Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

through the change hadn’t been easy, and he’d been the primary: connecting to Mac through mind-speak, guiding him through seven hours of hell, through the energy shift and the physical change that came with it. Just like a sire would for his son. The fact he felt invested in the male’s welfare now didn’t make him a pansy. It made him normal. Right?
    Man, he hoped so. His work with Mac was nowhere near done. As a fledgling, their boy was vulnerable right now and would be for a while…until he learned the basics. How to shift from human to dragon form. How to control his new body and curb the increased strength that accompanied it. How to fly and fight. So, yeah, Mac was headed into some serious training: boot camp, dragon style.
    “Hey, that’s cool.” With a shrug, Venom turned his palms up in the universal gesture of whatever . “You got him through the change. You can feel however you frigging want.”
    “Gee, thanks, buddy,” Rikar said, sarcasm dripping from each word.
    “Lay off, Venom.” With a sigh, Bastian crossed his shitkickers, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. “Give our new boy the respect he deserves. He did well…came through strong.”
    Pride filled Rikar’s chest to bursting and…fucking hell. Maybe pansy-ass pathetic applied to him after all. And as Rikar scrambled to plug the crack in his defenses—one Mac had slipped right through—he covered the breach by changing the subject. “We got…what? Four hours to sunset?”
    “Give or take,” B said. “Get some sleep.”
    Good plan. After the fight in the Port of Seattle, his search for Angela, and Mac’s transition, he was running on empty. All of them were, and sleep deprived was no way to start the new night. Not with a pack of Razorbacks on the loose. Not when he needed pinpoint focus to track, find, and kill the males who’d taken his female. After that? He’d retrieve her. Hopefully in one piece without—
    Rikar murdered the thought. He refused to picture scenarios that might never come true. Facts. Strategy. He must deal in what he could control, whom he could pursue, what locations held the most promise. And as he stretched out flat on the floor, Rikar sifted through a list of possibilities. Nightclubs. The university. Outdoor concerts. All-night coffee shops. Art galleries. Anywhere a rogue would go to find a female and feed.
    Interrogating the enemy wouldn’t get him what he needed…the location of the Razorback lair and by extension, Angela. The idiots were too afraid of Ivar to ever give up the goods. None of them would crack. So where did that leave him?
    Nowhere. In butt-fuck country with only one option.
    Tracking one of the rogues. A tricky play? Absolutely. The enemy was as aware of him as he was of them. Shadowing a male without being detected wouldn’t be easy. Hell, he didn’t even know if it was possible, but…
    What other choice did he have? If he didn’t free her soon, Angela would—
    A tingle slid over the nape of Rikar’s neck.
    Sucking in a breath, he jackknifed off the floor. As his feet touched down, he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated, struggling to connect. Static buzzed inside his head, washing in and out as he hunted for the signal. Christ, had he imagined it? Was thinking about his female making him feel her when—
    His head snapped to the side. There it went again. Whisper soft, the sensation slid down his spine, lighting his senses on fire.
    A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, gripping him through his leather jacket. “Whatcha got, Rikar?”
    “Angela.”
    Bastian’s palm shifted, cupping the back of his head. “You locked on?”
    “Fuck.” Rikar flinched as the pinging beacon hammered his temples. “I can feel her…B, she’s out from under their shield. I can feel her.”
    “Where?” Venom rolled up on his other side. “Where is she?”
    Gritting his teeth, Rikar bowed his head, sifting through mental static. The telepathic flight took him out of Seattle toward the Canadian border. “North of the city. Somewhere in the redwoods.” With a full-body shiver, he tracked her elevation, coming up over mountain tops. “Shit…I gotta go. I need to—”
    “Sun’s up, my brother.” His best friend’s hand flexed, tightening on his nape. Taking a step back, Rikar tried to shake off the vise grip. He should’ve known better. A move like that never dissuaded Bastian. Instead, his commander stepped into him, putting them chest-to-chest. “You go