Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

circumstances. He wanted two things: his son and Bastian’s female to live. But in order to secure the first, he must hurt the second. The information he held about the ritual was his last bargaining chip. The only way to force Bastian’s hand and regain his bairn. The fact Myst was stuck in the middle was a terrible burden to bear. But Forge was banking on one thing. Bastian would never allow his female to suffer needlessly. Would do anything to keep her safe, healthy, and whole.
    So like it or not, he must hold the line.
    If his theory held true, by this time next month he’d be out of his cage. Free to fly away from Black Diamond with his son in tow. To leave the Nightfuries and their females behind.
    Which, strangely enough, made his heart ache so hard he actually felt a pang.

     
    Rikar ducked, avoiding the backlash of Mac’s tail as the male crash-landed on the LZ. Shit. Forget the crash part. Make that spinning into an uncontrolled death skid. Man, the new boy needed a crash course in the art of landing. One that pointed out the benefits of not taking his comrades out like a matched set of bowling pins.
    Another full revolution. Rikar ducked again.
    Holy Christ. The male was out of control, paws scrambling, scales flashing, body torquing all over the freaking place. Which, yeah, he and B should’ve expected. Mac’s fledgling status didn’t come with built-in landing gear. Or brakes, apparently. Too bad. Rikar really didn’t want to get whacked by Mac’s wicked sharp tail.
    Leaping backward, Rikar vaulted over the Honda. As he landed on the other side, Mac whipped into another 360-degree spin. Blue-gray scales rippled in the low light as Mac bore down to stop the tilt-a-whirl. His claws ripped grooves in the granite, and stone dust flew. Musty air rushed, making the light globes bob against the cavern’s ceiling even as they disappeared behind the haze of gray cloud.
    Mac’s tail came around again. The bladed edge sliced the hatchback, cutting through steel. Metal screeched. Glass exploded. The car got decapitated, and the roof went flying, flipping end over end in midair.
    “Fuck.” Dark-blue scales flashing, Bastian dove for cover behind a row of stalagmites.
    Rikar dropped an f-bomb of his own and shifted into human form, making himself a smaller target, and put himself in reverse. The metal panel pinwheeled, somersaulting over the LZ’s edge, falling to the aquifer below. The horrendous sound of claws on stone stopped as Mac slammed into the wall at the back of the cavern.
    “Motherfuck,” Mac groaned, collapsing into a heap on the floor.
    Bastian popped his horned head up from behind a boulder. “Is it safe to come out yet?”
    “Go for it , ” Rikar said, beating feet toward Mac.
    The thud of his footfalls echoed, bouncing in the vastness as he skirted the roofless wonder’s front bumper. The second he got a load of Mac, concern hit Rikar chest-level. The male was in bad shape. One big bruise punctuated by shallow cuts and deeper gashes. The worst ran along the curve of Mac’s shoulder. A clean slice, but it was bleeding like crazy now.
    Their new boy needed a stitch-up job…fast.
    Angry at himself, Rikar shook his head. He should’ve left Mac in the water a little while longer. Allowed him to play with his prey for another hour before he hauled him out and headed for Black Diamond. The saltwater had done the male a world of good: soothing bruises, helping to close the nicks and cuts, sealing up the less serious wounds. But the flight home hadn’t done the male any favors, undoing what the ocean had started.
    Rikar slowed his roll, approaching Mac with caution. Not that he thought the male would hurt him. At least not on purpose. But a dragon was a dragon. And underestimating one in pain while he approached in human form wasn’t a good idea.
    Holding his hands up, he murmured, “Mac.”
    The male flinched. A second later he snorted, steam rising in twin tendrils from his nostrils.
    “I need you to shift, big guy.” The movement slow, Rikar reached out and put his hand on Mac’s shoulder. He kept his touch gentle, not wanting to startle the male. The dark-blue tattoo Mac sported on his scaled torso shimmered beneath Rikar’s hand. When he didn’t move, the pattern settled into flat, dark ink once more. “We need to get you inside.”
    Mac blinked, his eyes drifting closed, then opening again. He tried to raise his head. “I wanna go back in the water.”
    Bastian jogged