Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

civilization turned to forest.
    Slashing through wispy clouds and cool mountain air, he settled into a fast glide over Route 18. The blacktop rolled between hills and around S-curves, winding its way through ancient white pines and Western red cedar. Red lights flashed in the distance. Twin beamed headlights ate through the gloom, reaching forward only to be swallowed up from behind as the ambulance sped ahead.
    A firm fix on their target, he mind-spoke to Rikar. “ Get in front. Slow them to a stop. ”
    Rikar came out of the cloud cover on a slow roll, rising like a wreath of mist in the darkness. Almost pure white, his friend was a rarity among their kind; a frost dragon that not only preferred the brutal cold of his arctic home, but could also command the weather at will. “ I’ll ice ’em up. You got the driver ?”
    “ Yeah. Go, ice cube. ”
    “ Fuck off, fire breath .”
    With a grin, Bastian banked left, sailing in over the treetops. The long glide put him even with the ambulance’s back end as Rikar dipped low. Directly above the speeding vehicle now, emergency lights clashed with white scales, bathing his first in command in bursts of red flash. Rikar inhaled hard and exhaled smooth. Twin tendrils rose from his nostrils as frost rolled out in front of him and hit the blacktop, leaving a wide track of thick ice on the asphalt. The humans inside the vehicle cursed as they lost visibility. The ambulance swerved and the driver over-corrected into a fifty-mile-an-hour, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spin.
    Another full revolution. More yelling from inside the ambulance cockpit.
    Bastian landed on the shoulder of the road. Claws spread, gravel flying, he slid sideways into the middle of the highway. His razor-sharp talons bit into the tarmac. Friction burned the pads of his paws as he raised his horned head and waited for the out-of-control ambulance to reach him. The hood swung around, headlights painting the trees in amber-white glow. He saw horror flash across the EMTs’ faces—put there by the wild spin or the sight him, he didn’t know. A second before the grill smashed into him, he grabbed the front end and stopped it mid-slide.
    Metal groaned and the back tires bounced, giving the human males another jolt.
    “Show-off,” Rikar said, tone filled with disgust as he touched down on the passenger side.
    He raised a brow. “Jealous?”
    “Christ.” With an exaggerated eye roll, his friend shifted to human form.
    Bastian tucked his wings and, unable to resist, snarled at the idiots gawking at his dragon form in open-mouthed astonishment. Both had probably wet their pants and still, they sat there, glued to the seats. He snorted. So much for the critically acclaimed intelligence of human males.
    Self-preservation finally kicked in, and the men screamed, scrambling to unclip their seatbelts. Following Rikar’s example, Bastian shifted, conjuring his clothes as he stepped around the curved front of the bumper. As his shitkickers settled on his feet, he drew even with the driver’s side window. Brown eyes the size of shot glasses met his own an instant before he yanked the door open. Burying his hand in the EMT’s shirtfront, Bastian dragged him out and held him high, boots dangling a good foot off the ground. Incoherent with fear, the male babbled, chin trembling, knees knocking, arms hanging limp at his sides.
    Bastian took pity and, delving deep into the man’s mind, seized control, calming him while he wiped his memory clean. As the paramedic quieted, Bastian studied his clothes, picking out the details he needed to replicate when they reached the house and the female who called it home. Arriving in leather wasn’t a good idea. He wanted her moving and cooperative, not terrified.
    Finishing his inspection, Bastian set the man down and told him to start walking. A gas station sat no more than a mile away. The EMTs would make it that far, though they would have no recollection of how they’d lost their ride. With one last look at the two men ambling down the shoulder of the road, he turned to the ambulance. Rikar was already sitting inside, playing with the knobs on the radio.
    The sound of static filled the air, and his friend threw him a worried look. The crackle told him all he needed to know. The equipment was reacting to the electrical charge in the air. More Dragonkind were headed their way, none of them friendlies.
    Hopping into the cab, Bastian slammed the door behind him, wishing he