Coreene Callahan - Fury of Desire

“Wick,” he growled, his tone harsh. His best friend flinched. Shimmering golden eyes snapped in his direction. Thank God. Wick might be acting dumb, but at least he wasn’t deaf. “Pull your head out of your ass. I need you focused… in the here and now, not half back at the lair.”

His brows furrowed, Wick nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“When it comes to the female? ” Venom raised a brow, his expression all about “damned right you are.” No matter how much he disliked it, he saw no reason to lie. Wick didn’t need coddling. He needed to be dropkicked into reality. In the same way he’d been when he realized his friend had bonded with a female. But denying the truth never worked, so forget about sticking his head in the sand. It had happened. It couldn’t be undone. Time to accept it. “Yeah, you’re totally screwed.”

Wick dropped another f-bomb.

“Energy-fuse is serious stuff, Wick. I know it scares you. Hell, I don’t like it either. Change sucks, and much as I don’t want to say it, I’m going to… ” Eyes aglow, a red wash rolled out in front of him, staining the icy patches on the roof as Venom shuffled sideways. Wick’s gaze narrowed on him. He glared back. It was so much bullshit: clinging to the past, being selfish, refusing to share his best friend with anyone. But no matter how much he wanted things to stay the same, they never did. J. J. was here to stay. Wick couldn’t go back, and neither could he. “Stop being such a pansy. Accept her. Love her. Take her to mate and be happy.”

“Screw happy,” Wick growled, cracking his knuckles. “This is about her, not me. She deserves more… someone better. I can’t give her what she needs long term.”

“How do you know?” he asked, playing devil’s advocate. “You haven’t even tried.”

“Fuck off, Ven.”

Ah, and there it was. Wick’s favorite comeback, the go-to that heralded the end of a conversation.

Sloan didn’t get the memo. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “You know he’s right, Wick. Man up and grow a pair. I’d give my left nut to find what you—”

A burst of magic detonated, sending out shockwaves. As the pulse rippled, the night air warped into a wormhole. Gaze narrowed on the anomaly, Venom tensed, getting ready to move. A dragon materialized over Deuce’s, red scales flashing, pink irises aglow, power shimmering around him. And on his tail? Hamersveld, along with a miniature dragon.

Wick snarled. “Ivar.”

“Wick, don’t—” With a quick twist, he reached for Wick. His fingertips brushed leather, but… goddamn it. He missed by a mile, catching nothing but cold air. “Bastian… man overboard.”

“Shit.” The rattle of scales rippled through mind-speak. “Hold on. We’re airborne. ETA… sixty seconds.”

Claws snicked as Mac and Forge took flight from their hidey-hole.

But it was too late.

Ivar was already on the wire, sending out a distress call, rousing the rogues inside the club. As Venom felt them rise and head for the exits, he shifted into dragon form. Hands and feet turning to talons, he zeroed in on Wick and… ah, hell. No way would he catch him now. His friend was already out of range. Exploding over the roof edge. Black amber-tipped scales flashing, golden gaze aglow as he painted a target on Ivar’s chest. With a muttered curse, Venom bared his fangs and leapt after him. Goddamn it. So much for the element of surprise. Wick had destroyed their advantage with one clean swipe. A dumb-ass move. One that might get his friend killed if Venom didn’t move fast.

As a squadron of Razorbacks took flight from Deuce’s roof, Wick called himself an idiot. Straight up, stone-cold, dead to rights, he’d just earned the Boy Scout’s imbecile badge by breaking cover too soon. Shit… shit… and triple shit. Impulse was a bitch, making him move before his brain entered the equation.

Not his usual MO.

Mistakes didn’t happen around him. Ever. Then again, there was a first time for everything. Now happened to be a perfect example. Had he used the sense God gave him, he’d still be hunkered down, waiting for Ivar and his posse to land. The trio would’ve made one hell of a target sitting on Deuce’s rooftop. Instead, the rogue leader was in full flight, hauling ass in the opposite direction with his new buddies—the river-rat and company—while enemy soldiers closed ranks around him.

Fucking hell. Had he said idiot earlier? Well, strike that. Asshole made way more sense.

Tucking his wings, he rocketed into a spiral, threading the needle between two rogues. The pair snarled and lashed out. Enemy claws raked his side. Blood welled on his rib cage. Wick embraced the pain, let it expand, knowing he deserved it. For not thinking straight. For making a mistake. For dragging his brothers-in-arms into his fuck up. And as his pack flew in behind him to engage the enemy, Wick wanted to kick his own ass. Or ask Venom to do it for him.

His best friend was bang on. Dumb-ass move was right. Idiocy to the next power. Especially since what drove him had nothing to do with the mission.

Anger. Doubt. Despair. All those fit the bill, explaining the why behind the what, pushing him to the brink, sending him into the fray without thought to the consequences.

All because he needed a fight.

A ball-busting brawl to help him forget. To blot out the reality of what he must do when he got home. Let Jamison go. Send her away. Free her to live the life she was meant to, not the one he knew she would suffer with him.

The right thing to do. It was the best thing for her. But even as he faced the truth, he hated the outcome. He didn’t want to do it. Keeping her sounded better to him. And claiming her… in the way of his kind? Shit, that seemed like the best plan of all. A selfish male would do it. Say to hell with the consequences and take what he craved. Too bad egocentric wasn’t on his dance card.

And didn’t punch his ticket.

Despite his many faults, he refused to trap her. Jamison deserved more than he would ever be able to give her. So no matter how much it pained him, he would force himself to let her go. Push her away. Be honorable for once. Do whatever it took to make her leave Black Diamond and start a new life without him.

But first? He would get his fight.

With a snarl, he sideswiped a Razorback. As the male squawked, Wick flipped up, rotated over and… crack! A fast grab. A quicker twist snapped the enemy dragon’s neck. Leaving him to ash out in midair, he went after another. Senses sharp, he kept an eye on Ivar’s retreat. Not that he could go far. Forge and Mac were on their game, playing the trump card. Wick grinned as he cracked another skull. Score one for the wonder twins. The pair were right where they needed to be: cutting off Ivar’s retreat, hemming him in, making him fight instead of turn tail and run.

Speed supersonic, a rogue went wings vertical, rocketing along Wick’s right side. Sound warped. Dragon scales rattled. Claws gleaming in the moonlight, the bastard took a shot at him. Wick arched, torqueing into a sidewinding flip. Up. Over. Around and… oh yeah. The enemy caught nothing but air, missing him by inches.

He bared his fangs and hissed in satisfaction. Aerial acrobatics… his specialty.

One that worked like a charm as he twisted out of the spin. The move put him in prime position behind a trio of Razorbacks. In the strike zone, Wick lashed out. Claws met scales. He dug in. The razor-sharp tips punched through bone. His talon closed around the fucker’s beating heart. With a snarl, Wick yanked. Arterial spray splattered across the back of his paw. The smell of blood expanded, then disappeared as the enemy’s heart ashed in his palm. His wing-mates roared as their buddy disintegrated in midair, and Wick got ready.