Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

infinity in front of her. Goddamn it. She sounded so small. Vulnerable. Not what she’d been going for in any way, shape, or form. But holy hell, she’d needed to know and—
    “I like feeding Bastian,” Myst said, jumping into the void, tilting the conversation away from Crazytown and back into Evensville. “A lot.”
    Angela blinked. “Really?”
    “Yeah. Especially when we’re, ah…in bed.” Making a face, she glanced at Forge. “TMI?”
    “Wicked TMI,” he said, sounding disgruntled even though his eyes twinkled. “Look, Ange, nothing about this is easy. Not assimilating into our world or leaving your own. Not dealing with the shit that happened tae you. If you let him, Rikar will help. Feeding him will take some of the anxiety away. Bring peace while you become accustomed tae him…” he paused, throwing Myst an amused glance, “ah…in bed.”
    Her new friend grinned, enjoying his play on her words.
    Angela rolled her eyes, wanting to hit them both. “A temporary fix?”
    “Better than enduring the pain alone, aye?”
    “Maybe,” she murmured, willing to concede the point. “But how am I supposed to—”
    The door banged open, smashing into the steel wall behind it. A moment later a deep growl rolled into the corridor.
    “Ah, crap,” Myst muttered.
    Angela palmed her gun and popped to her feet. Stance set, she focused on the entrance. Which also served as the only exit. Way to go, Ange. Brilliant detective work. Nice to only notice that bit of info now, with the doorway blocked by a huge guy dressed in leather. The Harley Davidson attire matched the PO’d look on his puss…kick-ass with a whole lot of hardcore.
    Green eyes aglow, his gaze flicked over her, then narrowed on Myst. Angela swallowed, resisting the urge to take a giant step backward. And take Myst along for the ride.
    She chanced a quick glance at Myst and whispered, “Bastian?”
    “Ding-ding-ding.” G.M. snug in her arms, Myst rolled to her feet. Her scowl every bit as fierce as her mate’s, she said, “Don’t go postal, Bastian. I can explain.”
    “I hope so, bellmia ,” he said, more growl than actual words. “Especially since I asked you not to come down here.”
    Ooh-oh. Asked . Not ordered. Interesting word choice and one that put Myst neck-deep in trouble. A girl could ignore an order from her man. This wasn’t the twelfth century, after all. A request, however? Angela grimaced. That wasn’t so cut and dried. And judging by her guilty expression, she guessed Myst knew it. Knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on as Bastian rolled in like a human thunderstorm.
    “I’m not one of your warriors,” Myst said, her words sharp, her gaze narrowed on the man she claimed to love. As far as strategies went, it was a good one. Attack instead of retreat. “You wanna talk to me? Change your tone.”
    Bastian growled again.
    “Don’t blame her.”
    Angela blinked. Good God. Why the hell had she said that? Well, whatever the reason, it was a bad one. Especially since Bastian was now focused on her, his green gaze hitting her like twin spotlights. Okay. No sense panicking. She’d gotten herself into trouble. She could get herself out.
    Clearing her throat, intent on backpedaling, Angela opened her mouth and…made the mistake of glancing at Myst. Ah, hell. She couldn’t do it. No way could she leave her friend twisting in the wind like that.
    “Please don’t blame Myst,” she said. “It was my idea.”
    He glared at her.
    Angela gave ground, backing up a step.
    “It’s all right, Ange.” A muscle twitched in her jaw as Myst glared right back, slamming Bastian with a loaded look. “Bastian would sooner put your gun to his head than hurt me.”
    “True,” the guy said without slowing his roll. Long legs carried him forward, the thud of his heavy boots sounding loud in the quiet. “Doesn’t mean I won’t turn you over my knee, now does it, bellmia ?”
    While Myst sputtered, choking on the threat, Angela regrouped. Okay, so the guy wouldn’t hurt her friend. Good to know. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t make good on his threat, though and…really. No one needed to get spanked today. Unless, of course, they wanted to, and neither she nor Myst was volunteering for that one.
    “Look, Bastian.” Holding her hands palm up, she tried to placate him. “It really is my fault.”
    “Fucking hell. I knew it,” a deep voice growled. “Always neck-deep in trouble, aren’t you, angel?”
    Angela’s head