Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) (12 page)

No doubt. She could absolutely feel the shift in him.

Sneaking a peek, she scanned his profile and swung around the last curve—speeding down the hill into Gig Harbor, city lights spread out like a carpet of glitter below her, wind blowing through the missing door to tug at her hair—and prayed she’d made the right decision.

Intuition told her yes. Logic said no.

Too bad she was already neck-deep and sinking fast. With an ex-cop turned...well, she didn’t know exactly. But
one thing for sure? She knew serious trouble when she saw it. An insanity-fueled, curiosity-driven mistake...that’s what Mac was. And one Tania hoped she lived to regret.

Wind whistled in through the side of the car, blasting Mac in the face. His hair blew into his eyes. He stared at Tania through the strands before raking a hand through it, shoving the pain-in-the-ass load out of the way to improve his view. Shit. He needed to do something about that, like get a haircut...along with a new brain.

His was obviously malfunctioning.

The same thing happened every time he laid eyes on her. Okay. So he was exaggerating, but not by much. The first time he’d been at the precinct, watching her pace from behind the two-way mirror. Angela had teased him about his dumb-ass reaction. Too bad his partner wasn’t around right now. He could’ve used a healthy dose of “you’re an idiot.” ’Cause, yeah, he was doing it again, gawking at her, reacting to Tania in ways that launched ridiculous into a whole new category.

Jesus. Just what he didn’t need. A nasty-ass case of the stupids.

Too bad that seemed to be par for the course around her. He could feel the heat, smell his own need as desire ramped him into gotta-touch territory. His dragon growled, coming to attention, 100 percent focused on the woman seated beside him. He breathed deep, combating the urge to lean in and taste her mouth. The sweet curve of her bottom lip. The tender underside of her chin. The baby-soft skin of her throat. Any part of
her would do, just as long as he got to linger and savor the beauty of her.

Mac shook his head, hoping to knock a few brain cells together. He needed to get a grip...in the next five seconds. Otherwise he would live up to the dumb-ass reputation, haul her out of the driver’s seat and—

Umm, yeah. Right into his lap.

Oh so not a good idea. Especially considering he was hurtling down the road without a car door, nothing but air between him and miles of skin-grinding asphalt.

The thought sobered him fast. Now was not the time to become distracted, but even as his brain came back online, his attraction to her spiked. Wound tight, he absorbed every detail, his gaze drifting over her. Dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Graceful hands on the wheel. All smooth skin and sweet curves. Her clutch-and-shift so smooth it gave him goose bumps.

Tania downshifted, propelling them around the next curve. Mac curled his hands into fists, the white-hot energy in her aura begging him to reach out. He glanced at the speedometer instead, trying to distract himself. Eighty-five miles an hour. Around a corner. His mouth curved. Man, she could drive. She was Formula One quality wrapped up in a pretty package, looking way too good sitting behind the wheel: in command of the helm, keeping it together when most women would’ve freaked out.

He smiled a little. Jesus, she was something. And he was in serious trouble, so impressed by her he was headed into dangerous territory. Collision inevitable with his lustier side and at complete odds with his commitment-phobe tendencies. Not something he liked, considering his love of freedom and playboy lifestyle, never mind a trap he ever
fell into...at least where women were concerned. But with Tania, he wanted to take his time, explore, play with the idea of keeping her for a while and—

God. He was so fucked, way off his game and out of his mind. Conditions that needed to stop. Right now.

His mission didn’t include a side trip into infatuation. He needed to get Tania to safety. Out of range if the Razorbacks came calling. An imminent possibility, considering the exposé responsible for plastering her face all over KING 5’s nightly news.

The rogues weren’t stupid. They were smart. Ruthless. Well acquainted with technology and human databases, Ivar navigated the information highway just as well as Sloan. So, yeah. Once the Razorbacks got a load of Tania...and made the connection to Myst? Sure as shit, the bastards would come out to play.

Which meant getting Tania the hell out of Dodge. ASAP.

Easier said than done. Why? Number one...his desire for her—and the overactive imagination that drove it—kept distracting him. And two? Tania wasn’t anything like the women he usually dated...urr, rather, had sex with. She wasn’t a fancy piece of fluff. Or accustomed to taking orders. She had a mind of her own and was accustomed to using it, so...

No. She wouldn’t obey without question.

A lot of guys no doubt made that mistake—held her beauty against her while making a whole lot of asinine assumptions—but not him. He saw Tania for who and what she was...well dressed in skinny jeans, designer boots, and a curve-hugging fall sweater; sophisticated, smart, and sassy. Toss in her unrelenting determination along with a
dash of curiosity, and yippee, he had a recipe for disaster. With a cherry on top. And no matter which way he sliced it, Mac knew she wouldn’t be satisfied with half answers. He could see it, the formidable force of intellect shining in her burgundy-flecked eyes as she threw him another sidelong glance.

Locked and loaded, she took aim in his direction. Mac tensed as she made eye contact. Bull’s-eye. She nailed him right in the rings...KO confirmed. It was only a matter of time now. The questions were a nanosecond away and—

“This has something to do with Myst’s disappearance, doesn’t it?” Shifting like a race car driver, Tania roared past the city sign into Gig Harbor. W
ELCOME
! it said. Yeah, right. Something told him the next few minutes wouldn’t be fun or anywhere near welcoming. Not with Tania gunning for information. “What’s going on? Is she all right? Have you seen her?”

Mac opened his mouth to answer.

She jumped in, leveling him with a verbal hammer. “What is it, witness protection? Are they after me now to get to her? Is she testifying against someone? A serial killer...a mob boss?”

A serial killer? Mac’s lips twitched. He couldn’t help it. She was so damned adorable. No one would accuse her of lacking imagination. Or suspecting the truth. Thank fuck. He really didn’t want to get into the truth. At least not right now. Introducing her to Dragonkind would come soon enough, but something told him Myst needed to be present when it happened. Otherwise Tania would freak out. And despite everything—or maybe because of it—Mac didn’t want to frighten her. Kind and gentle was the better way to go...the only way he wanted to be with her.

Flanked by rows of town houses, Tania slowed down. The Mini lurched as she whispered, “Please just tell me she’s safe.”

Mac nodded as, unbidden, an image of Bastian surfaced. Like snapshots in a slideshow, the pictures flashed in his mind’s eye: of B spoiling Myst, making her happy even as his overprotective nature reared its ugly head. Mac snorted. The male never said quit when it came to Myst. So...s
afe
? Talk about a serious understatement. The Nightfury commander wouldn’t have it any other way.

Holding Tania’s gaze, he murmured, “In good hands.”

She breathed out, the sound one of relief. “Can I see her?”

“That’s where we’re headed.”

Happiness sparked in her eyes a second before it spread across her face. Flipping her blinker on, she turned right onto the town’s main drag. Storefronts and the glow of neon signs kissing the illumination of streetlamps flashed past, and she smiled at him. His heart went jackrabbit, slamming the inside of his chest as his mouth tipped up, following her example. Goddamn, that felt good. Giving her what she wanted. Making her smile. Being the cause of her happiness. And as he shared the moment with her, Mac wondered if he’d found his calling.

“Yo, Mac?”
Amusement in his tone, Forge mind-spoke,
“You’re awfully quiet, lad. Having fun down there?”

“Shut up.”
Breaking eye contact with Tania, Mac glared out the back window.
“Mind your own fucking business.”

Rikar snorted with laughter.

Ah, shit on a stick. He was in trouble now.

He should’ve kept his yap shut. Let the silence lead and made the dynamic duo flying in his wake believe there
was nothing going on...that he wasn’t starstruck by Tania. ’Cause Forge? The male was like a dog with a bone, and once he touched on something embarrassing he cranked the shit out of it. And that was before Rikar tossed his hat into the ring.

As if on cue...

“Nifty move, man,”
Rikar said, the rattle of scales coming through the mind-speak.
“She pissed about the door?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“No thanks. I prefer my mate.”

In other words? Angela...his self-declared little sister.
“I’m so kicking your ass when we get home.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

“Ask Forge about my kind of trying.”

“Kung fu, Rikar,”
Forge murmured.
“Watch your arse.”

Mac clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. He couldn’t help it. Despite the teasing, he loved these guys. Each made him feel as though he belonged with them, deserved to be inside the Nightfury pack. It felt good. Felt right. Felt like the rarest of gifts. One he refused to take for granted, even while getting razzed by his new buddies.

Blocking his friends out for a second, he tuned back into Tania. He frowned. What had she just said? Something about Ted Bundy? Jesus, she had a thing for serial killers. Or at least had the history of psychopaths down pat.

“So you see,” she said, speeding by the drugstore, “he wasn’t really a—”

A prickle ghosted across the nape of his neck, cutting off her monologue as his dragon senses tingled. Half listening to her, he latched onto the signal. More vibration than sensation, the buzz came again. The fine hairs on his arms stood on end. Alarm bells went off inside his head.
The static got louder. Mac’s skin crawled, muscles fisting up hard.

Fuck him. Razorbacks. Coming in fast: locked, loaded, with a shitload of vicious riding shotgun.

Instinct and the territorial need to protect cranked into overdrive. He glanced at Tania. Still talking, the methodical sound of her voice reached him over the rush of wind. She’d moved on to the Green River Killer. His brows furrowed. Jesus H. Christ. How much did one female really need to know about serial killers?

Everything, obviously. The woman was a walking, talking encyclopedia on the subject. And judging by the static hammering his temples, she was about to get up close and personal with a whole new breed. Human killers, after all, had nothing on rogues.

“Motherfuck.” The whole situation was headed south, and not in a good way. He’d hoped to break the whole dragon thing to her gently. But that wasn’t going to happen now. Not with a boatload of fangs, claws, and scales riding their asses.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing,
mo chroí
.”

Tania threw him a startled look. “Mo...what? What did you just—”

“Forget it.” He wanted to. Shit. Had he really just called her
my heart
...in Gaelic?

Mac gritted his teeth. Not the best time to remember his roots. Or the tough, trash-talking neighborhood he’d grown up in. But some things couldn’t be exorcised. The Irish blood in him appeared to be one of them, the way he thought of her another. No matter how he sliced it, the truth reared its ugly head. His dragon half liked Tania...
way too much. And much as it chafed him, the endearment fit. Felt right and sounded good when directed at her.

“Hey, Mac?” Worry in her voice, her hands flexed on the wheel. “Could you just—”

“Hang on, honey.” Eyes narrowed, he held up a hand, asking her to be quiet. He needed to concentrate to pinpoint the signal and...

Mac growled, cursing his fledgling status. He could feel the rogues, but thanks to his fucked-up magic, couldn’t judge distances. Didn’t know how far away the Razorbacks were or how much time he had to get Tania out of the line of fire.

Fear for her slammed into him. He hit up his XO.
“Rikar...how far out are they?”

“Three miles. The first wave just broke through the fighting triangle.”

“The first wave?”
Motherfuck. That didn’t sound good. “Tania, turn left.”

“But—”

“Just do it. We’ve run out of time.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

Holding her gaze, he said, “Trust me, honey, and...turn!”

Her knuckles went white a second before she cranked the wheel. The engine growled. The back of the Mini slid as she took the turn too fast. He curled his hand over the lip of the roof and, hanging on tight, reached out with his mind. He needed more information. Longs and lats of the enemies’ approach. Direction and trajectory...the number of Razorbacks headed their way. Anything. Everything. Whatever he could scrape up to help him navigate the best way out of town.