Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) (38 page)

“Good Christ,” he said, taking in the scene. Tania on the floor. Myst unconscious. Tears in his female’s eyes. Crossing to where she sat, he ran his gaze over her, then reached out and cupped her cheek. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“She fainted,” she whispered, her face ashen. “One minute she was just fine, and the next—”

“What the fuck?” Bastian rolled in like an electrical storm, violence shivering in the air around him. A vicious growl and two strides later, his commander reached them. Green eyes aglow, he shoved Mac out of the way and, with gentle hands, scooped Myst off the floor. When Tania clung, not wanting to let her friend go, he murmured, “Let me have her,
kazlita
. She needs me.”

“That’s what she said.” So shaken her hands trembled, Tania released her friend and pushed to her feet. Her gaze
trained on Bastian, she followed his progress across the room. Reaching the bed, his commander sat down with Myst in his lap. “What are you going to do?”

“Feed her.”

Shock flared in her eyes an instant before Tania threw him a questioning look. “He’s not gonna—”

“Hurt her?” Mac shook his head and, needing to soothe her, moved in close. His heartbeat evened out, thumping just for her when she turned toward him, accepting the comfort he offered. Drawing her closer, he laced their fingers together. “B would rather blow his own head off than hurt her.”

The side of her shoulder bumped his chest. She shuddered. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, watching her watch Bastian cup the nape of Myst’s neck and slip his hand beneath her T-shirt to palm the small of her back. “Then what’s he doing?”

Closing his eyes, Bastian dipped his head and nestled his cheek against his mate’s. With a sigh, Myst curled into him, snuggling closer, murmuring B’s name.

Tania frowned. Mac’s mouth curved as he explained, “The energy exchange, remember? He’s sharing his life force, connecting to the Meridian to stabilize her bioenergy and ease her discomfort.”

“Oh, well...” She paused, glanced up at him, and...pow! He got hit with burgundy-flecked eyes and a shitload of smarts. Oh man, he was in for it now. She was doing the math, putting the complicated equations together so fast Mac swore he could see her mental wheels turning. “You held me like that. At the cabin and...before. When we were, umm, together.”

Mouth gone dry, he swallowed, wondering what to do. Come clean or lie his ass off. Lying would be easier. The problem? He didn’t want to lie to Tania. “Yeah, I touched you like that, but...I didn’t feed you. I, ah...”

She raised a brow.

Ah, fuck. Time for the reckoning.

Nervous as hell, he cleared his throat, searching for the right words. None came. And as the blankety-blank-blank clouded over mental acuity, Mac decided on the direct approach. “I connected to the Meridian through you and fed.”

“Lucky for you.”

Mac blinked, surprise giving him a major case of the stupids. “What?”

“’Cause if you’d lied to me just now? I would’ve been forced to kill you.” The corners of her mouth tipped up, but not with amusement. The expression was half self-deprecating, half-sad. “I can handle a lot of things, Mac, but lying? Not one of them.”

“Consider me warned.”

“So...” she said, her gaze probing. “Anything else you want to tell me while we’re at it?”

So many things. He wanted to crack himself wide open and confess all. The uncertainty he harbored for his—and their—future. The fact he couldn’t remember making love to her the first time. His need for her. The yearning to claim her as his own, to share himself so completely he lost sight of where he ended and she began. And as he held her hand along with her gaze, the pressure inside him geysered, pushing him toward honesty and away from self-protection.

Bizarre. Beyond scary. But more real than anything he’d ever experienced.

Taking a deep breath, Mac shored up his courage. Time to go. To get her alone. To sit down and talk...really
talk
. No bullshit or hedging, just honest-to-God truth shot straight from the heart. “Tania, honey, can we—”

“Hey, Mac?”

Dragging his gaze away from his female, his head snapped toward Bastian.

Wrapped around Myst, but lying in the center of the bed now, B murmured, “Find Daimler. Tell him to get everything ready.”

“For the energy-mating?”

“The ceremony just got moved up.”

With a nod, he tugged Tania toward the door. “How soon?”

“The second my female is back on her feet.”

Which wouldn’t be a minute too soon. With Myst’s pregnancy advancing, she needed a permanent connection to her mate, a magical one that would keep her bioenergy stable even when B couldn’t be with her. But beyond that, Mac didn’t know much about it. Good thing Forge did, though. His mentor understood all the ins and outs of the Dragonkind marriage ceremony. Had memorized every detail from an ancient text at the behest of his sire, in the hopes of one day mating a female of his own.

So far, that hadn’t worked out. And after the birth of his son, which had resulted in the death of his child’s mother, Forge swore he’d never try again. Time would tell the tale. But as much as Mac wanted the Scot to be happy, he didn’t hold out much hope.

For himself, either.

Jesus. He sucked at relationships. The evidence lay in the trail of women left in his wake over the years. Love ’em and leave ’em fast. His motto until meeting Tania, but as he opened the door and pulled her into the hallway behind him, Mac wondered if anything had truly changed. Was she just another in a long line of lovers? Was he capable of permanency and fidelity? Would he make her a good mate?

Tough questions. Ones he didn’t like. Each forced him to examine who and what he was. And that made his heart ache and his throat go tight.

A leopard never changed its spots. Fact. Not fiction. But as he led Tania down the hall toward the kitchen and Daimler, he prayed he could change for her. That he could become all that she needed, everything she deserved, and strike a chord.

The one called happily-ever-after.

Hope circled through him. Pragmatism pushed it aside. He wanted to do the right thing by Tania. He really did. But sensible said the past often dictated the future, and Mac knew his track record spoke volumes. None of it good.

Kneeling at the base of the marble steps, Tania fussed, adjusting the folds at the back of her best friend’s dress. With a critical eye, she tweaked each fold into place, even though the vintage Versace didn’t need it. Perfection in motion, the gown’s deep purple hue complemented Myst the way roses did Valentine’s Day.

Simple. Elegant. Gorgeous. Just like the girl she’d known since fifth grade.

Tania fluffed out the silken hem, playing until it pooled on the floor just right. The movement was nervous, more busywork than necessary, but...God. It was almost showtime. Within minutes, Myst would climb the steps, walk into the rotunda, and marry the man she loved.

Dragonkind-style.

Picking at a piece of fluff, Tania frowned and wondered—was it just her, or did the idea of exchanging vows with someone a month after meeting seem a bit, well...nuts? She couldn’t decide. Was torn between two opposing schools of thought. The first went something like...marry a man you loved? Excellent idea. Check that bad boy off the to-do list and get it done. The second, though, whispered in her ear, urging her to toss Myst into the nearest trunk, put the hammer down, and peel out of Black Diamond so fast she left rubber in the driveway.

Which was where crazy came in. At least on her part. Because marrying into a pack of dragon warriors seemed counterintuitive. Maybe even pathological.

In a flurry of movement, Tania refluffed the train of her friend’s dress. For the fifth flipping time.

“Would you stop fussing?” Myst threw a perturbed look over her shoulder. The gown’s hue picked up the lavender in her eyes, making them more violet than blue. “You’re making me crazy.”

The rumble of masculine voices drifted in from the rotunda. The quiet echo cranked Tania’s tension up another notch. The groom was there, along with the other Nightfuries, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Another readjustment. Myst scowled at her. She ignored the scolding by glare and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay in those heels? You’re not gonna—”

“No, I’m not going to fall over...for the zillionth time.” Her friend sighed. The white roses woven into her updo shivered under the strain. “Or faint again. I’m pregnant, Tania, not sick. Now come up here before I take off my glass slipper, bash you over the head, and leave you lying unconscious on the floor.”

With a huff of amusement, Tania pushed to her feet. “Glass slipper?”

“I’m feeling a tad Cinderella-ish at the moment.”

“The violent version?”

“Cinderella 2.0...Murder Becomes Her in Fairy Tale Land.”

Lacing her fingers with her best friend’s, she grinned. As Myst returned her smile, Tania got serious again. “Are you sure about this? About Bastian and Dragonkind...all of it?”

“I love him. I want him more than I want my next breath,” Myst said, voice soft yet somehow full of unrelenting certainty. “I can’t go back. I don’t want to live without him now.”

“Worth the sacrifice?”

“Every single one.”

Throat gone tight, holding on to her tears, Tania nodded. God love her best friend. She was the bravest, smartest, most incredible woman she knew. And as she gave her hand a squeeze, she envied Myst’s certitude, the unwavering conviction that sent her friend toward love instead of away. “Good enough for me.”

“I hope so.” Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Myst grimaced. “We need to get the show on the road. These shoes are
killing
me.”

“Worth every sacrifice, remember?” Tania smoothed her hand over her own skirt. The bloodred silk clung,
caressing her palms. Pleasure erupted, swirling through her on a wave of oh-thank-you-God. Beautiful, after all, was just that...
beautiful
. “Vintage gowns and three-inch heels. Like PB and J. Can’t have one without the other.”

“God help me,” Myst grumbled. “Let’s go before I start cursing like a trucker.”

With a laugh, Tania started for the stairs. Three steps up and she stood at the top, on the edge of the rotunda between two massive pillars, in plain view of the men standing beneath the dome. Illuminated by soft light thrown upward by the standing candelabras, the ceiling fresco glowed, highlighting colorful dragons in flight.

All conversation stopped.

As silence drifted on the scent of hyacinths and yellow tiger lilies, she scanned the room. Off to one side, Angela stood in a shimming gown of ice blue, Gregor-Mayhem cradled in her arms, Daimler by her side. Tania acknowledged each with a nod, then turned her attention to the Nightfury warriors. Her breath stalled in her throat. Dear lord, taken as individuals, each was gorgeous. But gathered together? They were a visual feast for the eyes, a tall, wide-shouldered, hard-bodied collection, and every girl’s wet dream.

Nerves getting the best of her, Tania twitched her skirt. Each warrior responded by bowing his head. The ceremonial navy robes they wore rasped against the floor, flowing around their bare feet, as each placed a fist over his heart and knelt, lowering to one knee on the limestone tile. Bastian alone stayed standing, his green eyes fixed on her, waiting for her to begin.

Her gaze lingered on Mac’s bent head. The sight of him helped her floundering confidence. Tania gave herself a
mental nod. She could do this. Could remember everything. The right words. The proper place to stand. All the fine details of protocol. And no matter how much she disliked the scrutiny, she refused to screw up her best friend’s wedding. Myst was counting on her—had chosen her to officiate the ceremony—so...no question. She would deliver; remember everything Forge had explained, drilled her on, and made her memorize all afternoon. Be the best darned
lyzemai
(master of ceremony) Dragonkind had ever seen.

Leveling her chin, Tania assumed the mantle of responsibility and, tone full of authority, said, “By right, I enter unto this ceremony. The keeper of the female you wish to claim.” Her voice echoed in the vastness, whispering over the round walls before escaping through four identical archways. She held Bastian’s gaze, prolonging the moment as Forge taught her, then swept over the warriors kneeling behind their commander. “Defender of her honor. Protector unto the ages. Supreme unto this chamber and all in it. Who denies me?”

“None,” the Nightfuries said as one, deep voices intertwining into acceptance.

“So be it. The rite of passage is mine.”

Having claimed the position of
lyzemai
, she locked gazes with Bastian again. Her stilettos clicking against stone, she broke eye contact with the groom to complete the mandatory circuit around the room. Passing the marble columns and the mosaics of individual dragons depicted between each, she strode behind the kneeling Nightfuries, then crossed to the large disc embedded in the floor. In the center of the room, the crest sat beneath the vaulted dome, an intricate inscription in a language she didn’t know woven into its outer edges.

Stopping at its center, Tania held out her hand, palm up in invitation. Myst took the cue and, like a vision in purple silk, mounted the steps. She came forward to take Tania’s raised hand. Tania turned her to face the man she meant to marry.