Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5)

by Coreene Callahan

  Gage sighed. He might as well accept it. Haider was right. Nian couldn’t be left behind. Much as he disliked the male, he deserved better than rotting inside a slimy excuse for a hellhole.

  Avoiding the petri dish doubling as a stone wall, Gage shuffled sideways along the narrow corridor, his eyes glued to the pair in front of him. Silence reigned in the passageway, the dank, musty odor taking over where sound left off. The slash of bare soles across wet stone pushed at the chilly air. The kid took a left, leading the way, forcing him and Haider to follow. But as one hallway bled into the next—and one turn spun into more—worry got the better of him. Gage blew out a long breath and, battling fatigue, tried to ignore the stitch in his side as the truth struck home.

  Navigating the labyrinth was taking too long.

  Too bad he couldn’t slow time. Or shorten the distance from here to there. A pity in more ways than one. Time wasn’t on their side. New guards would come back from the morning meal any minute. The second the enemy discovered the empty kill room and prison cell, a call to arms would go up, and he’d lose the only advantage he possessed—the element of surprise. So only two things left to do, keeping moving and start praying. Hope like hell his merry band of four reached the garage before Rodin’s death squad pulled up stakes and closed in for the kill.

  Chapter Twelve

  Boot treads skimming over stone, Venom shifted away from the front of the house. He stepped off the flagstone path onto the driveway. Gravel crunched beneath his feet. He barely noticed. Eyes locked on Wick’s face, he assessed the threat level. Clockwork Orange territory. Cuckoo-crazy with a nasty hit of temper. He cringed and, raising both fists, prepared for the main event—or rather, the assault—even as he searched for a way out.

  A lovely thought. An even better plan. One big problem with both.

  No way in hell a ceasefire was going happen.

  Not with Wick out for blood and headed straight toward him.

  Gritting his teeth, Venom shifted mid-stride. He dodged right. Not fooled, Wick moved with him and, timing it to perfection, lunged. Big hands grabbed hold, sinking into Venom’s leather jacket. With a snarl, his friend jacked him upright. A savage shove sent him backward. A forearm to the throat did the rest, cutting off his air supply. Trying to break his friend’s grip, he struggled to breathe. Hard bone pressed against his windpipe, Venom coughed. Wick didn’t relent. He jammed his fist beneath Venom’s chin instead.

  Sharp knuckles jabbed his jawbone.

  Venom growled. Such a dirty move. Nowhere near surprising. Wick didn’t know the first thing about fighting fair. Didn’t know the meaning of restraint either. Toss in his need to maim a male while making a point, and . . . yeah. Score one for the other side. They had a ball game. Not that he had time to worry about his friend’s lack of finesse. Wick was too busy trying to kick his ass. Another fist thrust. More shoving. A snarl echoed through the quiet. His? Wick’s? Venom didn’t know. Not that it mattered. Blocking another punch, Venom lost his footing. Wick took advantage and pushed harder, propelling him across the driveway, toward the garage and away from the aboveground lair.

  Frozen grass crackled underfoot, scrambling the silence.

  Off balance, feet moving in the wrong direction, Venom glanced over his shoulder and . . . oh, shit. Not good. He knew exactly where Wick was taking him—on a carnival ride called Big Trouble. Or Holy Hell. Whatever. Naming the situation wasn’t a priority. Dialing down the death factor, however? No question, that qualified as job one. Otherwise, he’d end up two front teeth shy of a mouthful.

  “Wick—stop. Hang on a second.”

  Wick brought his elbow up in answer.

  The quick jab clipped Venom’s cheekbone. His head snapped to the side. The sharp crack! echoed inside his skull, killing more brain cells than he could afford to lose. Venom clenched his teeth. Goddamn it. He should’ve heeded his own advice. Said forget it. Gone with gut instinct and thrown the first punch, along with the urge to be sensible out the nearest window. It would’ve been easier. More expedient, for sure.

  A helluva lot more satisfying as well.

  Too pissed off to care, Wick wasn’t fooling around. Out for blood. Murder on his mind. Pick one. Pile it all on. Neither mattered when both possibilities summed up the situation. Feet sliding on ice, Venom blocked another punch. The move left Wick open to attack. With a quick shift, he launched his offensive. His fist grazed Wick’s jaw.

  His friend snarled.

  “Just hear me out,” he said, more growl than plea. “I can expl—”

  Grabbing his jacket, Wick thrust him backward. The garage loomed behind him. Thick corrugated side panels gleamed in the low light and—

  Wick slammed him into the wall.

  Air left his lungs in a rush. Venom wheezed. Steel groaned as the industrial-size doors rattled in protest. The metal rivets beside his head strained, threatening to pop from the pressure. His spine echoed the sentiment, murmuring in discomfort, making him aware of the cuts and bruises. All the aches and pains. The ones he’d received from Bastian in the clearing. He grimaced. Goddamn B and his stupid lightning net. He had the worst luck. Could never seem to fly under the radar. Or get away with anything.

  Resetting his balance, he thrust his arms between Wick’s. Quick. Decisive. A skilled move with one purpose—freedom, separation, and distance from his friend. Without mercy, Venom brought his forearms around, pinwheeling to break the hold. Wick cursed as he lost his grip. Not wasting a second, he planted both palms in the center of his friend’s chest and shoved. Wick stumbled backward. Closing the distance, Venom pushed him again. And then again, refusing to unleash his fist a second time.

  Hitting Wick never felt good. He loved the male too much to inflict serious damage. No matter how much the stubborn SOB deserved it.

  His eyes started to shimmer. Red light washed out in front of him, painting Wick in ruby glow as Venom glared at him. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “Too bad,” Wick said, a lethal cocktail in his tone. Worry. Disappointment. Betrayal. All took a turn in the undertones. Rage, however, led the parade, dropping his voice into guttural. “Should’ve thought of that before you went AWOL.”

  “What would you have done in my place?” Just as angry now, Venom stepped into Wick’s wrath. Hands cranked into fists, he moved away from the wall, forcing his friend to back up. “Banged on your door and dragged you away? Forced you to leave J. J. and—”

  “No.” Gaze fierce, dial still set to deadly, Wick drilled him with a look.

  Venom stood his ground, refusing to give an inch. All right, so it was his fault—the entire mess along with the upheaval. The upset he caused the Nightfury pack too. But that didn’t mean he needed to be flogged. Again. For the fifth time tonight. Nor did it mean he’d walk away from making his point.

  He’d been restless.

  He’d needed out of the lair. To stretch his wings and banish the shadows growing inside him.

  Wick ought to understand that. Hell, the male lived in the shadows, in dark places not many survived. But as silence descended, raging between them, Venom grew so tense he feared he might break. Just snap under the strain and say something stupid. Something hurtful. Something Wick might not forgive. So instead of opening his mouth, he held his friend’s gaze, asking without words for understanding.

  One intense moment slid into the next.

  “Fuck.” His friend exhaled hard. The harsh sound ricocheted as he dropped his fists. “I don’t know what I would’ve done. Same as you, maybe. But if you’d asked, I would’ve gone with you.”

  “I didn’t want—”

  “Want has nothing to do with it,” Wick said, the voice of reason for a change. “I’m your best friend, Ven. I watch your six. You don’t leave the lair without me—ever.”

  Venom’s mouth fell open. Well, would you look at that? More than four words in a row.
More than one full sentence . . . from Wick. A male who never said much of anything. Talk about a huge kick in the pants. Surprising in the extreme. His throat went tight. Over sixty years together, and his friend was finally coming around. Starting to come out of his shell. To voice his opinions while making his wishes known.

  The realization turned Venom inside out, then cracked him open.

  Guilt sped through the fissure. His conscience squawked. Venom swallowed past the lump in his throat. He’d turned the tables tonight. Done what Wick often did to him, put himself at risk and his best friend on edge by being selfish. Which meant, like it or not, he owed Wick an apology. His reason for breaking the rules no longer mattered. Nor did the success of his mission or the exquisite nature of his find—Evelyn in all her high-energy glory. He’d scared the hell out of the male he considered his brother. Had made him worry. He could see the truth of it in Wick’s eyes and understood the feeling. The absolute panic at the thought of losing his friend. Of not being there when the male got into trouble.

  He’d lived with the fear for years. So yeah. Tonight signaled a total role reversal. One that left him on the wrong side of the equation, apologizing instead of on the receiving end of contrition.

  “Sorry. I should’ve stayed put, but . . .” He shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Or how to explain without sounding needy. He needed Wick to be happy. Wanted him to spend as much time with his female as he liked, but well . . . hell. He felt neglected. As though J. J. took so much of Wick’s time, there wasn’t any left for him. And honestly, as much as he hated to admit it, he missed his best friend. “I just . . .” He sighed, lamenting the weakness and his new pansy-ass status. “Couldn’t stay home.”

  Wick frowned. “What the fuck is going on, Ven?”

  Raising his hand, he ran it through his hair. The long strands clung, knotting around his fingers, pulling at his scalp. “Guess I’m just restless.”

  “J. J. thinks I’m neglecting you.”

  “What?”

  “She’s worried about you. Says you’re lonely or some shit.”

  Venom choked on surprise.

  Wick raised a brow. “Is that true?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Taking a step closer, Wick inhaled through his nose, using keen dragon senses to scent the air. Golden eyes narrowed on him. “Something’s different. What’s changed?”

  “I found her.”

  “Who?”

  “My female.”

  Wick blinked. “Where?”

  “At the Luxmore, Sloan’s spot.” A frisson of excitement skittered down his spine. Venom rolled his shoulders, trying to tame the shiver. It didn’t work. Not surprising. Just thinking about her put him on edge. “Her name’s Evelyn.”

  “Dark skinned?”

  Venom nodded. “Dark curly hair too.”

  Wick’s mouth curved. “Your favorite.”

  “Yeah. She’s incredible. Beautiful. Pushes every one of my buttons.”

  “Good.” Relief in his eyes, Wick slapped him on the shoulder. Skin slapped against leather. The love tap rocked Venom sideways as Wick scanned the driveway. Ancient pine trees waved from the opposite side of the open expanse. He searched a second longer, then glanced toward the front of the house. Finding nothing, Wick frowned. “Where is she?”

  Searching for the right words, Venom drew a deep breath, preparing to spill all and—

  The flap of wings blew in, beating against the frosty air.

  The clamor expanded. Stone dust swirled. Venom huffed, but waited out the flap fest. No sense trying to talk over all the noise. Or compete with a Nightfury landing party. He’d explain everything to Wick once inside the lair. He needed the privacy. Waiting until the others were out of earshot qualified as a good idea. No way he wanted to go another round with Bastian and the boys. His brothers-in-arms were already skeptical of his plan to date Evelyn. And all right, so maybe the concept was a touch left of center. At least, in Dragonkind circles. Still he couldn’t deny the allure. Or resist the need to do right by her. To give her a taste of normalcy. To ensure her acceptance of him before he tugged her off balance by introducing her to the complexities of his world.

  The first to arrive, Forge uncloaked.

  The invisibility shield fell away, shredding like old fabric. Purple scales flashed in the low light, picking up the glow of porch lights. Wings spread wide, the male set down. Razor-sharp claws clicking, the Scot nailed Wick with shimmering violet eyes. “Did Venom tell you yet?”

  “Tell me what?” Wick asked.

  Venom opened his mouth to tell Forge to zip it.

  The Scot beat him to the punch. “Stubborn arse let her go.”

  Bafflement winged across Wick’s face. “What the fuck?”

  Venom growled. Super. Just great. Nothing like having the moment ruined. And the rug pulled out from under him . . . by an idiot Scot with a big mouth.

  “Asshole.” Stepping off the grass, Venom rolled his shoulders. Eyeballing Forge, he flexed his hands, making twin fists. He might not like the idea of hitting Wick, but the Scot? The male was fair game. Especially right now. The jerk had just landed himself on the endangered species list. “Nothing like giving me a chance to explain.”

  “What’s tae explain?” With a snort, Forge shifted into human form. Conjuring his clothes, he stomped his feet into his boots. Gravel ricocheted, rolling into the raised lip of the flower bed flanking the front walkway. “You made a bad call. Letting yer mate go in hopes of wooing her. Bloody hell, lad—whoever heard of such a thing?”

  Staring at him as if he’d grown two heads, Wick scowled. “You let her go?”

  “Bull’s-eye. Middle-of-the-rings accurate.” Dragging a thundercloud in his wake, Mac touched down.

  Water droplets flew, then fell, sliding along the razor blade following the curve of the male’s spine. Venom frowned at him, even as he looked Mac over. He still couldn’t get used to the differences and well . . . wow. Just wow. No other word worked when his new comrade arrived in all his water dragon glory. A rare breed, Mac deviated from the whole of Dragonkind. Smooth interlocking dragon skin instead of ridged scales. Webbed paws in the place of regular talons. Bladed spine instead of spiked. The power to control one of the most destructive elements on earth.

  Venom stifled a shiver. Man, he hated water. He really did.

  Scaly brows furrowed, Mac shook his head. “Still can’t believe you sent her home, Ven.”

  “It’s no big deal.” Wiping a rogue raindrop from his cheek, Venom tried to downplay his decision. Not that he enjoyed being stuck on defense. Offense, knocking heads together, was much more his style. “Humans woo their females all the time.”

  “One problem with that argument,” Rikar said, landing behind Forge without making a sound. Snow blew in, camouflaging the white weave of scales before swirling over his XO’s horned head. “You’re not human.”

  True enough.

  Pretty good argument all the way around.

  Which pushed Venom back into uncertainty. As insecurity poked at him, he started to second-guess himself. Goddamn it. Forge might be right. And judging by everyone else’s reaction, Wick’s included, everyone agreed with Forge. Venom sighed, accepting the truth. Frigging hell. No question. He sat on a limb. A thin one that threatened to snap any second.

  “Look.” Blowing out a breath, Venom shook his head, bowing beneath the weight of a good argument. “I’m meeting her tomorrow evening. If it’ll make you all feel better, I’ll kidnap her then.”

  “No one’s asking you to kidnap her.” Coming in on a fast glide over tall treetops, Bastian folded his wings. Midnight-blue scales rattled as gravity yanked his commander out of the sky. Huge paws thumped down behind him, flattening frozen blades of grass, making the garage doors jump a second time in one night. “We just don’t want you to lose her, that’s all.”

/>   “Fair enough.” Glancing over his shoulder, he stared at Bastian, then gave in and nodded. “But I do it my way, B. Bring her here by car instead of in flight. I don’t want her to freak out and . . .” He trailed off, meeting each warrior’s gaze in turn, putting a warning in his own. “No one touches her but me or I’ll—”

  A creak rippled through the quiet.

  Venom’s gaze cut toward the house.

  The front door banged open.

  Heavy footfalls paused as Sloan stuck his head outside. “Thank Christ. About time you guys got home.”

  Magic murmured as Bastian shifted into human form behind him. “Any news?”

  “Tons,” Sloan said. “Granite Falls is on somebody’s shit list. Better come inside.”

  Already on the move, Venom led the charge and, stepping onto the flagstone path, jogged toward the lair’s main entrance. Six steps up and he crested the top tread. Pace steady, he strode across the porch, pushed the door wider, then followed Sloan over the threshold and into the aboveground lair. The smell of homemade bread drifted down the main corridor. His mouth started to water, but Venom didn’t stop. Or head toward the kitchen and the culinary wizard wielding a baking pan inside it. He took a left instead, moving away from the decadent aroma and what it signaled. The morning meal. Relief for his empty insides. Fuel for mind and body.

  His stomach rumbled again.

  Temptation tugged, urging him down the opposite hallway, toward Daimler and the promise of extraordinary eats. It would just take a second. A slight correction in his trajectory. No big deal. A minute tops, and he’d grab a slice, slather it with butter and—

  Shaking his head, Venom forced his feet to remain on course. Another round of mmm-mmm-good floated down the hallway. His insides tightened on a pang. Venom sighed in resignation. No matter how hungry, he didn’t have time to make a pit stop in Daimler’s domain. Not right now. Not with the boys at his back and Sloan in a tizzy about whatever intel he’d picked up about Granite Falls.