Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

optimal, at least he wouldn’t be left behind. In the lair. With a female that belonged to his best friend.
    “We clear?” Bastian gave him another warning glare.
    “Got it,” he said, not willing to push his luck. “And the baby?”
    “Myst’ll take him.” With a quick inhale, Bastian glanced toward the corridor, then back to him. “You’re gonna want to put on a shirt, man. Right now.”
    He scrubbed a hand over his bare chest. Shit, he hated clothing. It made him hot and itchy, something his frosty side didn’t tolerate well. The only reason he wore shorts at all was so he didn’t freak his friends out by walking around with his equipment dangling.
    Then again, staying alive trumped being comfortable. And the status quo in the lair.
    Yeah, he had a feeling a new “normal” was about to hit Black Diamond. But that tended to happen when a female dropped into the picture and fucked up the flow.

Chapter Sixteen
    Fine art wasn’t her forte. Myst always confused Monet with Manet, couldn’t tell Degas from Renoir, but the one she’d just walked past was a van Gogh. She paused mid-step to study the painting more closely. Yeah, definitely á la Vincent…as in painted by the master, not lifted from the rack at the local frame shop.
    God, the thing had to be worth a fortune.
    Why that surprised her, Myst wasn’t sure. She guessed she hadn’t expected quite so much from Bastian and his cohorts. In hindsight, though, she should have.
    Her bedroom alone spoke volumes. It was refinement and taste wrapped up in a beautiful package that boasted the best of everything, from the antique sled bed to the brass fittings holding the silk curtains away from the windows. The colors were spectacular, too, the palate of soft lavenders and darker grays wrapped in an envelope of creamy white.
    A feminine oasis complete with walk-in closet and matching bathroom.
    Standing in the middle of all that gorgeousness, temptation had rung her bell, urging Myst to hunker down and well…hide. The problem? She wasn’t a chicken. Somewhere along the line, the bok-bok gene had skipped a few branches in her family tree, leaving her with the chromosome pairing of stare-’em-down and make-’em-pay.
    “Fine time to find that out,” she said to herself.
    Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Myst got a whiff of ylang-ylang. She huffed. The scent was driving her crazy. Not that she didn’t like to smell good, but the ylang-ylang came with an added bonus. Damp hair. As in…she’d taken a shower recently. One she couldn’t remember.
    And wasn’t that a kicker?
    Bastian had…God. Had he really bathed her?
    An undeniable yes echoed inside her head, dragging her inch by uncomfortable inch toward humiliation. Myst dug her heels in, told herself to grow up, but embarrassment grabbed her anyway, then threw her over the edge. Feeling her cheeks heat, she hit herself with a whole lot of logic.
    So what? He’d seen her naked. Big deal, right? She wasn’t fifteen anymore and, reacting like a teenage girl when a man saw her N-A-K-E-D was just plain stupid. Not to mention unhelpful, especially since she’d decided not to hide…was, in fact, walking toward Bastian and not away.
    But the thing was…stupid or not, she couldn’t deny that it mattered to her. Bothered her on a purely feminine level. It made her feel vulnerable, at a distinct disadvantage in the silent war raging between them.
    How was she supposed to look him in the eye and not wonder if he was picturing her without a stitch on? Which, in turn, would make her think of him that way and…
    Well, it was bad all the way around.
    Myst rubbed her temples. She needed a new game plan. One in which she stood firm and told him to take her home. One that included telling him what she thought of his my-enemies-are-after-you theory. She didn’t need his protection. And honestly, the war between him and those other dragons didn’t have anything to with her, so why would anyone be after her?
    The easy answer? They wouldn’t. Bastian was obviously overreacting, being overprotective after overblowing the situation.
    And hallelujah. She was back on track, thinking about getting out, not being naked. With Bastian.
    Still, the whole shower incident made her want to button up and armor down. Myst checked the zipper on her hoodie. Yup, the purple Lululemon was still zipped to her chin, covering everything vital. She took a second to smooth the front of her yoga pants, then frowned at the