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so , ” B said, the grumble in his voice coming through mind-speak loud and clear. “Myst’s not gonna be happy when she finds out I let MacCord use her bed . ”
Rikar’s snort turned into a laugh—the idea B was afraid of a female hitting his funny bone—as he transformed, boots touching down on the balcony.
Landing beside him, Bastian threw him a perturbed look. “Just wait until you have a female of your own to keep happy. You won’t laugh then.”
The thought sobered Rikar fast. Despite the teasing, he respected the hell out of Bastian for risking it all: for loving Myst without reservation, for being brave enough to trust that he could save her life when she went into labor with his son. Until recently, none of them had thought it possible.
Females always died birthing Dragonkind, without exception.
At least that’s what they’d believed before learning more about energy-fuse. The bond allowed a male to feed his female healing energy. The divine connection was rare—a magical, emotional, physical force of nature—a pairing so powerful it joined a male’s life force to his female’s. Which was good news, except for one thing. Energy-fuse couldn’t be forced. It wasn’t enough to love a female, or for her to love a male in return. The link was a mystical one, and acceptance was required from the magic in a dragon male’s DNA.
No easy feat. Their dragon halves were notoriously finicky. Like a master lock, the beast required the right key—or rather, the right female—for energy-fuse to take shape and form.
And as he stood staring at his best friend beneath an awakening sky, the truth struck with the force of a hammer. He’d give anything to possess what B had found. Acceptance. A shared life with a female he revered enough to think of always and, well…yeah. Even be a little afraid of on the reaction front.
Hell. He was envious. When had that happened? Black and white wasn’t so black-n-white anymore. Somewhere along the line, he’d shuffled the crayons in his box, coloring his world ho-hum, pansy-ass gray.
And Angela? She was the bright yellow in a pencil case full of shadows, and as he walked toward the loft door—prepared to guide the cop through his change—Rikar knew what his life would be without her.
Cold. Dark. Nothing but gray.
He snorted. Just his luck. Trust a female to screw up a—
“Ah…Rikar?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Gonna need some help with Boy Wonder here,” Venom said, sounding out of breath. A crack ricocheted as though an elbow had just met the side of someone’s skull. With a grunt, Venom rasped, “Jesus, he’s already—”
A growl rolled out onto the balcony. Someone shrieked. With a “fuck,” Rikar dodged right, shoving B out of the way as a kitchen chair sailed through the open patio door. It smashed into the balcony wall, crumpling against concrete. Another crash was followed by a couple of thuds and the scrape of boots on wooden floorboards.
“Oh, my God!”
The female yelp of alarm put Rikar in gear.
As he sprinted over the threshold, Venom said, “Ah, hell…we have liftoff.”
Oh, Christ. Did they ever…in the form of MacCord wrapped around a dark-haired female. Halfway across the loft, the male pinned her to the wall: hands skimming beneath her sweatshirt, mouth against the side of her throat. Score one for the cop. Nothing wrong with his instincts. His dragon DNA was roaring, searching for the energy every female possessed. And wonder of wonders, the pretty brunette was responding, relaxing for MacCord instead of pushing him away.
Rikar exhaled, relief replacing the air in his chest. He couldn’t have asked for better. High-energy and willing—a rare combo for a male in transition—the Meridian pulsed in her aura, lighting her up from the inside out, giving MacCord the connection he needed to jump-start the change.
“Fuck.” Bastian growled, sounding more disgusted than pissed off. With another curse, he slid the glass door closed
Rikar’s snort turned into a laugh—the idea B was afraid of a female hitting his funny bone—as he transformed, boots touching down on the balcony.
Landing beside him, Bastian threw him a perturbed look. “Just wait until you have a female of your own to keep happy. You won’t laugh then.”
The thought sobered Rikar fast. Despite the teasing, he respected the hell out of Bastian for risking it all: for loving Myst without reservation, for being brave enough to trust that he could save her life when she went into labor with his son. Until recently, none of them had thought it possible.
Females always died birthing Dragonkind, without exception.
At least that’s what they’d believed before learning more about energy-fuse. The bond allowed a male to feed his female healing energy. The divine connection was rare—a magical, emotional, physical force of nature—a pairing so powerful it joined a male’s life force to his female’s. Which was good news, except for one thing. Energy-fuse couldn’t be forced. It wasn’t enough to love a female, or for her to love a male in return. The link was a mystical one, and acceptance was required from the magic in a dragon male’s DNA.
No easy feat. Their dragon halves were notoriously finicky. Like a master lock, the beast required the right key—or rather, the right female—for energy-fuse to take shape and form.
And as he stood staring at his best friend beneath an awakening sky, the truth struck with the force of a hammer. He’d give anything to possess what B had found. Acceptance. A shared life with a female he revered enough to think of always and, well…yeah. Even be a little afraid of on the reaction front.
Hell. He was envious. When had that happened? Black and white wasn’t so black-n-white anymore. Somewhere along the line, he’d shuffled the crayons in his box, coloring his world ho-hum, pansy-ass gray.
And Angela? She was the bright yellow in a pencil case full of shadows, and as he walked toward the loft door—prepared to guide the cop through his change—Rikar knew what his life would be without her.
Cold. Dark. Nothing but gray.
He snorted. Just his luck. Trust a female to screw up a—
“Ah…Rikar?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Gonna need some help with Boy Wonder here,” Venom said, sounding out of breath. A crack ricocheted as though an elbow had just met the side of someone’s skull. With a grunt, Venom rasped, “Jesus, he’s already—”
A growl rolled out onto the balcony. Someone shrieked. With a “fuck,” Rikar dodged right, shoving B out of the way as a kitchen chair sailed through the open patio door. It smashed into the balcony wall, crumpling against concrete. Another crash was followed by a couple of thuds and the scrape of boots on wooden floorboards.
“Oh, my God!”
The female yelp of alarm put Rikar in gear.
As he sprinted over the threshold, Venom said, “Ah, hell…we have liftoff.”
Oh, Christ. Did they ever…in the form of MacCord wrapped around a dark-haired female. Halfway across the loft, the male pinned her to the wall: hands skimming beneath her sweatshirt, mouth against the side of her throat. Score one for the cop. Nothing wrong with his instincts. His dragon DNA was roaring, searching for the energy every female possessed. And wonder of wonders, the pretty brunette was responding, relaxing for MacCord instead of pushing him away.
Rikar exhaled, relief replacing the air in his chest. He couldn’t have asked for better. High-energy and willing—a rare combo for a male in transition—the Meridian pulsed in her aura, lighting her up from the inside out, giving MacCord the connection he needed to jump-start the change.
“Fuck.” Bastian growled, sounding more disgusted than pissed off. With another curse, he slid the glass door closed
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