Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

clinic. To the left? Her man. She could hear him now, his voice bouncing down the hallway as he yakked it up with another guy.
    She jogged the last few feet, making a beeline for the gym. She crossed the threshold, getting an eyeful of high-tech cardio equipment, weight machines, and—
    Holy crap.
    Dragons.
    Three of them. Horned heads nearly touching the high ceiling.
    Angela stopped short, felt her eyes go wide as she got a load of the kick-ass trifecta. Rikar, she recognized. Almost pure white with gold-and-blue-tipped scales, his razor-sharp talons were curled around a vertical post in the shape of a cross. With a steady stroke, he drew one claw across the horizontal part of the contraption—a sharpening blade maybe? A horrendous sound echoed, like nails on a chalkboard.
    She wanted to cringe, press her hands over her ears, and shriek along with the awful noise. And she would’ve if she’d been able to look away. No chance of that. She was too busy staring, being completely mesmerized.
    Most women would’ve been scared brainless. Not her. Fear wasn’t her usual MO. Curiosity had always been her poison pill, sending her into investigation mode. As she compared each dragon, cataloging their differences, she took note of their mannerisms, enjoying the show, and…man, oh man. Rikar was beautiful in dragon form.
    She remembered seeing him on the beach the night he’d come after her, but nothing came close to watching him now, when she wasn’t in pain and filled with terror. Gorgeous. No other word matched up to that one…or him.
    No sloppy seconds, his companions were equally as eye-catching.
    A midnight-blue dragon sat beside a second post. One paw raised, green eyes narrowed on his talons, he inspected each digit as though checking his handiwork, making sure his claws were sharp enough. The third was jet-black with amber-tipped scales and a golden gaze. Wick. It had to be. None of the other guys had eyes that color.
    The first to notice her standing on the threshold, Wick snorted at her, smoke rings rising from his nostrils. As far as greetings went, it lacked a certain…umm, something. Angela didn’t care. She choose to spin it her way, took it as a hello and said, “Hey, Wick. Got ’em sharp enough yet?”
    Wick’s lip curled off his fangs. A smile? Kind of, so she grinned back. He shook his head and thumped Rikar with the side of his tail.
    Rikar looked up from his sharpening operation. The second he saw her, he purred long and low. “Angela.”
    The deep-throated hum made her tingle all over. Oh, the anticipation. She L-O-V-E-D that tone, enjoyed the erotic pitch and rumble. Why? Every time he used it she ended up on her back. Not necessarily in his bed, either. So, yeah. The gym was fair game in the lovemaking department.
    First things first, though. Privacy. She needed to get rid of the other Nightfuries.
    Except Bastian and Wick handled that all by themselves. Shifting into human form, leather fighting gear in place, the pair strode toward the door. And her. Angela hightailed it out of their way, taking refuge beside a rack of free weights. Wick passed first, and naturally, snarled at her. She growled back. He blinked and tossed a load of WTF over his shoulder at Bastian. The Nightfury commander shrugged and, lips twitching, paused on the threshold.
    He tipped his chin in his XO’s direction. “Meeting’s in an hour.”
    Rikar nodded, iridescent scales shimmering in the low light.
    Glancing away from his friend, Bastian nailed her with a no-nonsense glare. He held up his index finger, shook it at her. “One hour, Angela. You keep him beyond that? I’m coming down here to drag your ass up to the kitchen, and believe me when I say you wouldn’t like it.”
    Rikar snorted, his amusement barely contained.
    Her eyes narrowed on Bastian as she met his gaze head-on. Flipping guys…blaming her for the nympho circus over the last week as though she’d been the one doing the keeping . Jeez, Rikar had been insatiable. Way out of control in the do-me-now sex arena. Thank God.
    Bastian’s eyes twinkled as he scowled at her. “Got it?”
    “Got it,” she repeated, wanting him gone a minute ago.
    The second Bastian turned his back and skedaddled, boot heels ringing in the quiet, Rikar wrapped his arms around her from behind. The folders hit the floor mats in a messy sprawl. Angela ignored them. The paperwork could wait. There would be time to tell him about her high-energy theory later. When she