious voltage and lock him down.
    No easy feat. The enemy male was smart. Caging him would take real effort and tons of planning. Yeah, that and time. Something he didn’t have. At least, not until tomorrow night when the realignment was over.
    “So, we bait him.” Slouching in his chair, Rikar crossed his ankle over his knee and turned the journal over in his hands. “Can you get him in the pipe? Will he even come?”
    “He’ll come.” Chasing an itch, Bastian rubbed his shoulder blades against the backrest, his strategy crystallizing. “He won’t be able to resist. We’ve got something he wants.”
    “What?”
    “His son.”
    Not that he would give Gregor Mayhem to the male—to a freaking Razorback. No way. Never mind that the Nightfury code of honor forbade it. He was more concerned with his mate. Myst would skin him alive, and…well, well, well, look at him go. He was suddenly into pleasing a female. Especially given the chance he might get to keep her for a lifetime.
    Yeah. Hope sprang eternal and all that jazz.
    But even as Bastian made light of it—was afraid to believe she would survive birthing his son—he prayed it was true. Please, God, be merciful. He wasn’t asking for much. One simple thing. That’s all he wanted. A family: a mate for him, a mother for his son.
    Clinging to the hope, Bastian pushed to his feet. He needed to see Myst. He didn’t have much time, and she deserved every bit of his before the realignment. A real date. A shared meal…or something. Anything to make her feel special.
    As he rounded the end of the table, Rikar handed him the journal. Smooth, red leather slid across his palm. He stared at it a moment, knowing he’d read it front to back—in search of more hope—before he laid Myst down tonight. Gripping the slim volume, he glanced sideways at his best friend, a brow raised in question.
    Keeping pace, Rikar strode with him toward the door. “The rest of us will be locked down in an hour. You’ll have the lair to yourself. Have fun tonight.”
    “Asshole.”
    “You know it.” Slapping him on the shoulder, Rikar followed him into the hallway. “Relax, B. Even out of control in the hungering, you won’t hurt her.”
    Bastian nodded, praying his friend was right, but not really believing it. He had control issues around Myst. And that was before the