Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

slithered through the silence. Quiet footfalls followed, ping-ponging off the walls and down the wide open space in front of the cellblock to reach him. The whispers came next. Held high by the rush of air from the ventilation system, the murmurs drifted, sounding as loud as a shout to his sharply keen senses.
    Forge hummed. Visitors. How nice.
    Even better? They came with a plan and clear purpose. Came to play a deadly game of mental chess. One he excelled at, too bad for them.
    Allowing his eyes to drift closed again, he listened to the voices. Studied the tone and nuance of each. Picked up the tenor. Read the determination that hinted of desperation. He added a dab of well-meaning manipulation to the pot, and…boom! He had a recipe for disaster in the making.
    With a sigh, he folded his arms behind his head, waiting for…ah, and there it was. Right on time. Her scent reached him. Myst was back. And she’d brought a friend. Another female along with his son.
    Forge’s mouth curved. God love her. Aye, she might be planning an ambush, one with him as the main meal, but at least she wasn’t cruel. And as he listened to his bairn’s happy coo echo down the corridor, he thanked his lucky stars. A male would’ve used his lad as leverage. Taunted him with the promise of seeing him if Forge traded information, but not Myst. She believed a father had a right to his son. And that a son needed his father.
    A shortcoming on the strategy front?
    Maybe. But Forge didn’t think so. He was more inclined to talk to her—help and give her what she wanted because of her kindness.
    Which made him a first-class fool.
    He should be using her soft heart against her. Not admiring her for it. But it was what it was . No changing that. So he went with it instead, ears attuned to their every move, picking up the faint noises like a stray dog did table scraps.
    It was sad, really. How much he wanted to see Myst and her guest, to hear their voices up close and talk to them in return. He’d been alone for a while with nothing but silence and his own thoughts to keep him company. Well, that, and the sound of his own heartbeat. He took the fact it was still thumping as a good sign. Especially with Frosty beating a death drum with his name on it.
    So, aye. The females were welcome. Even though he knew it wasn’t a courtesy call.
    Myst was too single-minded for that. She needed information. Intel she believed he possessed, so coming to him was a logical choice. Too bad he couldn’t give her what she wanted. Not yet. Not until Bastian caved.
    Such a shame. He really didn’t want to hurt her.
    His ears tuned, he listened to his visitors’ approach. Flip-flip-flop. Flip-flip-flop. Bloody hell, he loved that sound. It was such a feminine one, so lovely and familiar he smiled. Which was a bad idea. Especially if he didn’t wipe it off his puss before Myst saw it. No sense handing her that kind of tactical advantage. The second she thought he was glad to see her, she’d use it against him.
    Oh so unwise.
    Forge wanted her to believe he was a brute, capable of anything, unworthy of her concern and attention. Maybe then she’d realize he was a lost cause. Stop trying to save him. Win him over. Make him believe second chances existed for a male like him.
    Dangerous. The game she played was so bloody dangerous.
    And one he’d bet his eyeteeth Bastian didn’t know about yet. He snorted. Jesus, the male would lose it when he found out. But for now, Forge would enjoy her visits. And hope for more.
    Without opening his eyes, he knew the exact moment she cleared the corner of his cell. “My lady Munroe…to what do I owe the pleasure?”
    “Oh, shut up and get over here,” she said, tone tart. “Your son wants to see you. And I want to introduce you to someone.”
    Forge grinned. He couldn’t help it. It was hard not to like Bastian’s female. “Let me guess…one of SPD’s finest.”
    He tried to sound casual, but fuck him, relief came through as his throat went tight. Rikar had gotten her out, rescued her from Razorback hell. And no matter his beef with the Nightfuries, he couldn’t help but be grateful for their cunning efficiency. No female deserved to be treated that way. Left to linger in pain and despair.
    “It’s Angela…or Ange,” she said, voice soft yet somehow strong. “Take your pick.”
    Unfolding his arms from behind his head, he planted a hand on the cold concrete and popped to his feet. As he turned toward the