Fury of Fate: A Dragonfury Short Story by Coreene Callahan Read Free Book Online Page B

counted.
    He didn’t do emotion. Not in the traditional sense anyway. Closed off from the world, he’d thought himself immune, far removed from matters of the heart. With her, though, he couldn’t stem the tide of tenderness. She touched him in ways he didn’t understand. He enjoyed her wit. Liked her feistiness and that she stood her ground. Whenever he pushed, she shoved back, putting him in his place, refusing to tolerate disrespect, making him aware he didn’t want to show her any. Another revelation. One of many firsts tonight. Hell, he held a whole mitt-full at the moment, all the novel things she made him feel. The most startling one still surprised him. Gratefulness. He was so damned thankful she’d invited him in, allowed him into her home, into her arms and body, treating him like a normal male.
    Him ...a male most women avoided like the plague.
    To be expected. He wasn’t anyone’s idea of a nice guy. His track record spoke volumes. History and circumstance had shaped him, dictating the path, honing his skills, making him into who he needed to be in order to survive. But here , right now, with her in his arms, Ivar wanted to be something else. Something more. A better male even though he knew it would come back to bite him. The certainty of it made him cringe. Yet even as he acknowledged what must be done, Ivar refused to do it. He couldn’t kill her to cover his tracks. Couldn’t do what he’d done to so many others—use his magic to drain her energy, the essence of her life-force—and live with himself afterward. His conscience, long quiet, but obviously alive, wouldn’t let him.
    Not after all she’d given him tonight.
    Trailing his fingers over her jaw, he changed course to caress the curve of her cheek. Her eyelashes flickered, but she didn’t wake. Exhausted from his loving, Sasha remained deep in slumber, recovering from his possession, all the pleasure he’d lavished on her in the wee hours. Every ounce he’d taken too. But it was over now and—
    A pang echoed behind his breastbone.
    The heaviness returned, making his chest ache. Ivar sighed, and caressing Sasha one last time, slid his arms from around her. Time to go. He couldn’t stay. The sun was almost up. Ten minutes tops, and dawn would arrive, leaving him vulnerable. At the mercy of deadly ultra-violet rays. Sasha wouldn’t understand the weakness that kept him inside during the day. Nor did he plan on sticking around to explain it. The less she knew about his lineage—and Dragonkind—the safer she would be, so...yeah. Enough with the sap routine. Mourning the end of the night, and the loss of her, wasn’t his style.
    Hit hard. Leave fast. His motto, and exactly the way he liked to operate.
    Which meant he needed to put his ass in gear—get up, grab his clothes, and head for the door. Right now. Before she woke up and waylaid him. Before the sun crested the horizon. Before he got trapped inside with a female he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave. But as he disengaged without waking her and rolled free, Ivar paused. Bare feet planted next to the couch, he frowned, wondering if he should mind-scrub her before he left. He pursed his lips. Probably. Adjusting her memory of the night would ensure a number of things—his safety along with hers...Dragonkind’s continued anonymity in the human world. A win-win for everyone. And yet, even knowing it was necessary, he didn’t want to invade her mind.
    “Fucking hell,” he muttered in resignation.
    He needed to take her memory of him. No other option existed. Not if he wanted to get away scot-free. Hitting one knee, he knelt alongside her. Gaze riveted to her face, Ivar reached out and cupped the side of her neck. Soft skin caressed his fingertips, making his heart thump and his conscience squawk.
    “I’m sorry, Sasha. Forgive me, kitten.”
    The sound of his voice made her shift on the couch.
    A furrow between her brows, still fast asleep, she turned toward him. Regret punched