Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

stone-still, the voice affecting her like slow poison, shutting down her ability to think. Those words…oh, God, his words. He’d used the same ones the night he chased her through the woods toward the beachhead. The memory kicked at her. She eviscerated it, reaching for every ounce of courage she possessed.
    The mental readjust snapped her into motion. Angela scrambled for the jagged opening of the crevice. The rat-bastard growled. A gust of air blasted her back, shoving her forward. She lost her footing and went down, but she wasn’t out.
    Spinning into a speed roll, she hurtled toward safety, twisting to avoid the huge talon as it swiped at her. The womp-womp of heavy wings sounded overhead. Angela increased her tilt-a-whirl, her arms tucked tight to her chest, chunks of shale biting through her BDUs as she rolled faster. Razor-sharp claws glinted in the moonlight, reaching for her. An instant before Lothair caught her, she zipped beneath the overhang and into the opening.
    “Fucking she-cop.” The sharp click of claws echoed just outside her hidey-hole.
    Her lungs so tight she could hardly breathe, Angela shuffled back into the fissure. She wanted to go farther, but…goddamn it. It only went about twelve feet. Surrounded by dank, slimy rock, she wedged her shoulders in tight and grabbed a handful of silt. She rubbed it on her shirt, drying her sweat-slick palm, then shifted her gun to the other hand and repeated the procedure. She couldn’t afford to have her weapon slip.
    The rat-bastard snarled. “More trouble than you’re worth.”
    Finished with the drying routine, she leveled her Glock at the crack, toward the thin strip of moonlight. “Go home then, why don’t you?”
    Taunting him probably wasn’t the best strategy, but she didn’t know what else to do. Other than blow his head off if he crouched down to look at her. Please God, let him be that stupid. ’Cause, yeah. He might have her cornered, but the second she saw the dark glint of his dragon eye or he shifted into human form and came after her, she’d put a bullet through his brain.

     
    Mining his female’s energy, Rikar tracked her through the rough terrain. His eyes narrowed on the craggy coastline, he rocketed around another bend. The ocean roared, waves frothing, smashing against the base of the cliffs, throwing up cold spray. Slick with mist, water wicked from his scales, turning to ice before blowing back behind him in a frosty swirl. He increased his wing speed, scanning, searching…his aggression factor set on apocalyptic.
    He needed to find her. Close. He was so freaking close. Less than a minute away.
    Which was way too long. He could feel her fear through energy-fuse, heard the hitch of her breath, the hammer of her heart as if it were his own.
    Fucking hell. Something nasty was going down. Angela didn’t scare that easily. Add that to the fact he couldn’t raise Mac through mind-speak, and situation critical took on a whole new meaning.
    Night vision pinpoint sharp, he picked up all kinds of trace and discarded most of it. She wasn’t on the beach or anywhere near the secondary location. Which meant she was stuck on the trail, up in the cliffs above the churn and chop of water. Flying harder, wings stretched to capacity, Rikar banked hard, heading inland. He came in low, following a rough trail up from the beachhead. Almost there. Another rise. Another fall, and he crested a sheer rock face. He heard the growl and the sound of claws on stone a second before he spotted the rogue.
    The bastard was digging, clawing at the ground beneath a narrow overhang. Good Christ. Angela was under there, avoiding Lothair’s deadly talons as he swiped at her.
    Baring his fangs, Rikar came in hot. Arctic air whistled from his throat and ice daggers flew. Reacting to the magic hurtling toward him, Lothair’s head snapped in his direction. Rikar snarled. Too late. The fucker wouldn’t get airborne before—
    Wham!
    The frozen knives struck the Razorback XO, piercing his scales. Blood splatter arced as Lothair snarled and spun to face him. His velocity supersonic, Rikar swooped in and hammered the rogue broadside. His claws found flesh and bone. With a roar, he clamped down, ramming the ice daggers deeper as he spun his enemy away from Angela. Lothair’s head whiplashed, exposing his throat. Rikar ignored the pain as the SOB’s talons ripped at his shoulders, and flipped the bastard. Jumping on his spiked spine, he grabbed the