Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

angel…take it . ” Concentrating hard, he pushed the plea into her mind. “Please, baby, let me feed you.”
    A pause. Less than a heartbeat in time. She hummed, the sound warm, soft, and—
    Rikar sucked in a quick breath. Sweet Christ. She’d linked in, accepted him, snuggling closer as she took what he offered.
    Drunk on sensation, Rikar swayed. Widening his stance, he planted his shitkickers and…hmm, that felt incredible. And he wanted more. Needed to give her every last piece of himself.
    Sinking to the cavern floor, he settled her in his lap. “That’s right, love…take all you need.”
    Dumb-ass thing to do. Stupid on so many levels, but God, he couldn’t resist her. Or deny his compulsion to feed her. Savage need ripped through him as energy-fuse grabbed hold. Undeniable. Powerful. Addictive. The magical bond rooted him to the stone floor, made him cup the back of Angela’s head, press his cheek to hers, and align them temple-to-temple.
    With a moan, she nestled in, brushing the corner of his mouth with her own. Warm breath on his skin. A flick of her tongue. A gentle grazing of her teeth. The pleasure of her in his arms.
    God give him strength. No wonder B loved serving his female this way.
    Unable to resist, he slipped his hand under the hem of her hospital gown and put them skin to skin, spreading his fingers wide across her lower back. Connected at three junction points—nape, temple, and spine—the Meridian amplified, marrying their energy streams. Rikar growled, relishing the rush as Angela drank deep, drawing him into her veins. Within seconds, her vital signs stabilized, each breath coming a little easier as her muscles unlocked and her heartbeat leveled out.
    “There’s my angel,” he said in Dragonese, using the language of his kind to soothe her. “I see you now.”
    She whispered his name.
    Tears flooded his vision as his throat went tight. Rikar accepted the gift, then put it away. No time to wallow in the intensity of the mating. Angela might be stable now, but she wasn’t out of danger yet.
    Pushing to his feet, Rikar skirted the beat-up Honda in the center of the LZ and jogged toward Black Diamond’s underground lair. Ten seconds out, he banged on the magical door with his mind, triggering the energy shield. The powerful current crackled. Blue-white sparks flew, the snap-crackle-n-pop warning him to slow down.
    Rikar ignored the hint. He could handle the pain of coming in too fast. His female’s need took precedence and every second counted.
    Upping the pace, he thumped on the barrier again. The cave wall rippled, shifting from solid stone to clear and wavy. Curled like a shield around Angela, he tucked his chin and braced for impact. He hit the energy shield head-on. The invisible doorway hissed then whiplashed, throwing the magical equivalent of a temper tantrum. Rikar snarled at it. The thing retaliated, sideswiping him with electrostatic shards, and sensation exploded into pain. Holding his breath, he gritted his teeth and waited for the shield to spit him out the other side.
    One Mississippi. Two Mississippi…three Mississippi, four—
    The portal released its grip and shoved, launching him like a human torpedo. Scrambling to keep his balance, boot treads sliding on concrete, ancient stone walls flashed in his periphery.
    Thank Christ. He’d made it. Was now standing in the hallway of Black Diamond’s underground lair.
    He checked Angela. Breathing well. Heartbeat strong. Curled like a kitten in his arms, and none the worse for wear.
    Putting himself in gear, he sprinted up the double-wide corridor. “Myst!”
    The clinic’s glass door slid open. Bastian’s female stuck her head out. “How’s she doing?”
    “Stable, but hurt,” he said. “Deep laceration to the right thigh.”
    “Still bleeding?”
    “No, but—”
    “We’re set up and ready to go. Get her in here fast.”
    Like he wasn’t hauling ass already? Still he didn’t argue. No time. No inclination either. All he cared about was Angela. And having Myst on hand to play doctor was a gift. B’s female could order him around as much as she liked, just as long as his female pulled through—hale, whole, with nothing but a shitload of healthy ahead of her.
    Putting on the brakes, Rikar skidded into the clinic.
    Set up like an operating room, medical supplies were lined up on top of a metal rollaway cart beside the stainless-steel examination table. Plastic crinkled as Myst cracked open one of the