Ecstasy Untamed (10 page)
“Ignore him,” Tighe said quietly beside him.
Hawke forced himself to look away, throwing back half his whiskey. He couldn’t let Maxim get to him. He had too much to lose.
“Bringing him into his animal doesn’t seem to have improved his manners,” Delaney said under her breath. “If anything, he’s even more obnoxious.”
The thought of spending a lifetime with this prick, watching him paw Faith . . . Dammit, this was his own fault. If he’d hidden his interest in her, as he should have, Maxim wouldn’t be trying to provoke him.
Delaney moved away to grab the stack of T-shirts on the hall table, all black, all XXL. As she handed them out, the men set down their glasses and pulled them over their heads. They might be half animals, but they ate their meals with shirts on. And the celebration feast would soon be served.
“Why are Feral celebrations so . . .
tame?
” Maxim demanded, taking the T-shirt Delaney offered with a look of distaste. “We need music, revelry!”
Hawke forced himself to look elsewhere because if he looked at Maxim, he’d just see Faith.
“In the old days, the celebrations were anything but tame.” Kougar’s quiet words silenced the group as nothing else would have short of a sharp command by Lyon.
“The old days?” Maxim asked.
Kougar nodded. “Five thousand years ago. Before the Sacrifice. Though I can only speak for the cougar clan.” A hush descended as all heads swiveled toward him, every expression intrigued. Only very recently had Kougar begun to talk of the past.
“In those days, when all Therians were shifters, a celebration began with a friendly, if bloody fight, generally in our cats, males and females alike. A fight that quickly turned sexual in nature.”
“An orgy?” Jag asked with relish.
A small smile lifted the corner of Kougar’s mouth. “Unlike any orgy you’ve ever imagined. Several dozen cougar shifters copulating in both flesh and fur, shifting back and forth with abandon. The lights and energy from the shifting fueled the sexual excitement, building until we were crazed with lust.”
With all eyes focused on Kougar, Hawke risked a glance at Faith. Their gazes collided, his pulse leaping then plummeting at the look of unhappiness in her eyes. Resolutely, she turned back to Kougar. Hawke could feel her discomfort, could see the tense lines of her body and knew she was frustrated by this war that wouldn’t end and embarrassed by Maxim’s public displays of . . . ownership. Not another woman in the room squirmed away from her mate’s touches. Even Jag treated his mate with respect and tenderness. In a room full of celebration, Faith wasn’t happy. And he wanted her to be. Fiercely.
“When the majority were sated,” Kougar continued, “we’d take off on a wild hunt of real game, killing and feasting in our cats.”
If he pretended he no longer had any interest in her, would she turn to her intended mate and find true happiness there, as she’d believed she would? He had to give her that chance. He had to pretend well enough that he started to believe it himself.
“We were much closer to our animal natures back then, almost entirely lacking in human inhibition.”
All were silent for several moments, absorbing Kougar’s words and the vision he’d painted of a far-more-primitive time.
“It might be time to open a few windows,” Vhyper drawled, earning a few chuckles. “They’re starting to steam.”
“Food’s up, Dudes!” Xavier called from the hallway leading back to the kitchen and dining room. The young human had been caught by the Daemons in the same battle that had sent Hawke and Tighe into the spirit trap. Now he’d been snared in a different kind of trap, unable to leave Feral House until or unless they found a way to steal his memories of that night as they had the two women who’d survived along with him. The problem was that Xavier was blind. And memories could only be stolen through the eyes.
Beside him, Wulfe muttered, “Dudes,” with a resigned shake of his head. “Always
Dudes.
”
“Wulfe?” Xavier called.
Wulfe grimaced guiltily. “Yeah, X-man? I’m right here.”
“Any news of Nat?”
“Who’s Nat?” Hawke asked.
Wulfe glanced at him, a funny look in his eyes. A hint of soft longing that had Hawke’s curiosity spiking. “Natalie. Xavier’s sister. She was one of the ones the Mage had staked around the vortex you fell into.”
“Shit.”
“She’s fine. Now. It took us about a week to clear her memories and free her.” Wulfe turned to Xavier. “I haven’t heard anything in a few days, X. That’s good news though. If there were a problem, the reporters would be all over it.”
Xavier’s face fell drastically. Being blind, he had no concept of hiding his emotions. “Let me know if you hear anything, will you, Dude?”
Wulfe rolled his eyes, meeting Hawke’s gaze. “I will, Dude.”
They filed into the dining room, gathering around the huge table. Though he usually sat in the middle, Hawke joined Lyon and Kara at the opposite end from where Maxim seated Faith, on the same side, so he wouldn’t even be tempted to look at her. Part of him wanted to avoid the meal altogether, but that was the worst thing to do if he wanted to start making everyone believe he didn’t care.
As the dishes were served, conversation remained on saber-toothed cats and speculation that others marked by the seventeen lost animal spirits might start coming forward. Maxim’s voice plucked at Hawke’s nerves all too often. Faith’s, he never heard.
The interminable meal was nearly over when Lyon’s cell phone rang. He excused himself and took the call in the hallway. A few minutes later, he returned, beaming, or as close to beaming as Hawke had ever seen the Chief of the Ferals. At least, when his gaze wasn’t wholly captured by his mate.
“Another new Feral?” Tighe asked, his voice rich with anticipation.
Lyon smiled. “Two.”
“Hot damn!” Jag crowed.
“That was Kieran, a Therian Guard stationed near Dublin.”
“I know him,” Olivia exclaimed. “Oh my god, Kieran a Feral Warrior? The entire female population of the planet is about to get heart palpitations.”
“As if they don’t already whenever they look at one of our guys,” Delaney said.
Olivia lowered her voice to a bare whisper, but Feral hearing being what it was, Hawke heard, as did every male at the table. “You haven’t seen Kieran. He’s . . .
golden.
Utterly beautiful and an Irish charmer of the first order.” She laughed. “He’s a doll, but . . .”
“But you only have eyes for me.” Jag hooked his arm around his mate’s neck and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.
The look Olivia turned on her mate started out teasing, then melted into one of such certainty, such devotion, it made Hawke’s chest ache a little.
“I will only
ever
have eyes for you.” She kissed him back on the mouth, then pulled away slowly. “But Kieran’s a good friend, an excellent fighter, and, despite his unnatural beauty, doesn’t take himself too seriously. I think he’ll fit in well here.”
Several pairs of eyes cut toward Maxim as if all shared the same thought . . .
unlike their new sabertooth.
“Good,” Lyon said. “Kieran just realized he’d been marked though he doesn’t know when it happened. His feral marks aren’t where he could see them. He got into a fight with another guard just now, and they both went feral. Shocked them both and everyone watching.”
“Who’s the other one?” Olivia asked.
“He didn’t say. He wanted to know if such a thing were possible, and I told him to get both their asses on the next flight. I’ll have to notify the heads of the Therian councils to spread the word.” A satisfied smile lifted his mouth. “It seems that at least some of the seventeen have returned. At long last.”
“I can’t wait to see these new animals,” Kara murmured.
Olivia made a sound of agreement. “I want to know when we’re going to see our sabertooth.”
“Now.” Maxim—Hawke refused to give him the honor of his Feral name—rose from his seat with an exuberant burst that had Hawke’s fingers flexing around the handle of his fork.
“In the gym,” Lyon ordered, as Maxim stepped back a few feet from the table.
But the newest Feral had yet to learn to follow the dictates of their chief. Tipping his head back, he closed his eyes and began to sparkle with a thousand colored lights. As the large saber-toothed cat materialized, most at the table rose, those closest moving away, those on the other side of the table coming around for a better look until the great sabertooth stood at the center of a large semicircle.
Hawke glanced at Faith. She was staring at the cat with an awe that pricked at his nerves. As if the creature were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. And he probably was.
Maxim lifted that massive head and gave a roar unlike any of the other cats—a deep, rumbling staccato, almost like a series of barks. A sound not heard in six hundred years. And not heard in nature in twelve thousand. With his jaw opened fully, he was a sight to behold, those fangs gleaming in the light from the dining-room chandelier.
Vhyper grunted. “Fairfax County Animal Control is going to shit in their collective pants if they ever get an eyeful of this one.”
Closing his mouth again, fangs hanging down nearly to his chin, the great cat began to pace in a circle, closer and closer to the other Ferals and their mates, swinging his head from side to side as if he longed to snatch one for dessert.
The mated males all angled themselves between their women and the huge predatory creature. Across the room, Faith backed up against the far wall. Alone.
Everything inside Hawke demanded he go to her, protect her as the other males protected their women. He took a step, then paused as he felt Lyon’s hand on his arm.
“Don’t,” Lyon said quietly.
But every muscle in Hawke’s body tensed with the need to protect.
Mine.
No. She wasn’t. He forced himself to stand down as that great head swung toward Faith, as the great cat slowly stalked her.
Lyon’s grip on his arm tightened. “He won’t hurt her.” Not the woman he intended to make his mate.
The problem was, deep in his gut, Hawke didn’t believe it. His own animal screeched in his head, demanding he act, but he forced himself to remain rooted, watching as the cat bumped his head against Faith’s hip playfully, if roughly, making her stumble a couple of steps sideways.
Faith laughed, her hands pressing against the cat’s large forehead. But Hawke could sense the primitive fear in her warring with the fascination, and he suspected Maxim could, too. And like any bully, Maxim enjoyed that fear.
The cat swung his head down and around, butting against Faith from the other side. She was prepared this time and barely moved.
“Maxim, enough.” The note of pleading in her voice cut at Hawke.
But the cat wasn’t through with her. He nestled his nose between her legs, dipping his head and raising it again, forcing her to spread her legs.
Faith’s cheeks flamed as she pressed at the great head, unable to dislodge it. “Maxim, stop.” Her growing anger only seemed to encourage the cat more.
Hawke’s muscles tensed, the anger that sparked inside him for once fully his own. The bastard enjoyed her discomfort. Enjoyed embarrassing her in front of others. Hawke growled, low, a sound his bird would never make. A sound that belonged to the feral male alone.
“Lyon,” Kara pleaded softly beside her mate.
“Catt, enough,” Lyon barked.
But Maxim ignored him, as he had all along. Instead, he leaped up, his massive paws landing on the wall on either side of Faith’s head, his enormous mouth wrenching open. Faith lifted her hands as if to ward off the attack, heart-thundering fear in every line of her body.
“Catt!” Lyon roared. “Enough!”
The anger within Hawke ignited in a wild rage—a rage that demanded he tear that cat’s head from his body. His fangs sprouted, his claws erupting. Though he struggled to fight for control, too great a part of him wanted this, wanted to attack the bastard, to protect Faith.
When the red haze engulfed him, for once he dove into the storm.
F
aith pressed back against the wall, heart thundering in her ears, her legs shaking as the hot breath of the terrifying beast bathed her face, his mammoth canines inches from her collarbones. He was scaring her, dammit. Humiliating her in front of the Feral Warriors and their mates. In front of Hawke.
“Maxim,
stop.
”
She forced herself to look into those yellow eyes, knowing the man was in there. And what she saw turned her fear to anger. Laughter. He clearly loved his power over her, loved that she couldn’t do a thing to stop him.
The last of her doubts disappeared. Maxim was not, and had probably never been, the man she thought he was. And she wasn’t staying with him another day.
She grabbed his teeth like the bars of a jail cell. “Get them out of my face before I rip them off!”
“Hawke!” Lyon’s voice rang out.
Faith released those saberlike teeth just as the awful cat was wrenched away from her by a snarling Feral Warrior with fangs dripping from his man’s mouth, daggerlike claws sunk deep into Maxim’s fur.
Hawke.
Vhyper leaped into the fray, combining his body weight with Hawke’s to take down the great beast. Wulfe, shifting into a wolf midleap, landed on the big cat, holding him down and snarling into his face as Hawke lifted a wicked-looking knife and pressed the tip between the cat’s eyes.
“Hawke!” Lyon roared.
Without moving the blade, Hawke lifted his head, breathing hard, as if struggling for control. Vhyper, Faith noticed, made no move to take the blade from him.
Hawke looked down into the cat’s eyes, snarling, “Shift back or die.”
Faith’s heart thudded against her ribs, anger burning inside her until unshed tears stung her eyes.
Dammit, Maxim!
Pushing away from the wall, she strode through the dining room and out the door, heading for the stairs.
“Faith, wait!” Kara’s soft voice called to her from behind.
Faith stopped and turned.
“I’m sorry,” Kara said, catching up, the genuine sympathy in her expression undoing Faith. “He’s not a nice man.”
“No, he’s not. Kara . . .” The tears were beginning to fall, and she swiped at them impatiently. “I’m leaving. This isn’t going to work.”
Kara’s face fell. “I was afraid you were going to say that. As much as I hate for you to go, I’d do the same in your shoes. Exactly the same.”
“The trouble is . . .”
“You need money for a flight home. And a way to the airport.”
Faith nodded, Kara’s kindness and understanding like a tight band around her chest. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
Kara opened her arms, and Faith fell into them, accepting the hug Kara offered.
Needing
it as tears began a steady slide down her cheeks. In so many ways, she wished she’d never met Maxim, wished she’d never agreed to come with him to Feral House. She hadn’t known what she was missing. And now she did. Here she’d glimpsed sweet friendship and precious sisterhood. And the promise of laughter and tender passion with a powerful, protective male. Just not the one she’d come with. She’d gotten a taste of what it would be like to have a family again after so many years of being alone.
And she had to walk away from it all.
“Don’t worry about the money. Trust me, it’s not an issue.” Kara pulled back. “Go pack your bag. I’ll find a volunteer to drive you to the airport and meet you in the foyer.”
Faith nodded. “Thank you.” As she turned to the stairs, a coldness swept over her, the promise of loneliness in its bleakest form. Yes, she was anxious to get back to Paulina and Maria, to try to help them find better lives, but six months from now, she’d be moving again. Another city. Another rough street half a world away from the warmth and friendship she’d found at Feral House.
Her future lay before her like the tundra in winter—frozen, colorless. Empty.
F
ury rode Hawke. His hand shook from the battle raging inside him—the need to drive the point of his knife deep into the sabertooth’s brain warring with the certain knowledge he mustn’t. The wildness inside him demanded this creature die, but the man would never kill a brother, no matter how much he hated him. Nor would he hurt Faith like that, stealing the man she believed was meant to be her mate.
The red haze pressed hard around the edges of his vision, fighting to rush in and steal his control, steal him from himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Faith leave the dining room, saw Kara follow her out.
“Catt, shift!” Lyon commanded.
The hawk’s anger poured over him, the red haze rushing in.
From a distance, he felt himself lift the knife, gripping the handle with both hands in preparation for plunging it down. Someone knocked him back. Shouting. Fighting. A berserker’s rage. The laughter of the one he hated.
Then he knew no more.
“H
awke! Ease down!”
“
Shit.
”
“Where’s he going?”
“Someone open the front door!”
As the male voices rang through the house, Faith paused halfway up the stairs and looked back.
“He’s shifted,” Kara said unhappily and ran the few feet to the massive front door, wrenching it open wide.
A moment later, a bird soared into the foyer, a huge, beautiful, red-tailed hawk. But instead of flying out the door as Faith expected, he made a spiraling turn through the foyer, following the curve of the opposite stair, then around toward where she stood frozen. Mesmerized.
She backed up against the wall, uncertain of his wingspan, but he didn’t pass her by. Instead, he landed on the rail a few feet in front of her. Faith swallowed as the great raptor stared at her with unblinking eyes.
“Hawke?” she asked uncertainly. “Are you in there?” In Maxim’s eyes, she’d seen the man, but she saw no emotion in this bird’s eyes. Certainly no human emotion.
The great bird let out a loud
kkkeeeeer
and took off, soaring down through the foyer and, on a perfect downward sweep of wings, out the front door.
Kara slowly closed the door behind him.
Faith swallowed. “How long will he be gone?”
“I don’t know. Each time, he’s gone longer.”
Several of the Ferals strode into the foyer—Lyon, Tighe. Maxim.
“He’s gone?” Lyon asked Kara.
The Radiant nodded, and two of the men sighed.
Maxim showed a modicum of restraint and said nothing. For once. He looked up at her, and she met his gaze. “I’m going back to Warsaw.” She wanted them all to hear, in case Maxim tried to stand in her way.
His jaw tensed, his fists drawing closed, then relaxing again as a look of chagrin crossed his face. “My actions are unforgivable.” The genuine regret that laced his words surprised her.
“It’s happened too many times, Maxim. I told you I won’t be treated like that, and I meant it. I’m going home.” The others—Lyon, Kara, and Tighe—didn’t even pretend they weren’t party to the discussion.
“She needs a ride to the airport,” Kara told her mate. “And money for a flight.”
Lyon met Faith’s gaze with a small nod. “Of course.”
“I’ll take you, Faith,” Tighe said.
She gave Tighe a small smile in thanks.
Maxim raked long, straight hair back from his face with a frown that almost turned pleading. “Don’t go, Faith. I’m not like this, not usually. Hawke . . . angers me. The way he looks at you.”
“I know.”
“I become someone I don’t know . . . and don’t care for . . . when he’s around.” He lifted his hand, then dropped it at his side. “Please, Faith. Let us at least discuss this in private.”
Talking it out would just make it harder. And yet, part of her longed to be convinced that Feral House was where she truly belonged, that she never had to go back to that cold, lonely life. Despite everything she’d seen, everything Maxim had done, she continued to feel that tug, that certainty that she belonged to him. She supposed she could listen to what he had to say.
“All right.”
“Let me know what you decide,” Tighe said.
“I will. Thank you.” She turned to continue up the stairs, Maxim following behind. He caught up to her on the second flight of stairs. At his room, he opened the door and stood back for her to enter, playing the part of the gentleman, at last. When he’d closed the door behind him, they faced one another.
“Don’t leave me, Faith.” He strode to her slowly, and she took an instinctive step back. “We’re meant to be together. You know it. I know it.” He lifted his hand, stroked her jaw.
“Actually, I don’t know it, Maxim. You’ve shown me little respect and less kindness. I don’t care what your reasons are. There’s no excuse. I won’t stay with a man who mistreats me.”
He gripped her jaw, too hard. His mouth tightened. “You won’t leave me. I forbid it.”
Her heart began to race with a fear she hated and the sudden certainty that he was one of
those
men. One who would kill her before he’d let her walk away.
“Maxim . . .” She met his gaze fully, searching for the words that would ease his hold, wondering if the other Ferals would hear her if she called for help.
But as she stared into his eyes, her thoughts began to scatter, her mind going slowly numb.
“Y
ou’re mine, Faith. I love you.” Maxim forced his fingers to loosen their death grip on her jaw, forced himself to stroke her fragile cheek gently as he willed her to believe the lie. He hadn’t understood why she was important to him, not until the Renascence. Now he knew everything. And she would not leave him. Ever. “Tell me you know I love you.”
A strange look came over her eyes, like clouds blotting out the sun’s bright rays. “I know you love me.” Her words sounded odd. Toneless. Robotic.
He eyed her with annoyance, a flash of anger once more tightening his hold on her until his fingers shook with the effort to keep from breaking the fragile bones. Though he loved the sound of breaking bones, that would not do. Not here. There could be no screams here.
“You will be my mate, Faith.”
“I will be your mate.” Her reply was as toneless as before.
Beneath his fingers, he felt the tension in her jaw and body melting away, her eyes unfocusing as if he’d . . .
clouded her mind.
Holy goddess.
Such a thing was usually impossible with nonhumans. To his knowledge, no Therian could ensnare the mind of another of their race. Was this one of the legendary powers he’d gained from his animal?
“Put your hands on your head, Faith.”
Slowly, she complied, her expression as blank as an imbecile’s.
Maxim began to smile as he turned her and pulled her back against him, then covered her mouth with his hand.
“Do not make a sound, Faith.” Concentrating, he called to the newfound animal strength within him and drew the claws and fangs without difficulty. Without pain of any kind. No, the pain would be hers. Lifting one finger, he touched the tip of his claw to her cheekbone, then pressed until he punctured the skin, drawing blood. She tried to jerk away, but he held her. “Be still.”
She froze. Silent. As he’d commanded.
He grinned. With a quick, downward pull, he raked a bloody furrow in her cheek from cheekbone to jaw. Her body tensed. A glistening tear ran down her cheek, mingling with the blood. But she made no sound, just as he’d commanded. She was his to control.
The smell of her blood, the feel of her pain, even if her screams were necessarily silenced, fed the awful craving inside him. “
Finally.
” Excitement thrummed through his head as he wiped at the blood running down her jaw and neck with his shirtsleeve until the bleeding stopped and her flesh healed. Pulling off his shirt, he cleaned her up, then turned her, staring deeply into her eyes.
“You won’t remember I hurt you, Faith. You don’t want to go back to Warsaw. You want to stay here and be my mate. You love me. Now wake up, Faith.”
The blankness left her expression, and she blinked. “Your shirt . . .”
“It’s time to get some sleep.”
“I . . .” She shook her head, as if confused.
“I was speaking to you, and you barely seemed to notice. You’re asleep on your feet, Faith.”
“I must be.”
Maxim’s pulse was beginning to thrum with excitement. She didn’t remember.
“You’ll be happy here with me.”
Her gaze met his, confusion slowly being pushed aside by certainty. “I know. I love you.” The words were monotone, expressionless.
He smiled in silent triumph. “Faith?”
“Yes?”
He took her jaw, staring into her eyes until once more he’d snatched her mind. “Take off your clothes, then go stand in the empty bathtub. You will make no sound, Faith. No matter what I do to you. Afterward, you’ll remember none of it. I would never hurt you Faith. I love you. Would I hurt you, Faith?”
“No. You would never hurt me. You love me.”
“Now do as I said.”
As she slowly stripped and walked toward the bathroom, Maxim watched with distaste. How he hated the feminine form. Unless it was painted with blood. And bowed in pain. Then it was quite beautiful, indeed.
He shifted back into his saber-toothed cat, then padded behind her, speaking to her telepathically.
You’ll make no sound, Faith. But you’ll feel the pain. You’ll feel the terror of what I’m about to do to you. Tremble with fear of me, Faith, for your blood will run.
She stepped into the tub, visibly trembling.
On your hands and knees!
When she’d lowered herself as he’d demanded, he opened his cat’s mouth wide and moved forward until his massive canines, his saber teeth, were poised over her lower back.
Make no sound
.
He slammed his jaw closed, impaling her. As she arched in silent agony, warm blood flowed into his mouth, drenching his throat, filling him with a fierce, vicious joy.
Hail Catt, soon to be Chief of the Feral Warriors
.
The nine wouldn’t even see it coming.