Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

that one, too. He hadn’t wanted to force her, and as crazy as it sounded, she understood his logic. The Meridian had driven them both over the edge, but Bastian had been out of control. So wild in the height of the storm she’d used quiet words and gentle touches to bring him back from the brink. He’d always listened, dialing down his desire before he’d gotten too rough with her.
    But it had been close a number of times. So, yeah, on some level she accepted the reason behind his lie. Could even find honor in his actions.
    God, what did that say about her…that she was deranged? Suffering from some form of delusion? Or was it love? Love, after all, made people do stupid things. Like forgive a man when he deliberately withheld crucial—and life-threatening!—information.
    Yeah, no doubt about it. Stupiditis was a definite part of her mental package. But at least she was clearheaded enough to diagnose the problem and administer the psychological antidote: a healthy dose of self-preservation by way of escape. Which meant she needed to keep moving. Time wasn’t on her side.
    The layout of Black Diamond, either.
    The lair was a labyrinth, a system of interconnected tunnels spreading like a spiderweb beneath the house. She’d bet her eyeteeth that one lead to the garage. And that Bastian was racing down it right now.
    The thought made her run faster. She zeroed in on the door set beside the larger ones, slowing her pace. She reached for the knob.
    Please, God, let it be …
    The door opened on the first crank, swinging on well-oiled hinges. She plunged over the threshold, her bare feet slapping on smooth concrete, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. She stood shivering for a moment, the afghan doing little to protect her from the cold, and scanned the interior. A key box. She needed to find where they kept all the keys, but…
    Talk about Mission Impossible. She couldn’t see a thing, and the place was huge, much bigger than the garage doors implied.
    Spinning around, she looked for a light switch. Bingo. A set of five. She flipped them all, the buzz of electricity crackling in the silence. As industrial-grade fluorescents flickered to life, she spotted the garage door openers mounted further down the wall. She hammered them with the side of her fist. Gears ground in motion, rattling chains, lifting the huge metal doors off the concrete floor. Sunlight flooded into the room.
    “Fuck.”
    Well, that answered that question, didn’t it? Secret tunnel into the garage? Check.
    Bastian cursed again as the doors continued to rise. Scanning the back of the structure, she stepped into a bright patch of sunshine. As it warmed her shoulder blades, her eyes adjusted to the light, and she watched Bastian dive behind a tall tool cabinet, his arm shielding his eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand, her heart so heavy it sank inside her chest.
    God, she was hurting him, wielding his weakness like a weapon, pushing him away one UV ray at a time. Still, she stayed in the sun, refusing to give up her defensive position. She needed out. His lies hurt too much for her to forgive so easily. And as the emotional ache expanded to encompass the physical, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to accept his apology.
    So, where did that leave them?
    She couldn’t stay, and he refused to let her go. The standoff left them on opposite sides of the fence, her need for space warring with his desire for closeness. Her right to freedom, though, wasn’t one she would debate. The decision was hers to make, not his.
    “Bastian, I’m sorry.” Man, the irony. He was the one who’d hurt her, and she ended up apologizing. “Please…just stay there.”
    “Don’t go. Bellmia, don’t.” His voice drifted from the darkness, the ache in his tone undeniable. “We’ll work it out.”
    “I need space.” Her throat closed, tightening around each word until she could barely push them out of her mouth. “I’m going home.”
    “You are home.”
    “For how long?” Her breath hitched as she lost the battle and tears escaped, rolling down her cheeks. “Until I go into labor and die?”
    “You’re not going to die!” His shout echoed, bouncing off the steel structure as she wiped her cheeks. The mop-up helped clear her vision. She scanned the walls and…found the keys.
    Thank God.
    She eyed the metal hooks. There were eleven of them, an equal number of keys hanging on the wooden board. She did a quick count, skimming over vintage