Dragonfury 01 - Fury of Fire

contact to glance down at the infant. Pretending to fuss, buying more time, she adjusted the blanket and then, as though unable to help herself, she stroked the Mohawk running down the center of the baby’s head.
    A second passed into more while Bastian held his breath. Forcing her ran contrary to everything he believed, but he needed her close without having to fight to get her there. It was imperative…vital to him like food and water was to continued good health. He yearned for her in a way that crossed all the self-imposed limits he lived by. He couldn’t leave her anymore than he could stop breathing.
    The deal closer, though…the absolute best? Bastian knew that if she gave her word, Myst would keep it. Even if she didn’t want to.
    After a minute of chewing on her bottom lip, she met his gaze. A moment in time turned into infinity as he looked at her…as she looked back at him.
    “Three days.” Her voice was whisper soft, all the considerable brainpower behind her eyes assessing, unearthing layer after layer as she searched for the catch. The trap in which he wanted to ensnare her. Bastian almost felt badly that she would never figure it out. Not until it was too late. “After that, all bets are off?”
    Bastian nodded, watched her think, all but tasting victory.
    “Fine, but…” Sounding unhappy but resigned, she tossed out a challenge of her own, “ Be careful what you wish for, Bastian. You might not like what you get.”
    “Impossible,” he murmured, allowing everything he felt for her to show in his eyes: all the heat and longing and neediness he always kept hidden from view.
    As color stole into her cheeks and she broke eye contact, Bastian killed the urge to roar in satisfaction. He’d won. The next three days belonged to him. And whether she knew it or not, Myst was now his forevermore.

     
    With careful, precise movements, Ivar grabbed one in a long line of stainless steel handles and pulled on the refrigerator door. The thing resisted for a second, clinging to the metal frame before it opened with a suctioning slurp. His hands steady, his heart racing, he slid the test tube holder onto the top shelf. Seven vials wobbled, clinking together as lip met glass lip. Still white-knuckling the handle, he held his breath, waiting for the volatile contents to settle.
    Which was beyond ridiculous.
    The biohazard suit he wore was airtight. An impenetrable beast with layer upon layer of protection. Why he even bothered to suit up was a mystery he’d yet to solve. Dragonkind didn’t react like humans did to contaminants. Or viruses.
    Better to be safe than sorry, though. He couldn’t afford to become infected—for more than just the obvious reasons—and those bugs were serious monsters. Ones he wasn’t 100 percent sure he could control.
    Ivar smiled behind his mask as he let the fridge door swing closed. Forget necessity. Experimentation. Innovation. Yeah, those two were the real mothers of invention.
    Soon, though, his science project would need to be tested, and the outcomes analyzed. Seal a few of his worker bees in the vault—a secure, airtight chamber connected to his lab—and take one or two of the monsters out for a spin.
    Humming “Born to Be Bad,” Ivar crossed his all white workspace. Seamless and pristine, the room pleased him more than the entire Razorback lair put together. It was his sanctuary, his place of solitude. A place no one else dared enter.
    And yeah…the fear factor really got him off. His warriors didn’t understand his science, which was the best part of the whole operation. He could do whatever he wanted to down here: no holds barred, no questions asked.
    The airlock hissed, the double-wide glass panel sliding open as Ivar approached. Pride hit him chest level as he stepped into the decontamination chamber. His little worker bees had done a stellar job. His laboratory was perfection, from the high-tech toys and stainless steel countertops to the smooth, shiny walls. One thing, however, irked him.
    The chamber.
    Sure, it came signed, sealed, and delivered…but only in size small.
    Four by four feet square, the Decon chamber barely contained him. Was too tight a squeeze for even his considerable comfort level. Jesus, the thing felt more like a box than what it was…a necessary step en route from the lab to the lair. Thank God he didn’t suffer from claustrophobia. Otherwise, getting in and out of his sanctuary would be H-E-L-L. And he had enough on his plate