Fury of Fate: A Dragonfury Short Story Page 5

  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 through. Ivar shut it down, and refusing to turn away, slipped his other hand between her and the seat cushions. Fingers spread wide, he palmed her lower back, then dipped his head, and pressed his cheek to hers. She murmured his name. He whispered back, telling her it was all right as the Meridian hummed, opening the cosmic connection, allowing him to link into her life-force. Unable to resist, he drank in the way of his kind, drawing nourishing energy from her into his core. Hunger surged, clawing past reason as his dragon half rose. Magic whiplashed, surging through his veins and...oh God. She tasted good. So damned good. Better than any female he’d ever—

  A snarl broke free, bubbling up his throat.

  Sasha moaned in answer. With a quick shift, she buried her hands in his hair. Sensation spiked. The current amplified, immobilizing him as she connected to the Meridian through him. The powerful force that fed Dragonkind flexed. Energy detonated like a bomb, blasting him with cosmic debris. Pain burned beneath the surface of his skin. Heart throbbing, Ivar tried to break free. To push her away and sever the connection. Sasha tightened her grip, and turning the tables, used the Meridian against him, subduing his dragon half. Paralyzed now, unable to let go, his vision tunneled, then flickered, flaring bright, blinking off, spinning him around the lip of sensory overload.

  His mind fogged, then went sideways inside his head. The mental slosh slowed his reaction as air rushed from his lungs, cutting off his oxygen supply. Deprivation set in, triggering his gag reflex. His stomach dipped. Bile washed into his mouth. Ignoring the awful taste, Ivar fought physical lockdown, struggling to disengage without hurting her, but...sweet Jesus. She was taking too much. Was draining his core energy while obliterating his ability to fight back. Something he needed to change. Faster than fast. Otherwise, she would kill him...

  In her fucking sleep.

  Gritting his teeth, Ivar forced his muscles to unlock. Pain lashed him again. He kept going, fighting to break her hold on him. Non-contact. A serious amount of separation. It was the only way to combat the energy rush and ensure his survival. Body straining, shaking like a drug addict in withdrawal, he wrenched his hands from her skin. The current downgraded, then snapped, freeing him from the magical tether.

  Sasha grumbled in protest.

  Ivar didn’t care. Breathing like a wounded race horse, he shoved away from the couch and backpedaled. He slammed into the armchair. Wooded legs skittered across the floor as he tripped over his own feet, careened into the kitchen, and scrambled toward the door. He didn’t look back. Didn’t stop for his clothes. Or search for his boots. Only one thing mattered. Freedom. He needed to get the hell away from Sasha. Away from sensory overload. Away from the mind-torque of cosmic connection.

  Away from the compulsion he felt to return to her.

  Sick to his stomach, Ivar stumbled over the threshold. The door clicked behind him. Cold air slapped at him as he staggered across the porch. Off balance, he lost his footing and fell down the steps. Wooden stair treads hammered his back, scraping a bloody trail across his skin. He landed at the bottom with a bone-jarring thud, and with a grunt, struggled to his feet. His knees buckled and...goddamn it. She’d sucked him dry. Now nothing was working right. His body had gone haywire, messing with his coordination, hampering vital function. God, he couldn’t even see straight. Legs acting like wet noodles, he dragged himself across the yard, past the stupid Jeep, and onto the road.

  Sharp stones cut into his bare soles.

  Ivar barely noticed. So close. He was so close now. Less than one hundred yards away from the firehouse and the safety of home. All he needed to do was hold on a little longer.

  Seeing double, Ivar hobbled toward 28 Walton Street. A trio of industrial-size garage doors came into view. Squinting, he focused on the ordinary entrance between the last two. Stumbling beneath the overhang, he reached for the knob. His hand slipped off cold steel. With a curse, he tried again and caught metal. A sharp twist. A quick shove, and the wooden panel opened wide. Ivar staggered inside, swung the door closed behind him, and collapsed on the concrete floor. Teeth chattering, he rolled belly-up, and swallowing the bad taste in his mouth, let his eyes drift shut, and—

  Thank God. He was safe and...all right, not quite undamaged. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Alive, after all, was better than dead, so...yeah. Lesson learned. No more sex with the gorgeous blonde down the street. Memory of him intact or not, Sasha was now off limits. For all time. No way would he make the same mistake twice. Or give her another opportunity to link in and drain him dry.

  ***

  Coming awake in a flurry of movement, Sasha popped upright on the sofa. Afghan slung over her shoulders, she bounced on the edge of the seat cushion, and flipping the hair out of her eyes, looked around. Sunlight streamed through the living room window, blinding her a moment before she surged to her feet. Her bare soles landed with a thump on the area rug. The solid sound echoed in the quiet. Stretching her arms overhead, Sasha hummed. Man, she felt amazing this morning. Supercharged. Positively electric as though she’d been plugged in overnight.

  The strange buzz pricked the nape of her neck, then spread, washing over the tops of her shoulders. Her skin came alive in a wash of goose bumps. Shaking off the super-willy, she tossed aside the crocheted throw, stepped around the coffee table and—

  Stubbed her toe on something.

  Sasha glanced down, then blinked. A steel-toed boot, big, black as lethal looking as the man who owed it. Following the trail of clothing, she took in the jeans slung over the back of the armchair. Her gaze settled on the leather jacket beneath the denim, then ping-ponged to the heap of white cotton crumpled on the floor next to it. Her mouth tipped up at the corners. Ivar. He was still here...somewhere. She scanned the kitchen, taking in the bank of cabinets beyond the breakfast bar. Nope. Not there. Stepping toward the chair, she scooped his T-shirt off the hardwood and pressed it to her nose. His scent enveloped her, making her sigh and feel stupid at the same time.

  Breathing him in was such a girly thing to do, but she couldn’t help herself.

  She liked the way he smelled—fresh and clean, all male with more than his fair share of the exotic. She hummed again. Yum. Oh, so good. Calvin Klein cologne had nothing on him. Sasha huffed. Another idiotic thought, but after the night he’d given her—and all the pleasure—she was entitled to a little sappiness. A truckload of satisfaction too. Maybe even another round, considering he’d stuck around ’til morning.

  Jazzed by the possibility, Sasha tugged his shirt over her head. Soft cotton brushed the tops of her thighs as she made an abrupt turn and headed for the double-wide hallway connected to the living room. Her bedroom lay beyond, along with a pint-sized bathroom that boasted a deep claw-foot tub, fancy candles and expensive bath salts. A lover’s playground. Not that sh
e’d ever considered it that way before. But with Ivar in the mix, the space took on new dimension. Biting the inside of her lip, Sasha stifled a moan. Oh mercy, the possibilities. She could have so much fun with him, hot water and...heaven help her...scented oil.

  Anticipation curled in the pit of her stomach.

  Her heart picked up a beat, thumping hard as she stopped in the corridor outside the bathroom. The door stood ajar, the edge an inch away from the jamb. Sasha raised her hand, then hesitated, a little unsure. Should she knock or wait? Despite the intimacy they’d shared, she didn’t know. Wasn’t familiar enough with the male psyche to determine whether disturbing him constituted a breech in one night stand protocol. Hand hovering in mid-air, she debated a moment, then...

  Ah, screw it. Forget right and wrong. He’d already broken the rules by staying. She rapped her knuckles against the wood.

  No answer. She frowned. “Ivar?”

  Nothing. Not a peep. No sound at all, making her aware of the absolute stillness in the house. The deafening quiet too. Which was well...a touch eerie. Peaking around the jamb, Sasha pushed on the panel with her fingertips. Hinges whispered as the door swung wide. Big tub with the shower curtain pulled back. Stand alone sink with an antique mirror mounted above it. Colorful stained glass window aglow in sunlight. No Ivar in sight. Turning on her heel, she crossed the hall and entered her bedroom.

  Empty. Nobody there either.

  Doing a one-eighty, Sasha returned to the living room. Feet pitter-pattering on the hardwood floor, she scanned the space again. Weird. Clothes scattered hither and yon, but otherwise everything was in its place. Well, other than the chair. Shoved to one side, it pointed toward the front door. Her gaze narrowed on the entryway. Rug askew, door unlocked, and slightly ajar. Alarm skittered down her spine. Jogging past the peninsula, Sasha reached the door, pushed it all the way closed, and flipped the deadbolt.

  “Crap,” she whispered, realizing Ivar was gone.

  Gone. Like a naked thief in the night.

  Her brows collided. What the hell? He’d left without his clothes. Talk about strange and...jeez. Who did that kind of thing anyway, just took off without a word or a stitch on? Incomprehension slammed through her. The impact stunned her for a moment before concern slithered deep, and her imagination went wild. Had something terrible happened to Ivar? Had she slept through it? Had someone broken into the house and...oh God. Her heart shuddered, kicking the inside of her chest as she stepped into the kitchen. Reaching out, she snatched her cell phone off the countertop. The quick movement sent Ivar’s sunglasses spinning into her purse. Ignoring both, she touched the screen and...

  Froze, thumb poised above the keypad.

  Calling the police probably wasn’t the best idea. Not until she possessed all the facts. Forcing herself to think, Sasha glanced around and frowned. Odd, but as she took in the scene instinct rose, telling her to put the phone down. No cops necessary. There wasn’t anything to report. Ivar was unhurt. How did she know? Sasha didn’t have a clue. But as her heartbeat stabilized, the buzz in her veins settled into certainty. Sure, she might not know where he’d gone—or why he’d abandoned his clothes—but she knew...just knew...he was all right. Which meant...

  The one night stand was officially over.

  The realization tightened her throat. Sasha swallowed hard and buried her reaction beneath a pile of pragmatism. Waking up alone was for the best. Yup. No doubt. The night was over. Completely done. Finish the chapter and close the book. She’d gotten what she wanted. Generous to a fault, Ivar had given her all she needed so...right. End of story. But even as Sasha set her phone back on the counter and told herself to let it go, an errant thought drifted through her mind, making her wonder if she would ever see him again.

  A Note from the Author

  Thank you for reading Fury of Fate. If you enjoyed this Dragonfury short story, I’d appreciate it if you’d help others find it so they can enjoy it too.

  • Recommend it: Please share Fury of Fate with friends, readers’ groups, and discussion boards.

  • Review it: Let other readers know what you liked or didn’t like about Fury of Fate.

  • Lend it: This e-book is lending-enabled, so feel free to share it with your friends.

  If you’d like to sign up for Coreene’s newsletter to receive new release information, please visit: http://bit.ly/1fnnskF

  You can follow Coreene Callahan on Facebook or on Twitter under @coreenecallahan.

  Book updates can be found at www.CoreeneCallahan.com

  About The Author

  Photo by 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, Knight Awakened and Warrior’s Revenge. She lives in Canada with her family, a spirited golden retriever, and her wild imaginary world.

  Fun Facts

  - Favorite food – Breakfast for dinner (I love a good omelet!)

  - Favorite dessert – anything chocolate

  - Favorite vacation spot – Family cottage on the lake

  - Favorite movie – The Shawshank Redemption & The Bourne Identity

  - Favorite snack – chocolate covered almonds

  - Favorite time to write – Early morning (think 5 AM!)

  - Guilty pleasure – Alone time on the lake. Kayaking or canoeing is one of my favorite things to do.

  - Dream job – I’m doing it...writing stories for a living.

  - Something no one knows about you – I’ve been a tom-boy all my life, but also have an impressive collection of high heel shoes!

  Also By Coreene Callahan

  The Dragonfury Novels:

  Fury of Fire

  Fury of Ice

  Fury of Seduction

  Fury of Desire

  The Circle of Seven Series:

  Knight Awakened

  Knight Avenged

  Warriors of the Realm Series:

  Warrior’s Revenge

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, please direct your correspondence to:

  The Story Vault

  c/o Marketing Department

  364 Patteson Drive, #228

  Morgantown, WV 26505-3202

  FURY OF FATE

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2014 by Coreene Callahan

  www.coreenecallahan.com/

  Cover Design by Kelly Crimi

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  Published by The Story Vault

  Website: www.thestoryvault.com

 

 

 
ilter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share