Free Fury of Ice by Coreene Callahan

behind him and unleashed a spell, blanketing the interior of the loft as the sun crested the horizon. “Myst is going to skin me alive.”
    Rikar added his magic to B’s. The windows went dark, blocking the UV rays. “What for?”
    Pivoting, his best friend reached out and pulled a framed photo from the wall beside the door. Eyes bright, two females smiled from behind the glass. The blonde Rikar recognized. B pointed to the brunette in the picture, the one MacCord was now kissing. Ah, make that undressing. “Rikar…meet Tania Solares. My mate’s best friend.”
    Shit on a swizzle stick. Had he said FUBARed earlier? Well, not even close. They’d officially crossed into goat-fuck territory because when Myst found out they’d used her BFF as MacCord’s main course, none of them would get out unscathed.

Chapter Seven
     
    Downed by a scrawny female. How fucking embarrassing.
    Lothair rolled his shoulders, his pride stinging more than the gash on his cheek as he imagined his sire’s reaction; the laughter as it echoed in the high court of his home. The shame brought him low, slowed his pace in the deserted corridor until he stood unmoving, staring at cinder-block walls, seething inside.
    Derrˋmo , he wanted to kill the female for that alone. For bringing the memory back. Making him recall cold winter nights in a frozen Great Hall where his brother played the golden boy. His sire’s right hand always and forevermore.
    Favoritism at its finest. Hurt at its most lethal.
    It shouldn’t matter. Not now when his father was half a world away, and Lothair was full-grown. A warrior with purpose. Well-respected. Feared for his skills. A valued member of the Razorback pack and his commander’s XO. Still, the old wound made him ache in ways he didn’t want to think about, much less acknowledge.
    Good thing family was easily discarded and simple to replace.
    Ivar was his family now. His brother in every way that mattered. Thank God. Any more time spent in Russia with those bastards, and he would’ve gone postal, wiping out an entire branch of the Archguard. Not a good idea, considering where Ivar’s funding came from and his boss’s political aspirations.
    So, sure. He’d toe the line and bury the past. For now.
    And job number one? The breeding center and finding Angela Keen. Stupid she-cop and her box cutter.
    He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. To give her what she deserved…a slow, agonizing death. Except he couldn’t put her six feet under. The female was high-energy, too valuable an asset to their breeding program. To Ivar’s clinical study, the chromosomal DNA mapping, and drug testing. Lothair didn’t understand the complexities of the science, but man, the endgame was sweet. All the high-energy humans he could stand…a fuck-fest for him and his fellow warriors in a quest to breed the first Dragonkind female.
    But first? He needed to find and cage them. Not an easy proposition. High-energy females were rare, and Ivar wanted six guinea pigs to start. Which meant none could be wasted. So, yeah. Angela-of-the-box-cutter would stay alive. Didn’t mean he couldn’t beat the snot out of her, though. Drain her energy to the point of death. Make her suffer so badly she begged him to end her life.
    And hmm, coming from the she-cop? Begging would be good. Very, very good.
    Upping his pace, his footfalls echoed, bouncing off stained cement and bare lightbulbs, each boot thud quiet, familiar, nothing but ordinary. Now if only his body would get with the program. But the blood just kept coming. Rolling from the gash on the side of his face. Soaking through his waistband, running warm and wet from the wound on his rib cage. He wiped more from beneath his broken nose and silently cursed the pain.
    Punching through a set of double doors, he crossed the medical suite, heading for the supply cabinet and the mirror above it. Tarnished by time, age spots ate at the polish, spoiling the reflective quality, impeding his