Fury of Seduction

by Coreene Callahan

  “Excuse me?” Confusion set up shop inside her head, obliterating her ability to follow. Not surprising, really. With Myst gone berserk, descending into meltdown mode, not even a Mensa candidate would be able to understand. “Mind what?”

  Halfway across the room, her hands balled into fists, Myst ignored her. “Holy crap, I’m living with a bunch of liars. Liars, I tell you! Just wait until I—”

  “Time out!” Tania yelled, interrupting the temper tantrum.

  Myst swung back toward her. Tania made the time-out sign with her hands and hopped off the bed to land on the floor. Persian rug warming her toes, she stared at her friend, all the questions she planned and wanted to ask sidelined. One thought circled, blotting out all the others.

  A hooker. With Mac.

  Fury ignited so fast it singed her. Surprised her. Made her want to throw something...right at Mac’s head.

  “A little clarification here, please,” she said, fighting to keep her tone even. But boy, it was hard. She wanted to let loose, find Mac, and do some serious damage. Crazy much? Absolutely. Mac didn’t owe her a thing. Hadn’t promised her forever or even broached the subject. But imagining him with another woman, kissing, touching, loving someone else? Well, the idea struck her as dangerous...for the other woman. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  With a long sigh, Myst stopped pacing and pivoted to face her. “How much do you know about the Meridian and how it works?”

  “Just what Mac told me,” she said. “Something about electrostatic bands ringing the planet and Dragonkind’s connection to it. But honestly? I was so tired when we talked about it that I just...I don’t know. Didn’t retain much.”

  “Okay, then.” Tucking her blonde hair behind her ears, Myst nodded. “Here’s how it works.”

  Thank God. Finally. Viable information. From a reasonable person, one she trusted to give it to her straight. But as her friend laid it on the line—explaining the cosmic connection to the Meridian and how a male fed from female energy via touch to receive the nourishment he needed to keep him not only healthy but alive—dread circled deep. Mac had used her as an energy source. Had touched and fed from her in the way Myst described...in the loft, yes. But also last night while he rubbed her feet on the couch.

  Tania pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking back, remembering, putting a label on the siphoning rush of sensation. Heat. Pleasure. Comfort. Yes, all that qualified, but then so did theft. Except...

  Was that really fair?

  She didn’t know. Wasn’t sure how she felt about feeding him, never mind the whole mind-scrub, memory-tampering thing. It wasn’t an easy thing to figure out. Especially since she liked Mac. All right, so maybe like was too tame a word. Craved was no doubt a better one, but still...

  “Do you enjoy feeding Bastian?” Tania asked, needing to know the ins and outs from a woman’s perspective. “I mean...is it something you do because he needs it and you have to or...?”

  “I love it. He’s...incredible.” Myst sighed, looking worn out all of a sudden. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t nail him for not telling me about...jeez, Tania. He offered you up as Mac’s main meal.”

  “Well...”

  “Well, what?” Myst snapped, then muttered, “Oh, just you wait, Bastian.”

  “I wasn’t exactly unwilling.” Tania cringed, feeling her cheeks warm. “In fact, I may have been, ah...the aggressor.”

  Her friend threw her a surprised look.

  “I seem to remember Rikar trying to separate us, but I...then Mac, he...” Tania pursed her lips. “Let’s just say it didn’t go well.”

  “Oh. All right then,” Myst murmured, her eyes twinkling. A second later she gave up trying to hold on to her amusement and laughed. “I guess you want him, then.”

  “From the moment I saw him at the police precinct.”

  “When you filed my missing person’s report?”

  Tania nodded. “But you know, I’m scared of him too. He’s so intense, and I’m just...ridiculous or something, because I want him. Even though I know it’ll change everything, Myst. Everything. My life. My work. Me. But when I’m with him I don’t want to be anywhere else. It’s as though there’s some weird connection between us, like he’s a planet, and I’m stuck orbiting him. And well, that’s just plain nuts. I hardly know the guy!”

  “It isn’t crazy,” Myst said, her voice soft with understanding. “At least, not to me. The connection is real, Tania. Dragonkind calls it energy-fuse...a magical bond between mates. I did the same dance with Bastian five weeks ago.”

  Energy-fuse. Fused to Mac. Tied up in irrevocable ways, unable to get away. Uh-huh, that sounded about right.

  Leaning back against the bed, Tania rubbed her temples, trying to head panic off at the pass. It didn’t work. Uncertainty cranked her tight one notch at a time. The urge to run and never look back poked at her. Tania locked it down. She wasn’t a coward, and fear or no fear, she needed to see the situation through. Exploration, after all, was mankind’s great gift to itself. So, no, she couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Not without giving what she felt for Mac a chance.

  He deserved better than a fast lay and an even faster good-bye. And so did she.

  Inhaling through her nose, she exhaled through her mouth. The in-and-out routine helped, and as she evened out, the knot in the center of her chest unraveled. She could do this. Be as brave as Myst. Explore a brand-new world. Give Mac the benefit of the doubt and herself time to decide whether to stay or go.

  She glanced at her friend. Patient as always, Myst stood a few feet away, watching her, waiting, allowing her to come to terms with the scary thing called Dragonkind.

  Tania rolled her eyes.

  Myst laughed before her expression smoothed into serious lines. “So I have something to ask you.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Will you be my maid of honor?”

  “Holy jeez!” With a hop, Tania leaped away from the side of the bed. “Really? A wedding?”

  “Yes...Dragonkind-style.”

  “God help you.” Tears in her eyes, laughter in her voice, she gave Myst a hug. Call her idiotic—or a hopeless romantic—but she loved weddings. All the love-fueled chaos and fancy hairdos, glamorous gowns, and oh happy day...the shoes! The only hiccup in an otherwise excellent plan was the future groom. She didn’t know Bastian at all, and, well, let’s face it. The whole dragon thing held the potential to blow up in her friend’s face.

  And per usual? That worried her.

  But Myst wasn’t stupid. She loved Bastian. Tania could see it in her eyes, and only a fool stood in the way of true love.

  Grinning like an idiot, she asked, “When?”

  “Any day now. Daimler’s getting everything ready, but we’ll need to...umm...” With one last squeeze, Myst let her go, stepped back, and rubbed her forehead. Tania scanned her face and frowned. Whoa. Something was wrong. As in no-color-in-her-friend’s-cheeks-now wrong. “I have a list and...”

  Covering her mouth with her hand, Myst swayed on her feet.

  “Hey, are you all right?”

  Dumb question. Tania knew it the moment it left her mouth. No way her friend was all right. She looked as though she was about to throw up.

  Pale as death, Myst shook her head. “It happens about this time each night. Just give me a minute. I’m sure it’ll settle.”

  Well, wasn’t that cryptic? No doubt, but now was not the time to unravel the mystery. “What can I do?”

  “Get Bastian. I need him. Get...”

  “Okay. Hold on. Let’s just...”

  Her friend’s eyelashes fluttered. A second later, Myst collapsed, becoming a deadweight in her arms. Adrenaline hit her like rocket fuel, pumping fear through her. Tania tightened her hold and sank to the floor. Oh jeez. Oh crap. She hated situations like these. Her brain always shut down, leaving her blank, mind deep in panic and floundering to think straight. Breathing hard, her heart thumped, roaring like a runaway freight train.

>   And only one thought surfaced. Call for help. Right now.

  She drew in a lungful of air, preparing to yell Bastian’s name and get Myst what she needed. But when she opened her mouth, she screamed for Mac instead.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Venom was acting strange. Mac recognized the signs. Could smell trouble a mile away as the guy ass-planted himself on a stool at the kitchen island, sticking around while he foraged for leftovers in the refrigerator. His internal alarm system pinged, sending warning bells ringing inside his head.

  Jesus, that wasn’t good. Something was up. Wrong. Inside out and backward, ’cause...

  Dickhead didn’t do random.

  Wicked smart and armed with a lethal vocabulary, the male never pulled any punches. He aimed to kill and usually did. Mac gritted his teeth, wishing the male would piss off...slither back into his hole and leave him the hell alone. Condescending dickheads weren’t his favorite thing. Neither was being ragged on. So, yeah. Venom settling in at his back? Bad news, all the way around. Nothing fun was headed his way.

  Mac tightened the screws on his temper, waiting for the barrage to start. A full minute passed and...nada. No derogatory comments. No teasing quips or jabs about his lack of ability. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the faint rumble of male voices. He listened harder, hyperacute dragon senses picking up...

  The first voice belonged to Bastian. The second and third, Rikar and Forge. Thank fuck. He didn’t want to tangle with Venom tonight. And the trifecta of kick-ass yakking it up in the outer foyer? The boys gave him the perfect out if shit went critical in the kitchen, allowing Mac to keep his mind where he wanted it. On Tania and the mystery of where she would sleep inside the lair.

  Daimler would know. But no way would he ask. He had made a promise to himself not to pressure her. So hands off...keep it locked down. It was Tania’s choice: sleep alone in her own bed or wrapped around him in his.

  White-knuckling the top of the fridge door, he scanned the top shelf again, then glanced at dickhead from the corner of his eye. Venom shifted in his seat, first left, then right. The movement spoke volumes. Nervous. Restless. Way out of his league on the how-to-start-a-conversation front.

  Terrific. Just what he didn’t need. A Nightfury with an agenda.

  Pushing a jar of mayonnaise out of the way, Mac dug deeper, working his way to the back, looking for protein. A whole chicken would be good. Roast beef, though? Even better.

  His stomach grumbled, eating away at his insides. A fledgling’s curse, he guessed. But whatever. He didn’t care about the why. Mac simply wanted it to be over...to be out helping his brothers KO rogues without having to worry about the body drain. Or subsequent dip in energy and loss of firepower when hunger gnawed on him.

  Damned annoying. But no bigger a problem than the SOB perched at the island, clouding the air with, well...Mac didn’t know. Toxic waste in the form of a serious attitude problem, maybe?

  Venom grumbled something under his breath. Mac threw the male a perturbed look. Too bad Venom didn’t get the memo. He was too busy frowning at his knuckles as a muscle twitched along his jaw. Jesus fucking Christ. What was his problem? The male was hedging, struggling to find the right words. And by the looks of it? It wasn’t going well.

  Venom cleared his throat and opened his mouth. No sound came out.

  Mac growled at him. Venom blinked and looked up, away from the self-examination of his fist. Slamming the fridge door, Mac plunked a container on the countertop. Glass hit marble, clunking in the quiet.

  Ruby-red eyes solemn, Venom met his gaze. After half a minute of staring, he cleared his throat and said, “Listen, I—”

  “You want me to make you a plate?” he asked, hopping on the asshole bandwagon, deliberately cutting the guy off. Juvenile, Mac knew, but he couldn’t help it. The urge to prolong Venom’s discomfort was just too much to resist. After all the BS and trash talking, he wanted some payback. Besides, the mouthy jack-off deserved a little of what he excelled at dishing out. “I got roast beef and gravy.”

  Dickhead frowned.

  Mac ignored him and, leaning to one side, reached for a couple of plates sitting on an open shelf. “How much do you want?”

  “Frigging hell,” Venom murmured. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Screwing with me.”

  He shrugged.

  Venom sighed. “Look, about last night, I—”

  “Forget about it,” Mac said, picking up the reason behind Venom’s discomfort. “Wick already thanked me.”

  A silence-filled pause. No fidgeting. No rustle of clothing. No movement whatsoever and then, “He did what?”

  Cracking the top off the roast beef, Mac inhaled hard, drinking the decadent aroma right out of the air. Umm-umm good. Daimler was da bomb, a culinary wizard bar none. His mouth watering, he tossed the lid aside and glanced over his shoulder.

  Surprise creasing his puss, Venom looked like he’d been hit upside the head...with a hatchet. Sharp side up.

  Mac clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. “I know. Fucked up, right?”

  “That’s one way to put it.” Staring at the countertop, Venom shook his head and muttered, “When he decides to talk, he talks, I guess.”

  “You’ve known him a long time?”

  “Almost from the beginning. I got him through his change...like Rikar did you.” Tracing a swirl of gray embedded in white marble with his fingertip, Venom’s brow furrowed. And Mac waited, amazed by the information and Venom’s peace offering. They’d never really talked without sniping at each other, so...yeah. The sincerity in the male’s voice qualified as boot-to-the-balls surprising. “Hell, I was only a couple of weeks out of transition myself. A fledgling without the maturity or strength to control the energy and...Jesus. Still amazes me either of us made it out alive.”

  “Tough times.”

  “The roughest.”

  “Not everyone gets a fairy tale,” Mac murmured, understanding better than most.

  His upbringing had been a train wreck, and he’d been messed up in a lot of ways until he’d met Angela. She’d straightened him out in a hurry, bringing stability into his life, accepting him without hesitation, becoming his friend. And as he held Venom’s gaze, Mac understood something else too. None of them were immune. Pain and suffering came to the best of them, and he and the warrior struggling to make peace were more alike than different.

  Go figure. A peace treaty inked over a couple of sentences. The United Nations had nothing on them.

  Pulling a drawer open, Mac grabbed a fork and, stabbing the beef, dished out equal portions on each plate. “Hey, Ven?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Enough with the fledging BS. I’m done with it.”

  “No more calling me dickhead, then.”

  “Deal,” Mac said and thanked God. He was tired of the conflict. It took way too much energy to fight with a guy meant to be your brother. “So...we good now?”

  “Goddamn, I hope so,” Venom growled. A twinkle in his eyes, he rapped his knuckles against the countertop. “Otherwise we’re gonna end up having a love-in, and quite frankly? I’d sooner beat you unconscious than hug you.”

  Mac grinned. “Ask Forge about that.”

  “About what?” the Scot said, walking into the kitchen with Bastian and Rikar on his heels.

  “Kung fu.”

  “Oh shite.” His mentor threw Venom an alarmed look. “Doonae go there.”

  Sitting up a little straighter, interest flared in Venom’s gaze. “I got some time. Let’s hit the gym and—”

  “Mac!”

  The scream echoed, making his heart jackrabbit inside his chest.

  “I need help...Mac!”

  Holy shit. Tania. Sounding terrified.

  Adrenaline hit him like a nuclear bomb. Muscles cranked tight, he exploded around the end of the island and rocketed into the corridor. The raging beat of his shitkickers rang out, hammering the silence, joining
the din of the males hauling ass behind him.

  Skidding to a halt in front of Bastian’s door, Mac unleashed and kicked the fucker open. Wood splintered, shattering inward as he roared over the threshold. He scanned the room, searching for the threat.

  “Good Christ,” he said, taking in the scene. Tania on the floor. Myst unconscious. Tears in his female’s eyes. Crossing to where she sat, he ran his gaze over her, then reached out and cupped her cheek. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “She fainted,” she whispered, her face ashen. “One minute she was just fine, and the next—”

  “What the fuck?” Bastian rolled in like an electrical storm, violence shivering in the air around him. A vicious growl and two strides later, his commander reached them. Green eyes aglow, he shoved Mac out of the way and, with gentle hands, scooped Myst off the floor. When Tania clung, not wanting to let her friend go, he murmured, “Let me have her, kazlita. She needs me.”

  “That’s what she said.” So shaken her hands trembled, Tania released her friend and pushed to her feet. Her gaze trained on Bastian, she followed his progress across the room. Reaching the bed, his commander sat down with Myst in his lap. “What are you going to do?”

  “Feed her.”

  Shock flared in her eyes an instant before Tania threw him a questioning look. “He’s not gonna—”

  “Hurt her?” Mac shook his head and, needing to soothe her, moved in close. His heartbeat evened out, thumping just for her when she turned toward him, accepting the comfort he offered. Drawing her closer, he laced their fingers together. “B would rather blow his own head off than hurt her.”

  The side of her shoulder bumped his chest. She shuddered. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, watching her watch Bastian cup the nape of Myst’s neck and slip his hand beneath her T-shirt to palm the small of her back. “Then what’s he doing?”

  Closing his eyes, Bastian dipped his head and nestled his cheek against his mate’s. With a sigh, Myst curled into him, snuggling closer, murmuring B’s name.