Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

got to practice?”
    “A week or so.”
    Translation? The energy-regression was still on-the-go. Sloan had explained the process—the how and why a male altered a female’s energy beacon, keeping her safe from other Dragonkind. Pretty cool stuff, and man, Mac hoped it worked. No way he wanted to get out in the field and discover that Lothair could still track his partner. Having her there would be bad enough. No one needed the op to go south right out of the gate. Just the thought made his blood pressure rise, launching him into no-fucking-way territory.
    “I’ll get her up to speed on the shooting range,” Mac said, eyeing his new buddy. “You gotta do something for me, though.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Let her out of frickin’ bed.”
    Rikar raised a brow. “You think it’s my fault we’re still here?”
    “Motherfuck,” Mac muttered, shaking his head, trying not to laugh. The guy was begging for an ass kicking…Angela style. “I’m telling her you said that.”
    “Better not.” Rikar reached for the gun case. As Mac relinquished the load, he murmured, “Unless, of course, you want your balls handed to you on the end of a blade.”
    “Jesus.” Wincing, Mac cupped his package with both hands. “Bad visual.”
    “Even worse outcome,” Rikar said, grinning.
    Heaving the case, he turned into the room, and Mac got his first sneak peek. Laid out belly down—covers up around her shoulders, head half-buried under a pillow in the center of the king-size bed—Angela was fast asleep but 100 percent okay.
    Relief hit Mac chest-level, making his throat go tight.
    Good for her. She’d followed through on her promise. Hadn’t copped out or run away even though she’d been afraid to let Rikar make love to her, giving her relief from the pain. Mac swallowed. He was so proud of her. And so thankful he didn’t know what to do.
    Rikar distracted him—thank fuck—flipping the case up and setting the kit on the mattress beside her. The handle rapped against hard plastic, echoing in the quiet as his XO glanced at Angela. After a second, Rikar leaned in, planted his hands on either side of her, and pressed a kiss to her temple. She murmured in her sleep, more sigh than hum as her mate lingered, resting his cheek against her hair as though he couldn’t get enough. Or be that close to her without touching her one more time.
    Mac’s heart throbbed a crazy beat as he watched the pair, wondering what the hell he was doing. He shouldn’t be in the room. Shouldn’t be witnessing a precious moment between mates. Should have the decency to back up, but his feet were nailed to the floor. He couldn’t look away. Was forced to play the voyeur while Rikar stroked his hand along his partner’s back. To witness another tender kiss. To hear the soft murmur and see his XO’s expression.
    Awe. Gratitude. Devotion. All took a turn on the male’s face.
    The entire situation suited Mac just fine. Case closed. Slap a sticker on that bad boy and bury the file six feet under. Fait accompli. No way would Rikar ever let Angela go. Not now. So, yeah. His little sister was at Black Diamond to stay.
    Turning away from her, Rikar conjured a length of ribbon. Slippery satin sliding in his hand, he tied it around one end of the narrow case, finishing it off with double loops. Ah, how cute. A present complete with a shiny red bow.
    Mac bit down on a grin. What a total pansy-ass thing to do. One Angela would no doubt appreciate when she woke up. Most women wanted jewelry—something expensive and pretty—from their men. But not Angela. Rikar had it right. His partner liked weapons. Which made the M25 sniper rifle the perfect gift.
    After scribbling a note, the besotted SOB left it next to the bow, then slid the bedside table drawer open. Metal rattled against cardboard as Rikar set a box of 9 mm ammo for her Glock next to the slip of paper. His eyes on her face, he paused, stood poised above her for a heartbeat, then kissed her one last time and turned toward the door.
    Mac raised a brow, letting his XO see his amusement.
    “Go to hell,” he growled, coming at him like a human steamroller. Unwilling to get flattened, Mac backpedaled into the corridor. Pale eyes narrowed on him, Rikar crossed the threshold. As the door clicked closed behind him, he turned right down the hallway. “Let’s go, water rat. The others are waiting.”
    “We headed to the cellblock?”
    “Collision inevitable.”
    “About time.” And it was.