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  Bastian lowered his head until his mouth brushed Myst’s ear. He kept his voice low, more vibration than actual sound, and said, “Relax, Myst…you’re safe with me. Take a deep breath.”

  Air caught, hitching in the back of her throat as she tried to do as he asked. It didn’t go well. She was strung too tight, panic locking her lungs into spasm.

  “In through your nose, out through your mouth…come on, baby. Listen to my voice, feel the release.” Keeping his tone soft and steady, Bastian kept talking as he found the pressure point at the base of her skull. He rotated his thumb, massaged in gentle circles, hesitating, not wanting to do it. He shouldn’t be touching her, not like this, without her understanding or consent.

  In the kitchen, he’d been unable to help himself, had taken a sip and sampled her energy…and God. She was delicious, so sweet that arousal hit him like a brick house. The head below his waist had a mind of its own, was still complaining, wanting inside her with an insistence the circumstances didn’t warrant.

  Jesus, he was sick. She was scared out of her mind, and he was turned on.

  What did that say about him? That he was a deranged fuck? Or that he hadn’t fed in far too long?

  Probably a little of both, but he couldn’t worry about either now. Rikar wouldn’t wait much longer.

  Myst took another choppy breath and, with a silent curse, Bastian slipped his free hand under the hem of her green hospital scrubs. His palm settled on the small of her back. He spread his fingers wide, touching as much of her as he could reach, and nearly came in his leathers.

  Oh, man, she was good, her skin the softest he’d ever touched.

  Shifting her so he wouldn’t crush the infant, he set his mouth to her temple, breathed her in, losing himself in her scent. Connected at three junctions—nape, lower back and temple—he tapped into Meridian. White hot, potent, energy surged, flowing through her into him. Bastian bit down on a groan. God, that was unbelievable. Delicious in a way that defied description.

  He only meant to soothe her: to drain the excess, bank her energy to keep her hidden, ensure her safety, but…Jesus. He was starving, so empty inside he couldn’t control the hunger. It was too powerful, and Myst was too good. He needed more than just another sip.

  With a growl, Bastian let his baser needs take over. Guilt was nothing but an echo now—something to endure later when compulsion subsided and reason returned. Hunger overwhelmed him and, senses wide open, he pulled the white-hot energy she possessed out of her body and into his own. She hummed, the sound one of pleasure and relief as Bastian drank, mouth traveling across her cheek to her neck. Flicking his tongue across her pulse point, he took her in, damning himself with the incredible taste of her skin.

  When she sagged, he capped the flow and lifted his head, so full his fingertips tingled. A violent shudder rolled through him and, dipping his chin again, he brushed the corner of her mouth with his own. The kiss could barely be called one; the simple touch nothing more than a gentle pass, a small thank you for what she had unknowingly given him.

  She sighed. “I feel better now.”

  “Good,” he murmured, forcing his hand from beneath her shirt. Continuing to touch her wasn’t doing him any favors. It made him want to strip her down and take the sex he craved. The thought made Bastian back the hell up, putting space between them as he helped her sit up. She swayed. He steadied her, gripping her elbows, supporting her until she gained her balance. “Do something for me?”

  Myst blinked, coming out of the feeding-induced fog a little at a time. As her vision cleared, her pupils contracted, and he felt her mind sharpen. She looked right through him, reading his intent. “D-don’t go.”

  Her entreaty turned him inside out.

  Holy shit. How did she do that? Two words—simple, non-threatening, and under different circumstances? Crazy appealing. Two words, that’s all. And now, he was waffling, ready to wrap her hard against him and retreat to some place private…somewhere safe where he could lay her down.

  Exhaling hard, Bastian forced his lungs to unlock. He needed to keep her the hell out of his head and stay in the game. Not wanting to leave her didn’t mean he could stay. “Myst, I need you to stay here. I won’t be gone long.”

  Balling her hand in his leather coat, she shook her head. The movement was small, tight…still desperate despite the energy drain. The new spike in her anxiety moved through him until he tasted it on the back of his tongue.

  Swallowing the bitter tang, he murmured, “Myst—”

  “I saw that t-thing. Don’t leave us alone.”

  Bastian almost growled. Thing. She’d called his race a “thing.” Like he and his kind were no better than the monsters children feared lived under their beds or the nasty predators humans recoiled from in movie theaters. It shouldn’t bother him—her reaction was a natural one—but it did. More than he wanted to admit.

  “Bellmia, listen to me.”

  Myst held his gaze. The desperation in her eyes almost killed him. “I’ll go with you…follow behind. I can—”

  He cupped her cheek, cutting her off. “No. I need to draw them away from you and the baby. Do as I say. Dig in. Stay here. They can’t see you…won’t be able to track you. The cloaking spell will hold as long as you don’t move. Understand?”

  “No.”

  Well, at least she was honest. He couldn’t fault her for that. Was too taken with her to be anything but proud. Tracing her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, he whispered, “Hang tough, baby. I’ll come back for you.”

  “Bastian…” she trailed off as he shuffled backward, taking his hands from her. She clutched at him. “No.”

  “You’ll be all right.” With a gentle twist, he broke her hold and shifted out of range. If she grabbed him again, he wouldn’t be able to leave. “Stay here. Trust me to keep you safe.”

  Without a backward glance, he shut out the hitch of her breath, the sound and smell of her fear, and keeping low, moved around the Buick’s rusted-out rear bumper. “Rikar…I’m on the move.”

  “About fucking time.”

  “I’m going in hot. Deal with the back end.”

  Rikar hoorahed as he broke through the three-mile barrier, allowing the Razorbacks to detect him. The enemy’s focus spilt, half on his first in command, half on him, as Bastian shifted into dragon form. Baring his fangs, he roared and, ignoring Myst’s cry of “Oh, God,” he hammered Shit-for-brains in the backyard with an electro-pulse. As much as Rikar liked to razz him about it, Bastian didn’t breathe fire. His magic was more lethal than that, a wicked blue ball of energy combined with poisonous gas—more lightning strike with the added flare of a psychochemical agent.

  Yeah, he was a one-man/dragon show. A regular chemical warfare specialist.

  Shit-for-brains sucked wind as the blast picked him up and threw him backward into the forest. Tree trunks gave way like toothpicks, the crack of wood deafening as the enemy dragon smashed through them, traveling thirty feet into the underbrush. His eyes on the target, Bastian waited for the rogue to get up. He hoped he did, wanted to deliver another nasty exhale for the idiot to choke on. Instead, the rogue turned belly-up. Paws in the air, the dragon twitched into a full body spasm as Bastian’s brand of poison went to work on his central nervous system.

  Bastian snorted. So much for bright and shiny hope, never mind the satisfaction of a good fight.

  Cold air stirred above him.

  Rolling right, Bastian ducked under another set of enemy claws. His razor-sharp tail collided with the Cape Cod, slicing through the two columns supporting the front porch. With a groan, the narrow strip of roof slumped, collapsing over the cedar door. The new threat swung around, purple scales flashing, keen for another go at him. The dumb ass. What did he think? That an aerial assault gave him the advantage in a firefight?

  Bastian almost shook his head. He bared his teeth instead, shifting to face the dragon head-on.

  Warrior-honed patience kicked in and, crouched like a cat, he wa
ited for the rogue to reach him. A split second before the enemy struck, Bastian leapt skyward, twisting in midair. His talons caught and held as he grabbed Dumb-ass’s spade-shaped tail. Muscles along his side pulled, protesting the stretch as he yanked, dragging the Razorback out of the air. Bastian’s paws hit the ground with a thump. Dumb-ass went down hard, wings tangled, horned head buried beneath a pile of earth.

  Not wasting a second, Bastian spun and brought his spiked tail down, thumping the rogue’s skull. A sickening crack went off like a bomb, shredding the air. Yeah, Dumb-ass was down for the count—a healthy helping of skull fracture with a side order of brain hemorrhaging.

  All right. Two down, three to go, though, Shit-for-brains was on the move again, tossing enormous pine trees like pick-up sticks as he struggled to get up.

  Rikar came in like a viper, hot on the tail of another Razorback. Red scales flashing in the low light, the enemy dragon was in full panic mode. Bastian didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want Rikar on his ass, either.

  Breathing out, his friend iced up the younger dragon’s wings, sending him into free fall. The rogue collided with the ground like a derailing freight train, ripping up the front lawn as he left a huge trench behind him. Bastian jumped back to avoid getting hit as he skidded by, jostling the beat-up Buick with his hind leg.

  Movement flashed in his periphery. Blond hair and green scrubs came into focus seconds later. Bastian growled and shifted, shielding Myst as she made a mad dash toward the hatchback sitting undamaged beside an old tractor.

  The cloaking spell gave way, dispersing like vapor into thin air.

  Fantastic. Just what he needed: a renegade female who couldn’t follow orders.

  Bastian killed the urge to pick her up and paddle her behind. Teaching her a lesson would have to wait. He didn’t have time now. Shit-for-brains was back on all four paws, his gaze narrowed and locked on Myst.

  Chapter Five

  Myst took off as though she’d been shot from a cannon: the newborn a warm weight in her arms, the Lord’s Prayer on her lips. The baby hampered her, messing with her speed, but she refused to leave him behind. No matter what happened, she would protect the precious bundle she carried.

  At all costs.

  Caroline had died so he could live. And dragons or no dragons, the vow she’d made to her dying patient stood for something. Meant more to her than self-preservation.

  That left one choice. Run and pray.

  Air rasping in her chest, the words fell in a messy tumble. “Our Lord who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

  She mouthed the rest, knowing God would understand.

  Head low, knees pumping, arms sheltering her angel, she kept her eyes on the prize. Her keys were in the center console of her car. All she needed to do was reach them. She visualized her escape…imagined sliding the key into the ignition and her smooth getaway. Time slowed down, the scene coming to her in distorted waves, like sound through water: the black smoke, the chill tinged with the scent of burning rubber, the slide of grass underneath her shoes.

  Fifteen more feet. Now ten. Please God, let me make it. Help me keep him safe.

  “Fuck.” The growl came from behind her, a little off to one side.

  Oh, no. No. No. No. Bastian had spotted her and locked on like a laser beam.

  A sob caught in the back of her throat. She pushed herself harder, held the baby with one arm and pumped the other to help her run faster. Air sawed in and out of her chest. The relentless burn hurt like hell but she didn’t stop. No way would she make it easy for him. If he thought that she would turtle, roll up and die, then he was in for a nasty surprise.

  He’d betrayed her. Had told her to trust him, but…

  He wasn’t trustworthy. Bastian was one of them. A monster with claws and fangs, the stuff of nightmares.

  Myst skidded around the end of her car. Both feet churning up gravel, she grabbed the back bumper and pulled, helping herself change direction as she zeroed in on the driver’s side door. Just another few feet and—

  An ominous hiss snaked through the air, turning into an unnatural roar. Her hand clamped on the door handle. She looked up into yellow eyes with narrowed pupils. Brown with a single jagged horn in the center of its forehead, the dragon snarled at her and drew a lungful of air past razor-sharp teeth. Struck stupid, Myst froze and watched as a glowing orange ball gathered at the back of his throat.

  Oh, God. Fire.

  “Myst, run!” Bastian’s voice came through loud and clear, but Myst couldn’t move. She was locked into yellow eyes, her legs the consistency of Jell-O. “Shit! Rikar!”

  A cold wind blew in. The autumn air went murky, a cloud of frost and mist on the verge of snow. The icy fog billowed over the hood of her car, settling around her like an Arctic blanket, but it was too late. She could already feel the heat and hear the hungry roar of the inferno as the fireball gathered speed. It was going to eat her alive, leave nothing but ash in its wake, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Despite her promise, she turtled, curling herself around the newborn. The broken “Sorry” she whispered to him wasn’t enough, but somehow needed to be. She’d tried so hard to save him, and now they were both going to die.

  Painfully. Horribly. Without a lick of—

  A wall of ice exploded around her, rising in a U-shaped barrier in front of her car. Thick and unbelievably tall, the barricade shuddered as the fireball hit with a boom, throwing her backward. Steam blew sky-high, raining ice chips in a spectacular fountain of cold water. The hiss and crackle clawed at the ice, digging to reach her.

  Distorted by melting glacier, she watched Bastian take off. A streak of midnight blue, he tackled the fire-breathing dragon. Two shadows rolled end over end, almost indistinguishable from one another in the moonlight. Dark blue landed on top, claws embedded in brown scales.

  His green eyes flashed, reaching her through the darkness. “Myst, get out of here!”

  She followed the command without question: no hesitation, no “oh, my God” ringing inside her head. She was blank, rung out, too scared to do anything but listen.

  Frost scraped the skin off her palm as she yanked the car door open. Not feeling the pain, she grabbed her keys, jammed the correct one home, and threw her car into gear. Without looking back—without hearing the roars and rip of claws—she put the gas pedal to the floor and, pulling a Mario Andretti, sped down the driveway, the back end of her car leading the way.

  The pine trees at the edge of the forest were on fire, throwing billows of smoke into the night sky. Bastian raised his head and stepped off Shit-for-brains’s chest. Torn wide open, the enemy’s throat was a twisted tangle of flesh, carotid artery exposed and gushing red-black blood. The rogue wouldn’t live much longer. Like all of Dragonkind, he would check out in a pile of ash the second his heart stopped beating.

  It was now or never.

  Ignoring the injury, Bastian angled his horned head, getting up close and personal to make eye contact. “Where is Ivar hiding?”

  Leader of the Razorbacks, Ivar was as ruthless as he was cunning. A treacherous opponent. One Bastian wanted to kill so badly the taste sat like rotten meat on the back of his tongue. Nothing washed the brutal tang away: not food nor drink nor sex. The thirst to spill Ivar’s blood tainted everything he did.

  Slippery as an eel, Ivar evaded death like a suicidal maniac avoided life. After a century of fighting, Bastian still hadn’t managed to destroy him, to cut the head off the rogue organization. It didn’t help that Ivar orchestrated from the sidelines. This time, though, was different. The asshole was doing more than playing armchair quarterback. He’d deliberately gone underground. Not a good sign. The enemy leader was up to something…with potentially catastrophic consequences.

  “Fuck…you…Bastard,” the Razorback gasped, pain in his slitted yellow gaze.

  “Clever.” Bastian wanted to roll his eyes at the play on his name. He pressed down on the dying Razorback’s broken leg instead,
using pain as incentive to make him talk. “Where is he?”

  “Pretty…female, you got…there.” Coughing up more blood, he wheezed, “Do you…think…Ivar will enjoy…fucking her?”

  “Wrong answer,” Bastian said, the threat to Myst making his voice almost melodic. Anyone who knew him well knew the soft tone was a dangerous one. When he got angry, he got quiet. And when he got quiet, things died.

  With a snarl, he took hold of the Razorback’s skull and twisted. Bones snapped. Between one heartbeat and the next, Shit-for-brains ashed, burnt scales and dragon blood turning to dust.

  “Effective, if less than smart,” Rikar murmured, landing behind him. His friend stumbled a little on impact, hopping to keep his weight off his front leg. “He might have told us something.”

  “Unlikely.” Bastian eyed the gash on his friend’s right forepaw. The wound ran in a diagonal, up his leg, oozing blood on white scales. “You all right?”

  “Peachy.”

  “Body count?”

  Rikar’s gaze flickered before straying to the wall of ice still standing in the front yard. Bastian knew what he was thinking. If not for the barrier, Myst would be among the dead.

  A tight knot tied itself in the center of Bastian’s chest. “Rikar, man, thank—”

  “Forget it,” his friend said, shutting down his appreciation. The brush-off didn’t bother Bastian. He knew his first in command well. Rikar wasn’t comfortable with recognition…of any kind.

  “Let’s have it, then.”

  His gaze still on the fire-blackened hole in his wall, Rikar’s magic rose as he drew the glacial cold back into himself. Like steam in dry air, the ice wall dissolved, leaving nothing but a U-shaped impression in the dirt. “Four dead. One flew the coop.”

  Shit. He’d hoped to avoid that. The retreating Razorback would run straight to Ivar and give his report. The first thing on that list would be Myst. Bastian clenched his teeth, grinding upper fangs against lower. He’d just put a huge bull’s eye on her back. Not that it was the end of the world. She would, after all, be coming with him to Black Diamond. His lair was now her home.