Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

him a sentimental fool, but he didn’t care. Those males had fought hard for him, deserved a proper burial in the Cave of Memories. And wasn’t he an altruistic gem? Yeah, those whom Ivar commanded would say he was a real stand-up guy, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
    He wanted the ashes for another reason, too. They were a message…to Bastian and the Nightfury dragons that served him.
    The ash piles combined with all the female lives he took were a big fuck you. A statement that said, “You can’t protect them all.”
    The first time had been an accident. Not the death, but the ash pile left beside her body. He’d been carrying Thor’s remains home after a vicious night of fighting and had needed a pick-me-up. As he’d fed and banged the nameless female against the alley wall, the bag had ripped, spilling Thor’s ashes onto the pavement.
    Serendipitous? Yeah, absolutely. A real-life lesson in how to upend the enemy.
    Now, he possessed what the idiot police called “a signature.” Every time he took a life, he left a little of his fallen comrades behind.
    And the police? Useless twits. They would never figure it out, didn’t possess equipment powerful enough to find the truth. Even if they tested the remains, all they’d find was a whole lot of human. Dragon DNA burned in the ashing process, so the most the dummies would get were bits and pieces, a contaminated sample at best.
    Ivar hummed. He couldn’t wait until Bastian and his merry band of bastards clued in. The Nightfury’s outrage—and the subsequent hunt for him—was going to be so much fun.
    But there wouldn’t be any fun tonight. No ashes, either. The humans were swarming like ants.
    The best he could do was collect the scraps; little hits of information to use with Forge. Details. Ivar wanted them all, anything and everything he could turn into ammunition to stoke the lethal male’s fire. He needed to direct all that rage. The death of Forge’s female—Caroline what’s-her-face—was the perfect foil.
    As Ivar picked up the metal tinge of blood and acrid smell of death, he smiled. Forge would go mad with grief, murderous as he searched for his child.
    And once he did, Bastian wouldn’t stand a chance.
    Leaving Ivar to do what he did best…continue his work in the lab, designing the perfect weapon to unleash on humankind.

    Gravel crunched beneath the X-Trail’s oversized tires as Angela turned into the Van Owens’ driveway. Lights flashed farther up the lane, painting the trunks of tall pines in revolving yellow splashes.
    Hmm. That was a pretty impressive light show…much bigger than she’d expected. Particularly since the sheriff had promised to keep the scene tight. Not more than fifteen minutes ago.
    She sighed. Lovely. Just what she and Mac needed…another circus.
    Double fisting the steering wheel, Angela tightened her grip to keep from swearing. Her partner was doing quite enough of that already, enough for both of them. And honestly? Two pissed off detectives at a crime scene was one too many.
    With all the enthusiasm of a gutted fish, Angela slowed the SUV’s roll and rounded the last bend. The high beams swung around, sideswiping a knot of police cruisers before ghosting over a hunk of burned-out metal. Still smoking, the wreckage threw black plumes skyward, washing out the details of the house behind it.
    “Holy crap.”
    “Uh-huh.” Mac scanned the mess through the windshield. “Welcome to Clusterfuck County, Ange.”
    No kidding. It looked like a bomb had gone off. The unfortunate victim? An ambulance with a twisted undercarriage and a scorched orange and white paint job. The house hadn’t fared much better. From what Angela could see, the porch roof had collapsed inward to shake hands with the floor. And the windows? Gone. All of them shattered, leaving gaping wounds in the Cape Cod’s face.
    And yeah, wasn’t that a lovely reminder of what lay inside the freaking place. On the drive out, Mac had filled her in: dead girl slit wide open, missing baby, AWOL nurse. Terrific. The combo was right out of a horror show. Now, all they needed was the guy from American Psycho to show up with his chainsaw to round out the picture.
    First things first, though. The crime scene needed to be locked down.
    There were too many cops standing around. Doing what? Nothing, but getting their yak on.
    And wow…she’d laughed at Mac, calling him paranoid when he said he didn’t trust the country yahoos. His