“Or of the Nightfuries’ stay inside our kill room.”
“Gage and Haider can’t prove anything. Neither can Nian.” Excitement tingled through him. His mouth curved. “It’ll be your word—esteemed leader of the Archguard, head of a respected family—against theirs.”
Flexing his hands, Rodin growled. “I will call the high council and pack commanders to order immediately.”
“Good.” Already preparing his plan of attack, Zidane threw his sire a sidelong look. “But before you do, I would ask one thing.”
“You wish to lead the death squad to Seattle?”
“I want revenge.”
“For Lothair?”
Mention of his younger brother made his heart clench. Fucking Nightfuries. First Lothair, now Ferland. Both murdered, dead long before their time. A muscle twitched along his jaw. Zidane cleared his throat. “For Ferland too, Father.”
“Done.” With a quick about-face, Rodin strode toward the hallway at the back of the loading dock. A second before he disappeared into the labyrinth, his sire paused. Dark eyes shimmering, his gaze burned through the gloom, reaching out to warn him. “Choose your warriors with care, son. Prepare yourself accordingly. You leave as soon as the vote is complete and the council signs off.”
Hot damn. The sweet, sweet taste of victory.
If all went according to plan, he’d be airborne within weeks. One if he got lucky, more than a few if he didn’t. Not that it mattered. He didn’t have time to bask in the glow of his sire’s approval. Or dwell on what the future would bring. Bragging belonged to fools. Warriors, on the other hand, prepared for every eventuality. Rodin was right. Actions spoke louder than words, and he didn’t have a moment to waste. Running down a list inside his head, Zidane pivoted toward the tunnel and walked away from the garage. The cleanup could wait. Preparations for travel could not. Whatever the timeline, he must be ready to move—the members of his death squad chosen and trained—the instant the high council reinstated Xzinile and put a bounty on each Nightfury warrior’s head.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wearing nothing but an oversize T-shirt, Evelyn tiptoed past floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Soft cotton brushed the tops of her thighs. Wide-planked floorboards creaked. She tried not to notice. A hard sell, considering Venom lay belly down on silk sheets across the room, fast asleep after an afternoon spent in bed with her. Her mouth curved. Poor baby. She’d worn him out—ridden him hard and put him away wet. Not that she would ever admit it out loud. Oh, no . . . not her. She possessed more pride than that. And honestly? After making her moan and plead for the pleasure of his touch, Venom’s ego was out of control.
No need to feed that beast. He already knew he was fantastic in bed.
“Thank God for that,” she murmured, running her fingertips over colorful book spines.
Sighing in contentment, Evelyn slowed her pace and, trying to be quiet, bypassed another bookcase. She paused to read the titles. As she skimmed each one, she shook her head. Incredible. So many choices. Another shelf cramped with books she’d never heard of before. The whole room was like that—full of literature that ran the gamut, hopscotching from crime fiction and historical treatises to Shakespeare, ancient leather-bound texts, and an impressive collection of novels.
She ought to be accustomed to the two-story library by now—or rather, Venom’s bedroom inside Black Diamond. Lord knew she spent enough time in it.
Somehow, though, she wasn’t.
Almost a month with him, and, still, she marveled at the changes. In her life, sure. But mostly in the way she felt. Safe. Secure. Relaxed, well loved, and accepted. Toss in the fact she’d never slept better and . . . bingo. She owned a recipe for success. One that had her up and energized before Venom opened his eyes and got up for the evening. And yet, despite all the improvements—the smoothing out of her once-screwed-up life—she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. A bunch of Dragonkind guys. One Numbai. And four incredible women. Sounded like a movie title. The effect, however, was all too real. Particularly since Myst, Angela, Tania, and J. J. (or the Fab Four, as she liked to call them) had become her best friends in the space of a few weeks. Had she said incredible earlier? Well, slap surreal on the situation instead.
The gift of friendship. A man to call her own. A safe haven far from Markov and the mess her mother had left her.
All in a month’s time.
Her throat went tight. Unbelievable, yet totally real. Evelyn shook her head. God was good, and she was thankful. So damned glad Venom had found her, she didn’t know how to control the emotional fallout half the time. Sometimes, she didn’t. Sometimes it overcame her, and she went from steady to teary eyed in a heartbeat. Venom disliked seeing her that way. Hated her tears almost as much as the Razorbacks. Not that it mattered. Even though she tried, she couldn’t always hold it in. Gratefulness, it seemed, always took prisoners, caging her on the weepy side of thankful.
Skirting the spiral staircase to the mezzanine—and the library’s second level—she glanced toward the bed. Stretched out in the center of the mattress, Venom slept on: head half-buried beneath his pillow, top sheet bunched around his hips, arms flung wide, an ocean of golden skin on display. A shiver of pleasure ghosted down her spine. Evelyn swallowed a hum of appreciation. She wanted to wake him up—kiss her way between his shoulder blades, nuzzle his ear, flip him over and . . .
Make love with him again.
A great plan but for one thing. She wasn’t ready yet. She needed more time. Not a lot. Hardly any at all. Just enough to shore up her courage before she caressed Venom awake and asked the question. Broached the subject . . . whatever. She didn’t need to label it. What she wanted was answers. Some clarification too. Curiosity demanded it along with her pride, ’cause . . . yeah. Ever since meeting the other girls, she’d been wondering about something. Taboo subject matter, no doubt, but . . .
Butterflies attacked her stomach.
Ignoring the flutter, she walked past the stone-clad fireplace, stepped around the leather couch, and drifted to a stop next to the bed. Her gaze strayed to the night table. Stacked high, books littered the surface, hiding an expanse of glossy mahogany before spilling onto the floor. More books. Bigger piles. Untold variety on a wide range of topics. Evelyn smiled, loving the fact Venom liked stories . . . and often read aloud to her before bed each morning.
She enjoyed that almost as much as his lovemaking. Hearing the deep rumble of his voice while lying snug in his arms, warm under the quilt as he tilted the book so light fell on the page. Funny, but she never would’ve guessed that about him. Or that being read to was such a luxury, one she’d missed growing up in her household.
Dragging her gaze from the messy stacks, she returned her attention to Venom. He stirred in his sleep. Evelyn drew a deep breath and, mind whirling, went over what she wanted to ask. Again. For what seemed like the thousandth time. But, well, she couldn’t help it. Practice made perfect. Phrasing was important. She needed it to come out right when she finally voiced her concern and—
“Mazleiha.”
Husky with sleep, the warmth of Venom’s voice washed over her. Pinpricks of pleasure exploded across her skin. Desire welled in the pit of her stomach as he turned over. Hard muscle flexed. Silk slid over his hip, across his ribbed abdomen, then settled, molding to the front of his body, showcasing intimate details, making her mouth water. Which was . . . well, disconcerting to say the least. Downright gluttonous, to say the most. She’d already had him—countless times—and yet, she wanted him again. Right now. Screw the question along with her curiosity. Except . . .
Her attitude was all wrong.
There were too many things left unsaid. And she needed to know.
Stuffing a pillow behind his head, Venom resettled on the mattress. Back against the headboard, bare chest on display, sheet riding low, sleepy ruby-red eyes met hers. He studied her a moment, then ti
pped his chin. “What has you worried, Evie?”
She pursed her lips. The moment of truth. Time to dive in and find out. “I have a question.”
He crooked his finger, asking her to come closer. The second she stepped within range, he grabbed her hand. His calloused palm played against hers. Anticipation twisted the screw, urging her away from conversation and toward desire. She shivered, loving the feel of him, but held the line, refusing her body what it wanted in favor of satisfying her mind. Lacing their fingers, Venom tugged, drawing her onto the mattress. Her knees touched down beside his hip and . . . ah, to hell with it. She threw her leg over and straddled him. He sucked in a quick breath. She hummed. God, she loved being like this with him. Almost skin-to-skin. So close, yet still too far away. Nothing but a thin, silk sheet between them as she settled in his lap, pressing her core to his erection.
“Goddamn,” he said, appreciation in his tone. Sitting up a little straighter, he slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, palmed her bare bottom, and adjusted their fit.
She wiggled, settling in, making him groan. “So . . . my question.”
“Shoot. Ask me anything.”
“When are we going to get married?”
Surprise sparked in his eyes. Venom blinked. He opened his mouth—once, twice . . . a third time—before closing it again, as though he’d fallen into speechlessness.
“I mean . . .” She trailed off, nerves getting the better of her. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she searched for the right words. All the ones she’d practiced. None arrived. Each well-practiced word abandoned her. She cleared her throat, stalling for time, then blurted, “I’ve been talking with the other girls, and they all have mating marks, but we haven’t talked about it. Or about the mating ceremony, and I just . . . well, I want to know if . . . if . . .”
“You want to get married?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.” Relief relaxed his expression. Raising his hand, he cupped her cheek. As he caressed her skin, Venom murmured something in Dragonese. A prayer? Words offered up in gratitude? Evelyn didn’t know. Didn’t much care either, just as long as she hadn’t overstepped her bounds and pushed him too far, too fast. “I’ve been waiting . . . hoping that—”
“I would ask?”
He nodded. “I don’t want to rush you, Evie. I want you to be ready. The mating ceremony is heavy-duty shit. No take-backs. Once it’s done, the binding spell can never be broken. I wanted to give you time. The chance to decide . . . to be 100 percent sure I’m what you want.”
“Venom.” Turning into his touch, Evelyn nestled her face against his palm, soothing him the only way she knew how—with her acceptance. Lord love him. He was the most complicated man she’d ever met. One moment confident, the next, completely unsure. The insecurity—his desire to protect her, even from himself—simply made her love him more. Her need for him tightened its grip on her heart, infusing her with everything she felt for him. “I don’t want a take-back. My decision was made the moment I met you. I might not have known it then, but I know it now. I’m yours, love. I want a mating mark of my own.”
“Well, in that case . . .” A smile surfaced in his eyes as Venom trailed off. He shifted beneath her and reached toward the bedside table. With a flick, he pulled the drawer open and withdrew a blue box topped with a frilly black bow. Evelyn’s breath caught as he cupped the back of her hand and placed the gift in her palm. “Open it, Evie.”
A frisson of excitement skittered down her spine. Evelyn didn’t hesitate. She tugged on the bow, watched it unravel, lifted the box top and—
“Oh, my.” Air left her lungs in a rush. Awe circled deep, dragging tears to the surface and . . . ah, crap. Here she went again, tumbling into weepiness. “Oh, Venom.”
“Do you like it?”
Did she like it? Was he insane? The ring was a masterpiece, one without equal. Set in white gold, a huge yellow diamond winked from a bed of white ones. Wonder closed her throat. Joy lifted the corners of her mouth, blooming into a wide smile. “Oh my God, Venom. It’s incredible . . . the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Pleasure in his eyes, Venom plucked the ring from the box. Gaze locked on hers, he slid the band on her ring finger. The gemstone settled, looking as though it belonged next to her skin. “Evelyn Victoria Foxe, I love you. Marry me, mazleiha.”
“Yes.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Perfect.”
And it was. Simply perfect.
Nothing better in the world. No one better than Venom.
And as he drew her into his arms and held her close, Evelyn felt the weight of the ring on her finger and a startling lightness in her heart. At last. Thank God. She’d finally come home. Was exactly where she longed to be, committed to the man she was meant to love . . . forever.
Acknowledgments
Some books are harder to write than others. Fury of Obsession was one of those books. The writing of it challenged me in new and unexpected ways, making me dig deeper, helping me understand the living, breathing quality of a story better, forcing me out of my comfort zone and into the truth of my characters. I fell head over heels for Venom, hero of this book, the moment I met him. He made me laugh and cry and hope for something better. I’m so glad he found that something better in Evelyn and finally arrived at his happily-ever-after.
Tremendous thanks to my literary agent, Christine Witthohn. You are, without a doubt, the best of the best.
Many thanks to my editors, Helen Cattaneo and Melody Guy. Thank you for all your hard work. Your support and enthusiasm for my books make the entire process an absolute pleasure. And to the entire Amazon Publishing team whose talents and commitment are second to none. You amaze me constantly. It’s fantastic working with all of you!
To my friends and family—thank you for dragging me out of my office and away from Storyland every once in a while for some much-needed R & R. I love you all.
Last, but never least, to Kallie Lane, fellow writer, critique partner, and friend. Thank you for all the BS sessions, early morning phone calls, and being so honest. You make me better. You always have. Thank you!
I raise a glass!
About the Author
Photo © 2009 Julie Daniluk
After growing up as the only girl on an all-male hockey team, Coreene Callahan knows a thing or two about tough guys and loves to write characters inspired by them. After graduating with honors in psychology and taking a detour to work in interior design, Coreene finally gave in and returned to her first love: writing. Her debut novel, Fury of Fire, was a finalist in the New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf Contest in two categories: Best First Book and Best Paranormal. She combines her love of romance, adventure, and writing with her passion for history in her novels Fury of Fire, Fury of Ice, Fury of Seduction, Fury of Desire, Knight Awakened, Knight Avenged, and Warrior’s Revenge. She lives in Canada with her family, a spirited golden retriever, and her wild imaginary world. Visit her at www.CoreeneCallahan.com.
Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5) Page 36
