Fury of Seduction (Dragonfury Series #3) Read Online Free
Author: Coreene Callahan
stretching between the prison and Gig Harbor. She and her Mini would be long gone before the jerk clued in and put his 4x4 in drive.
Thank God for high-powered performance engines. Oh how she loved her wicked smart mechanic.
Clearing her throat, Tania put the kibosh on her amusement. Laughing at him would only make Griggs meaner, and cranking him up another notch? Not a good idea.
Wasn’t power grand?
And here—inside the prison walls—Griggs possessed the ultimate leverage, every bit of authority. But no matter how many times he insinuated that her sister’s chances at parole would increase one hundredfold if Tania decided to be “nice” to him, she refused to play that game. J.J. would kill her, for one thing. And for another? She didn’t sleep around—or trade sexual favors.
Ever.
Now all she needed to do was get through the security check. Without kicking Griggs in the balls with her fancy new boots. If she didn’t, J.J. would suffer the consequences. No way Tania would allow that to happen. Or give in and let the scum-sucking weasel win.
Chapter Three
Nightfall couldn’t come fast enough. Ivar wanted out of 28 Walton Street and the confining spaces inside the Razorback lair. And away from the thoughts banging around inside his head. He needed the rush and chill of winter against his scales. Yearned to shift into dragon form, stretch his wings, and soar above the cityscape. To hunt the female down before he lost his mind.
He was dangerously close to the edge already. Way off base with no hope of pulling back to the saner side of safe anytime soon.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Ivar hung his head. He cupped the back of his neck and pressed down. Discomfort nagged at him. He pulled harder, stretching tense muscles, distracting himself with physical pain as an ache of another sort expanded inside his chest. Like a surgeon with rib spreaders, the sorrow cracked him wide open, engulfing his chest cavity, devouring what little remained of his heart. He closed his eyes, combating the mind-fuck of unimaginable loss.
Or at least, it had been...until three weeks ago. Until his warriors had returned and delivered the terrible news.
Lothair—his best friend and XO—was gone. Dead. Murdered by his enemies.
Now he choked on the grief. And didn’t know how to handle the pain. He’d never been one for sentiment or brotherly love. Emotional excess belonged to other males—weaker ones with attachment issues—not him. Never him. Death, after all, happened more often than not. Was as inevitable as the rise and setting of the sun in the war he fought against the Nightfuries and the Dragonkind males that supported his enemies’ cause.
But losing Lothair...
Fuck him, that hurt. More than he’d thought possible.
Planting his elbows on his knees, Ivar raised his head and stared at the wall opposite him. With all the lights off, the row of plasma TVs should’ve faded into the darkness, leaving the flat screens indistinguishable from the wall. But he saw everything in high-definition. Even from behind the dark lenses of his Oakleys, his night vision was pinpoint sharp, throwing each detail into stark relief: the textured surface of sea grass wallpaper, the fine grain in the bamboo floorboards, the crystal glass and empty bottle of Jim Beam sitting on the marble-topped bar.
Sucking back the JB hadn’t helped. Hadn’t put a dent in the pain or given him the oblivion he craved. Nothing ever did. Clarity was his cross to bear—always sticking with him, laying out the best course of action like playing cards in a poker game. Logical. Straightforward. Precise. His mind never failed to see all the angles, which meant he needed to get off his ass. Go hunting. Set the wheels of plan A in motion and avenge his friend.
Too bad daylight was screwing with his flow.
His brows drawn, Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose and took off his wraparounds. Fingering the twin arms, he twirled the sunglasses between the spread of
Thank God for high-powered performance engines. Oh how she loved her wicked smart mechanic.
Clearing her throat, Tania put the kibosh on her amusement. Laughing at him would only make Griggs meaner, and cranking him up another notch? Not a good idea.
Wasn’t power grand?
And here—inside the prison walls—Griggs possessed the ultimate leverage, every bit of authority. But no matter how many times he insinuated that her sister’s chances at parole would increase one hundredfold if Tania decided to be “nice” to him, she refused to play that game. J.J. would kill her, for one thing. And for another? She didn’t sleep around—or trade sexual favors.
Ever.
Now all she needed to do was get through the security check. Without kicking Griggs in the balls with her fancy new boots. If she didn’t, J.J. would suffer the consequences. No way Tania would allow that to happen. Or give in and let the scum-sucking weasel win.
Chapter Three
Nightfall couldn’t come fast enough. Ivar wanted out of 28 Walton Street and the confining spaces inside the Razorback lair. And away from the thoughts banging around inside his head. He needed the rush and chill of winter against his scales. Yearned to shift into dragon form, stretch his wings, and soar above the cityscape. To hunt the female down before he lost his mind.
He was dangerously close to the edge already. Way off base with no hope of pulling back to the saner side of safe anytime soon.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, Ivar hung his head. He cupped the back of his neck and pressed down. Discomfort nagged at him. He pulled harder, stretching tense muscles, distracting himself with physical pain as an ache of another sort expanded inside his chest. Like a surgeon with rib spreaders, the sorrow cracked him wide open, engulfing his chest cavity, devouring what little remained of his heart. He closed his eyes, combating the mind-fuck of unimaginable loss.
Or at least, it had been...until three weeks ago. Until his warriors had returned and delivered the terrible news.
Lothair—his best friend and XO—was gone. Dead. Murdered by his enemies.
Now he choked on the grief. And didn’t know how to handle the pain. He’d never been one for sentiment or brotherly love. Emotional excess belonged to other males—weaker ones with attachment issues—not him. Never him. Death, after all, happened more often than not. Was as inevitable as the rise and setting of the sun in the war he fought against the Nightfuries and the Dragonkind males that supported his enemies’ cause.
But losing Lothair...
Fuck him, that hurt. More than he’d thought possible.
Planting his elbows on his knees, Ivar raised his head and stared at the wall opposite him. With all the lights off, the row of plasma TVs should’ve faded into the darkness, leaving the flat screens indistinguishable from the wall. But he saw everything in high-definition. Even from behind the dark lenses of his Oakleys, his night vision was pinpoint sharp, throwing each detail into stark relief: the textured surface of sea grass wallpaper, the fine grain in the bamboo floorboards, the crystal glass and empty bottle of Jim Beam sitting on the marble-topped bar.
Sucking back the JB hadn’t helped. Hadn’t put a dent in the pain or given him the oblivion he craved. Nothing ever did. Clarity was his cross to bear—always sticking with him, laying out the best course of action like playing cards in a poker game. Logical. Straightforward. Precise. His mind never failed to see all the angles, which meant he needed to get off his ass. Go hunting. Set the wheels of plan A in motion and avenge his friend.
Too bad daylight was screwing with his flow.
His brows drawn, Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose and took off his wraparounds. Fingering the twin arms, he twirled the sunglasses between the spread of
Readers choose
Erin Ashley Tanner
Arthur Miller
Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff
Alyx Shaw
Benita Brown
Madison Stevens
Alex Flinn
Eliot Pattison
Anastasia Maltezos
Clive James