Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5)

by Coreene Callahan

  He rammed, spine-first, into the side of the tank.

  Concrete gouged his skin. Pain bit, curling around his torso.

  Wick cursed from his vantage point on the walkway.

  Gasping, trying not to throw up, Venom threw his arms out. He must stay in control and on his feet. The second he panicked, he’d go under and it would be over. He’d be done. Finished. In complete freak-out mode instead of on task. Needing an anchor, he grasped at the concrete wall. His hands found the square top. He grabbed hold, clinging to the lip, fighting the raw burn of fear, and stared at the cinder-block wall a few feet away.

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  Short and sweet. Simple, yet effective. The command whispered through his mind. Venom listened. Forcing each breath, he sucked air in through his mouth. In. Out. Catch and release. Inhale, exhale, then repeat . . . go at it all over again. In the sixth round, still clinging to the wall, Venom pushed past panic. Relief slid in, then spread wide, and attacked tense muscle. As the taut threads unraveled, he unwound, relaxing the cradle of his body. His mind came back online.

  Soaked to the skin, shivering in the cold, Venom let go of the wall. Hands curled into twin fists, he planted his feet. His weight settled back on his frame. Small waves slapped at his chest. The wet tendrils stroked over exposed skin. Ignoring the provocation, he shuffled toward the center of the tank. Almost there. Just a little farther, and he’d be in the thick of it. In a prime virus-killing position. Able to unleash his venomous side and burn Ivar’s plan to the ground.

  Taking another deep breath, he counted off each inch. One turned into more, and then into feet, propelling him to the middle of the trough. The sound of rushing water echoed between his temples, joining the physical push of ebb and flow. Ignoring the waves, Venom sank inside his own head. His dragon half rose. The current changed direction, swirling into a whirlpool around him. His magic flared. All went silent. The hum of machinery faded away. The slap and burn of water ceased to exist. His focus narrowed, allowing him to see individual water molecules with his mind.

  He bared his teeth. “There you are.”

  Nasty little bugger. Deadly. Able to multiply in human blood. A viral masterpiece, multiple chemical compounds spliced together for one purpose—to infect fast and kill without mercy.

  With a growl, Venom unfurled his fingers. Water flowed over his open palms. Digging deep, he dipped into his core energy to feed his magic. His venomous side responded, rising hard, working fast, speeding through his veins. He held onto it, allowed the intensity to build, then unleashed it in a hellish rush. Deadly toxins poured from the surface of his skin into the icy swirl. Like an invading army, poison pierced the sidewalls of H2O molecules, decimating the virus in the tanks, then went hunting for more.

  Time spun away. Seconds tumbled into minutes and then sped into hours.

  Feet planted, body swaying in the eddy, Venom didn’t notice. He controlled the magic instead. Bled poison. Monitored toxicity levels. Spread his antidote through the system, pushing the cure down pipe after pipe, infiltrating human homes. He reached into house after house, scrubbed the water supply clean, refusing to stop even when he weakened. Fatigue hit him hard. An ache bloomed inside his head and . . .

  Goddamn. He hurt . . . everywhere.

  Agony streamed down his spine. His muscles quaked, threatening to give out.

  Flexing his hands, Venom locked his knees. No. God, no . . . not yet. He couldn’t quit yet. Bowing his head, he bore down, struggling to hold on. He was so close. So damned close. Moments from closing the deal. One more street to finish. A few more human homes to make safe. But as he infiltrated the last one, his left knee buckled. Off balance, he fought the backward slide into water. Unable to breathe, he gasped in agony and sent his magic out in one last burst of energy. The toxic wave slammed into a house on the far side of town. The antidote sped through the plumbing, killing the last of the virus.

  Satisfaction gripped his heart as realization struck. It had worked. He’d succeeded, ensuring the safety of those who called Granite Falls home.

  A whole town of humans out of harm’s way. Back on the right track once more.

  So weak his muscles shook, Venom turned toward the side of the tank. Time to get out of the water. Thank God. Bless whatever deity was listening. He couldn’t wait to pull himself free, but as he moved, his life force ebbed. The last of his strength drained away. Agony streaked down his spine, and he lost control of the venom in his veins. Magic detonated like a nuclear bomb. The toxic cloud blew up and out, spreading like radiation. Steel pipes shattered like glass. Metal shards exploded across the room. Wick and Mac shouted in alarm. His legs gave out. Unconsciousness hit and, sinking like a stone, Venom went under, disappearing beneath the surface of the water.

  Unable to wait outside a second longer, Bastian cranked the front door open and jogged into the water treatment plant. He scanned the main lobby. Empty. Nothing and nobody. Not a human in sight. Just miles of pale walls made more interesting by photographs in plain steel frames. Not that he cared. He hadn’t left his perch—and Rikar in charge—to fly in and check out the décor. Something was wrong. Way, way out in left field.

  It had been hours. Five fucking hours since his warriors entered the building. A bad sign. He’d thought for sure Venom would be finished by now.

  Or, at the very least, would’ve sent him another update.

  The last one had come half an hour ago. All clear. Two thumbs up. Venom chest-deep in water, venomous side rampaging, but still alive and kicking. The news should’ve comforted him. Dragged satisfaction to the surface in the face of a job well done. Worry thumped on him instead. He had a bad feeling. One that refused to leave him alone, raising instinct, jabbing at him, telling him to haul ass. Bastian upped the pace. Footfalls thumping, he sprinted down a wide corridor. Man, he didn’t like what he was sensing. Maybe it was the silence. Maybe it was the god-awful smell in the hallway. Maybe he was losing his mind, but—

  Boom!

  The explosion rocked the building, throwing him sideways.

  His shoulder slammed into the wall. He bounced off, careening toward the other side of the hallway. Arms and legs churning, Bastian fought to stay upright. Boot treads sliding across high-grade linoleum, he crashed into the wall. His elbow bashed through gypsum, leaving a hole in the painted finish. Plaster dust puffed into his face. As he coughed, thick smoke billowed around the corner in front of him.

  “What the fuck?” Rikar’s snarl blasted through mind-speak, hammering his temples. Pain raked the insides of his skull. “Bastian—”

  “Get airborne. We’ve got trouble.” Finding his balance, he slid to a stop at the intersection. Magic rolled in on his left, mixing with smoke. More lethal than a load of hard-core radiation, the toxic wave sucked oxygen out of the air. Choking on the fumes, Bastian pressed his forearm to his face, covering his nose and mouth, and tried not to breathe. “I think Venom just went nuclear.”

  “Shit.”

  “Where are Mac and Wick?” Forge asked, worry making his accent thicker than usual. “I cannae sense either one anymore.”

  “Jesus. H. Christ. I can’t either,” Sloan said, his voice mixing with the sound of flapping wings. “Get in there, B. I’m on my way.”

  “On the move.”

  Pivoting left, Bastian headed for a pair of solid doors. Hanging off twisted hinges, one of the panels swayed, squeaking in the haze. Venomous swill thickened, making him cough. His eyes started to sting. He kept going, hunting for his warriors in the smoke, stepping over debris, forcing his sonar to work. His magic pulsed. The cosmic burst rushed out, coated the walls, and scrubbed the air, allowing him to breathe while he got the lay of the land. Up ahead. Just a few more feet and he’d step inside a room. A large one with water tanks and—

  A shadow moved through the smoke. “Motherfuck, he’s heavy.”

  “Han
g on to him, Mac.”

  Water splashed, joining the sound of voices and . . . thank God. Two warriors alive and pissed off, one still down for the count. Heart thumping hard, Bastian tore the broken door off its hinges. As he kicked debris out of the way, the smoke cleared a little. With a quick glance, he took in the scene. Thick pipes blown wide open. Puddles pooling on smooth concrete. Soot smeared across cinder-block walls. And Mac and Wick, standing at the railing, working to haul Venom onto a narrow mezzanine.

  Soaking wet, blood running from a cut above his eye, Wick turned to face Bastian. “He’s alive, but—”

  “Weak.” With a grunt, Mac grabbed the back of Venom’s jeans and yanked. Rancid water flew in a dirty arc. A nasty gash on the male’s shoulder opened, dripping blood down his back. “We need to get him out of here.”

  Pale as death, Venom groaned as his feet hit the floor. Half out of it, he murmured Bastian’s name. Bastian’s heart tightened in reaction, thumping the inside of his chest. God love Venom. The male never said quit, even when it meant risking his life. Swallowing a curse, Bastian stepped over a pile of debris and moved in tight. He grabbed his warrior’s arm, slung it around his shoulder, and turned toward the exit. Wick took the other side, helping him carry Venom over the threshold as Mac jogged into the hallway ahead of them.

  A quick right turn put them in the main corridor.

  Smoke swirled in their wake. The glass front doors flashed up ahead.

  Feet barely moving, Venom tried to lift his head. “Home.”

  “Okay, brother,” Bastian said. “No problem. Myst’ll patch you up and—”

  “No,” Venom rasped, his voice barely audible. “To Evelyn. Home to Evie.”

  He glanced at Wick over the top of his warrior’s head. “The safe house?”

  Wick nodded.

  Mac made tracks, punching through the doors. Holding both open, he waited for them to reach him. “I’ll take him.”

  Bastian shook his head. “I got it.”

  “I’ll fly point,” Rikar said, rocketing overhead in a flash of white scales.

  “The rest of you—go home.” Boots crunching over gravel, Bastian muscled Venom into the middle of the parking lot. “Rikar and I will handle it from here.”

  Wick balked.

  Bastian backed up the order with a don’t-fuck-with-me look. “You’re injured, Wick. Go home to J. J. I’ll make sure Venom reaches his female.”

  Wick glanced down his chest. A nasty gash ran along the side of his abdomen. Bleeding like a sieve, he weakened with every breath he took. Gaze on his injury, Wick cursed through clenched teeth. And Bastian waited for him to decide: Be smart and return home to his mate? Or risk his life rather than allow Bastian to protect his best friend? A hard choice for Wick. He could see it in his warrior’s eyes and understood his hesitation. Shit, he felt the same way. No one wanted to leave Venom. The male was important, a valued member of the Nightfury pack. And yet, Wick’s commitment to Venom ran even deeper than that. Love. Friendship. Trust. The two males shared a bond that had been forged in the heat of battle and tested by time.

  But that didn’t change the facts.

  Wick needed to be skin-to-skin with his female—to feed in order to heal. Which meant returning to Black Diamond while Bastian took his best friend in the other direction. A tough pill to swallow. Wick did it anyway, releasing his hold, stepping away, trusting Bastian to take care of Venom. He nodded, praising his warrior without words, and, with a gentle shrug, adjusted his grip on Venom.

  Wick shifted into dragon form and leapt skyward.

  Bastian followed suit and transformed. His claws scraped over gravel. Cradling his warrior in his paw, he unfurled his wings and took flight.

  Venom gasped in pain. “She’s mad at me.”

  Gaining altitude, Bastian rose above the treetops. “Who—your female?”

  “Won’t kiss me anymore.”

  Bastian blinked. Well, all right. Too much information on the sharing front. Not that it mattered. Or that Venom noticed. Deep in sensory overload, his mind was stuck on replay, mired in one thing—the well-being of his mate.

  “I’m hungry, B.” Shimmering ruby-red eyes met his. “Don’t let me hurt her.”

  “I won’t,” he said, banking south, heading for the city.

  But as the words left his mouth, Bastian didn’t know if he could keep his promise. A hungry male could be a dangerous thing—and energy-greed equaled unpredictable on a huge scale. He should know. He’d nearly killed his mate once while hungry. But then, their coupling hadn’t yet been complete. Which had left her vulnerable. Energy-fuse changed all that. Now, the intensity of his hunger didn’t matter. Myst held all the power, controlled the flow of each feeding—had tamed his dragon half—which meant he couldn’t hurt her anymore.

  No matter how desperate he became.

  Welcome knowledge. A beautiful thing. A bond without equal.

  One he hoped Venom now shared with Evelyn. God, he prayed Venom was right. That he’d found his mate and that the bond had already taken root. Otherwise, the second he landed and placed his warrior in the female’s arms, things would get out of hand fast, and Evelyn would end up hurt in the aftermath.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Curled up on one end of the couch, Evelyn snuggled beneath a homemade quilt and settled in to watch another round of Jason Bourne. Well, all right, not quite Jason this time around. Already on the fourth in the series, her movie marathon now included some other actor. Nice-looking man, as kick-ass as his counterpart in the earlier movies. A bowl of popcorn in her lap, she watched the new guy fight off a pack of wolves. With nothing but a branch, fire blazing from one end. Her mouth curved. Pretty cool stuff . . . made even better by a sixty-inch plasma screen TV.

  Munching on her snack, she shook her head.

  Unbelievable. She hadn’t thought watching her favorite box set could get any better. High definition coupled with primetime surround sound proved her wrong. The picture clarity was stunning, the sound even better, throbbing through the living room, making her believe she stood right alongside the guy, struggling to stay alive. Her heart panged as she watched him fight. She knew how he felt, all alone out there in the wilderness. Beyond help. Beyond hope. In need of some luck and a clear break. She had, after all, lived through a battle of her own. But now, for the first time in months, in the blue light thrown by a TV that wasn’t hers, in a house she didn’t own, Evelyn allowed herself to unwind.

  Strand by taut strand. Worry giving way beneath a wave of relief.

  With a sigh, she nestled deeper in the couch cushions. Thank goodness for expensive toys. The entertainment system was doing its job tonight, helping her forget her troubles, if only for a little while. Venom, though, refused to leave her alone. Like a soft sweater, he surrounded her, lying thick and heavy on her skin, warming her even while away. It seemed strange to think of him that way after so little time, as though he’d somehow become her home: a place of comfort, the most solid thing in her life. But only a fool denied the truth, and after months of upheaval, she didn’t want to be foolish anymore.

  She wanted to be brave instead.

  What that kind of courage entailed she didn’t know. No matter how many times she puzzled it out, she still didn’t know what Venom wanted from her. Or what he intended in the long run. A brief love affair? Nothing more than catch and release on his part? The thought made her grip the popcorn bowl harder. She didn’t want it to be that way—to be brushed aside, sent away, and left behind . . . thrust back into a life with little meaning and even less joy. Strange as it seemed, she wanted to stay with him. Make a go of it. Explore the connection she sensed growing between them and figure out what it meant. What that made her, she didn’t know. A pawn in a Dragonkind game? A woman without the sense God gave her? Maybe, but . . .

  She understood her own heart. Felt the yearning. Register
ed the risks of getting too close to Venom with every breath she took.

  And knew exactly what it meant.

  Evelyn sighed. Drat self-awareness, anyway. She would’ve preferred to remain oblivious. Then again, she always called a spade a spade. No sugarcoating the truth. No side trips into self-delusion. Just straight-up logic couched in hard-core honesty. So . . . no sense lying to herself. Somehow, some way, she’d fallen head over heels for Venom. Now she felt the stir. Recognized the compulsion as her I’m-made-for-you gene went into hyperdrive.

  Until he walked into her life, she would’ve sworn soul mates didn’t exist. Were nothing but made-up fairy tales. Poppycock designed to drown people in the illusion of happiness. Tonight, she realized her mistake. Her father had been right. Love was real. So was finding the one—the right man to share her life. And as she watched Jason number two leap from one cliff to another, Evelyn wanted to make the leap too. To let go, be brave, feel the rush as she fell, and allow Venom to catch her.

  “How’s the movie?”

  Dragging her gaze from the screen, Evelyn glanced at Daimler. Pep in his step, slippers whispering over hardwood, he pranced toward her. Her lips twitched. Wow, he was funny. Over-the-top fantastic—an incredible combination of exuberance, entertaining anecdotes, and honest-to-God mischief. Right now, though, his outfit held her attention. She swallowed a snort of amusement. Tartan pajama pants a la Scottish Highlands coupled with a purple T-shirt that read “Try me”—insert sparkly cupcake here—“I’m delicious!” Toss in a jar of peanut butter and the bar of chocolate he carried and . . .