Fury of Surrender (Dragonfury Series Book 6)

by Coreene Callahan

  Hope swallowed, working moisture back to her mouth.

  She never suspected his secret would stun the stuffing out of her. Or throw into question everything she held to be true. An image of Forge in dragon form flashed across her mental screen. God help her. A different species—both human and dragon, able to shift form at will. Her mind stumbled over what he’d shown her. Over the facts. Over everything she’d believed to be true and must now discard. And as Forge picked her up, strode through an open archway and down some stairs, murmuring something about a shower, Hope didn’t know what to do—keep trusting him and stay. Or run screaming all the way home.

  Palm to palm, his fingers entwined with Hope’s, Forge led the way out of his bedroom and turned into the deserted corridor. Quiet reigned supreme in the long white-walled space. No rumble of voices from down the hall or inside the kitchen. No females laughing inside J. J.’s music room. No shuffling of papers from the office Evie now worked in either. Just him and Hope and her continued silence.

  With a gentle tug, he reeled her in, needing her close as he strode past the collection of fine art hanging on the walls. Forge didn’t see a single frame. He was too focused on Hope. Beyond worried by her reaction. Sick with the idea he might be losing his female.

  Her silence rubbed him raw.

  Her confusion wrenched his heart.

  He needed her to stop the silent routine and start asking questions. Open a dialogue. Tell him what she was thinking. Request his aide in helping her understand all he’d shown her. Impatience clawed at him. Forge shut it down and, stopping in front of the elevators, shook his head.

  Oh, so not the right reaction. Rushing her wouldn’t work. Poking at her would only push her away. He knew it. Sensed deep down where intuition lived and logic made a home. It was her turn to engage. He’d done enough talking in and out of the shower: telling her of his kind while he washed her, explaining energy-fuse and the bond she now shared with him, showing her how he drew nourishment from the Meridian, source of all living things, through her. So aye. Time to shut up. Time to be patient. Watch and wait. The ball lay in her court. Nothing for him to do now but hope she picked it up and ran with it.

  Squeezing her hand, he summoned the elevator with his mind. Magic hummed in his veins. Gears ground into motion, bringing the cage up from seven floors down.

  The snap of magic in the air made Hope shiver. Her hand twitched in his. She shuffled closer to him, and Forge waited. Would she turn to him for comfort? Would she trust him with her thoughts? Would she allow him the privilege of—

  She cleared her throat. “So . . . what are we doing, again?”

  Relief spun him around the lip of gratitude. His knees went weak. Thank fuck. Finally. About time her inquisitive nature kicked back into high gear. “An energy circle.”

  “And you think it will help Mac?”

  Good question. Only one answer. “I donnae know, lass. I’m praying it works. If it doesn’t, I’m out of options.”

  “He’s that sick?”

  “Aye. And worsening by the moment.”

  “Is the circle thing dangerous?”

  Probably. He didn’t know. Not for certain. He’d never participated in an energy circle before. Had never seen one either. He’d read about the practice years ago, in an ancient tome housed in the Scottish pack’s library . . . thanks to his sire. A big believer in education, he’d made Forge and his brothers study the annals every day. Prep school, Dragonkind style. For his sire, the old adage had held true: knowledge equaled power, and power saved lives.

  Manipulating the Meridian, drawing huge bursts of power, was always tricky. Add five high-energy females to the mix and the risks approached perilous.

  “Crap,” she muttered, when he didn’t answer right away. “It is, isn’t it?”

  “I willnae let anything hurt you, Hope.”

  The softly spoken promise brought her chin up. Green eyes full of gratitude met his. He sucked in a deep breath. She flexed her fingers, realigned her palm with his, and, leaning in, wrapped her arm around his biceps. The press of her body made his hum in pleasure. She gifted him with a smile, making his heart somersault inside his chest. The first one he’d seen from her in what seemed like forever.

  “I believe you, but you know . . .” Her brow furrowed, she trailed off. A second passed, tumbling into more as she gathered her thoughts. “All this Dragonkind stuff, well . . . it’s pretty scary.”

  “I know. I’ve shown you a lot today.” He frowned. Maybe too much. Christ. Perhaps he’d done it wrong. Shocking the hell out of Hope twice in one morning—first with the dream and mind meld, and second by showing her his dragon—might’ve been overkill. He stifled a snort. Might have. Christ. Replace it with absolutely, no doubt about it. He needed to have his head examined. Lifting his free hand, he cupped the side of her throat. Fingers spread wide, he touched as much of her as he could, playing with the wispy hair at the nape of her neck. “It will get better. You’ll become accustomed tae me in time and—Hope, you donnae have tae participate. If you’re not comfortable with—”

  “I call bullshit. Don’t tell me that.” Temper flaring, her eyes narrowed on him. “This is for Mac. He’s my friend too, Forge. I’ll do whatever it takes to help him, and besides . . . you need me to complete the circle.”

  True enough. He needed at least five high-energy females inside the energy circle. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to draw enough power from the Meridian. Mac needed a jump start, a blast of energy so strong it put his dragon half into overdrive. The idea made perfect sense. After what he’d witnessed with Hamersveld, he understood what plagued his best friend. Mac was struggling to pull a wren into their world from the other side—from the ether, a mystical realm protected by the Goddess of All Things. Only one way to solve that problem—overload Mac’s magical side, pump him full of so much healing energy it pushed the wren from the confines of the tattoo.

  A beautiful theory, unproven but poetic.

  But as the elevator doors slid open and Forge stepped inside, pulling his female along with him, his need to protect Hope shifted gears. He didn’t want to put her in the circle. He wanted her to stay out of it—safe from all harm. But with Myst pregnant and unable to participate, excluding Hope left him one HE short.

  Without her, Mac would die. Then again, if anything happened to Hope, Forge would too. He wouldn’t survive losing her. He loved her too much already. The admission jolted through him, shocking him as it sank in and settled deep, fusing with the core of him. Aye, it had happened fast, but the truth couldn’t be denied. He loved Hope. The words rang true, no reason to deny or question the way he felt about her.

  Which put him in an untenable position. Damned if he did. Damned if he didn’t. Not that it was his decision to make anymore. His female had a say. Forge knew he would never change her mind. True to her generous nature, Hope wanted to help. She refused to turn away from a friend in need and would resent him if he forced her onto the sidelines. Not the best way to begin a relationship, so . . .

  No help for it.

  He couldn’t stop the plan he’d set in motion now.

  But as the doors closed and the elevator began its descent, instinct sparked, and Forge couldn’t shake the awful feeling something terrible was about to happen.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Boots planted on the edge of the basketball court inside the gym, Forge searched for his female in the chaos. His gaze jumped over Sloan and Bastian. Heads together, bent over a computer, the pair commiserated, yakking about God knew what and . . . shite. He didn’t care. Not right now. Not with Hope in the wind and—fucking hell. He turned his back for one second and she disappeared. Scampered from view. Made herself scarce . . . whatever. His brow furrowed, he leaned right, looked past Haider and Nian, ignored Wick’s raised brow and Venom’s knowing grin. He scowled. Where the hell—

  The sound of her voice cranked his head around.

  He found her in less than a second.

 
Back to being quiet, she sat cross-legged on an exercise mat with the other females. Chin tilted down, she dragged her hands through her strawberry blond hair. A quick twist of her fingers. A faster flash of an elastic, and she tamed the unruly mass, imprisoning the strands in a messy bun atop her head. Angela said something to her. His female grinned, a huff of laughter escaping as she gave Rikar’s mate a playful shove.

  The muscles roping his abdomen clenched.

  Christ, he adored watching her. Would never get tired of seeing her smile and her eyes spark in pleasure. Running his gaze over her one more time, ensuring she was all right, he turned his attention back to the center of the gym. The designated workhorses, Venom and Wick saw to the setup. Large wrestling mat already pressed flat at center court, the pair lifted a padded hip-high table. Stout legs levered off the floor, the lads walked it sideways and set it down in the middle, hiding the dragon emblem stamped into the rubberized surface.

  Another thing checked off his list.

  The last link in his mental chain.

  One more step toward making Mac well.

  Eyes roaming, he swept the scene again. Everyone here and accounted for, not a single soul missing, the entire pack on board with his idea and the energy circle. The unconditional acceptance should’ve made him feel better. Eased down his tension and helped him breathe easier. It didn’t. Worry acted like a poison pill instead, making him twitch with unease, winding his muscles so tight he struggled not to snap . . . at everyone in sight.

  Swallowing a snarl, Forge rolled his shoulders.

  The soft thud of footfalls sounded to his left. Glancing sideways, he glowered as Rikar strode toward him. The Nightfury first in command’s lips twitched. The urge to haul off and hit the male thumped through him. Forge flexed his hands. Bloody hell. Nothing about the situation approached funny. Not after all he’d put Hope and himself through today. Not Mac’s worsening condition. Nor the potential clusterfuck of an energy circle he was in charge of initiating.

  Rikar came abreast of him.

  “Screw off, laddie,” he said, more growl than actual words. “Go bother someone else.”

  “Now, now.” Stepping alongside him, Rikar slapped the back of his shoulder. The solid tap rocked him forward. “Settle down, big guy. You’ve got it well in hand and . . .” He glanced toward the exercise mat. Pale eyes settled on his mate, glowed in pleasure, then skipped over to Hope. “Don’t worry. Angela’s got her.”

  Shite. He hoped so. No matter how close at hand, leaving Hope with others when she needed him most didn’t sit well. But he couldn’t do two things at once. He needed to supervise the setup. Make sure everything went just right. No mistakes could be made. If he screwed up, even a bit, Mac would suffer along with every female in the room.

  “Where are Mac and Tania?”

  “On the way,” Rikar said. “Myst took the IV out like you asked. She’s monitoring his vitals. Gage is rolling them in.”

  “All right, then,” he murmured, taking a deep breath. No more stalling. Time to set his plan in motion and pray it worked. Sending a quick word in the goddess’s direction, Forge released the lungful in a long, slow rush and glanced at Rikar. “Get everyone into position.”

  With a nod, Rikar brought two fingers to his mouth. A sharp whistle pierced the air. Everyone’s attention snapped in his direction. Raising his hand, he flicked his fingers, signaling the roundup. A cacophony of sound erupted. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor. A computer clicked closed. Heavy footfalls echoed against the gym ceiling as his brothers-in-arms moved as one, interrupting the buzz of industrial-size lights overhead. Dressed in flowing ceremonial robes, Angela, Evie, Hope, and J. J. followed the males. Bare feet padding over the wooden floor and onto the rubber mat, each female took her position next to the table.

  Hope met his gaze.

  Forge nodded in approval, his pride for her almost leveling him where he stood. Beautiful female. His mate was so damn brave. She crossed all boundaries and ticked every box on his wish list, exceeding all expectations. His eyes holding hers, he tipped his chin. She smiled back—not a lot, a slight lifting of her lips—but it was enough to calm him as Gage pushed Mac’s hospital bed through open double doors and into the gym.

  Wheels squeaked across the floor.

  Dragging his focus from Hope, Forge stared at Mac. Christ help him. His friend looked terrible. Tattoo glowing bright red, skin the color of ash, he lay unconscious, belly down on the narrow mattress. Curled around her mate, Tania didn’t look much better. Exhaustion lined her pretty face, and as her dark eyelashes lifted and she met his gaze, his heart sank. Fucking hell. It was worse than he thought. If the energy circle didn’t work, if he couldn’t calibrate the frequency, if the tiniest thing went wrong—

  “Tania,” J. J. said, voice wobbling, heartbreak in her eyes as she moved toward her sister.

  “Don’t, baby J. No more tears,” Tania whispered as the bed stopped at the edge of the wrestling mat. Weakened by energy drain, her muscles quivered as she planted her hands on the mattress, curled her legs beneath her, and pushed herself upright. “Forge?”

  “Aye, lass.”

  “You can do this.” Exhaustion lining her features, thinner than a few days ago, she met his gaze. “I’m trusting you to see it through . . . no matter what happens.”

  Throat gone tight, unable to speak, he nodded.

  “Let’s go.” With more determination than strength, Tania swung her feet over the side of the bed. Her bare feet touched down. Using the bed rail for balance, she stood, looked from Gage to him, then gestured to the table. “I need help moving him, guys. Could you—”

  “You’re not lifting a finger. Up onto the table, Tania,” Gage said, stepping around the end of the metal footboard. “Forge and I will move him.”

  “Please be careful. Don’t touch his tattoo,” she said, entreaty in her tone. “He’s in a lot of pain.”

  Doing as she asked, he and Gage muscled her mate over to the padded tabletop. But shite, it wasn’t easy. Mac was heavier than hell. Stood to reason. Packed with muscle, standing well over six feet tall, none of the Nightfury warriors were lightweights, but . . . Jesus. An unconscious Mac tipped the scale, and as Gage grumbled and he growled in exertion, struggling not to brush against his best friend’s tattoo, uncertainty crept into view. Faith swept it aside. Tania trusted him. The rest of the pack was counting on him. Hope needed him to guide her through the process, so . . .

  Fuck his insecurities.

  Settling Mac on the table, Gage stepped away.

  Forge stayed and, leaning down, grasped the back of Mac’s neck. He squeezed gently. “Hold on, brother. I’m going tae make it right. Get you what you need.”

  Still unconscious, Mac bared his teeth on a growl.

  He nodded. Good enough. Mac’s dragon half had heard him. Even now, the beast would be readying, preparing for whatever Forge threw at him. Releasing his friend, he nailed Tania with a serious look. “You too, lass. Hold on tight. Whatever happens, donnae let go.”

  Astride Mac’s hips, Tania settled in, taking her position on the tabletop. “Thank you.”

  With a nod, Forge turned to the other females clustered around the table. Heart in his eyes, he held Hope’s gaze and unleashed a stream of magic. The bond he shared with her sparked. She shivered. He strengthened the connection, lending her his strength, warming her with his heat, flooding her with all the love he felt for her. He felt her link in, grab hold, accepting all he gave her. Tears sheened her eyes as he touched her mind. He murmured in reassurance. Her shoulders square, she leveled her chin and drew a deep breath. Forge did the same, then looked away, struggling to stay calm as he tipped his chin and gave Angela the green light.

  Taking his cue, Angela moved into position, leading the group.

  He backed away and stepped off the mat. As they formed a semicircle around the table, Angela reached out and clasped Hope’s hand. J. J. and Evie followed suit, reaching out, linking up until all four women h
eld hands. Connected now, energy started to hum, supercharging the air as J. J. closed the circuit and locked palms with her sister. Taking a deep breath, Tania offered her free hand to Angela. The last in the chain, Angela glanced at Rikar and, taking a deep breath, grasped Tania’s wrist, covering her pulse point.

  The snap of combined energy buzzed in the room, raising the fine hairs on his skin.

  The females breathed in, breathed out, and acting as one, tapped into each other’s bio-energy. Electricity arced among the five. With a deafening crack, the door into the cosmic stream blew open. Magic bled from the portal, pouring into the gym. The Meridian rose in a monstrous wave. Bio-energy thundered, overtaking the room. Light-filled rings appeared around the table. Burning bright, each one pulsed as the Meridian screamed. The blue bands throbbed once, twice, a third time, throwing explosive heat into the room and—

  The rings detonated.

  A deafening crack ripped through the air.

  The blast blew Forge off his feet. He slammed into the hospital bed. Metal groaned as the bed tipped over, banging against the floor. He landed on his ass in a heap beside the bed. Ears ringing, light fixtures creaking above his head, he struggled to his knees. His gaze landed on the circle.

  Bleeding energy in the center of a cosmic storm, long hair whipping in circles, Tania threw her head back. Lips parted on a gasp, she became the conduit, funneling all the energy into Mac.

  Arching beneath her, Mac roared.

  Angela yelled, telling everyone to hold on.

  Mac’s tattoo pulsed, beating like a heartbeat, then . . . stilled. Time slowed. The energy expanded and contracted. Red drained from the tribal marking on his friend’s skin, smoothing out, turning the color of polished silver. The cosmic storm stilled as an eerie fog rose above Mac’s chest.