Fury of Seduction

by Coreene Callahan

  Stunned was a good word. Needy, though, might be a better one.

  Her fingers curled into his leather lapels. Tania tipped her chin up and, lips parted, asked for more. A hairbreadth away, his mouth curved, the satisfaction in his eyes easy to see.

  “Gotta go, honey,” he murmured, then nipped her bottom lip.

  The love bite startled her enough to let him go. The instant her grip went lax, he gave her another pat on the derriere, then turned and strode away, following Forge’s retreat toward the end of the corridor. Tania blinked. Good lord. What the heck had just happened? One minute he pushed her away. And the next? He stoked her fire, increasing her internal temperature by about five bazillion degrees.

  And it wasn’t getting any better. Not her lack of brain power. Nor her amped-up libido. The thing started up like a nuclear fallout siren, squawking rah, rah...red alert, red alert!...as Mac walked away.

  But boy oh boy, what a beautiful sight.

  He looked just as good going as he did coming. Each stride long and even. Impossibly wide shoulders rolling. Gorgeous backside a marvel to behold. And ah, jeez. Too bad for her, ’cause, yup, she was in nympho territory. Sexed up and out of control for a man heading...Tania frowned...where exactly?

  The corridor dead-ended. Nothing lay in that direction, except—

  Static electricity crackled through the air, raising the fine hair on her forearms. The chiseled blocks undulated, morphing from solid stone into a wavy, indistinct blur. A doorway formed in the wall face, the ripple of movement transforming from murky to clear as Forge walked through into what looked like a cave on the other side. Tania’s mouth fell open. Although why the wall-to-magical-portal surprised her, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t witnessed ten times worse in the last few days.

  Red fire-breathing demon dragon included.

  Mac glanced over his shoulder. Aquamarine irises shimmering, his gaze roamed over her, making her body tighten as he tipped his chin. “Behave while I’m away, beautiful.”

  And just like that, he was gone. Leaving nothing but the memory of his touch, the promise in his heated gaze, and a now solid wall in his wake.

  “Holy crap. Talk about incendiary. I’m about to burst into flames over here.”

  Her brows drawn tight, Tania barely heard her best friend. She stared at the dead end, struggling to regain her balance.

  Myst nudged her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just...he was totally freaked out. So quiet in the elevator, about to jump overboard, and then he goes and does...” Her gaze still glued to the wall, Tania threw up her hands, waving them around in front of her. “That.”

  “What? Undressing you with his eyes?” Myst huffed, laughter in her voice. “One hundred percent normal. Bastian does it to me all the time.”

  The news flash should’ve made her feel better. Worry sank deep instead, making her wonder whether his actions were just another sidestep. A way to deflect her while he made a quick getaway. “I think I screwed up.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I told him I love him...by accident.”

  “Oh boy,” Myst said, a grimace in her voice. “Hence his tumble into freaked out?”

  “Elementary, my dear Watson.”

  Her friend snorted. “Okay then. Let’s go find Sherlock and pick her brain. Maybe she can shed some light on Mac’s behavior.”

  “Thought I was Sherlock.”

  “Nope. That’s Ange.” Linking arms with her, Myst towed her down the hallway. “She’s in the gym, buried under a crapload of paperwork.”

  “Doesn’t sound fun.”

  “Ha! She’s in heaven, sniffing out leads.” Taking a sharp left turn, Myst led her through a double-wide doorway. As Tania got dragged over the threshold, a couple of things registered: weight room complete with treadmills and elliptical machines to one side, NBA-size basketball court in the center, open area with T-shaped contraptions at the back. And Angela (aka Detective Keen) standing beside an enormous stack of file boxes, elbow-deep in a clear plastic bag full of shredded documents. “Hey, Ange...found anything yet?”

  “Just getting started. But wow, I think Wick and the boys hit pay dirt last night.” Hazel eyes sparkling with excitement, Angela looked away from the huge pile of little paper strips and smiled. “The raid on the Razorbacks’ old lair was so worth the trip. Look at all this stuff.”

  And Tania did. Wow was right. It looked like an archive with the boxes, file folders, and stained leather-bound ledgers scattered around a raft of blue exercise mats in the sea of center court. The smell of musty paper and damp bookbinding joined the scent of floor wax as she skirted the first stack, trying to read the labels on the boxes. No luck there. Water damage had done its job, smearing the ink.

  Flipping the top off one of the cardboard boxes, Myst peered inside. “Still miffed Rikar didn’t let you go?”

  “Freaking guy,” Angela grumbled, a look of consternation on her face. “Can’t fault his methods, though. While the other guys walked the crime scene, he put me into a pleasure coma.”

  “Oh yeah.” Tania flipped open a file sitting on one of the tables set up end-to-end, each butted up against the next, providing a large working surface. Large industrial lights shone down from above, illuminating the whole, giving Angela the perfect place to do, well...whatever her detective brain did. “I do love a good pleasure coma.”

  Myst laughed and, after dragging a box into the middle of the mats, sat cross-legged beside it.

  “Show me a woman who doesn’t, and I’ll call her pathological,” Angela said. “I just never expected Rikar to use it as a weapon against me.”

  Tania raised a brow. “Turnabout is fair play.”

  “But not nearly as effective.”

  The three of them shared a grin. Tania rolled her eyes then asked, “So how can we help?”

  “Dig in.” Plopping the plastic bag on the table, Angela turned to lean against the wood edge. A frown on her face, she scanned the organizational nightmare sitting in the center of the gym. “We’ll sort things into categories...like information with like. Sloan’s bringing me a light table so I can reassemble the shredded pages, but until then...”

  As the detective trailed off, Tania and Myst nodded. No problem. Organization was Tania’s specialty. The anal-retentive tendency served her well, helping her keep the many different projects she headed in shipshape order and on schedule. Although she guessed her job was nothing but history now. She couldn’t go back. Didn’t want to, either, which...

  Surprise, surprise, didn’t bother her all that much.

  All right, so she would miss her job. She loved what she did; got real satisfaction from designing incredible landscapes and making her clients happy. But staying with Mac took center stage. He mattered more than a high-powered position in a highfalutin firm. More than designer handbags and gorgeous shoes. More than her life in the human world and—

  Way to go, Tania.

  She finally got it. Understood why a woman sacrificed for a man. Some things were better than total independence. Sometimes autonomy made for a lonely life. And somehow loving Mac made all the difference. And as her paradigm shifted, peace came, showing her the way home.

  Did it matter that it looked like a bumpy road? Or that Mac’s reaction might be insurmountable? No. Absolutely not. She’d made her decision and would see it through. No matter how painful.

  But first things first.

  Tania glanced up from her stack of papers. “Hey, guys...do you know if Sloan’s around tonight?”

  Scanning a file, Myst shook her head.

  “Com center,” Angela muttered, frowning at the document in her hand. “Down the hall to your left.”

  Leaving the distracted pair behind, Tania made her way across the gym. When she reached the door, she turned left. Two doors put in an appearance. A quick glance through a wall of windows and she found the medical clinic. She veered left, the fast click of fingers on a keyboard dra
wing her toward Sloan’s domain. Her rubber soles squeaked as she stopped between the jambs. The warrior’s head came up. A second later he glanced over his shoulder. Dark brown eyes met hers as he swiveled in his...ah, well, yikes. That was the ugliest chair she’d ever seen.

  Huge. Beat-up. And purple. The thing needed to be driven to the nearest garbage dump.

  Reading her expression right, he rubbed his palms along each armrest. “A thing of beauty, isn’t it?”

  “In what universe?” she asked, making a face and him laugh. Beautiful in the dim light, his mocha skin glowed as his eyes sparked with good humor. But as his amusement morphed into a smile and his white teeth flashed, Tania’s nerves got the better of her. She didn’t want to impose, but...she needed to know if Mac was right and the Nightfury computer genius could help. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she shored up her courage and said, “Did Mac happen to mention anything about—”

  “Your sister?” Arching a dark brow, Sloan waited. When she nodded, he spun back to face the wall-mounted computer screen and said, “He gave me a heads-up. Wanna stick around while I find out what’s up with the parole board?”

  “Yes, please.” Anticipation picked up her heart and then her feet, propelling Tania across the room. Please, God, let it be real. She needed a miracle for J.J. Wanted to see her sister free and happy, starting a new life instead of locked inside the mistakes of the old one. And as she stopped behind the awful purple chair and stared at the computer screen, Tania dared to hope. Allowed herself to believe for the first time in a long time. “Hey, Sloan?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No sweat,” he said, shrugging off her gratitude. With a couple of keystrokes, Sloan cleared the screen and opened a new search window. Fingers flying, he went to work, hacking into the Washington State Department of Corrections database. “Mac’s part of the pack. He asks, I do. Family helps family.”

  Thank God for that. And Mac. His foresight and willingness to help had put her here. With Sloan. Just moments away from finding a solution to J.J.’s problem. And as she watched Sloan jump from screen to screen, her love for Mac grew. For an ex-cop, he was remarkably understanding about having a felon in the family. She hadn’t expected that. Then again, not even a psychic could have guessed at what hid in plain sight. A whole gaggle of dragon-guys, one of which possessed wicked IT skills.

  God bless him and his fast fingers.

  Tania leaned forward as her sister’s file popped up on-screen. Sloan scrolled through the information and—

  “Ah, fuck.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, alarm making her heart thump hard. “Hold on. Go back. What did it say? Is J.J.—”

  “Tania, I need you to step out for a minute.” Sloan tapped a key. The screen went black.

  “Bullshit. I’m not going anywhere.” A death grip on the back of his chair, she spun him to one side and reached for the wireless mouse on the desktop. She jiggled it. Nothing happened. She glanced at Sloan. “Put it back on-screen.”

  He shook his head.

  And Tania knew she couldn’t win. Not with an IT wizard in the computer department. But she needed to know. Couldn’t step out and leave Sloan to his digging with words like “blunt force trauma” and “deep lacerations” buzzing inside her head. She’d seen those two phrases up on-screen. Maybe she’d misread. Maybe she hadn’t, but—

  “Please, Sloan,” she whispered, not above begging. Panic twisted into dread, then took a nosedive into terror as she imagined the worst. “She’s my sister. If she’s hurt, I need to know. I have a right to know.”

  A muscle flexed in Sloan’s jaw. She whispered her plea again. With a muttered curse, he turned back to the computer. “You have to promise me something first.”

  “What?”

  “That you won’t run,” he said, hand poised above the keyboard. “Whatever the situation, you wait for Mac to get home.”

  “But—”

  “Jesus H. Christ, female. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

  Willing to agree to anything for the truth, she nodded. “Okay.”

  One click and a prompt screen flashed on-screen. Lightning quick, Sloan typed in a password and scrolled down. Tania skimmed the information, looking for—

  “Oh no.” Tears blurring her vision, she shook her head, denying the truth even as it stared her in the face. Curling her hand in Sloan’s shirtsleeve, she rasped, “Is she alive? Please tell me if...I can’t tell from this.”

  “They evac’ed her from the prison,” Sloan said, his tone gentle. A tear rolled over her bottom lashes. Tania wiped it away, struggling to keep it together, forcing herself to think as he read to the end of the report. “So she’s alive.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “Looks like...” He paused to open another screen. “Swedish Medical.”

  The information sank deep, setting her resolve. Action plan time. She needed to get to the hospital ASAP. Being evac’ed in a helicopter meant one thing. Her sister was fighting for her life, and Tania would be damned if she would let J.J. do it alone.

  Pushing away from the desk, Tania spun toward the door, her mind whirling. What did she need first? A car. Preferably a really fast one.

  “Shit.” Sloan left his chair on the fly. Growling something about Mac killing him, he leaped in front of her, blocking her path to the door. Startled, Tania flinched, then hopped backward to avoid colliding with him. Holy jeez, he was fast and...way too intense. His expression spoke volumes before he said, “You promised, Tania. Night fell an hour ago. It isn’t safe for you outside the lair.”

  Maybe. Then again, maybe not.

  Her crash course in Dragonkind had taught her well. She understood the energy angle; how Mac fed, drawing the nourishment he required to heal and stay healthy through her; how she connected, drawing the power of the Meridian through him when they touched. Strange? Yes. Normal for her now? Absolutely. But not for the Razorbacks.

  None of those assholes could track her energy. Only Mac could do that, which meant...what? She could slip out of the lair, stay under enemy radar, and protect her sister all at the same time.

  Good news for her. Not so great for Sloan.

  Promise or no promise, she wouldn’t be sticking around. But as she met Sloan’s gaze, Tania knew her attitude—never mind her game plan—wouldn’t fly. Especially since he was doing an excellent impression of a dragon-guy barricade. So new plan. Lie like a pro and hope for the best. ’Cause the second Sloan realized she planned to bolt, he’d lock her in the nearest broom closet and wait for Mac to get home.

  No way she would let that happen. Not while J.J. lay bloodied and broken, surrounded by a bunch of people who didn’t give a damn about her.

  “Look, I know it’s hard,” Sloan said, his tone full of understanding. “But you need to stay here. Give me some time, Tania. I’ll get into the hospital records...get a status report on your sister’s condition.”

  Raking the loose tendrils of hair away from her face, Tania hesitated. God, she hated to do it. Didn’t want to deflect Sloan, but what other choice did she have? She couldn’t sit on her duff and do nothing. J.J. needed her. And Tania needed to be there, protecting her, making sure her sister got the best care. So screw right. She was diving straight into wrong.

  “All right, I’ll stick,” she whispered, shoving her conscience aside. “But promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “The second...the millisecond...you know something, you’ll come get me.”

  “Done,” he said, his dark gaze on her face. “Where will you be?”

  “In the gym...with Myst and Angela.” Oh, the lies. They just kept coming. She had no intention of staying put. Knew exactly where the garage was situated from her flight to Black Diamond and Mac’s landing beside it. All she needed to do was sneak past the girls, backtrack to Mac’s room, slip through the window, hop over some hedgerows, and...bingo. She’d be steps away from the car she required to make a
fast getaway. The perfect plan. Well, except for the lying, cheating, and stealing part. “I can’t stay here and watch you. I’ll go nuts with nothing to keep me busy and—”

  “Go, female. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

  His trust sent regret prickling through her. Her lack of integrity made her want to cry. Tania swallowed the tears and turned toward the door. Her conscience squawked again, trying one last time to dissuade her. She ignored it and, with a whispered “thanks” and a silent sorry, crossed into the corridor, one thought on her mind.

  Mac.

  Please, God, let him understand. Her sister couldn’t wait. And neither could she.

  The stench of decomposing human flesh rose like steam from a gutter grate, making Ivar’s stomach roll as he tossed the last body into the fire pit. The corpse rolled, skin sloughing off its flopping limbs as it bumped into its neighbor. Revolting...inferior...stinking race. Even in death, humans were disgusting. Proof positive lay piled like kindling inside the stone-walled circle, each one nothing but a saggy-skinned bag of bones waiting for the moment he set the blaze.

  He grimaced. Another reason to miss Lothair.

  His late XO had never minded taking out the trash. Or incinerating them in the pit outside the Razorbacks’ lair. But now the job fell to Ivar, and he hated it. Despised the fact a second batch of test subjects lay here—proof of another failed experiment—instead of out in the world, infecting others of their kind, wiping the inferior species from the face of the earth.

  A waste. And total freaking fuckup.

  Project Supervirus was going to kill him...with frustration.

  With a sigh, Ivar rolled his shoulders and glanced skyward. Clouds darkened the view, blocking out the moon, hiding stars behind a blanket of thick, gray, and terrible, heralding the coming winter. Not his favorite season. Typical of his fire dragon roots, he didn’t like the cold. Spent more time inside from December to March than any male he knew, but...

  Not this year.