Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

unconscious most of the flight. And joy of joys, he’d woken up here, surrounded by a formidable energy field, strapped into a fancy new necklace. The steel collar was brilliant. Diabolical in a way Forge could appreciate…if it weren’t around his own neck.
    But then, he hadn’t expected any less.
    The Nightfuries were a smart bunch, skilled with an extra dash of cunning. Proof positive? The three males staring at him from across the cell with varying degrees of pissed off. Rikar was the most dangerous, though. Too angry to care how much damage he inflicted, the male would tear him apart to obtain the information he wanted.
    Forge didn’t blame him. It was a sound strategy, and had his female been—
    Bloody hell. Caroline.
    As her name whispered through his mind for the thousandth time, Forge curled his hands into fists, looking for an internal escape hatch. None appeared. The door to his grief was sealed tight. He couldn’t get out. Couldn’t get away or forget. The female he’d promised to protect was dead. And it was his fault. His need for acceptance—the naive belief he deserved a new start—had killed her.
    The truth sank deep and the hurt expanded, becoming a physical pain in the center of his chest. Breathing around it, he lifted his head and met Rikar’s gaze. “If I could spare your female the pain, I would. I dinnae hurt females, warrior. And I’ve never been a Razorback.”
    “Bullshit.” His front teeth bared on a snarl, Rikar stepped toward him. “You live with them. Break bread with them. Believe what they believe.”
    “I wulnae lie,” Forge said, telling the truth even though it killed him to admit it. He’d flirted with the rogues, trying to decide whether he belonged in their midst…yearning for a place to call home. In the end, he’d turned away, unable to stomach the Razorbacks’ endgame. “I’ve gone a round or two with Ivar, but—”
    “Where is he?” The Nightfury commander’s quiet tone raised the fine hairs on Forge’s nape. Green eyes shimmering in the low light, Bastian stepped forward, putting himself front and center. Bloody hell. Wasn’t that something to respect? A male with brass balls and the skills to back them up. “I want to know everything…the fucker’s plan…all the details along with a map to their—”
    “And I want my bairn.” The demand came out low, harsh, the vocal equivalent of opening a can of whup-ass. The truth, though, was far more dangerous. He was riding a fine line. If he walked too much one way, Bastian would blow the collar, and he’d never get to hold his son. “You want tae know more? Bring him tae me…along with your female, Nightfury. I have questions only Myst can answer.”
    Bastian’s eyes went from glimmer to glow in a heartbeat.
    “No…fucking…way,” Rikar said, answering for his commander, the words far more lethal for their softness.
    “You want answers, Frosty? Give me what I want, and we’ll all get what we need. You…your female. Bastian…the information he needs tae protect his mate. And me? My bairn.” Walking the line, Forge twisted the noose, using every bit of leverage he held. “Not too much tae ask, is it now, Bastian?”
    “B?” The biggest male shifted. Ruby-red eyes trained on him, Venom circled in behind his comrades, protecting them while being shielded in return. “How about you let me rearrange his face?”
    Silence rose in the wake of the male’s offer, and Forge got ready. As he waited, time slowed. He counted off the seconds, each one cranking him tighter.
    “Rikar’s got first dibs, Ven.”
    “Outstanding,” Rikar growled, shitkickers already in motion.
    Forge dropped into a fighting stance.
    Bastian stepped in between them and pressed his palm to Rikar’s chest. As he held his warrior in check, the glow in his eyes faded, and all of a sudden he was looking far too thoughtful and not nearly pissed off enough. Forge saw the wheels turning. Shite. The bastard was a quick study, far too savvy to be fooled by sleight of hand.
    “What’s your game, Forge? The takedown in the shipyard…your imprisonment? Way too easy.” Giving his warrior’s shoulder a squeeze, Bastian put his feet in gear, coming within striking distance, daring him to lash out. “You want to know what I think?”
    “Dazzle me,” he said, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel, wanting to hit the Nightfury so badly his knuckles ached.
    “You wanted inside our lair.” One corner of Bastian’s