Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

rogue’s wings and cranked, popping them from their sockets.
    Lothair shrieked in agony, thrashing beneath his hold.
    Rikar showed no mercy. With a twist, he snapped the male’s spine, severing his spinal cord. Paralyzed from the chest down, Lothair screamed. Rikar applied more pressure, giving his beast free rein, and growled, “She’s mine. You dare to touch what’s mine…you die.”
    And fuck, he wanted to do it. To finish Lothair—deliver the death blow and punish him for hurting Angela. For taking what by right should’ve been hers to give. But he couldn’t steal that from her. His female deserved justice, needed closure to heal from the pain. And if pulling the trigger helped her recover, he’d forgo his own need for vengeance in order to give it to her.
    His claws buried in enemy flesh, he called to her, “Angela.”
    “Rikar?”
    “Are you all right, love?”
    He heard her move in answer. The shuffle sounded loud even though it shouldn’t. Other noises trumped that…the crashing churn of ocean waves, the labored breathing of the enemy male he pinned to the granite. But his focus was absolute, and all about her. His dragon senses picked up each miniscule shift of movement, tapping into her heart rate, mining her emotional state.
    The biofeedback bounced back like a boomerang. Scared, but all right. Rikar exhaled in relief. She wasn’t hurt. Thank Christ.
    The Glock clutched in her hand, she scrambled around the edge of a boulder, then froze. Just stopped short, hazel gaze widening as they landed on him. Pressing his prey into the ground, he tipped his chin at her, knowing what kind of picture he made. Blood spattered. Deadly. Aggressive. A bonded male presenting a gift to his female.
    Tears flooded her eyes. She breathed his name, a thank-you in each syllable.
    “Come finish it, angel.”
    One tear fell, streaking through the dirt on her cheek. She moved forward, the gun bobbing against her thigh, her attention shifting to the bastard who’d hurt her. As she approached, Lothair whined, pawing the ground, trying to get away even though he had nowhere to go. Rikar wrapped one talon around the rogue’s front paws, holding him immobile, protecting Angela, refusing to feel sorry for the bastard.
    The execution might not be nice, but was deserved. Justice at its best.
    Stopping less than three feet away, Angela raised the Glock. She met his gaze, hers full of pain, his full of understanding. He nodded. She pulled the trigger, ending Lothair’s life and his reign of terror. Over her. Over them. Over the females yet to be freed.
    As the Razorback ashed out, throwing gray flakes into the air, Angela’s breath hitched into a heartbreaking sob. Christ help him. Here it came, the emotional breakdown. Her pain was raw, too deep…and so necessary.
    She needed to cry. To release the helplessness and sorrow, every ounce of pressure that had been building steadily inside her. Now that she’d ended Lothair’s life, she had closure and could let the injustice she’d suffered go.
    Shifting into human form, Rikar pulled her into the shelter of his body. She accepted his embrace like the gift he meant it to be, leaning on him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and let the tears fall.
    “That’s it, love,” he murmured against the top of her head. Picking her up, he walked them both away from the ash pile and the stink of death. “Let it go…let it all go.”
    He kept talking to her, using his voice to comfort her. She didn’t cry long. But then, he didn’t expect her to. His female was battle honed and warrior strong. And now that the storm had passed, she’d mourn her loss and move on. Exactly as he or any one of the Nightfury warriors would have done.
    “My beautiful female,” he murmured, stroking his hand along her back. “You make me so proud.”
    “Rikar…” She trailed off. And he waited, giving her the time she needed to collect her thoughts. She burrowed deeper against him, holding him tight. “I know this probably isn’t the best time to tell you, but…I love you. Even if you don’t love me back. Even if you don’t want me—”
    “Sweet Christ, angel,” he muttered, surprise blindsiding him. “I love you too. So much it wrecks me.”
    “Oh.” She sniffled then raised her head to look at him. “Why didn’t you say anything? I’ve been going nuts, trying to read you. To figure out if you want me to stay.”
    Brushing a tear from her cheek, he marveled at the irony.