Fury of Fire (Dragonfury Series #1)

glancing up from his microscope. “What up, man?”
    Rikar tipped his chin at the evidence bags cued up on the techie’s workstation. “Looking for the results on the ash samples.”
    “Sorry, dude. Haven’t got to ’em yet. Everything’s cued up, but big-time backlogged. Brian’s out sick tonight.”
    “S’all right.” Rikar came in close, getting into the lab rat’s personal space. The male squawked, protesting when he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. Chest to chest now, he took control of the human’s mind, calming the male. “Look at me, Chuck.”
    Vacant-eyed, the human complied.
    “Are all the samples in the box? No stragglers?”
    Almost boneless in his arms, Chuck relaxed on a sigh. “Nah…that’s all of ’em.”
    “Good,” Rikar murmured as he got busy rooting around inside the human’s head. With a gentle wash, he scrubbed the male’s mind clean: taking his memory of the ash samples, telling him that he’d never seen or heard of them. If the two cops showed up before Rikar got a chance to scrub them, there’d be a whole lot of what-the-hell-do-you-mean-you-lost-our-evidence? But, hey, that wasn’t his problem, was it?
    After sitting numbed-out Chuck in a chair, Rikar crossed the lab. Peering inside the box, he studied the samples for a moment, noting times and dates. He raised a brow. Ivar had been busy. There were at least six samples sitting there, giving him the Ivar salute. Rikar grabbed the entire load. Sloan would want to test them. Though, Gage—the Nightfury’s biochemical expert—would’ve been the better choice. But that wasn’t going to happen…not with Gage off protecting Haider’s back at the Archguard’s fucking festival.
    Whipping up a backpack, Rikar stuffed the samples inside and headed for the door. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. Chuck would come to in a couple of minutes, along with the female he’d pleased. Besides, the fishbowl effect was starting to get to him. Nothing was big enough in the human world. Everything they built seemed compact, substandard in size and—
    “Rikar.”
    Bastian’s voice came through mind-speak loud and clear. But shit. Something was wrong. His best friend didn’t sound right. “Here.”
    “Need you.” Bastian coughed, the harsh rasp sounding wet, like the male was choking on something. “Wick’s down. I’m…in…deep shit.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Rail yards. Humans…coming.”
    “Hold tight.”
    “Hurry,” Bastian said through the static.
    The connection between them snapped, cracking like brittle wood. Fuck. His best friend was in deep trouble if he couldn’t hold the link to mind-speak.
    Moving like an F-18, Rikar rocketed past the front desk and out CSI’s front door. As he shifted and took to the sky, his wings blew a huge gust of wind. Air hit the parking lot with the force of a hurricane. Alarms shrieked and humans came running, weapons drawn, as cars went flying, flipping end over end.
    Metal crunched against metal, and electricity arced, sparking as an SUV took out a telephone pole.
    Rikar ignored the auditory soundtrack and climbed, uncaring of the damage he left behind. Normally, he avoided the hurricane routine. Tonight, though, he would’ve leveled the building if necessary. His best friend needed him. The humans could go to hell.

    The wailing sirens were getting closer. In another two minutes the humans would be on top of him. The nightmare scenario hammered Bastian, prodding his get-up-and-go. Too bad his adrenaline was pretty much tapped out. He could’ve used a shot of it right now.
    Reaching deep, he dredged the last of his reserves, forced himself to keep moving. Pain tightened its grip, tearing at him like barbed wire. His vision wavered. Bastian blinked as his mind followed suit and shorted out, flickering like an overloaded electrical circuit. It was like getting the plug pulled on his cerebral cortex. And as mental acuity went down the drain, he landed in Blanksville. What did he need again? Something important. Or maybe it was someone.
    That thought sparked another.
    Yeah, definitely someone.
    He groaned. That was it. He needed to go home…to her.
    Digging his claws in, Bastian dragged himself another few feet. Wet earth pushed between his talons, mounding over his knuckles. The fuel-soaked ground burned the raw patches of flesh exposed by his shot-to-shit scales. He didn’t care. He had to find Wick and get them both back to the lair.
    The harbor beyond the bank of