Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

the pause button on his mouth and the tidying routine. Standing with one hand poised in the air—in a gesture that reminded her of the guys from one of her favorite shows, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy . “Oh, no need to worry, my…Myst. The little one is with Master Bastian, of course.”
    “I need to see him…the baby,” she clarified. Not Bastian. The rat-bastard. “Right now.”
    With a slight incline of his head, Daimler headed for the dresser and as he turned, Myst noticed something odd about him. The guy had pointy ears…like Legolas from The Lord of the Rings.
    Holding tightly to her toga, Myst examined that bit of information. Although why it surprised her was anyone’s guess. Bastian and his crew were at least half dragon. Why not have an elf for a butler?
    “Here we are.” Daimler turned and approached, clothes folded over his forearm. He laid black yoga pants along with a white tank top and purple hoodie on the bench at the foot of the bed. “It is my hope these will suffice, my…Myst.”
    “Thank you,” she whispered in return, her terminal politeness coming to the fore. And why not? She wasn’t angry with Daimler. It wasn’t his fault that she found herself here, in a strange place with a half-dragon jerk.
    “I will leave you to dress in privacy. When you are ready, the kitchen is just down the corridor…to the right.”
    When she nodded, Daimler did a quick one-eighty and headed for the door. As the latch closed with a soft click behind him, Myst reached for the clothes. She needed to get to the kitchen ASAP. Not that she wanted to see Bastian again. Not a chance. Her angel was there…and if the lair was anything like a human home? The kitchen would be at its heart. A prime place to engage in a little reconnaissance…and find an escape route.
    Myst nodded. Good plan.
    Time to take the bull by the horns and find a way out of the nightmare.

Chapter Fifteen
    Rikar sat at the kitchen island, amazed he was still alive. He should be ashed out, nothing but a messy pile on the clinic floor. He deserved it a hundred times over for touching his friend’s female. Okay, so he hadn’t actually been the one doing the touching. Didn’t matter. He’d crossed into uncharted territory, an abyss not many came back from.
    The fact he’d woken up at all this evening was a testament to Bastian’s control. Or love. Either way, he still couldn’t believe…
    Yeah, it was a mind fuck to the nth degree. Especially when he met B’s gaze—across a stack of waffles and ocean of maple syrup—and got nailed with a don’t-you-ever-do-that-again glare. If there’d been any doubt, that look sewed it up. Myst and her unbelievable energy were off limits. To him and every other male in the universe.
    Bag it and tag it, CSI Willows. Case closed.
    One with a slap-happy ending, too.
    Or was it?
    Try as he might, Rikar couldn’t find any happiness in the situation. Sure, B had found a high-energy female that appealed to him: goal accomplished, a totally high-five worthy moment. But, palm slapping aside, the suck factor was there, too. His best friend was headed for a whole lot of hurt. Rikar knew it like he was sitting there, ass glued to the stool, ignoring the others chowing down on Daimler’s homemade waffles as he stared at Bastian, hoping for the best while fearing the worst.
    Rikar guessed it was a question of degrees, of taking the good with the bad. God knew he wanted what Bastian wanted—a healthy race moving forward into the future. Warriors with strong backs and even greater determination, bringers of death to the Razorback rogues. But an equal part of him didn’t want to hurt a female—or to see one hurt—to accomplish the goal.
    The whole plan seemed back-assward to him.
    After all, his kind needed females like Myst. Ones with high energy to keep them well fed and healthy. What would it serve to take one to mate, only to see her die in childbirth?
    And the question was redundant. He already knew the answer, had gone round after round with Bastian so many times that he could hear the other male’s voice inside his head. Females with strong energy produced more powerful offspring. Stronger sons guaranteed a lethal force, males like him and Bastian. Warriors who were gifted beyond the physical with genetically enhanced firepower.
    The perfect examples? His ice. B’s crazy-ass exhale.
    Man, that lightning strike, psychochemical combo was some freaky shit. And that was before he got into the