Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

again.”
    “Venom’s on point. You follow him.” With a flick of his hand, Bastian pointed to the building across from them. Moonlight reflected off the glass, throwing black scales into stark relief. Hanging upside down like a bat, talons curled around the steel structure, Wick tipped his chin, acknowledging him without speaking. “Wick’ll help you with trajectory, flank your right wing while I keep you cloaked and stay on your left.”
    Cloaked . Another new trick. “When will I be able to do that?”
    “One thing at a time. Tonight’s for flying. Once you’re back at the lair, we’ll teach you the other stuff.”
    Good enough. One thing at a time sounded like an excellent strategy and about all he could handle at the moment. Putting himself in reverse, Mac counted out each step as he backed away from the edge of the roof. Take a running leap while yelling Geronimo! the whole way down. His kind of plan.
    Seven feet from the ledge, he settled into a runner stance. “Who’s got my six?”
    “I do . ” Like a wraith in the dark, the voice came out of nowhere.
    “Jesus Christ!” Mac spun, dropping into a fighting stance.
    His fists raised, he searched the shadows and saw…nothing. A heartbeat later, a white dragon uncloaked, becoming visible in the darkness. Rikar. Mac knew it without asking. He recognized the vintage, 100 percent lethal. Horned head cocked to one side, pale eyes narrowed, Rikar looked him over as he tucked his wings. Jesus, he was a sight to behold, blinding against the night sky, so beautiful in dragon form he took Mac’s breath away and…
    Goddamn it. After the hellish day. After wishing Rikar hadn’t split—that the male had been around to show him the ropes instead of off saving the world—he was so happy to see the bastard, he said, “Well, aren’t you pretty.”
    Rikar snorted, tendrils of frost rising from his nostrils.
    Venom grinned, amusement slaying his perpetually pissed-off attitude. And Wick? Per usual, the Nightfury didn’t make a sound.
    Bastian laughed. “Yeah, the prettiest form of lethal. That’s our boy.”
    And just like that? Crisis averted. Pansy-ass status revoked. He was back on solid ground, a Dragonkind male with the chops to hold his own with the others.
    Meeting Rikar’s gaze, Mac tipped his chin. The question was a silent one and…thank fuck. His new XO was quick on the uptake.
    “She’s safe. Was sleeping when I left the lair.”
    “Good,” he murmured, relief riding him hard. Ange was his best friend—a great detective, his little sister by choice, but man, she had a knack for finding trouble. She’d been his responsibility the last two years. Now he had help—thank you, God—and knowing she was safe did wonders for his confidence. Nodding once at Rikar, he turned back to face the ledge. “Heads up, boys.”
    Venom shifted, skin morphing into green scales, wings spread wide as he left his perch on the rooftop. Arms and legs pumping, Mac hauled ass toward the edge. Rikar took flight as Bastian transformed, midnight-blue scales flashing in Mac’s periphery. No turning back now.
    No second chances. It was now or never.
    With a curse, he planted his boot on the raised lip and leapt, launching himself into the open sky. Stretching his arms wide, he swan-dived into a freefall, clearing his mind, waiting for enough wing space to transform. One Mississippi. Please, God . Two Mississippi. I’ll do anything . Three Mississippi. If you’ll…just…let…me…clear the…
    Presto chango.
    Hands and feet turned to claws. Skin morphed into blue-gray scales, and his spine lengthened under a razor-sharp blade as he unfolded his wings.
    Rikar hoorahed.
    The rest echoed the sentiment.
    Mac growled and, fangs bared, took a tight turn, banking around the sharp edge of another skyscraper as he flew toward the ocean. Bastian cursed. Mac didn’t care. He needed to swim, and it had to be now.

Chapter Sixteen
     
    Bastian dropped another f-bomb. Rikar growled, seconding the motion, becoming chairman of the committee to kick Mac’s ass. The male had gone AWOL, flying off half-cocked, losing his mind in downtown Seattle. All without the ability to cloak himself in dragon form. And with Venom and Wick out of the picture—peeling off from the pack to investigate Lothair’s disappearing Houdini act from the night before—that left him and B scrambling to pick up the slack. And leapfrogging over the cityscape to cover the new guy’s flank? Not on his