Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

but—”
    “Call ’em off.” Yup…wicked skilled. Lothair’s lips twitched. The redhead impressed the hell out of him. “She’s already aboveground.”
    “Not good,” his warrior said, a growl rolling in his thick accent. “The boss isn’t gonna be happy.”
    Probably not. But the situation would be rectified, cleaned up before Ivar ever got wind of it. No cause for alarm. No need to give the boss man a heads-up, either. At least not right now. Injured fighting the Nightfuries at the Port of Seattle, Ivar didn’t need any more bad news. Especially on the female front. They’d already lost one high-energy female to Bastian and his band of bastards tonight. No sense stirring the pot or the Razorback leader’s temper. The she-cop wouldn’t be on the loose for long.
    “Keep your yap shut, D. I’ll tell Ivar myself.” His hands paused in midair, he met Denzeil’s gaze in the mirror, a warning in his own. “We clear?”
    Denzeil glanced away, breaking eye contact, ass-shuffling on the cracked vinyl tabletop. “No problem, boss. Your call.”
    “ Da , it is,” he said, enjoying the male’s reaction. Fear—the ability to instill it in a full-blooded warrior—was better than any drug on the market. “I’ll retrieve her at sunset.”
    Surprise flared in Denzeil’s dark eyes. “You’ve already—”
    “Fed from her?”
    Hmm…had he ever.
    She’d tasted good, the white-hot energy she drew from the Meridian so delicious it made his heart pound. Better still? Her defiance. She’d fought like a wildcat, struggling as he forced the energy connection: drew her deep into his veins, took without mercy, wounding her soul-deep, leaving bruises on her soft skin.
    Lothair’s mouth curved as he relived the feel of her. Hot, tight, and oh-so-unwilling.
    He could almost love her for battling so hard. Almost, but not quite. Revenge was more his style and, unlike the two females already locked in their cages, the she-cop deserved his retribution in spades.
    Too bad he was grounded by sunlight, shut down by ultraviolet rays and his light-sensitive eyes. Not that it mattered. He was a patient male. Half a day. Just twelve hours before he went after her, became hunter to her prey. He could hardly wait for sunset. The moment he took flight over the forest, she wouldn’t stand a chance. He was linked in now, connected to her in a way no other male could match. Like a beacon in the dark, her energy called to him, leaving a trail he could track.
    A growl rose in his throat as Lothair applied the last butterfly, absorbing the pain, letting it sink deep to fuel his rage. The slice to his face hurt like hell, but not half as much as Angela would when he got a hold of her.

     
    Mac was surrounded by endless waves of dark hair. The thick strands filled his hands, curled around his forearms, cocooning him while he nestled in, nuzzled deep, needing more.
    So good. She was so damned good. Nothing but soft, willing curves and white-hot desire.
    With a groan, he licked her pulse point, feeling the buzz along his spine as he pressed deeper between her thighs. She sighed—the sound half hum, half plea—and shifted beneath him, rocking her hips into his. More. She wanted more, and Mac wanted to give it to her. Except…
    He knew he should let her go, that she couldn’t be real. Nothing in reality came close to how amazing she felt in his arms. And any second now he’d wake up. Drunk. Alone. With only the memory of her face and a hard-on to keep him company.
    But goddamn, everything about her felt real : her heartbeat, the small hands in his hair, the taste of her on his tongue, her scent on him, his on her, and yeah, the relief. Her touch banished the pain, made the world fade and him float until all Mac knew was her. Then again, that was the point. A delusion wasn’t a delusion unless you believed it. Breathed it. Made it your own. All the better to fuck you with, my pretty…cue the witchy laugh.
    Mother of God, he was losing it. Making up a fake woman. Imaging hot, sweaty sex with a beautiful stranger. Except she wasn’t a stranger. Not really. He’d dreamed of her for days, ever since he’d seen her at the SPD precinct.
    Tania . Her name was Tania, and oh man, he didn’t want to wake up. Or let his fantasy lover go. She belonged to him in the dreamscape like sugar belonged in cookies. Inseparable. Undisputed.
    His .
    Mac growled, the need to get closer and something more prickled beneath his skin. The sensation