Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

in the starlit sky to reach the ocean waves. Time slowed, riding the tail end of revenge. Still sighting through the scope, Angela followed the bullet’s path, praying it flew straight and true.
    The black dragon’s head kicked back.
    Blood flew, the dark splash washing the moonlight with red. The rat-bastard’s wings folded. Her heart thumped, the sound reverberating in her ears as she watched him fall. She needed to remember, to memorize the kill, recall every last detail and—
    The Razorback blinked, one last reflexive response before death came to claim him. Angela sucked in quick breath. Oh, God…no. Blue eyes, not dark brown. It wasn’t Lothair.
    Her hands tightened on the M25. Son of a bitch. She’d shot the wrong dragon. Now Rikar had a bull’s-eye painted on his back with multiple Razorbacks converging on him.
    All because of her.
    She’d made him turn the wrong way, left instead of right, away from the other Nightfury warriors. And even as she watched Bastian take flight, pushing skyward from their ambush position in the forest, Angela knew screwed when she saw it. The entire plateau stretched between him and Rikar. A minute of no-man’s-land between the Nightfuries and her mate.
    Terror closed her throat. “Forge, go. You’re the closest—”
    “I cannae leave you,” he said, grim realization in his tone. “Angela, if I—”
    “I don’t give a shit…go!”
    He hesitated, meeting Mac’s gaze over the top of her head.
    “Goddamn it, go!” Her scream echoed, bouncing off the rock face.
    Mac nodded.
    And Forge went. Arms and legs pumping, he charged toward the edge. He transformed as he leapt skyward, dark purple scales flashing in the moonlight as he rocketed to where Rikar fought for his life. The invisibility cloak dropped, leaving them vulnerable on the lip of the ledge.
    Angela didn’t care. She hunkered down behind the M25 and snarled at Mac, “Windage. Distance to target.”
    His eye on his scope, Mac fed her the information. Angela took aim and pulled the trigger, covering Forge, protecting her mate. A hundred dragons could fly over. She didn’t give a damn. No way would she leave Rikar in the lurch.

     
    Sharp claws raked Rikar’s side, tearing through his scales to reach bone. Blood welled on his rib cage. He gritted his teeth and swung right, avoiding enemy talons as he hammered a Razorback on the flyby. The bright blue dragon recoiled, somersaulting into a backflip, smashing into one of his buddies. As their wings got tangled, Rikar heard the pair curse, but didn’t pause to admire his handiwork. More rogues were coming, converging like a pack of raptors, all their focus on him.
    The FUBAR factor should’ve fazed him. But he didn’t give a shit. As long as the bastards stayed away from the cliff edge and Angela, he’d hold the line. Put a bull’s-eye on his skull to keep her safe.
    The next thirty seconds were all about time. About the dash and dive. About distracting the enemy pack long enough so B and the others could reach him. The instant they did, he’d fly for the ridgeline and his mate. He needed to get her the hell out of range. The aerial dogfight was too intense, the sky filled with dragons drifting closer to her position by the second.
    Rotating into a side-flip, he avoided another set of enemy claws. The up-and-over did the job, positioning him above one of the bastards’ spiked spine. Still upside down, halfway through the spin, he reached for the rogue’s head. His talons curled around enemy horns. A quick grab. A faster twist and…
    Crack!
    Rikar snapped the male’s neck. Quick. Effective. Deadly. Hoorah, one down. Nine to go. And it couldn’t happen fast enough.
    He couldn’t see Lothair anymore. The male had slunk away, made for the beaches along the coastline, another dragon in tow. Fuck, the Razorback XO was smart: hanging back, using a look-alike and the other rogues as cover. Rikar snarled, knowing exactly what the asshole was after. Angela. The rat-bastard wouldn’t pass up a chance to recapture her.
    Fear lit him up at as he slashed a red dragon, snapping the enemy’s forepaw. As the rogue howled, Rikar thanked God for Forge. The male would keep her cloaked and Lothair from finding her.
    His wings stretched to capacity, Rikar banked into a tight turn. Four Razorbacks followed, coming at him from different angles. Rikar dodged, but not fast enough. Enemy claws struck, scoring his scales before sinking into his shoulder. With a curse,