Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5)

by Coreene Callahan

  He wanted to tell her what was happening and how energy-fuse worked. About the bond connecting her to him and what it meant. Lovely goal. The right thing to do. Too bad he kept clamming up. Every time he opened his mouth, something other than “We’re mated for life. I’m keeping you forever” came out. Granted, what information he’d shared with her—after carrying her from the living room to his bedroom, after making love to her so many times he lost count, and lying curled around her in the aftermath—was all good. Important stuff. All things she needed to know to navigate his world. How Dragonkind functioned. About the Nightfury pack and the males he called brothers. What living at Black Diamond was like and how Daimler kept the peace in a houseful of volatile personalities.

  Somehow, though, it wasn’t enough.

  Piling small truths—one on top of the other—to avoid telling her the bigger one smacked of cowardice. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Leaning his forearms on the countertop, he watched Evelyn prepare another cracker. Venom clenched his teeth. He didn’t like being afraid. Or thinking that she’d leave the moment she found out. And yet, that’s exactly what he imagined she would do. Freak out. Run scared. Leave him before he got the chance to put things in perspective and convince her of his worth.

  An irrational fear? Maybe. Maybe not. All Venom knew was that he didn’t want it to end. He wanted more time with her. More of her sass. More of the smile. More of everything and then more after that. To hear her laugh and give him attitude for as long as possible. So he stayed quiet, heart pounding and body tight, and watched her eat instead of starting the conversation. A total pansy-ass move. Particularly since his inability to come clean shamed him. It was sad, really. But not knowing, living with the tension and uncertainty—horrible as it felt—seemed better than knowing for sure and losing her forever.

  With a hum, Evelyn licked peanut butter off her fingertip.

  An image of her licking him slammed into his head. Venom bit down on a groan. Holy shit. She was hot. Unbelievably sexy, and he couldn’t get enough. Or forget the way she’d looked in bed earlier. Nipples furled tight. Head thrown back. Spine arched as she rode him into ecstasy on cotton sheets. Skimming her face, Venom absorbed every detail. Each nuance of her expression. The hidden depths in her eyes. The hard-core intelligence she possessed, but never flaunted.

  God, that drove him wild—the way she looked when she put her brain to work. Smart and sexy, an attractive combination. One that shoved him closer to the edge, making desire rush back into view. Muscles tightened across his abdomen, pulling at his hip bones, and temptation circled, urging him to toss decency aside and drag her back to bed.

  Fantastic idea. One huge problem.

  He didn’t have enough time.

  With night falling, duty called. Now he needed to put himself in gear and get outside before—

  “You asked about my ring earlier.”

  Surprised by the comment, his gaze strayed to the ring on her middle finger. Set in an intricate pattern, a trio of rubies winked beneath the kitchen lights. “You didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “I rarely do,” she said, setting the knife down next to the jar of peanut butter. Metal clicked against marble countertop. Head bowed, she fiddled with the gold band, spinning it around her finger. The third time around, she paused to run her thumb over the gemstones, then looked up and met his gaze. “Good memories tangled up with bad.”

  He could understand that. Hell, he lived the same thing day in and day out—pride for his roots ruined by horrible memories of his father. “More good than bad, I hope.”

  “Depends on the day,” she said, self-mockery in her tone. “Sometimes I remember the good. Most of the time I remember the bad.”

  “You should probably turn that around—do the opposite.”

  “Probably.” Pursing her lips, she turned the ring. Antique gold flashed against her dark skin. One rotation spun into another. She fisted her hand, tucking the rubies against her palm, and frowned at her knuckles. A furrow between her brows, she flexed her fingers and shook her head. “The ring’s a family heirloom. It’s been passed down for generations, mother to daughter. I’m the fourth to wear it . . . including my mom.”

  “It became yours after the accident?”

  “No. I’ve had it for years. Mema gave it to me when I graduated.”

  “A good memory.”

  “The best. Now, here’s the bad.” With a tug, she pulled the ring off her finger and handed it to him. Warm from her skin, the delicate band settled in his palm. “When I was eleven, my mother did the unthinkable.”

  “What’s that?” Perched between his fingertips, he examined the setting more closely. Stellar workmanship. An incomparable piece—pretty, expensive, just the right size for Evelyn’s hand.

  “She pawned it.”

  Venom hummed in sympathy. “She needed the money?”

  “Yeah. My dad had a great job, but that wasn’t enough for her. She always wanted more, and well . . .” she trailed off with a shrug, her eyes glued to her ring and his hand. “An addict knows no shame.”

  “What was she into—drugs?”

  “Gambling . . . the compulsive kind.” She held out her hand, palm up . . . the gesture saying “Give it back, please.”

  He complied without hesitation. His fingers slid against hers as he turned her hand over. She clutched at him, holding on hard, not wanting to let go, and Venom understood. Talking about her mother was difficult for her. No doubt one of the hardest things for her to reveal. Particularly since she believed it signaled weakness—a flaw in her DNA, the genetic equivalent of a ticking time bomb. He could tell by her tension. The wariness in her eyes too—as though she feared her confession would push him away. Make him judge and find her lacking.

  “Evie,” he murmured, wanting her to understand. Nothing about her—good, bad, or ugly—could turn him away. Running his thumb over the points of her knuckles, he slipped the ring back on her finger. “You don’t have to—”

  “You know the funny thing, though?”

  Chest so tight his heart hurt, he shook his head.

  “Of all my childhood memories, that one’s the sharpest.” Clinging to his hand, she drew a circle in the center of his palm with her fingertip. Pinpricks exploded up his arms, making him shiver even as she cleared her throat. “I remember everything about that day—getting in the car with my grandmother, driving down to the pawn shop, the musty smell inside the store. The look of relief on Mema’s face when she got the ring back, and my mother’s irreverence.” Moisture made her eyes glisten. Blinking away tears, she stared at the ring. “She didn’t care that she’d sold a piece of our history. All she wanted was her next fix and yet . . . I loved her anyway. I don’t know what that makes me—a fool, probably, but I can’t seem to help it.”

  “You’re not a fool, Evie. Loving her makes you normal.”

  “Normal,” she whispered. “Right. I haven’t felt normal since the fifth grade . . . since the moment Mom left.”

  “I’m so sorry, mazleiha.”

  “It is what it is. Even though it still hurts, I’ve come to terms with it.” Dragging her focus from their hands, she met his gaze. “I’m the reason she’s dead, you know.”

  He frowned. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Believe it,” she said, her grip on him tightening. “It’s my fault. After my dad died, the life insurance settlement came to me.” She huffed, half sorrow, half resignation. “Lord knows he couldn’t trust Mom with it. Not with her addiction and all the money problems. After the dust settled, Mom banged on my door. She was sweet as pie at first, but when I refused to give her the money—”

  “You fought.”

  “A real knock-down, drag-out. She said terrible things, Venom. Screamed the most horrible things, but I just . . .” Her voice cracked, breaking his heart. “I couldn’t go against Dad’s wishes.�
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  “What happened?”

  “I bought Mema a house in Granite Falls with the money. My mother retaliated by driving her car into a tree.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Exactly,” she whispered, looking so lost he ached for her. A tear slipped down her cheek. He brushed it away, cupping her face, soothing her the best he could. Leaning toward him instead of away, she accepted his touch and blew out a shaky breath. “Lovely family history, don’t you think?”

  “Mine’s no better.”

  “It can’t be any worse.”

  “It is,” he said, thumb tracing her cheekbone, debating how much to tell her. Everything down to the last detail? Only a smattering of the facts? The truth held the power to push her away. A single moment in time, and he might lose her forever. And yet, he wanted to believe. Needed to hope that Evelyn would accept him—no matter what. A lot to ask? Maybe, but knowing her past gave him hope for their future. His female understood struggle—the mind-twist of screwed-up family dynamics and what it was like to have a parent who didn’t love you. He stroked her again, drawing as much comfort from her closeness as she did from his touch. “You may believe you’re responsible for your mother’s death, but I know I killed my father.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I killed him, Evie. His blood is on my hands.”

  “There’s more to it than that.” Confusion in her eyes, she tipped her chin, inviting him to talk. “Tell me what happened.”

  Dropping his hand, he let her go and leaned away, settling back on his own stool.

  “Venom?”

  “It’s complicated,” he murmured, searching for the right words.

  Speechlessness.

  Venom blew out a strained breath. A forever affliction around her, it seemed. A throwback reaction from his upbringing, maybe. The fear of losing her—certainly. The inability to trust without the assurance of complete acceptance first—absolutely. And yet, he knew he needed to tell her. Before he explained about energy-fuse. Before he crossed the line, and she agreed to be his without knowing the whole truth.

  And so he did what he’d never done before. He started to talk, spilling secrets, sharing intimate details, telling her about his father. And Evelyn listened without interrupting. All the while holding his hand. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve scoffed, said to hell with comfort, and played the tough card. He couldn’t with her. She tore down his walls without even trying. So instead of hiding behind humor—his weapon of choice when dealing with difficult issues—Venom told her the truth.

  “He hurt you.”

  “All the time. Every day.”

  “And that night . . .” she trailed off, prompting him.

  He drew a deep breath. “He took me to our country estate. It was way out of town, in the middle of nowhere . . . a party was in full swing.”

  He shook his head, not wanting to remember the orgy. Or the fight club set up in the back garden. It had been awful. A terrible thing to witness. And his sire? The sadistic bastard had been proud—of the outrageous depravity and orchestrated butchery. But worse? He’d expected Venom to jump in and take part. Bet on the fights. Drink himself into oblivion. Revel in debauchery while younglings fought and died.

  Bile rolled up the back of his throat.

  An image flashed in his mind’s eye, taking him back to that night.

  Boys—eight, maybe nine years old—locked in combat, knives raised, circling onstage while elite members of Dragonkind looked on. The smell of blood and urine in the air. The smile on his sire’s face. Venom grimaced. Even now, all these years later, he couldn’t shake his disgust. Couldn’t forget what his sire ordered him to do at the end of the night either.

  Load a dying Wick onto a truck bound for Tanzenmed.

  “That was the last straw,” he said, trying to find the words and make Evelyn understand. Maybe if he confessed, said it all out loud, got it out once and for all, he would feel better. Maybe then the shame would fade and his guilt would go away. “I looked at Wick locked inside that cage and saw myself—all the years of abuse and torture. All the unfairness. How wrong my sire was and—”

  “You refused to do it,” she whispered, shifting on her stool. Her knee brushed his as she settled sideways in her seat. Raising her hand, she brushed the long strands of his hair away from his temple. “What did he do?”

  “Hit me . . . per usual. But this time, I got angry back.” Unable to look her in the eye, he glanced away. Overhead halogens glowed, throwing light over high-gloss cabinets. Frowning at the fancy cornices, he clenched his teeth. “I’d just gone through the change, and through some quirk of fate, I came through my first shift bigger and stronger than my sire. So when he raised his fist again, I shoved him.” How many times? Venom didn’t know. His sire never backed down—or cried defeat. His pride had been too thick. And after years of having the upper hand, the bastard hadn’t been able to accept that his son not only outweighed him, but could beat him in a fight too. “He wouldn’t stop. Just wouldn’t, and I . . . God, Evie. I don’t know how many times he came after me. Or how many times I hit him, but when it was over, he was impaled on a spear and I had blood all over me.”

  “Oh, Venom.”

  “I know.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to shove him that hard. I didn’t know the weapons were there, but it doesn’t make me any less responsible.”

  “It doesn’t make you guilty either.”

  Venom flinched as surprise slammed through him. He opened his mouth to retort. To tell her she was wrong. That he was to blame. Shock closed his throat instead as his gaze snapped back to hers.

  “Sounds to me like it was you or him. Self-defense, not murder,” she said, tone soft, yet somehow firm too. Not understanding, Venom stared at her. She gazed back, holding the line, refusing to back down, pushing her assertion. Eyes full of compassion met and held his, making his throat go tight. “You did what you had to do to protect yourself, Venom. And you got Wick out too . . . shielded him when no one else could.”

  “Yeah.” He frowned. True enough, although all in a fit of blind panic. The second his sire died, he’d known he would be next if the Archguard managed to pin the murder on him. So instead of taking his father’s place among Dragonkind elite, he’d torn the collar from Wick’s neck, dragged him out of the cage, and run for his life . . . with his future best friend in tow. “We hid out in Europe for a while until good luck hooked us up with Bastian and Rikar. After that, we jumped the pond and came to Seattle.”

  “Hunting for Ivar and the Razorbacks.”

  Venom nodded.

  “But the fight with your father still bothers you.”

  “Every day.”

  “Don’t let it, Venom.” Cupping his jaw with one hand, she sent the other skating over his shoulder. The gentle caress reached soul-deep, unraveling his tension one thread at a time. “I know it’s hard, but I want you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Accept what you did was necessary and move past it.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Practice makes perfect. Take it one day at a time, and it’ll come,” she said. “If you let it, peace will come.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. But for Evelyn, he would try. Hope like hell he could leave the past behind. Let it go. Start fresh. Move past it into healthier territory, just as she asked. All while praying that the day didn’t bring new nightmares, the night any more recriminations, and his female stayed with him—forever.

  Before sharing his sin, he hadn’t been sure of his chances. Evelyn was a strong female. Smart. Self-assured. More than capable of taking care of herself and returning to the human world on her own. Now, though, with her so close, nothing but understanding in her eyes, he held a glimmer of hope. Maybe he wasn’t giving her enough credit. Perhaps all she needed was a gentle push. More information. More con
versation. More openness on his part to help her accept his claiming and—

  A car door slammed outside in the driveway.

  Venom clenched his teeth. Well, shit. Talk about bad timing. No more baring of souls tonight. The cavalry had just arrived. So . . . time to shift gears and get a move on.

  “Hey, Evie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “Being so incredible,” he murmured, taut muscle loosening as he let the last of his tension go. “You’re amazing . . . you know that, right?”

  “Princess Awesome, that’s me,” she said, pure imp as she lightened the mood. He grinned. She picked up the abandoned butter knife, grabbed a cracker, then dug more peanut butter out of the jar. Plopping it on the saltine, she spread it across the top, then glanced his way. Her eyes met his. Desire shoved thoughts of his past out of the way. His body went haywire, twitching with the need to make love to her. Reading his expression, she blinked in surprise a second before her mouth curved. “You’re thinking naughty thoughts again, Venom.”

  “Your fault.”

  “Sure it is.” The devil in her eyes, she raised a brow. “I think you’re just horny.”

  More sass. How perfect. “And you aren’t?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Minx.” She huffed in laughter. One ear on the crunch of footsteps outside in the driveway, Venom pushed away from the countertop. Leather whispered beneath his jeans as he turned on his stool and grabbed the base of hers. Forearm bunching, he tugged. Metal feet scraped across floor tiles, sounding loud in the quiet as he pulled her between the spread of his thighs. The side of her stool touched his. She swayed toward him, bumping into the wall of his chest. Dipping his head, he kissed the curve of her bare shoulder. “Gorgeous female. I want you again.”