Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

getting a load of him, the humans scattered left and right, opening a path wide enough to drive a Humvee though. Fine by him. Anyone touched him tonight and he’d go off like a fricking bomb.
    He didn’t want to be here in the filth and squalor. In the bump and grind. See all the sex happening in dark corners. Or watch the humans pour poison down their throats and shoot toxic waste into their veins.
    He wanted to be home. With his female.
    Bastian growled, disgusted with himself. Myst’s pull on him was insanity squared. But the tug—the alluring need—made him imagine her beneath him. She’d be unbelievable, magic with all that soft skin sliding against his and…shit. He kept picturing them together: entwined, tangled up in silk sheets, her head on his shoulder while they loved and talked and—
    He needed to get a grip. A big one before he completely lost control of the situation. And his fantasy.
    Yeah, on paper that argument worked great. In the real world? Not so much. The power of his attraction to Myst was impossible to ignore. Its grip was too strong. So he was stuck…jammed between what was right and what he wanted.
    Wasn’t that fun? Uh-huh, a whole barrel full of laughs.
    And the entire reason he wasn’t at Black Diamond tonight.
    He needed some space. She did, too. Rushing her wouldn’t do either of them any favors. Especially since he refused to let her go.
    Not for the reasons he’d given her—although those were pretty compelling. No, it was much worse than Ivar and the Razorbacks’ threat. Bastian couldn’t return her to the human world because he literally couldn’t …like he had a physical impediment or something. A stop button that got smacked every time he thought about taking the easy way out.
    Which meant one thing. He’d bonded with her. Taken to her so fiercely that his dragon side was digging in, building trenches to defend his territory.
    Man. Was that even normal?
    He didn’t know. The bonding had happened so fast. He’d met Myst what…a day ago? Yet he recognized that she belonged to him and, as much as he hated to admit it, Bastian knew he was hers, too.
    And didn’t that suck.
    What he had with Myst was destined to be short-term. He knew it. Biology confirmed it. She would never survive birthing his son. And getting her pregnant was inevitable. Even if he sent her home—hell, to the other side of the planet—he wouldn’t be able to stay away when the Meridian realigned. Not now that he’d tasted her. His biological imperative would drive him to find and claim her.
    All Dragonkind males went a bit nuts when the energy field shifted and the Meridian surged. Bastian and his warriors were no different. Twice a year, at the fall and spring realignments, Daimler locked them in the vault one level below the lair’s underground facilities. It was twenty-four hours of ball-breaking, teeth-grinding hell. Not that any of them ever complained. It was better than the alternative—or had been until he’d made his decision to find a female and be the first to sire a child.
    A great plan. Until he met Myst.
    Now he was upside down and backwards…totally turned around about his decision and what it meant for his female.
    His fist cranked in tight, Bastian rolled his shoulders as he made his way through the club, trying not to think about what the next three days would bring. But it was hard. The ache wouldn’t go away. As heaviness settled like a dump truck on his chest, Bastian forced himself to keep moving as he scanned the crowd, looking for Razorbacks. And a fight. He needed a muscle-stretching, claw-grinding, bloody brawl.
    Bastian snarled, low and soft. Where were they? Hiding in dark corners? He sensed at least two, but couldn’t see them. Couldn’t pinpoint them within the thick heat and stench of the Gridiron. Hell, he hoped there were more than just two. A full squadron of enemy warriors was just what the doctor ordered tonight.
    Climbing the stairs to the VIP section, he focused on the back hallway. Long and narrow, the corridor streamed past the bathrooms on its way to the emergency exit and the alley beyond.
    Shitkickers rooted to the floor, Bastian stared at the reinforced steel door and sent out feelers in a surge of energy. Letting his magic roll served two purposes. One, it broadcasted his location, a kind of come-and-get-me beacon the enemy would hear and follow. And two? The magical ping would bounce off any Razorbacks in the area and send that