Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

handle cranked down.
    He tried to untangle himself from Angela. With a whimper, she tightened her hold, fingers flexing on the gun, her arms around one of his, and Rikar dropped the tough guy act like a hot potato. Who the fuck cared what anyone else thought? He could handle the teasing, all the jokes about being whipped, wearing a leash…whatever. His female needed him, so yeah, his boys could go straight to hell.
    He sat down on the edge of the bed. She snuggled against him, pressing her face up against the side of his thigh. Murmuring to her, he stroked his hand over her hair, listened to her steady breaths as she fell into a deep sleep.
    Steel hinges sighed a second before the door swung wide. Sloan crossed the threshold, tray in hand, the smell of scrambled eggs rolling with him and…oh, hell yeah, cinnamon and brown sugar. His favorite. Bless Daimler. The Numbai knew how to “caretake” like nobody’s business.
    Seeing his interest, Sloan grinned, white teeth flashing against mocha skin. “Hungry?”
    Rikar stroked Angela’s hair again. As his fingers played in the short strands, he held his buddy’s gaze, daring him to comment about the cozy arrangement. “Whatcha got?”
    Sloan snorted. “You know what I got. You’re practically salivating over there.”
    Cinnamon toast. Mmm, mmm good.
    Sliding the tray onto the small round table between the cabinetry banking the far wall and the bed, Sloan tipped his chin. “You want it over there?”
    “Yeah. Bring the table.” With a gentle twist, Rikar freed his arm, sliding it out of Angela’s grip. She frowned, making a sound of protest. Which, of course, squeezed his heart so hard he gave her his left hand to hold before she stirred from the healing sleep. “I’m one paw short at the moment.”
    “I can see that,” his buddy said.
    His hand drifted over the nape of his Angela’s neck, touching her soft skin, combing through her red hair. And Rikar waited…for the derogatory comment, for the warrior’s derisive tone, for his reputation as a hard-ass to be challenged. But Sloan didn’t say a word. Just kicked the other chair out of the way, picked up the table—tray and all—and walked the entire mess over. Rikar blinked, his eyes burning like a house on fire, his throat so tight he found it hard to swallow.
    Christ. He hadn’t expected that, but…man, straight up? Sloan was the poster boy for a worthy male, looking after him when most would’ve teased him about his need to stay with Angela.
    Fine china clinked and utensils rattled as the table got set down with a thunk. Sloan whipped off the cover, and Rikar nearly melted into a puddle of gratefulness. He dug in instead, picking up a piece of cinnamon toast, shoving half of it in his mouth as he murmured a heartfelt thanks.
    Sloan’s big mitt landed on his shoulder, then gave him a squeeze. “How’s she doing?”
    “Better,” he said around a mouthful. Polishing off the last of the toast, Rikar chugged chocolate milk to wash it down. When he saw the bottom of the glass, he picked up the fork and went at the eggs. Hmm…protein in a scrambled mess. Nothing better. “It’ll take a while, but she’ll heal.”
    Propped against the wall next to the bed, Sloan’s gaze flicked to the gun in Angela’s hand, then came back to him. He raised a dark brow. “You think that’s a good idea?”
    “It isn’t loaded,” he said, shrugging off his friend’s concern. “She needs it to feel safe.”
    “The gun isn’t doing that…you are.” Lightning quick, his buddy leaned forward and snagged a piece of bacon off his plate. “You fed her, didn’t you?”
    The fork halfway to his mouth, Rikar paused. How much should he admit? All of it? None? The whole Bastian and Myst thing hadn’t surprised anyone. B had been looking to hook up and sire a son. But with his frosty side in perpetual “fuck you” mode, no one expected him to ever feel for a female this strongly.
    Silver clinked against the plate as he put his fork down. “Got a problem with that?”
    “Not even a little one.” One corner of Sloan’s mouth turned up, like the bastard knew what he was thinking, and Rikar had the sudden urge to pop him one. “But if you have, you need to get into bed with her. Enough of the hand-holding shit.”
    Christ, there Sloan went again, smacking him in the face with the unexpected. Get into bed with her. Had the male gone freaking insane? No way Angela would want him curled up next to her. Not