Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

kill me now, doesn’t he?”
    “I won’t let him.”
    “I know.”
    And she did… know . Rikar would protect her with his life. Which scared her more than she liked. Having her in the mix would put him at risk. She understood the game. Knew what she faced. Dragonkind didn’t play by a set of rules or check their weapons at the door. Theirs was a world at war, with death the ultimate sacrifice, and she was way out of her league. And yet, she couldn’t leave it alone. Couldn’t sit this one out and let Rikar handle it, even though Angela recognized that she should.
    She wanted Lothair dead. Bullet to the brain dead.
    And she needed to be the one to pull the trigger. To put the rat-bastard down before he hurt any more women. There would be more. Count on it. Sadists like Lothair got off on that kind of thing…on torturing those weaker than him.
    She shivered, mourning what she’d lost at his hands. Less than twelve hours. God. She’d been imprisoned less than a day and…goddamn son of a bitch, look at what the psycho had done to her! In less than a half hour, he’d taken her pride and given her shame in return. Left her uncertain of her own abilities. Made her afraid of taking things to the next level with Rikar.
    But oh, how she wanted to. Wanted to lay him out flat. Explore every inch of him. Love him so well he wouldn’t remember his own name in the aftermath. Only hers.
    Giving Rikar another squeeze, she pushed out of his arms. He murmured in protest, but let her go, allowing her to move away from him. She walked farther into the room, picking up details she hadn’t noticed standing by the door. As she scanned the space—skimming the cream-colored walls and dark hardwood floors, the peaked timber-beam ceiling and the colorful Hudson’s Bay wool blanket thrown over the foot of the four-poster bed—she got a better sense of the man who lived in it.
    Like her, he enjoyed simple things. Cozy, unfussy, streamlined. Rustic charm à la wood cabin. No nonsense, yet undeniably striking, just like Rikar.
    Kicking out of her flip-flops beside a pair of old-school rocking chairs, she stepped onto the oriental rug and glanced his way. His focus locked on her, he stood motionless, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, shoulder blades flat against the bedroom door. Her stomach did a quadruple somersault. Then vaulted into a backflip. Beautiful man and 100 percent hers. She could see the truth in his eyes. In the way he looked at her. Pure magic…desire-filled, I-need-you-five-minutes-ago magic.
    One small problem, though. She was as nervous as hell.
    Angela rubbed her upper arms, feeling like she was fifteen years old again, contemplating sleeping with a guy for the first time. Silly, she knew, but it felt as though she’d never been with anyone before. Somehow the slate had been wiped clean, and she’d slid backward twelve years, landing in an enormous pile of teenage angst.
    “Do you know…” she said, trailing off as she paused at the end of the king-size bed, working up the nerve to broach the subject of sex. Yeah, Rikar wanted to talk about it, but she wasn’t ready yet. So she skirted the issue, working up the courage while she held his gaze. “That winter is my favorite season?”
    Glacial eyes locked on her, he shook his head.
    Reaching out, she traced the footboard with her fingertips, stroking over the smooth wood, imagining what he would feel like beneath her hands, every hard-muscled, long-limbed, gorgeous inch of him. “I used to skate, you know.”
    “Figure skate?”
    She nodded. “I haven’t been on the ice in almost a year, but I love the chill. The colder it is in the arena…or out on the pond…the better I like it.” Palming her Glock, she pulled it from her waistband and set it on the end of the bed, right on the navy-blue wool stripe, before she turned to face him. “Do you think that’s why I like you so much?”
    His brows collided. “ Like ?”
    “Hoping for something stronger?”
    “Try a lot.”
    She tilted her head, raised a brow. All right. Screw it. She was jumping in. With both feet. “How about…want. Need. Crave. Those words suit you any better?”
    “Christ, yeah, but…” His eyes shimmered, the glow full of heat that tumbled into a kaleidoscope of desire.
    “But?”
    Rikar scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. “We should talk, angel. About what Sloan said…about the energy-regression. There are things you should know…agree to,