Static buzzed between his temples. One eye on the sky through the towering pines, Wick fired up mind-speak. “Venom.”
“What?”
“You busy?”
“Just a tad.” The shriek of claws against scales sounded. A male screamed. Venom grunted and… crack! The snap of bone echoed inside Wick’s head. “One down… two to go. Whatcha need?”
“Backup.” Wick cringed as the word left his mouth. He never asked for help in a firefight. He never needed any. Tonight, though, bypassed normal, heading straight into clusterfuck country. So to hell with his pride. With Jamison curled up beside him in the passenger seat, all bets were off. The more warriors to watch his six so he could protect her, the better. “I got a trio of rogues on my ass.”
“Shite.” Forge snarled and metal rattled, joining a symphony of breaking glass. A wet gurgle sounded as a male choked on his own blood. Wick’s mouth curved. Dollars to donuts, the Scot had just used the sharp side of a building to gut a Razorback. “How much time we got tae get there?”
Hard to tell. With the forest providing cover, it might take a while for the rogues to find the opening they needed to attack. “A couple of minutes… three tops.”
“J. J.?” Mac asked.
Wick drew a gentle circle on her temple. “Scared but alive.”
“Keep her that way.” Venom growled. Another rogue screamed. “Stall, Wick. Give me a minute to break free. I’ll come after you.”
Stellar plan. Except for one thing.
The forest was thinning, trees becoming scarcer by the moment. The road dipped, veering into a sloping turn and… fuck him. A clearing. Dead ahead.
Biting down on a curse, his gaze swept the terrain. Nowhere to go. Which meant he was headed into open space, one the rogues would use to their advantage… if he didn’t do something. Right now.
“Jamison.” He glanced out the window, gauging the distance. Shit. Three winged shadows off the driver’s side. Thirty seconds out and closing fast. “Buckle your seatbelt.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue.” His grip on her chin firmed. “Do it.”
Nylon hissed as she pulled on the strap. The buckle clicked home with a snick. Wick nodded and withdrew, letting go of her to put both hands on the wheel. Moonlight shone through a break in the trees, illuminating the trail and—
Jackpot. A small alcove between a boulder and two huge redwoods. The perfect spot to shield Jamison—and hide the SUV—while he went after the assholes chasing him.
Ancient trees on either side of the road tunneled, branches curving overhead. Wick stamped on the gas pedal. The Suburban responded, rocketing toward the lip of the clearing. Small shrubs pressed in, scraping along the running boards. Jamison flinched. Wick murmured, hoping the sound of his voice would calm her. It didn’t work. He smelled her fear. Felt each frantic beat of her heart. Heard each breath she took, the rasp and draw, the hitch in the back of her throat, and watched her curl into a ball in the passenger seat.
Fucking hell. The Razorbacks would pay for that. For scaring her. For causing her more pain. For the folly of hunting him while he protected a female.
A snarl locked in his throat, Wick rechecked his sightline. So far, so good. If he timed it just right, the rogues wouldn’t know what hit them.
The trailhead widened into a V, opening into a field. Long grass undulated, moving with the wind.
The lead rogue wheeled overhead.
Wick bared his teeth, half smile, half snarl. Come on. Come on. Almost there. Another few seconds, and he’d have the male right where he wanted him… in prime strike position and at the end of his talons.
Bright scales flashed at the end of the roadway. Eyes aglow, the enemy dragon spread his wings, stopping his flight to hang in midair, obliterating the view of the field beyond. Black horns curled over his ears, the rogue snarled. Wick tightened his grip on the steering wheel and counted off the seconds. Three. Two—
“Oh shit!” Jamison’s startled cry echoed inside the truck. Her eyes went wide. Panic struck, making her scramble on the seat as she stared at the Razorback through the windshield. “Oh… my… God… Wick!”
The rogue inhaled past razor-sharp fangs.
One!
He hit the brakes and cranked the wheel. All-terrain tires bit, swinging the rear of the truck around. The vehicle rocked side to side. Dirt flew, arching in a circle, loam and pine needles raining against the SUV’s rooftop. He heard Jamison gasp in alarm. Ignoring her, he slammed the truck in reverse and gunned the engine. Steel shrieked against stone as he sandwiched the vehicle between the boulder and the redwoods. A stream of acid flew through the air. The dragon’s toxic exhale splattered the ground, then splashed over the front bumper. Bark crackled and sizzled, smoldering into smoke. Noxious fumes puffed against the SUV’s grille, then rolled toward the windshield.
A millisecond—that’s all it took—and Wick exited the truck.
Out. Up. And over. He landed with a thump in front of the SUV. Magic exploded, swirling around him as he shifted into dragon form. Black amber-tipped scales flowed over his body to reach his spiked tail. Dragon talons took up the cause, turning his hands and feet to razor-sharp claws. In full battle mode, he slammed the driver’s door closed with his mind, enclosing Jamison inside. Her scream echoed inside his head, filling him with regret. Too bad for her. For him too. He didn’t have time to go back and coddle her. Not with the Razorback poised to strike again.
In less than a second, he closed the distance. The enemy dodged, wing flapping to avoid his upward surge. Wick wanted to snort. He snarled instead. The dumb-ass. Like a complete idiot, the male hung in the kill zone, hemmed in by trees, immobile in midair, prime pickings with nowhere to go.
Tucking his wings, Wick spiraled into a sideways flip and lashed out. Halfway through the revolution, his claws caught. Dragon blood splashed up his arm. He grinned and dug in, claws cutting through scales to find muscle and bone. The Razorback flailed, fighting the lockdown and… oh, Nelly. The screaming never got old. Neither did inflicting the pain.
The rogue bastard. Asshole male. Threaten a female, would he?
No fucking way.
He wouldn’t permit Razorback filth anywhere near Jamison. Or allow her to be hurt. Not anymore. Never again. The male deserved every ounce of agony. And as the stink of his enemy’s desperation rose, Wick showed no mercy. Clamping down. Claws ripping at the rogue’s throat. Ignoring the backlash of claws against the wall of his chest. The pain was nothing, but killing the rogue? That was everything. And as he took the male apart scale by scale, he reveled in dominance and, for once, honor. Tonight he fought for something greater than himself. To protect. To serve. For a female who needed him to shield her.
A death rattle rose on the night breeze.
Wick growled as the Razorback disintegrated in his grip. Ash flew like snowflakes, covering his talons, whirling over his horned head—as he searched the sky. Oh goody. There they were… assholes number two and three flying in fast. Leaping straight up, he unfurled his wings. The rogues attacked in tandem, tag-teaming him. He spun in midair and nailed asshole number two with his barbed tail. The rogue’s head whiplashed. Using his momentum, Wick whirled around and grabbed him by the throat. He jerked his arm back. The fucker’s larynx ripped from the front of his neck, coming away in Wick’s talon. The rogue plummeted out of the sky, ashing out before he hit the ground. Wick pivoted, hoping—