Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice
front of his cell, he got a load of the newcomer. Halle Berry short, her red hair shone in the low light and…shite. She was pretty with her intelligent hazel eyes and a whole lot of edge. No surprise there. Plugged into the Meridian, she was high-energy, power personified, her aura flaming bright and true. But unlike Myst’s gentle warmth, Angela’s was jewel-like: hard, cold, rooted in icy resolve and a never-say-quit attitude.
No wonder Rikar wanted her so badly. Her chilly energy was exactly what Frosty would crave and…hmm. Had he mentioned she smelled lovely too? Like ice and evergreens, fresh as a cold winter morning. A beautiful combination that reminded Forge of his Highland home. He tipped his chin, his acknowledgement of her a silent one.
Playing shuffleboard with the container she held, she shuttled it from one hand to the other. After a second, she mimicked his movement, greeting him without words.
“Crap,” Myst said.
With a frown, his focus snapped to Bastian’s female, concerned something was…
Nay. Nothing wrong. No threat but the scowl on her face as she noticed the new decor. À la Japan, large square cushions sat on the floor. Set up a safe distance from his cell’s invisible barrier, smaller pillows flanked the whole, acting as backrests, inviting the females to sit down and get comfortable. But the best part? The minibar. Pushed against the end wall, it contained all sorts of fun stuff: fancy fruit juice, milk, bottled water, Perrier in pretty green bottles, chocolate treats wrapped in colorful packages. And he should know. He’d watched as it was stocked. Sat with his back propped against his cell wall while the whole deal went down.
His lips twitched. “The Numbai was here.”
“Obviously.” Cradling his son in her arms, Myst stared at the thick floor cushions and grimaced. “Oh, man, we’re totally screwed.”
Ah, just as he suspected. “Bastian still doesnae know?”
Chewing on her bottom lip, she shook her head. “He’s going to flip out the second he sees this. Freaking Daimler. Talk about a dead giveaway.”
“Thought the butler loved you,” Angela said.
“He probably does,” Forge murmured, watching the two together. He got the sense they’d just met, but…aye. They were a solid match personality-wise and would become fast friends before long. “But he cannae stand the thought of Myst being uncomfortable.”
Angela threw him a questioning look.
In an answering frame of mind, he said, “The Numbai are the serving class, lass…the caretakers of Dragonkind. Daimler’s sole purpose in life is tae see tae his master’s comfort.”
“And by ‘master’…” Lifting her free hand, Myst scrunched her middle and index fingers, making quotation marks. “He means everyone under Black Diamond’s roof.”
“A bit archaic,” Angela said.
“I thought so, too, at first.” Stepping over the large, square cushion, his son cradled in her arms, Myst sat, folding her legs Indian-style. “Until I realized he runs this place. Because at Black Diamond? Daimler’s the boss. He’s valued for his service and loves every minute of it.”
Angela mouthed “oookay.”
And Forge understood. She hadn’t been with the Nightfuries long. All the differences—the idiosyncrasies—of his race were new to her. Would seem strange when looked at from human experience. That would change soon enough. Rikar’s scent was all over the female. The Nightfuries’ first-in-command had fed her, and now whether Angela knew it or not, they were connected through energy-fuse. No way the male would let her go.
Which explained why these two were ganging up on him.
Not that he minded. He liked their company. Craved conversation the way a child did affection, and the females were just what the doctor ordered.
Following her friend’s lead, Angela sat down on a neighboring cushion. As she got comfortable, nestling into the makeshift seat cross-legged, she set the container down in front of her and slipped her hand behind her back. She came away with a gun. One glance at him and she set the piece down gently, muzzle pointing in his direction on the concrete floor.
“You gonnae shoot me?”
She shrugged. “Only if I feel like it.”
Forge laughed. He couldn’t help it. He liked Angela Keen. He really did. She was strong, direct, with a whole lot of moxie. Rikar had chosen his female well.
“I’ll be careful, then,” he murmured, zeroing in on the blue tin Angela set down
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