Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

warrior’s name.”
    She stuck her tongue out at him. His grin broke free and, for the first time in a long while, he felt lighter somehow. Like he’d been touched by an angel, one who’d taken pity and lifted his burden, if only for a minute. The carefree moment sobered him and, as Myst returned his smile, shining light into his darkness, the urge to warn her took over.
    “Myst,” he said, his happiness fading into seriousness. “Your mate is right not tae trust me.”
    “Maybe. But you and I both know the truth.”
    His eyes narrowed. “And what is that?”
    “I know you’re not a bad guy…” She paused to drill him with her violet eyes. “…and so do you. Bastian’s fair-minded, Forge. Make peace with him. Otherwise, you stay locked up here, away from your son and everything that’s important.”
    Uh-huh. A pretty speech. Too bad he’d been there, done that, and didn’t deserve a do-over. “You cannae save me, female.”
    “Doesn’t mean I won’t try.”
    Wonderful. Just what he needed…a female on a quest. Shite. He might as well add stubborn to her list of qualities. Though pigheaded might be a better word. Aye, definitely. He liked that one much better, and as he—
    Door hinges creaked, metal clicking against metal.
    “My lady?” Edged by urgency, the British accent floated into the cellblock. “Myst?”
    Her arms still snug around his son, Myst pivoted toward the exit. “What is it, Daimler?”
    “Oh, thank goodness…I found you.” Twin tails of his tux flapping behind him, the male Numbai —a member of serving class to Dragonkind—pranced into view. Pointed ears visible beneath hair pulled back at the nape, Daimler danced to a stop in front of his mistress. “Master Rikar needs you, my lady. He’s inbound with an injured female and—”
    “Angela?” Forge asked.
    The Numbai’s gaze flicked to him a second before settling back on his mistress. As he opened his mouth to answer, Myst cut him off. “How bad is she? I need details, Daimler, and an ETA.”
    “I don’t know. And ten minutes, my lady,” Daimler said, answering each question rapid-fire. “Master Sloan’s already in the clinic, setting up triage.”
    “Can I help?” The second the question left his mouth, Forge felt like an idiot. What the hell was he doing? Offering to lend a hand? Playing the hero? Jesus, he needed his head examined. Aye, that, and a swift kick in the arse to smarten him up. But even as he told himself to zip it, his mouth opened and, like a pathetic pea brain, he dug his hole a little deeper. “I’ve been trained as a paramedic.”
    His offer made Daimler’s mouth fall open.
    Myst wasn’t surprised.
    “Told you,” she said, a smirk on her face. “Keep it up, Forge, and I’ll make a good guy out of you yet.”
    “Bloody hell.” Forge wanted to growl at her…he really did. Instead, he stood stone-still, fists clenched and heart aching as she strode to the stroller and settled his son inside. Out of sight, but never out of mind. “Myst, could you—”
    “No,” she said, tone sharp, her expression serious. “Play all the games you want, it won’t work with me. You want out? You want more time with your son? Grow a brain and make peace with my mate. Otherwise, you’ll stay exactly where you are for a very long time.”
    An ultimatum with teeth. Deadly, and oh…so…tempting.
    Could it really be that easy? Hit one knee, bow his head, and swear loyalty to the Nightfury pack and…bam! Instant acceptance.
    Forge shook his head. No way. Nothing was ever that simple. The visit today. Myst’s warning. All of it smacked of conspiracy, one older than time. Show the prisoner something he wanted—would kill to possess—then take it away unless he gave up the goods. Bastian wanted information about energy-fuse; the ins and outs of how a male used it to protect his female through the hungering when the Meridian realigned, her pregnancy, and finally, the birth of a child.
    The strategy was diabolical. And right up Bastian’s alley.
    As suspicion banged around inside Forge’s head, his admiration for Myst grew. Aye, she’d brought his son, but not out of kindness. It was psychological warfare. She would never be his ally. He would never win her over. Even knowing it, however, didn’t stop the urge to call out and beg her not to walk away with his son.
    He almost did it. Almost opened his mouth and asked her to come back.
    Almost , but not quite.
    He was stronger than that, a