Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5) (35 page)

“Shit,” he grumbled. “Unfair, Evie.”

“Within bounds, Venom.”

“Fair warning then, love,” he said, picking up the gauntlet she threw down. “I’ll make you pay for it later.”

“You’ve got to come back to do that.”

The provocation cranked him tight.

Venom growled. She held her ground, crossing arms over her chest. Well, all right then. His female refused to back down, and he wasn’t going to get his good-bye kiss. A frigging pity. A total kick in the pants, bu
t . . .

No sense pushing the issue now.

She was entrenched and ready for a fight. One Venom knew he couldn’t win. Not right now. Not without a winning approach and the right words. Frustration grabbed hold. Blowing out a breath, Venom tore his gaze from hers and, with a quick pivot, headed for the door. Pace steady, boots thumping, and mind churning, he strode across the living room.

Seconds before he reached the door, Venom glanced over his shoulder. “Prepare for the fallout,
mazleiha
. There’s gonna be some when I get home.”

She leveled her chin. “Bring it on.”

No need to worry. He would. Nothing would keep him away.

The promise of his female’s kisses was too much to resist. So was accepting her challenge. No kissing, his ass. No way would she be able to hold out. Which meant the game was now afoot. And he planned to come out on top—literally, by spreading her beneath him before he told her the truth. Just to make a point. Stubborn, maybe, but wel
l . . .
hell. He didn’t like manipulation of any kind. So yeah,
bring it on
. Let her try to hold out. Let her use desire like a weapon. Let her believe she would win in the end.

Venom clenched his teeth, then shook his head. Her strategy wouldn’t work. With a mental flick, he turned the handle, flung the door open, and stepped out into cold night air. And she wouldn’t last long once he started the seduction. The thought energized him. Venom upped the pace, making tracks beneath huge trees to reach open lawn. More space made for a better launchpad, and he needed to get airborne. Must meet the others. Do his job—quick, neat, and clean, ’caus
e . . .
yeah. No question. The sooner he killed the contagion in Granite Falls, the faster he’d be on his way home to prove his female wrong.

Chapter Twenty

Stretched out on the floor, Gage struggled to wake up. He told his body to move. His muscles disobeyed, brushing off the direct order. Sticky cobwebs held him down instead, pressing him back toward slumber. Now he lay captive, suspended between layers, one level up from dreams, one down from wakefulness. Struggling against the muscle drag, he forced his eyes open. Soft light whirled into pinpricks of mind-spinning blur. He blinked, hoping to stop the light show. Nothing. A total no-go. No improvement at all. No matter how many times he reached for clarity, the druglike feeling refused to abate.

With a grumble, he allowed his eyes to drift closed again.

Fuck. Not good. He was way too groggy. Completely off his game, stuck in the hazy layers of sleep instead of alert and ready to fight. Unusual for him. Gage grimaced. Most evenings, he surfaced fast, bolted out of bed, feet hitting the floor before his brain acclimatized to his body being upright. Which pointed to one inescapable fact. His sluggish reaction signaled trouble. The kind he didn’t want to be anywhere near. Something was off. Screwed up in a big way, but—he frowned—damned if he could touch on the problem.

Or figure out if there even was one to begin with.

He didn’t feel threatened. Wasn’t shackled or tied down. No buzz of electricity surrounding him either. Just a steady sway and an odd vibration that rocked the floor beneath him. Dragging his hands off his chest, he pressed both palms to the floor. Solid. Soft. A carpet, maybe? Muscles squawking, body throbbing, he explored further, stretching his arm out to—

A big hand landed on his shoulder.

Instinct grabbed hold, pumping him full of adrenaline. With a snarl, Gage jacked upright. His head brushed a low ceiling. His feet thumped down on the floor. Vision a mess, seeing nothing but blur, he raised his fists and spun around.

The fuzzy outline of a male stood behind him.

Gage bared his teeth.

Raising his arms to the sides, the guy turned his hands palm up. “Easy. It’s just me.”

Swaying on his feet, Gage blinked. “Haider?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell?” Frowning, Gage rubbed his eyes. His vision cleared a little, giving him a quick snapshot. A familiar silver gaze met his. Relief hit him like a body shot, making him sag and reach out. His friend grabbed hold, keeping him upright. “Where are we?”

“On the plane.”

Hanging on to Haider like a lifeline, Gage blinked again and looked around. Narrow space. Rounded roof. Oval windows with the shades pulled down. Comfortable wide-backed chairs and a long couch hugging the curved wall on the far end. “Holy fuck. We made it.”

“Thanks to you.” Supporting his weight, Haider shifted, turning him toward one of the chairs. Gage sank into the leather seat back with a grateful sigh. “You got us to the airplane hangar in daylight—crazy son of a bitch.”

He snorted. Some things never changed. Most notably? His friend’s bad attitude. Mouthy male. Honest to a fault, Haider never pulled any punches. He struck fast and hard instead. Called it like he saw it too, hammering him with so much truth Gage didn’t want to hear it half the time. Thank God. He loved that about his friend. Never say quit equaled big fun on the fighting scale.

Leaning his head against his backrest, Gage grinned.

Haider smiled back.

Stretching out his legs, he tipped his chin. “Where are we?”

“An hour from home.”

Which meant they’d just crossed the border into Washington State. Perfect. Less than two hundred miles away from Black Diamond. “Shit, I’ve been asleep awhile.”

“You’ve been pretty out of it. You were in Connecticut too.”

Gage exhaled in surprise. “We landed in Connecticut?”

“In Hartford to refuel,” Haider said, settling into his own seat. “And feed.”

Brows drawn tight, Gage racked his brain, trying to remember. His eyes narrowed. Okay, he remembered the drive after busting out of Rodin’s pleasure pavilion. The wheel of the Bentley in his hands, the dust in the rearview mirror, and the pain of sunlight on his skin. Not surprising. That kind of agony was hard to forget. So were multiple injuries thanks to time spent in an Archguard kill room. Funny thing, though. Gage rolled his shoulders. He wasn’t in pain now. Exhausted, sure, but not hurting anymore.

Rubbing his jean-clad thigh, he glanced down at his bare chest. No cuts. No burns. Nothing but smooth skin poured over heavy muscle. Another round of relief rolled in. Gage relaxed, letting his tension go. The mental ease-up unlocked his memory. Images streamed into his head. Fuzzy, indistinct, and short of a full load in places, bu
t . . .
hmm. He remembered the late-night pit stop now. A crowded bar on a busy street. Beer on tap—three-dollar pitchers, ladies’ night out.

“Pretty little barflies.”

“Super-fun night.” Haider grinned. “You liked the twins.” Gage huffed. Made sense. Blonds were his favorite, but a pair at the same time? God. Absolute paradise. Although, the redhead he’d pleased after exhausting the twins hadn’t been bad either. Tipping his chin, he met his friend’s gaze. “You okay?”

“Right as rain. Ready to go home.”

Reaching out, Gage flipped the window shade. Vinyl hissed as the thin covering rolled up to reveal wispy clouds and a clear night sky. “Osgard?”

“Still asleep in the rear cabin. Nian’s in the head.”

“Well, hell,” he said, disappointment in his tone even as he breathed a sigh of relief. The kid had come through okay. Was none the worse for wear. No need to worry. “So much for hoping you’d already thrown the namby-pamby overboard.”

“Bastian’s call, Gage, so hands off.” Amusement sparked in his friend’s eyes. “Nian stays alive until B green-lights him.”

Oh, man. Pretty please with sugar on top. He wanted the green light. So fucking badly. Something about Nian put a wrinkle in his radar. Now his dragon senses screamed, warning Gage not to trust the aristocratic prick. Too bad Haider was right. Bastian wouldn’t bring Nian on board without a good reason. Which meant a great scheme was in the works. Gage knew it. Accepted it even, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream about ass-planting the pans
y . . .

Every single day, for the foreseeable future.

A lovely thought. Something to keep him warm during long winter months.

Pushing to his feet, Gage stretched out sore muscles. “Does B know we’re an hour out?”

With a nod, Haider popped to his feet. Shoulder to shoulder with him now, boots planted in the narrow aisle, he flicked at the sleeve of his motorcycle jacket and glanced at his watch. “Wake Osgard and get ready. I’ll rouse Nian. We bail out in five minutes.”

Heading for the sleep cabin, Gage glanced over his shoulder at the cockpit. Door closed. His dragon senses sparked, reading heat signatures through the wall. Two males seated up front. “You in control of the pilots?”

“Yeah.” Showing off, Haider leaned left. Magic shimmered in the air around him, making Gage’s skin prickle. The plane turned, banking left as the humans in the cockpit obeyed his friend’s unspoken command. Shifting again, Haider returned to normal, weight evenly distributed on his tall frame. The plane leveled out, flying fast across clear skies. “You strong enough to fly?”

Gage rolled his shoulders, testing his muscles’ responsiveness. Fatigue poked at him. Discomfort followed, streaking down his spine. Shoving it aside, he gave his friend two thumbs up and continued down the aisle. A narrow door stood at the end. Gaze fixed to it, he reached out with his mind. His magic flared. The latch clicked. He shoved the panel to the sleep cabin open and, dipping his head, crossed into the small space.

He scanned the surface of the bed.

Empty. Not a kid in sight.

“Osgard?” Searching for the male, his gaze bounced around the room.

Nothing. No response. Not many spots to hide in the tiny excuse for a bedroom either. A total of two—the narrow cupboards bookending either side of the headboard. Skirting the end of the bed, Gage came around the corner of the mattress and—

Stopped short.

Ah, hell. Not good. Osgard, curled up on the floor, knees tucked against his chest, sleeping in the narrow space between the curved wall and the wooden fram
e . . .
instead of on top of a nice, soft mattress. Gage’s chest went tight. He knew what the kid’s position meant. Understood what prolonged abuse did to some males. Degraded a kid’s worth. Shredded self-esteem. Obliterated trust until suspicion became the norm, instead of the exception. Made him sleep in tight spaces that offered maximum protection and little opportunity for attack.

Goddamn Archguard pricks.

How dare the assholes treat a defenseless kid with such brutality? Gage shook his head. Such senseless violence. A complete tragedy. Absolutely no reason for it. And yet, Osgard’s dysfunction stared him in the face. Rage spiked, rolling through him like thunder. Gage stopped the roll, tucked his fury away, and, watching Osgard sleep, made himself a promise. The Archguard would pay for hurting a helpless kid. And Zidane would die. He would make sure of it. Bu
t . . .

First things first.

He must get Osgard home. Telling the kid he was safe wouldn’t work. Showing him constituted a better plan. Actions spoke louder than words, and seeing was believing. The youngling needed experience—to live with and be accepted by a normal pack—in order to understand the difference between right and wrong. Give him a month or two at Black Diamond, with him and the other Nightfury warriors, an
d . . .
yeah. Gage nodded.

The kid would come around. Eventually.

Hitting his haunches at the end of the bed, he flicked his new ward’s foot. The gentle touch jacked Osgard upright. With a yelp, he scrambled backward. His back slammed into the cupboard door. Gage didn’t move. He stayed still instead, his body language nonthreatening. His intent spilled into the cabin, his message clear—
trust me, I mean no harm
. Chest heaving, eyes round with terror, the kid stared at him. One minute stretched into another. Gage waited. Slow but sure, Osgard calmed down, ragged breaths leveling out until he relaxed, releasing his death grip on the blanket.

The second the male evened out, Gage pushed to his feet. “Come on. Time to go.”

He didn’t wait to see if the kid obeyed. He turned and left the room instead. After a moment of hesitation, Osgard followed him into the main cabin. Standing beside Nian, one hand on the lever that opened the outside door, Haider tipped his chin. Gage nodded, giving him the go-ahead. With a grunt, his friend slammed the latch into the unlocked position and shoved. The door pushed out, then opened wide.

Wind raged into the plane.

Cabin pressure dropped.

Gage braced himself as the jet wobbled in mid-air. Steel wings seesawed. Newspaper blew off a nearby tabletop. Haider growled and took control, leveling the plane as Gage grabbed Osgard and headed for the open door.

Fresh air hit him in the face.

Osgard sucked in a startled breath.

Gage didn’t stop. One arm around the kid, he leapt from the plane into the night sky. The kid flinched. Gage shifted into dragon form, snarling as stiff muscles stretched and relief came calling. His bronze scales rattled in the wind rush. He bared his fangs. Osgard laughed, free-falling with him an instant before Gage tucked the younger male into his paw, folded his wings, and dove toward mountainous terrain. Speed supersonic, the spikes on his tail hissed in his wake.

Haider growled behind him.

Gage glanced over his shoulder and watched Haider and Nian clear the jet’s underbelly. The plane banked into a wide turn, veering south high above him. Both males transformed—Haider flashing silver scales, Nian sporting burnished gold. Gage’s mouth curved. Hmm, it felt so good to be flying again. To be free and clear. No threat in his rearview mirror.

Night vision sharp, he searched the horizon. Forty-five minutes tops, and he’d land at his front door. Eagerness punched through to reach his heart. Tears stung the corners of his eyes. Gage blinked the moisture away and stayed on course. Less than an hour, and he’d be home. Surrounded by his pack and safe with his brothers. Back in the only place he’d ever truly belonged.