Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

into the bowels of the earth.
    Ivar stayed unmoving a moment, absorbing the quiet before heading for the set of French doors in the middle of the bank of windows. Palming the handle, he flipped one open and stepped out onto the narrow balcony. Three stories above the ground, rotten wood cracking beneath his boots, he breathed in the chill, listening to city noise clash with cricket song.
    With a sharp inhale, Ivar leapt over the railing, transforming in mid-plummet to dragon form. Red scales etched with black flashed as he banked left, heading west into the city center. His hunger couldn’t wait, and downtown Seattle offered the best prey. Females came out to play on Thursday nights, decked out in short skirts and little else.
    Hmm, such an excellent night to hunt.

Chapter Seven
    Jesus, he was an idiot. The problem? Bastian didn’t know how to change that fact. Caught between a rock and hard place, he’d done what he needed to do and retrieved Myst. But, well…hell. He’d managed to freak her out in the process. He snorted. A total understatement.
    His pick-up-and-go method of transportation hadn’t gone over well. But with no time to waste, grabbing her on the fly had seemed the best option—the least aggressive in his playbook.
    Number one on his list of favorites would have gotten the job done, but setting down in the middle of the highway like he’d done with the ambulance? Not a great idea. The last thing she needed was another look at him in dragon form. Bastian snorted. Yeah, and wasn’t that the understatement of the millennium?
    All his scaliness would send her over the edge into Screamsville. And, honestly? He could do without the whole mental-meltdown thing. As far as he knew, a female going apocalyptic didn’t appear anywhere on his agenda—the one entitled, “The Fastest Way to Get Myst Naked and Into Bed.”
    Man, he couldn’t wait for it to happen.
    Bastian banked north toward Black Diamond as he stuffed the fantasy beneath a pile of mental debris. He wanted it buried, gone before he went nuclear. All of that forced abstinence made him needy. Just the thought of her beneath him, of touching all that warm, soft skin?
    Distracting as hell.
    Bastian shook his head. Him. Distracted. That was a first. Not a particularly good one, either.
    Thank God, Rikar wasn’t around to witness his slide from cool commander to overheated lust boy. His friend would razz him about it, and Bastian had already given him enough ammunition for one night. Man, he was in for a roasting when he got back to the lair. He’d lost his calm, cool, and collected out there when Myst had sprinted into the open.
    Rikar might not think less of him for losing his cool. It happened to the best of them. But that didn’t mean the SOB would keep his trap shut. His first in command liked to tease too much to ever miss an opportunity. Bastian could see it already: Rikar gathering the other warriors around—like a bunch of pain-in-the-ass Boy Scouts around a campfire—hitting full story mode as he regaled them with the details.
    A small price to pay, because…Jesus. He’d almost lost her. Had Rikar reacted one second later, Myst would be…
    Dead.
    Incinerated.
    An ash pile.
    The thought made his stomach roll. Which pissed him off. No way he should care so much. The attraction he felt for Myst was dangerous, not within normal boundaries for his kind. Then again, what did he know? None of the males he knew hooked up with a female for any length of time. Even if they had, none talked about it. Sure, some shot the shit about one-nighters—the fuckfests that overloaded them with pleasure—but even that kind of talk didn’t happen often.
    Thank God.
    The last thing he needed was constant talk of sex. He thought about it often enough as it was, waking up hard and wanting most evenings. The problem? He hardly ever indulged. Couldn’t bring himself to hunt females purely for release, like the others. Okay, so no one got hurt. The females were always willing and the energy exchange pleasurable, but all the deception didn’t feel right.
    Feeling that way was stupid.
    He couldn’t change what he was and yet, he yearned for more. Craved companionship without the remorse that always came after he took what he needed; after he’d fed and left the female sated on tangled sheets, all without a word or backward glance.
    Bastian closed his eyes, let himself glide a moment, enjoying the rush of cold air against his scales. He wanted more