Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

Intangible. Confusing. Strange. Call it whatever you wanted, but he possessed that extra special something in spades. And foolish or not, she wanted to believe him when he told her not to worry…that he’d untangle the mess and bring Myst home.
    Which burned her butt.
    Twenty-first century women didn’t rely on he-men with aquamarine eyes and a body that never said quit to solve their problems. A shame on so many levels. She liked the idea of leaning on him, of those strong arms around her. He would feel good and…
    Holy crap. The whole attraction thing with MacCord needed to die a fast, horrific death. Along with her fantasies. God. Her imagination was so lit up, she swore she could taste him. Feel the softness of his dark hair between her fingers. Smell him on her skin. Hear his voice as he whispered her name, driving desire way past need into must-have territory.
    Heat and pleasure. Pure and simple.
    Oh, boy, she needed to get a grip. Especially since she planned a sneak attack later this afternoon. The detective needed a fire lit under him, and she was just the girl to strike the match. First things first, though, she needed a shower. Or maybe a swim. Thinking of MacCord made her sweat, which made her realize she wasn’t just watchless, but sticky too: cotton T-shirt plastered against her back, damp tendrils of hair stuck to the nape of her neck.
    Tania combed her hands through the rat’s nest on her head. Jeez, what a catastrophe. What had she been doing? Running the Seattle marathon? Blowing out a breath, she rooted through her bag, found an elastic, and swept the entire mess into a ponytail before tapping the glass again. The taxi driver’s head swiveled, one eyebrow raised. He nodded as she gave him the new address. The YMCA.
    Yup, definitely. The gym and its Olympic-sized pool was the best bet.
    She needed to stretch her stiff muscles and calm down before she headed to the police station for round two with Detective MacCord. Her lips curved as his face surfaced in her mind. It would be good to see him again. Especially if it meant upending his unhelpful butt. She wanted answers and her best friend found, so…
    MacCord would just have to suck it up as she put the screws to him.

Chapter Twelve
     
    Grabbing a chair from beneath the table edge, Rikar dragged it behind him as he crossed the recovery room. The metal feet bumped across the hospital-grade floor, protesting the rough treatment. Not that he cared. The pathetic excuse for a chair could squawk all it wanted. In the end, it was going right where he put it. Beside Angela’s bedside.
    He set the thing down with a thunk, then dropped into the plastic seat.
    And groaned. Talk about uncomfortable.
    He shifted, trying out different positions. Why? No freaking clue. Comfort wasn’t in the cards. Sleep either. At least for the foreseeable future. But, man, he needed it. The past twenty-four hours were a blur, and he was whipped, in need of his own bed, a shitload of Zs, and yeah, something else too.
    Food. Dragonkind style.
    Rikar scrubbed his hand over the top of his head, fighting the hunger. No way could he feed now. Not with his frosty side on guard duty. Even without the daylight complication, his dragon wouldn’t let him leave the lair. The territorial SOB had nailed his ass to the chair, keeping him chained in the recovery room. So forget about finding a female and tapping into the Meridian to get what he needed. The whole thing was a no-go. Especially since the only female he wanted lay curled on her side less than an arm’s length away.
    His gaze flicked over her. His chest tightened another notch. She looked so small in the king-size bed: blankets pulled to her chin, IV plugged into the back of her hand, dark lashes lying against her pale cheeks. He frowned, worrying about her lack of color, her stillness, if she needed another blanket, or maybe she was too warm…
    Christ, his list went on ad infinitum. Not that he could help it. Bonded males were like that. Concern for their females came naturally, and after what Angela had been through, the needle on his worry dial was buried in the red zone.
    Planting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward, listening to the beep of the heart rate monitor, clinging to the steady beat like a lifeline. God, he’d almost lost her. It had been close out there. Way too close. Had he arrived an instant later…not left Myst’s loft the second night fell, she’d be—
    Rikar shook his head. No need to