Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice by authors_sort Read Free Book Online

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    “Rikar…don’t!” B’s voice came from far away, through a tunnel filled with blind rage and pinpoint focus. He understood the command, but couldn’t stop, not until the rogue lay broken, nothing but a bloody mess on the floor. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
    Rikar ignored the warning. Big mistake. B wasn’t a lightweight in a fight or anywhere else. He was commander of their pack for a reason. A growl rolled in behind him. The scramble came next: the scrape of heavy footfalls, the rush of oncoming air.
    Rikar didn’t slow. He had one shot. One chance to wrap his hands around the rogue’s throat and—
    He grunted as Bastian tackled him from behind. Strong arms cranked down hard, wrapped him up tight, body slamming him off balance. His feet left the floor.
    Oh, shit. He was airborne and headed for a hard landing.
    Twisting midfall, protecting his head, he collided with the floor shoulder-first. Pain knocked the air from his lungs as Bastian landed on top. Without mercy, his best friend sat on him, knees digging into his ribs, hands pressing him down as they slid toward the opposite wall. Rearing, Rikar let his elbow fly. A sick crack echoed as he connected, nailing Bastian in the side of the head. B hammered him back, making his cheek throb and his conscience sting.
    Good Christ. What the hell was he doing…hitting his best friend?
    The question made him hesitate. The split second was all his commander needed. Shifting right, B flipped him onto his stomach, pulling a quick grab-and-wind on his arm.
    “Get off me!” Pinned with his elbow folded back almost ninety degrees, Rikar bucked the hold. “Get the fuck—”
    “I’m sorry…I’m sorry, my brother, but I need him.” His chest pumping, each exhale coming on short bursts of frosty air, Bastian said, “Rikar, man, I need him.”
    Like a bomb detonating inside his head, the plea in B’s tone shredded him. Fuck. It wasn’t fair. None of it. Not the fact Forge would get a free pass for Angela’s abduction. Nor that his friend was right.
    His commander’s female would die if Forge didn’t explain Dragonkind’s ability to energy-fuse with a female. The rare bond B shared with Myst was sacred, so rare all knowledge of it had been lost over time. And like it or not, the SOB hailed from the Scottish pack—the only one who knew how the energy exchange worked…how it saw a female safely through pregnancy and birthing one of their kind.
    Rikar’s throat clogged, tightening with tears he refused to shed.
    He couldn’t stand it. Ivar. Lothair. It didn’t matter. Neither would show Angela any mercy and, as he planted his free hand, trying to dislodge Bastian, desperation went nuclear. The detonation stripped him bare, laid him low…made his chest ache and his heart hurt.
    Closing his eyes, Rikar stopped fighting. His bruised cheekbone throbbed as it touched down on the cold floor, and he rasped, “He’s hurting her, B. He’s hurting her and I can’t…Christ help me…but I can’t…”
    “Jesus…I’m sorry.” His voice rough with regret, Bastian eased his grip, then released him. Hitting his haunches beside him, Rikar accepted the warm, heavy weight of his best friend’s hand as it landed on his shoulder. The touch didn’t help or bring comfort. He was off the reservation, out in dangerous territory…the hell of the situation too much to bear. “Rikar…you’re the best tracker we have. You’ll find her. We’ll get her back, I promise, but—”
    Movement flashed, light glinting off the steel walls of the prison cell.
    “I wouldn’t advise it, Forge.” B’s hand stilled on the back of Rikar’s head. A heartbeat passed before his best friend glanced up, nailing the rogue with a glare. “Stay put. Or I’ll blow the collar and your head off.”
    The threat stopped Forge cold. Upper lip curled off his teeth, he paced away, putting the width of the room between them.
    “Ven?” Soft and low, Bastian’s tone said it all. He wanted