Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5) (23 page)

Perfect. Fewer humans to avoid while he went about his work.

The click of computer keys sounded to his right.

His gaze snapped in that direction. A nurses’ station. Three females, surgical masks in place, worked behind the high counter. Movements frantic, one entered data into the computer. The other two shuffled paperwork, stuffing file folders, looking harried an
d . . .
yeah. His mouth curved. More than a touch afraid. Excellent. Right on time. He’d come to the right spot. Now all he needed to do was locate the infected patients.

Gathering a stack of files, a nurse stepped out from behind the counter. “I’ll get these to the second floor.”

Computer nurse glanced away from the screen. “Don’t go into the quarantine area, Becky. Hand them off to a hazmat suit and get back here.”

“Will do.” Rubber soles squeaking, she pivoted and hightailed it down the hall.

Gaze glued to her back, Ivar followed. No sense wasting a golden opportunity. The female knew the layout, the fastest way into the quarantine area too. Hugging the files to her chest, she turned down another corridor and stopped in front of a bank of elevators. Hidden by magic, he set up shop at her back. He ran his gaze over her curves from behind. Kind of petite, a whole lot nervous. He smelled her fear. It permeated the air around her, rising to tease his senses. And yet she hit the “Up” button anyway, moving toward danger instead of away.

Curious in many ways. Brave in others.

Most humans would’ve run. Been long gone by now in the hopes of saving their own skin. Not that it mattered now.

She was already infected.

Dragon senses up and running, he registered the sickness in her blood. Twelve hours at most, and the nurse would succumb, become il
l . . .
be in need of the same kind of medical attention she gave others every day. She fidgeted in front of him. A small cough emerged from her throat. Compassion for her eventual suffering tightened his chest. Ivar smothered a grimace. Well, hell. That wasn’t a good sign. He shouldn’t be feeling anything but triumph. But as she coughed again and pressed the button a second time, trying to hurry the elevator along, his conviction wavered. He sighed. Poor human. She’d been caught in the crossfire tonight. And honestly, he felt bad for her. More than a little guilty too. It wasn’t her fault humankind couldn’t get its act together.

Or that her race killed the planet bit by bit every day.

The elevator pinged. Double doors slid open. The nurse stepped inside.

Ivar hesitated. Shit. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t share space with a female dying from a superbug he’d created. It seemed disrespectful somehow. So instead of getting in with her, he let the doors close and turned toward a door labeled “Stairs.” A hard shove opened it. He entered the stairwell. Cinder-block walls rose on his left as he took the concrete treads two at a time. Within seconds, he stood on the landing to the second floor. Cranking the door open, he crossed the threshold into a corridor.

A man in a hazmat suit walked toward the end of the hall. Toward a door with a sign that read “Quarantine Area. Do Not Enter.”

Ivar jogged past the dummy dressed in plastic. Powering up his magic, he bypassed the security and strode into the restricted area. The scent of antiseptic hand soap nailed him first. The smell of blood registered next. His nose twitched an instant before his other senses came online. Medical machines beeped. Paper rustled, IV bags crackled in nurses’ hands, and shoe soles squeaked on the industrial-grade floor. Humans moaned, pleading for mercy, as medical staff—suited up in protective gear—tried to help. Desolation hung in the air. Organized chaos too, the kind that hinted at panic.

And no relief.

Jesus. What a mess. The kind he’d hoped to create, but hadn’t really expected.

Moving farther down the hall, Ivar peeked into the room on his right. Four beds lined the back wall, all occupied by sick humans. Curtains drawn. Blue blankets pulled up beneath each chin. IV bags hung from metal poles, delivering fluids, maybe even antibiotics, to each patient. Taking a fortifying breath, he walked into the devastation. No time like the present. He had work to do. Forty minutes and counting before Hamersveld got his fill and came up for air.

Centering himself, Ivar settled into the cradle of discovery—where the scientist in him lived and compassion failed to exist. Ignoring requests for help, he pushed the sight of suffering from his mind.
Stay calm. Remain aloof. Forget the pain
. He repeated each phrase over and over as he made the rounds and collected samples from each patient. Magic rising, he stored each blood-filled test tube inside his mental vault to pull from late
r . . .
when he returned to his lab. Room after room. Patient after patient. Infection rate consistent, symptoms all the same.

High fever. Pustules full of poison. Eventual respiratory failure.

Effective killers, but as he stepped into the fourth room, Ivar started to worry. Something was wrong. Very, very
wrong
. Halfway through the sample pool, and he hadn’t encountered an infected male. Not a single one. Every patient he sampled was female.

Sixteen for sixteen. All
females
, for fuck’s sake.

Unease ghosted down his spine.

Alarm arrived next, throbbing inside his head. Feet planted beside a hospital bed, Ivar stared down at the middle-aged female occupying it. Hooked up to oxygen, hours from death, she struggled to breathe. He frowned. The results didn’t make sense. No way could his findings be right. Disease didn’t discriminate. Viruses attacked in even ratios. Gender was never a deciding factor in infection. And yet, the quarantine area didn’t lie. Neither did the samples.

Someho
w . . .
some wa
y . . .
he’d miscalculated.

Ivar shook his head. Perhaps he’d added the wrong biotoxin to the viral load. Maybe he’d oversynthesized the superbug. Could be a problem with the delivery system too. Maybe infecting humans via water hadn’t been the best idea. So many possibilities. Too many to run down. The facts, however, couldn’t be disputed. His experiment had gone wrong. Now females bore the brunt, dying, while human males remained untouched.

“Fuck,” he murmured as the ramifications hit him.

If allowed to incubate, his superbug would kill females the world over—and eliminate Dragonkind’s only way of connecting to the Meridian. His chest went tight. Fear slithered in as he imagined the worst. Ivar shook his head. Only one conclusion to draw. He needed to kill his bug. Right now. Before it spread to larger populations and became unstoppable. The second it jumped from Granite Falls and Arlington to other communities, it would be too late.

Forget the eventual extinction of the human race.

It was much more serious than that.

Dragonkind needed human females. Without the fairer sex, none would be able to connect to the Meridian—to feed and draw the life-sustaining nourishment his kind required to stay strong and healthy. Starvation would follow. Suffering on a grand scale. A horrible withering of mind and body that would ensure Dragonkind perished alongside the human race.

Heart thumping, Ivar spun away from the bed and headed for the door. He needed to yank Hamersveld’s chain and get back to his lab. Sooner than soon. The faster he synthesized the blood samples, the quicker he could create a targeted antivirus. The human doctors would need it. No way any of the idiots would figure out the correct sequencing on their own—one capable of killing his superbug in time.

The thought cranked him tight.

Panic turned the screw.

Footfalls echoing, Ivar ran into the corridor. The door to the stairs loomed at the end of the hall. He pivoted toward the exit and upped the pace. Dodging a cart full of medical supplies, he slipped past a nurse, avoided another walking hazmat suit and—

Soft green light bled into the hallway.

An unfamiliar buzz tweaked his temples, making him pause mid-stride. He frowned and, skirting a male pushing a gurney, slid to a stop in front of an open doorway. His sonar pinged. His gaze narrowed on the pair of humans standing beside a lone hospital bed. One male, short, balding, rotund form wrapped in a doctor’s coat. He frowned. No threat there. His attention snapped to the other occupant in the room an
d . . .

His breath caught, stalling in the back of his throat.

Fucking hell. A high-energy female, bright-green aura glowing like a halo around her. Shock grabbed him by the balls. Incomprehension circled a moment before his brain slammed back into his skull. Unbelievable. After months of searching for another HE to help get his breeding program off the ground, here she stood. Right out in the open. No more than fifteen feet away.

He ran his gaze over her again.

Tall and leggy. Flawless skin the color of milk chocolate. Curly black hair brushing her shoulders. A lovely specimen. A rare find. One hundred percent healthy as well. Attention locked on her, Ivar took a step toward her. And then another. Letting his magic roll, he halted just outside the door, dragon senses writhing as he analyzed her bio-energy. He needed to be sure. Wanted to be right an
d . . .
he sucked in a quick breath. Bang on. No doubt at all. She wasn’t infected. The virus hadn’t touched her despite the superbug running rampant inside the quarantine area.

Something in her blood made her immune.

Warrior antibodies, maybe. A talent for fighting off infection. An enzyme manufactured by her high energy, perhaps. One that killed any toxin it encountered. Whatever the reason, she was a gift—an excellent reference point for his lab, the perfect addition to his breeding program too. Two birds with one stone. A live specimen with the right antibodies flowing in her veins. Another female for his warriors to compete for when the Meridian realigned in a couple of months.

A win-win all the way around.

A sheen of sweat on his bald head, the doctor murmured something.

Snapping back to attention, Ivar stared at the pair and listened in.

Brown eyes wide with upset, the female shook her head. “It can’t be true, Dr. Milford.”

“I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” Milford said, trying to soothe her. “We did everything we could, but she’s gone. She’s gone, sweetheart.”

“No.” A sob made her voice hitch. “Not Mema, Dr. Milford. She’s all I have left, I can’
t . . .
I don’t understand.” Tears pooled in her eyes. She breathed in, the inhalation choppy as she wrung her hands. “She was fine. I had supper with her before heading into the city, and she was fine!”

“I know.” Taking a step toward her, Milford reached out. His gloved hands cupped hers. “I know, Evelyn, but she’s gone. The virus put her into respiratory failure fifteen minutes ago. I tried, but I jus
t . . .
I couldn’t revive—”

“Oh God,” she rasped, looking so lost Ivar’s heart clenched.

He huffed in annoyance. Hell. There he went again—sympathizing when he shouldn’t. But then—Ivar frowned—maybe his reaction wasn’t all that strange. He understood loss. Still lived with the pain of losing Lothair, a male he’d valued above all others.

“I want to see her, Dr. Milford.” Blinking away tears, Evelyn leveled her chin. “Can I see her?”

“Not yet. An epidemiologist from the CDC is en route from Atlanta. As soon as she releases the body, I’ll take you to see your grandmother.”

“I need some air.” Looking stricken, Evelyn cupped her mouth and looked toward the door. Her gaze swept over Ivar. The invisibility shield he held with his mind rippled, but stayed strong, preventing her from registering his presence. “I need to get out of—”

“You can’t leave the quarantine area, Evelyn. You need to stay here until your blood tests come back. Until the doctors clear you.”

Entirely unnecessary. Screw the rules along with human protocol.

Evelyn didn’t need to wait for anyone. She’d be leaving no
w . . .
with him. Would be providing a valuable service as an antivirus guinea pig inside his lab. Not that she knew it yet. But as he stepped out of the corridor and into the room, prepared to perform a fast snatch-and-grab, Ivar knew she would catch on quick.

HE females always did.

Chapter Fifteen

Speed supersonic, Venom rocketed out of storm clouds. Moonlight disappeared behind a load of thick-dark-and-nasty. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Street lights flashed, blurring into streaks below him. Frigid air rattled over his scales, then jetted from the jagged horns on his head. Nothing surprising there. His bone-bending flight broke through boundaries, pushing past safe to reach insane.

Not that he cared.

Fast equaled better right now, even if the velocity stretched his muscles in uncomfortable ways. Flipping into another death-defying spiral, Venom increased his wing speed. Pain clawed over his shoulders and down his sides. He shoved the discomfort away. He could handle the body torque along with the pain. What he couldn’t do was fail. He needed to reach Arlington. Now. This instant. Before Evelyn ended up hurt.

Night vision dialed to precise, he banked into a tight turn. Ruby eyes aglow, he searched the landscape below. Dense forest gave way to small houses and squat apartment buildings. The road funneled into the downtown core. Venom growled as he caught sight of his chosen landing pad. Folding his wings, he dropped out of the sky.
X
marked the spot. Front and center, smack-dab in the middle of the Cascade Valley medical complex.

Two hundred yards below him. Now fifty.

He bared his fangs. Gravity responded with a vicious yank. His talons slammed down on the hospital rooftop. Steel groaned. Muscle-wrenching momentum threw him sideways, ruffling his scales. As the hiss and clank got going, friction scorched the pads of his paws. With a snarl, Venom dug in. Metal sheeting shrieked, protesting the sharp stab of claws.

He ignored the racket. Gaze riveted to the door one hundred and fifty feet away, he shifted into human form mid-skid. Leather settled against his skin. His feet slid across the rigid tiles of the helipad. The slip ’n slide didn’t register. Magic exploded instead, heating the air around him. Snow melted and mist blew toward thunderclouds. Not that the icy blow back mattered. Neither did the damage he left in his wake. Only one thing held sway—his female. He needed to reach her before time ran out. The thought made his heart pound harder. Blood rushed in his veins. Adrenaline did the rest, propelling him toward the rooftop door. Leaping over a ventilation shaft, Venom sprinted across the open expanse.

So close.

Goddamn, he could feel her. She was so very
close
. Two floors down. A few corridors over. Somewhere inside the human facility overrun by an infectious disease.

Locked onto her, needing to be sure, Venom mined her bio-energy. The sizzle of her life force grazed the inside of his skull. He fine-tuned the connection. The beacon throbbed like a heartbeat, keeping time with the slam-bang of his own, pointing him in the right direction. Grinding to a halt beside the entrance, he yanked the door open and roared over the threshold. Three strides in, he paused on the shallow landing. His night vision adjusted. As the red glow washed out in front of him, he saw everything in stark contrast. Grainy cinder-block walls painted beige. Narrow staircase with steel treads leading down. Exit sign hemorrhaging white light above his head. A straight shot down into hospital corridors full of medical professionals.

Feet working double time, Venom raced down the stairs.
“I’m in.”

“Motherfuck, Ven,”
Mac growled through mind-speak.
“Wait for Forge and me to land before you—”

“No time.”

“Bloody hell, lad.”
Wind whistled through the cosmic connection, muffling Forge’s voice.
“Give us a chance tae get there before you go off half-cocked.”

Half-cocked, his ass. Call it fully loaded instead.

Venom couldn’t wait. He needed to see Evelyn now and ensure she was all right. Her bio-energy told him she wasn’t hurt, bu
t . . .
goddamn it. Screw the consequences along with the Scot’s instructions. He refused to leave anything to chance.

Or play a game of wait-and-see and hope for the best.

Boot soles banging on steel treads, Venom tightened his hold on the beacon Evelyn threw off like pheromones. Witchy connection. Fantastic barometer too. It relayed her emotional state, preparing him for what lay ahead and—

Her tension came through, lighting him up from the inside out. His stomach dipped. Ah, hell. Nowhere near good. She was upset about something: in tears, mind churning, disbelief rising as she struggled to accept bad news. Far-fetched? No chance in hell. Energy-fuse allowed him to take her mental temperature. Evelyn’s was about to boil over. Which meant fast wasn’t going to be fast enough. She needed him now. And he was still minutes away from reaching her.

The thought ratcheted his tension up another notch.

Reality settled him down. He couldn’t change what had happened to her tonight. All he could do was try to make it right. Listen if she needed to talk. Hold her if she wanted him to, strengthen the bond, encourage her trust, soothe her the way a male did his mate.

Liking the plan, Venom rounded the first landing. Halfway down the next set of treads, a buzz expanded between his temples. Sensation turned into spikes. The warning twisted his mental screws. His dragon half reacted. Instinct narrowed into perception. Experience honed both, making unease rise and his heart throb.

No mistaking the nasty vibration. Or what it signified.

“Rogues. We’ve got a pack in the area an
d . . .
”
Venom trailed off, trying to get a better read. The signal hammered his temples. He narrowed the scope, pinpointing the source. Two competing beacons morphed inside his head. The first belonged to Evelyn. The other attached itself to a Razorback—to a powerful male planted somewhere inside the hospital.
“Goddamn it. Evelyn’s in trouble.”

“Shite,”
Forge muttered, Scottish accent thicker than usual.
“Move yer arse, lad. Keep a sharp eye and retrieve her. Mac and I are in the pipe, thirty seconds behind you.”

“Bastian—light it up,”
Venom said, boots banging against steel. He needed the lay of the land. Right now. Nothing could be left to chance. Not with Evelyn in danger. Which meant Bastian’s skill at picking apart rogues from a distance would come in handy. Again, for the thousandth time i
n . . .
well, hell. Venom didn’t know. Didn’t care either. All he wanted was the rundown—how many rogues, age, level of talent, and exhale. The precise location of the bastard sitting inside the facility.
“Fill me in.”

“Fifteen rogues of varying talents. Eight fire dragons, two acid breathers, one who exhales
Scald,
an
d . . .
fuck,”
Bastian said, sounding pissed off.
“Mac, we’ve got another water dragon in the mix.”

“Hamersveld.”
Mac snarled.
“About time the bastard poked his head out. Tell me where he is, B.”

“No. Ven’s female comes first.”
Deep voice rolling, Rikar pulled rank, shutting down Mac’s personal vendetta against the male who’d sired him. No doubt a good idea. The new boy might be powerful, but the rogue water dragon was older, wiser, and far more experienced. No way his brother-in-arms should be tangling with the asshole on his own just yet.
“You and Forge circle back around. Come in from the north with Sloan. Let’s see where the bastards are holed up.”

“Smoke ’em out.”
Sloan hummed in anticipation.
“Good plan. I’m three miles out.”

“And Wick?”

Wick growled.
“Inbound. West side.”

“Good,”
Bastian said
,
electricity sizzling in the background. A lightning shield, maybe? Good guess.
Venom knew the sound well and almost smiled in reaction.
Almost
, but not quite. No matter how much he enjoyed his commander’s ability to fry rogues on contact, the setup bothered him. Outnumbered with his mate to protect—not good odds.
“Stay on Ven’s six. If shit goes south, back him up.”

“On it,”
Wick murmured.

“Keep it tight. Stay on script, boys.”
Frost crackled, rolling with
Rikar’s voice through mind-speak
. “We’ll keep the assholes busy long enough for Venom to break free, then hit ’em hard.”

Mac grumbled something about missed opportunities.

Forge grunted in agreement.

Claws scraped against steel as Wick landed on the rooftop.

“Stay on the roof, Wick.”
Reaching the next landing, Venom vaulted off the last step. Evelyn’s bio-energy whiplashed inside his head. He cranked the dial, tuning in to her mood. She was upset, bu
t . . .
he frowne
d . . .
not frightened. Which meant the rogue hadn’t discovered her yet. Relief opened his lungs, allowing him to take a deep breath.
“I’ll bring her out.”

Wick snarled his assent.

Venom grabbed the handle. He yanked. The door flew open and slammed into the back wall. The bang echoed up the stairwell as he ran into a wide corridor. Sliding to a stop, he glanced both ways. Empty. No nurses. Not a doctor in sight. Nothing but bright lights, pale hospital floors and—

A row of biohazard suits hanging from hooks farther down the hall.

Jackpot. Infestation central. Just what he needed to find.

His gaze narrowed on a set of doors at the end of the hallway. He read the sign warning people to keep out. His muscles bunched in preparation. Venom pulled the rip cord and unleashed his speed, racing past an abandoned gurney. Footfalls raging in the quiet, he punched through the double doors. Hinges hissed as dual panels swung inward. Radar tuned to maximum, he jogged into the quarantine area.

A long hallway stretched out in front of him.

The stench of sickness slithered on warm air, assaulting his senses. Rolling his shoulders to release the tension, he listened to the low murmur of female voices. He sidestepped a bunch of nurses in the corridor and sifted through noise, hunting for the right vibration. Evelyn’s bio-energy cut through the human hum and—

A low growl rose above the quiet chatter.

The fine hairs on Venom’s neck stood on end. Holy shit. He recognized that sound. Sensed the danger even before he laid eyes on it. Cranking his hands into fists, he tracked the unearthly snarl. It came again. His focus snapped to the left. Venom bared his teeth. Ther
e . . .
right there—half-hidden by a screen, dressed in a white lab coat, the rogue stood on the threshold, fixated on something inside one of the hospital rooms. The glow of Evelyn’s bright-green aura ghosted around the makeshift barricade and into the hallway. Venom’s protective instinct came alive, moving him from half to full throttle.

He snarled in reaction.

The Razorback glanced his way. Pink irises shimmering, Ivar’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in challenge. Shifting into a fighting stance, the bastard put his back to the room, blocking the doorway. “Veno
m . . .
long time, no see. Come to protect the humans, have you?”

“Move away from the door.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll die faster,” Venom said, erring on the side of caution instead of starting a fight. A difficult urge to deny when he longed to attack. Just let loose and rip Ivar to shreds. Killing the asshole would solve so many problems. Right so many wrongs. Avenge so many deaths. Lovely inspiration that, like it or not, amounted to a terrible plan. The bastard had ten feet on him. Stood much closer to Evelyn than he did and wouldn’t hesitate. Even if he unleashed his magic, Ivar would reach his female first and snap her nec
k . . .
just to slow his pursuit.

Aggression yanked his chain.

Venom smoothed his expression. He mustn’t react. The second Ivar realized Evelyn’s importance to him, she was dead.

Dancing the dance, Venom shifted toward his prey. “You responsible for all this?”

“Science is my forte.” With a wink, Ivar countered each step Venom made, moving with him, refusing to give ground. “Playing with human lives too.”

The comment threatened his control. Venom reeled it in, refusing to give the game away. “Leave now, Ivar—live longer.”

“Willing to let me go? Strange, unles
s . . .
” Intelligence gleaming in his eyes, Ivar grinned. “Ah, I get it. You’re here for the female. Such a lovely H
E . . .
nice piece of ass.”

Venom bared his teeth.

“Temper, temper, Nightfury.” Staring at him beneath his brows, Ivar took a step back. Magic writhed around him, hiding him from human eyes. But not from Venom. He saw everything in startling detail. The bastard’s intent too as Ivar planted himself between the doorjambs, trapping Evelyn inside the room, denying Venom a clear path. “One wrong move, and she gets hurt.”

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” Venom said, shifting onto the balls of his feet.

Almost there. Seven feet, and he’d close the gap. Come within striking distance. Close enough to unbalance the bastard. Venom moved right, inched forward, setting up the takedown like a master chess player. His palms itched. His fingers twitched. God, how he wanted to wrap his hands around Ivar’s throat. A quick yank. One brutal snap, an
d . . .
bam! Game over. One dead rogue leader.