Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

wood.
    “I’ll look inside.” Grabbing the handrail, Bastian vaulted through the unzipped canvas and onto the boat. “You search the tail end.”
    “Asshole,” he said, growling at his friend as he drew the short end of the stick.
    He didn’t want to go anywhere near the stern. There was no doubt a swim platform back there. One he’d have to step on, get closer to the water in order to—
    Rikar sucked in a quick breath. Fucking hell. What did MacCord think he was doing?
    More in the water than out, the male clung to his boat: eyes closed, hands gripping teak trim, cheek flat against the swim platform. Terrific. The situation was beyond FUBARed. Trust a water dragon to actually immerse himself in water .
    Gritting his teeth, Rikar made the leap. He landed on the platform, boot treads slipping on wet wood, a “fuck me” locked in his throat. Off balance, he grabbed for the metal ladder bolted to the boat’s stern. His fingertips caught and held, saving him before he took a nosedive into the ocean.
    Good thing too. Otherwise, there would’ve been a skating rink around the Chris-Craft, not choppy, blue water.
    A death grip on the ladder, he hit his haunches and cupped the back of MacCord’s head. The male flinched, groaning as Rikar connected with his life force. Energy glazed his palm, telling him how much time they had. Christ, the cop was close to the change . So close, they needed to move him now. And get him a female fast.
    “B!”
    Like an apparition, Bastian appeared at the railing. “You got him?”
    “Yeah, and we gotta go.”
    MacCord stirred. The male raised his head, nailing him with shimmering aquamarine eyes. “Fuck…off.”
    Despite the urgency, Rikar’s lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. Freaking MacCord…giving him attitude while weak as a newborn. “Give over, big guy. We’re here to help.”
    The cop shook his head, trying to dislodge his hand.
    Rikar ignored him and, releasing the ladder, grabbed him under both arms. With a snarl, the cop reared, fighting the grab-and-pull. Water flew, splashing all over the place, throwing the smell of salt in the air, making Rikar want to kill something. MacCord was his first choice. He thought of Angela instead, reminding himself how important the male was to her.
    Bastian leapt from the boat onto the pier. Waiting for the handoff, he crouched at the dock edge as Rikar dragged the cop down the swim platform.
    “D-don’t. Get the f-fuck off.” Half in the water, half out, MacCord struggled, legs kicking up spray, shivering so hard his teeth chattered. “The w-water…I n-need it.”
    “We’ll get you more,” Rikar murmured, hoping to soothe him. The change was never fun. It hurt like hell, and there were no guarantees. Some males didn’t live through it even when they knew what was coming. But MacCord didn’t have a clue, which made guiding him through it all the more dangerous. “I’ll get you want you need, okay? Right now, we need to move.”
    At the end of the platform, Rikar pulled a heave-ho, transferring the male to Bastian. “Ven…you’re up.”
    Claws scraped against steel as Venom took flight. “Where we headed? Myst’s?”
    “Her loft’s our best bet. It’s closest . ” With a grunt, B secured his grip and hauled MacCord out of the water.
    “Windows?” Venom asked, circling overhead.
    “Not secured,” Rikar said, watching the horizon start to glow as he jumped dockside. Grabbing the cop’s feet, he helped Bastian muscle the male to the gangplank, then onto shore. The sooner Venom pulled the grab-and-go, the better. Ten—fifteen—minutes tops before the sun made an appearance. No time like the present to get the hell out of Dodge. “We’ll blanket spell the glass to block the UV rays when we get there.”
    “Roger that.” Wings spread wide, Venom dipped low, came in fast and…
    He and Bastian got ready, legs braced, feet planted as they lifted the cop skyward. MacCord groaned, thrashing like a fish on dry land. And what do you know? Venom treated him like one. Front talons extended, he plucked the male out of thin air, the same way an eagle took a salmon from beneath the surface of the water.
    Not wasting a second, Rikar shifted and launched himself skyward. Midnight-blue scales flashed as Bastian followed suit, taking to the sky behind him. Flying fast, soaring over skyscrapers and rooftops, Rikar kept one eye on the cop, the other on the horizon. A pinky-orange line formed, heralding the rising