Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

screaming in warning.
    Too late.
    The Razorbacks were smart, working in tandem, tag-teaming him—one herding him from behind, one coming at him head-on—using his inexperience and their skill to hem him in.
    Dark eyes aglow, the brown dragon exhaled. A thick, green cloud shot from his mouth. Noxious fumes rolled out in front of him. The cityscape faded behind the toxic fog. The yellow Razorback banked hard, dodging behind Mac, splitting wide right, and…
    Bam.
    The toxin hit Mac full in the face. He gagged. His throat closed as his lungs seized. Pain squeezed around his rib cage, made his eyes water and…oh, man. The stuff smelled nasty and tasted worse, a bad mix of dead fish, Pepto-Bismol, and paint thinner.
    Racked by a fit of coughing, Mac wing-flapped, desperate to gain altitude. The rogue inhaled again. Mac flew harder, chest heaving, struggling to get out of the way. Goddamn. This wasn’t good. He had a bull’s-eye on his forehead, and he’d lost momentum. He might as well pin a frickin’ sign to his chest. One that said, “Hit me here. Kill me dead.”
    A second before the rogue hammered him again, movement flashed in his periphery. A white streak, more blur than actual substance, rocketed passed him. Frost rolled in its wake, blanketing the air, icing up building facades, killing the poisonous gas. The brown-scaled rogue shrieked, trying to change course.
    But Rikar was faster. With a nifty flip, his XO grabbed hold and torqued the rogue into a full-body twist. The tilt-a-whirl took both males up and over before Rikar let go, hurling the asshole like a shot-putter and—
    Clang!
    The sound warped the air as the enemy dragon collided with the water tower skull-first. The rogue’s neck whiplashed, but the hard-headed asshole didn’t fall. He bounced, rebounding off the steel. Shaking off the should’ve-been concussion, the male growled and came back for more.
    “Mac! Go!” Rikar shouted. “Get out of here!”
    Mac snarled. No way. Not in this lifetime.
    He refused to leave Rikar. So he was inexperienced. Didn’t know what he was doing. Could hardly tell his claws from his tail. Big deal. There were too many Razorbacks. B and Rikar needed him. So fuck it. Whether his XO liked it or not, Mac was sticking around. If nothing else, he was an excellent distraction. With Jackass and Fuck-Face chasing him around, the bastards wouldn’t be able to blindside his friends.
    Stupid, crazy-ass idea? Maybe. A serious case of ego? Absolutely.
    But no retreat meant no retreat . And Mac had something to prove. Even without dragon combat training, he belonged here. Among the Nightfuries in the heat of battle. He felt it keenly, knew it deep down where truth lived and honor made a home.
    “Rikar,” he said, firing up mind-speak. “Split wide right.”
    Rikar growled a warning.
    Mac didn’t care. All he wanted was—
    Rikar banked right.
    The second his XO cleared the line of fire, Mac exhaled. Water-acid streamed between his fangs. The yellow dragon dove, heading for a rooftop. Shit. He’d missed. Snapping his head around, Mac spotted Fuck-Face. He tucked into a spiral and breathed out again. The Razorback drew up short.
    The bastard wasn’t fast enough.
    Mac slimed him, coating his left side. As the deadly splatter went to work eating a hole in the Razorback’s wing, the male screamed and plummeted toward the ground. Mac rocketed between two high-rises. Windowpanes rattled as he zeroed in, timed it just right, sliced his enemy on a flyby. The sharp blade of his tail sank deep, cutting through hard scales to reach the beating heart beneath soft flesh. With a sudden implosion, the rogue ashed, turning to dust in the midnight breeze.
    “Good boy,” Rikar said.
    “Fuck off . ” Frickin’ guy…he could stick his praise up his ass. And rotate.
    His XO laughed and, white scales flashing, attacked another Razorback.
    Mac swung around and searched the skyline. One down. One to go. His eyes narrowed, but…nothing. No flash of yellow scales. No fireball hurtling through the air. Scanning the alleys between buildings, Mac sped over rooftops, flying fast, looking for the enemy dragon.
    “Come on, Jackass,” he murmured. “Come out and play.”
    Seconds ticked by, slipping into more. Something flashed in his periphery, and Mac spotted him. Stupid Razorback. Jackass was the same color inside and out. Yellow. The coward was in full retreat, flitting between buildings, using the rooftops for cover as he slunk