Dragonfury 01 - Fury of Fire

without adding that to the mix.
    Leaving the soothing quiet behind, he stood in the center of the Decon. As the door closed and locked behind him, the blowers got busy. The violent rush of air tugged at his suit as he waited for the sophisticated system to give him a thumbs-up and let him go. The light went from red to green above the second door. A second later, the lock released with a click and the glass panel facing him slid open.
    Fresh air rushed in. Halle-fucking-lujah. The stagnant air inside the chamber always bothered him. It smelled too much like death. Or rather, the absence of life.
    Taking a deep breath, Ivar willed the bio-suit off his body. Standing naked in a center foyer that looked a lot like his lab—without all of the long worktables—he rolled his shoulders, then got busy stretching out his muscles, one long limb at a time.
    The knots bracketing his spine uncurled as he conjured his clothes. Ivar sighed. The wide-legged sweats and loose-fitting tee-shirt felt like heaven, the cotton equivalent of paradise after an afternoon spent in the confining heat of the bio-suit.
    As the Nikes settled on his feet, Ivar put the sneakers to good use and crossed the vestibule. Without slowing, he punched through the double doors. The suckers swung with a soft squeak, dumping him into the half-finished corridor.
    Ivar paused to examine the hinges. His eyes narrowed. The brackets weren’t installed properly, and now the metal pins were bent. Who the hell had—
    A tingle rushed the length of his spine. Ah, good. The ruined hinges would have to wait. His XO had news for him.
    Turning right, Ivar headed for the unfinished end of his home. As he walked, the hum of machinery and the clank of metal echoed in the deep. Male voices rounded out the symphony, telling him the humans were hard at work digging the last section of the lair.
    Desperation hung in the air around them. Ivar smelled the stench of it through the concrete walls. Could feel the humans’ heartache, the awful homesickness that drove them. All were united under one goal—building his lair as fast as possible and going home to their families. Each wanted to restart his life and feel the sun on his face. It was sad, really. The pitiful creatures really believed the lies he told them. His busy bees didn’t have a clue they would never again see the light of day.
    He almost felt bad about it. Almost, but not quite.
    Stepping out of the corridor and into his office, Ivar got a load of his XO. Up against the far wall, Lothair was lit up like a Christmas tree, his gaze glowing from a good feed.
    Lucky bastard.
    Ivar rolled his bad shoulder, working out a cramp as he crossed his office. Still in the drywall stage, the room looked like death, the unfinished walls and concrete floor giving everything a gray tinge. Well, everything except his desk. The antique walnut piece was an absolute stunner with thick, hand-carved legs and intricate curlicues on the front panel. The matching chair wasn’t bad, either.
    Skirting the corner of the monstrosity, Ivar raised a brow. “Good hunting last night?”
    “A coed.” Lothair pushed away from the wall with a hum, like he was remembering the female and loving the picture. “Unbelievable mouth. Even better ride.”
    “Gonna give me her address?”
    “No.”
    Ivar laughed. Shit, he couldn’t blame Lothair. He didn’t like to share, either. Then again, the females from whom he fed usually ended up dead. Like that brunette last night. What a waste. She hadn’t been worth the effort. He was already hungry…less than twelve hours after he’d taken her.
    With a frown, he nudged his chair out and sat down. As he settled into the cushions, he tipped his chin in Lothair’s direction. “What’s up?”
    “Forge is on his way down.”
    “You blindfolded him?”
    “Yeah. Drove him in circles for an hour, too. No way he can track us here.”
    “Good.” And it was. He didn’t want anyone to know where to find their lair unless fully committed to the cause. Forge, included. Eyeing his XO, Ivar picked up a letter opener. Made of polished ivory, the smooth surface slid against his palm before he tossed it above his head. He watched it rotate end over end, then reached out and grabbed the hilt mid-spin. “So…you sticking around to see the explosion?”
    A smile ghosted across Lothair’s face. “Thought I might enjoy the show.”
    “It’ll be a good one,” he said, not bothering to hide his anticipation. Or