Ah, hell. No such luck.
Asshole number three was bugging out, hauling ass over the forest, no doubt praying Wick decided not to give chase. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve gone after the pansy-ass. Not tonight, though. Murder and mayhem weren’t the top priority. Too bad. He could’ve used the exercise. But with Jamison curled up in the SUV less than a hundred yards away, killing anything else tonight didn’t seem like a good idea. Wick sighed and, folding his wings, set down in the middle of the field. Shit. He’d probably traumatized her. Scared her so badly she would no doubt freak out if he came anywhere near her now.
A green blur flew overhead. “Wick… you clear?”
Wick bit down on a curse. Not even close. He still had Jamison to deal with. “Two dead. Last rogue bugged out.”
“The female?”
“Still in the truck.”
Ruby eyes aglow, Venom dropped out of the sky. Scales rattling from the free fall, his friend’s talons thumped down, flattening the field grass a few feet away. “I’ll get her.”
“The fuck you will.”
Venom’s brows popped skyward.
Wick ignored the show of surprise. He didn’t want to explain. Couldn’t begin to either. What the hell could he say? That his wires were crossed—tangled up, on the fritz or something—and he didn’t want another male anywhere near Jamison. That if Venom approached her for any reason, he’d be forced to tear his best friend a new body orifice. Wick shook his head. Right. Like that would go over well. The entire Nightfury crew would ask questions. Razz him about his need to protect her. Demand he explain the compulsion. Not something he wanted to get into with the other warriors when he didn’t understand it himself.
“Stay here.” He eyeballed Venom, warning him with a look. “Give me a minute with her.”
His best friend grimaced. “She saw?”
“Front row seat.”
“Goddamn it.”
Uh-huh. That about summed it up.
Shifting into human form, Wick conjured his clothes. Worn jeans and a T-shirt settled on his skin, and stomping shitkickers on his feet, he crossed to the dirt road. His chest went tight as the front of the SUV came into view. Her bio-energy thrummed, pulsing in her aura, making the inside of the cab glow with fiery light. The muscles along his spine tightened with each step he took. The closer he got, the more awareness expanded, folding around him, telling all he needed to know.
She was scared shitless. And he was to blame.
Approaching the passenger-side door, he glanced through the window. Ah, hell. Not good. Tucked into a fetal position, Jamison lay curled in a ball. But worse? She trembled so hard his leather jacket shivered around her. Remorse struck him chest level. Wick smothered the reaction. Emotion was a bad idea. And feeling sorry about something he couldn’t change? Complete folly. It wouldn’t help him, never mind her. He needed to get her moving—and head to Black Diamond.
“Jamison.” Reaching out, he popped the truck door open.
Her head snapped toward him. Wide, terror-filled eyes met his. “D-don’t! Don’t touch me!”
“Easy.” Standing in the V—between the open door and the truck frame—he held his hands out to the sides, the move one of reassurance. “It’s just me… Wick. Remember?”
“W-wick.” Huddled inside his jacket, a tear spilled over her bottom lashes. “You… I saw y-you. You’re not… n-not…”
“Human?”
Another tear fell. “What are you?”
“Dragonkind. One of the good guys.”
Incomprehension in her gaze, she shook her head. Wick didn’t blame her for not believing him. He’d never been one of the good guys. Didn’t look or act the part, so… she was right on the money. It was only natural for her to fear him. But that didn’t change the facts. Or what he must do. And yet, he wanted to give her a moment to acclimate. A chance to understand. To come to terms with the idea that he intended to touch her again.
“Look, vanzäla. I know it’s hard to understand, but I want you to trust me a little longer.” Meeting her gaze, he stepped forward. Trapped by her injuries, hemmed in by him, she squirmed on the seat, retreating even though she had nowhere to go. He watched her a moment, feeling helpless, not knowing how to help her, then leaned in. Angling his body through the open door, he planted his hand on the center console. As she whimpered, he said, “I won’t hurt you.”
“Liar,” she rasped. “I saw you. I saw you change into a… a…”
“Dragon?”
Her small hands made an appearance between the lapels of his jacket. Curled into twin balls of fury, she leveled her white-knuckled fists at him. Amusement sparked. Respect for her followed. Jesus. What a spitfire, a female with courage and the chops to hold her own against him. So, time to change tactics.
Wick smoothed his expression. No sense pissing her off. Laugh at her, and he knew she’d pop him with a left jab. “You wanna see your sister?”
She blinked. “You have Tania?”
“Yes.” Short, sweet, and to the point… always the best strategy.
“If you’ve hurt her, I’ll—”
“No need to threaten,” he murmured, his respect for her rising another notch. “She’s in good hands… mated to a friend of mine.”
The news flash made her mouth fall open. Wick took advantage of her momentary confusion and, tucking her fists away, tugged his jacket closed around her. Half a second, and he scooped her up, one arm supporting her back, the other beneath her knees. A quick reverse in course. A nifty shift to the left. A tight turn, and he walked away from the truck with her in his arms. All before she could protest.
She squirmed against him.
Wick secured his hold on her. “Relax, female. It’s all good.”
“Relax,” she said, her sarcastic tone all about “yeah, right.” Face half covered by the collar, she coughed into the leather, the sound raspy with pain. “You gotta be kidding me with that crap.”
His chin brushing the top of her head, Wick’s mouth curved. After a moment, he gave in to impulse and grinned. He couldn’t help it. He liked her moxie. Admired her for not crying like a baby too. All right, so a few tears had fallen. No big deal. Most females would be sobbing by now—be in postdragon freak-out mode or some shit. So, yeah. Jamison got full marks for keeping it together. He only hoped she continued on that track as he strode into the clearing toward his best friend.
Still in dragon form, Venom tipped his chin.
Wick nodded. Getting a load of Venom in all his scaly glory, Jamison gasped. He murmured, trying to reassure her, and called on his magic. Power sparked, warping the night air as she whispered “this isn’t happening… oh my God, this can’t be happening” against his shoulder. Careful to hold her gently, he shifted into dragon form. As he transferred her into his left talon, she winced, but settled fast, making him proud, slipping past his guard to touch a soft spot deep inside him.
Unprecedented. Not very smart either.
No matter how intriguing he found her, Wick refused to be lured. He wasn’t wet behind the ears, a green warrior without the sense God gave him. He didn’t want to feel anything for Jamison. Or be plagued by the need other males suffered for a female. He wasn’t built for connection. Didn’t want to experience closeness or yearn for another. He was a lone male, best suited to solitude, not to keeping a female happy.