Ecstasy Untamed (14 page)

Feral. She’d been marked to be a Feral Warrior.

One of us. Never the ones meant to be marked.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Chapter Nine

F
aith darted across Maxim’s bedchamber, the horror of his words pounding in her head—that he was a monster, that he’d been hurting her. That the new Ferals were the wrong ones and meant to kill the real ones, the good ones.
Hawke.

And she was one of them!

As the blood congealed in her veins, her fangs disappeared as suddenly as they’d appeared, her claws slipping back into her fingertips.

Heaven help me.

Maxim lunged for her, but she was quicker, and closer to the door. She wrenched it open, terror powering her movements. As she dashed into the hall, Maxim close behind, she saw Lyon at the top of the stairs starting toward them.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “I heard a crash.” His eyes narrowed on her. “You’ve been bleeding.”

Faith didn’t slow. Instead, she picked up speed, running past him as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. Or an evil saber-toothed cat.

Behind her, she heard a grunt and glanced over her shoulder to find Maxim slammed up against the wall, Lyon’s hand around his throat. “If you raise a hand or claw against a woman in this house again . . .”

Faith didn’t wait to hear the rest. She reached the stairs and started down, taking them as quickly as her feet would move. She found Kara standing by the new railing.

“Faith, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes. No.” Her hammering heart threatened to pound out of her chest. Her thoughts had scattered, none of them coming clearly. One burst through.
Stay in the room. You belong to Maxim.

She started to slow and had nearly turned back when, with a blinding burst of clarity, she understood. The voice was Maxim’s. The thoughts of belonging to him, of loving him, of not letting Hawke touch her. All Maxim’s.

That foul-smelling piece of gutter trash! She didn’t love him, she
hated
him. Kidnapping girls,
torturing
them?

She began to shake in her horror, in her fury. “Where’s Hawke, Kara?”

Kara frowned. “I don’t know. Probably his room.” She pointed down the opposite hall. “Last door on the right.”

Without a word, Faith took off at a full run. Reaching Hawke’s door, she wrenched it open without knocking, then pulled up short. He stood in the middle of the room in a pair of unbuttoned jeans, a towel slung over one bare, muscular shoulder, his hair damp as if he’d just come out of a shower.

In an instant, he flung aside the towel, his body predator-tense, as he closed the distance between them. At the last moment, he pulled up, his reaching hands jerking back as if he were afraid to touch her. “He hurt you.” His words were a rumbling growl in his throat.

Pushing past Maxim’s voice in her head, she reached for him, pressing her hands against his bare chest. “It’s worse than that . . .”

Hawke gripped her arms, his hands tender vises even as his expression turned fierce. “
I’ll kill him.
”

The list of things she needed to tell him exploded in her head. “He and the other new Ferals are going to rise up against you, all of you. They want to free the Daemons.”

He stared at her as if she’d spouted a foreign language. His hands tightened on hers. “When? How?
Why?
”

“I don’t know. He meant to cloud my mind, Hawke, so I wouldn’t remember what he’d told me. He’s been . . .” She shuddered. “I escaped before he could take my memories. He knows I know. He knows I’m—”

“I’ll take care of it.” He brushed a lock of her hair back from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Stay here.”

Moments later, he was gone, and she was standing in the middle of his room, shaking, her heart thundering in her ears. Yet, never had she felt . . . safer. As she touched the spot on her forehead that still tingled with his gentle kiss, adoration welled up inside her.

Hawke would stop Maxim and the new Ferals. Goddess help her.
Of whom she was one.

Her stomach rolled. Why her? She wasn’t a fighter. She wasn’t a bad person. Why would anyone think she’d attack the good Ferals? Or have any success if she tried? It was ludicrous. Yet, apparently, she’d been marked anyway.

How had her life gotten so screwed up?

H
e was going to kill that saber-toothed bastard.

Hawke stormed down the hall, the red haze rising in the corners of his vision with a fury that was all his own. He fought it back, needing to tell Lyon what Faith had told him before he totally lost it and wound up shifting. Lyon needed to know they had a traitor in their midst. Maybe a bunch of them.

He found Lyon and Kara descending the stairs into the foyer.

“Where’s Maxim?” he called down, not wanting out of sight of his bedroom door in case Maxim tried to find Faith.
I’m going to kill him.

“He just left to go draden hunting. I warned him about hurting Faith again.”

“He
left
?” Shit. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Everyone’s out but us.”

Hawke started down the steps. “Maxim told Faith that the new Ferals are going to rise up against us, kill us and free the Daemons. He’s been clouding her mind and intended to again, but she escaped him.” Hawke had never heard of a Therian having the ability to cloud another Therian’s mind before, but Ferals often acquired gifts with their animals beyond the norm.

Lyon stared at him. A man who didn’t know the Chief of the Ferals well might have thought he hadn’t heard, but Hawke had known him all his life. He saw the emotions another might have missed—the disbelief, the struggle for comprehension, the acceptance. The fury.

“Since he wasn’t able to silence her . . .”

Hawke finished his thought. “He’s going to initiate the attack while he still has the element of surprise.”

Lyon yanked out his cell phone and punched a couple of numbers.

“Lyon!” Delaney’s shout rang out from deep in the house. She came running into the foyer. “They’re under attack, and not by draden. I can feel Tighe’s pain.”

Lyon and Hawke exchanged grim glances. “Guard Feral House,” Lyon ordered. He was going alone. Leaving him behind.

“No.” Hawke’s fangs sprouted, his claws erupting as the red haze threatened to overwhelm him.

“Hawke.” Lyon started toward Hawke when he needed to be helping the others.

Hawke struggled against the rising anger. “I’m okay. Go!”

Lyon hesitated, clearly torn, not wanting to leave him where he could go berserk on the women yet needing to reach the Ferals who were under attack.

“We’ll calm him,” Kara said.

That was the last thing she should have said to her mate. Lyon wouldn’t want her anywhere near him. Goddess, he had to get this under control! He needed Faith.

Olivia ran into the foyer. “Jag’s in trouble. I’m going.”

Lyon shook his head. “You’re staying here. Calm Hawke if you can.” He met the fierce gaze of the petite redhead. “But your only job is to guard the Radiant, Olivia.”

Hawke saw Olivia’s need to reach her mate written all over her face, but she’d been a warrior for too many centuries to object.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going.” Lyon grabbed Kara and gave her a swift kiss. “Lock the doors and let no new Ferals inside for any reason. Hawke can fill you in. Or Faith can.”

If he lost it, dammit. “Faith!” Halfway down the stairs, he stayed where he was, knowing,
knowing,
Faith’s presence would calm his hawk and help the man keep it together.

The moment Lyon was gone, Kara started up the stairs toward him. “Get back,” he growled between fanged teeth. “If I shift, let me out, then lock up again.”

Olivia followed Kara, neither of them listening to him. As Kara slid her arm around him on one side, Olivia mirrored her move on the other. He hated them risking themselves, and yet . . . his eyes swept closed as he absorbed the feel of their soft bodies against his sides, their slender hands on his waist and back. But he was still riding the edge of fury. It burned inside him, the anger that was always there melding with hatred for Maxim, terror that the bastard might actually succeed in stealing the lives of some of his friends. And bone-deep frustration that he couldn’t be out there fighting that battle, too.

“Easy, Hawke,” Kara said softly.

He kept his arms out and away from them so that he didn’t accidentally catch them with his claws, but if he lost it, goddess only knew what he’d do to them. He should leave them, not risk it. Just go outside and let the shift happen. They’d be safer without . . .

His hawk cried out a welcome. And all of a sudden the red haze began to lessen. His fangs and claws retracted.

Kara looked up at him in surprise. “What just happened?” Her gaze shifted, gliding up the stairs to where Faith was coming down.

“You called me,” Faith said quietly, meeting his gaze.

“It’s her,” Kara said.

As one, the women released him, and he turned to Faith, watching her descend, needing her in his arms with a fierceness that shook him. He wouldn’t push her. The memory of the way he’d made her cry was still too raw.

But she never hesitated, never slowed, her arms sliding around his neck, her scent enveloping him as his arms gathered her tight against him. A shudder went through him at the utter rightness of her in his arms.

“She calms you,” Kara said from behind, her voice filled with wonder.

“My hawk is taken with her,” Hawke replied, his cheek pressed against the top of Faith’s precious head. “Whenever she’s around, the animal loses just enough of his fury to allow me to wrench back control.”

Kara’s laughter was soft and sweet. “The animals always seem to be taken with the one meant to be a Feral’s mate.”

But Faith wasn’t mean to be . . .

Shock barreled through him. Maybe she was.

Faith pulled back, her eyes widening as her gaze locked with his. In the middle of utter disaster, hope burst inside him, flooding him with a joy he could hardly credit. He struggled not to grin like an idiot. But the happiness that had flared in Faith’s eyes disappeared suddenly, doused as if it had never been. In its place, he saw devastation.

“What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

Faith shook her head, and he suspected she was overwhelmed by all that had just happened. Which was understandable. He was a patient man. He’d never push her. If they were meant to be together . . .

Goddess, no wonder she looked so unhappy. He and his animal were a wreck.

Faith pulled her arms from around his neck and he held out his hand to her. With a soft smile, she took it, and, together, they followed Olivia and Kara down the stairs, to where Delaney waited.

“What did I miss?” Delaney eyed the two of them curiously.

“Apparently Faith is the one who’s been keeping Hawke from going off the deep end.” Kara whirled to face them from three steps below. “This is huge, Hawke. Have you ever shifted when Faith was close by?”

He thought back and realized Kara was right. “No. She’d always left the room.”

Kara nodded wisely. “Keep her close.” She smiled. “A hardship, I know.”

Hawke met Faith’s gaze and clung.
Keep her close.
There was nothing he wanted more.
Mine.
His hand tightened on hers as he prepared to pull her closer.

The sudden pounding at the door had him whirling and tensing for battle.

“Stay back,” he told the women as he descended the remaining stairs and strode to the door.

“
Olivia! Quick, let us in.
”

Olivia drew her knives. “It’s Ewan . . . Polaris.”

“New Feral. Don’t open it.” He peered out the peephole to see Polaris and the far-less-solid, ruddy-cheeked Lynks, then turned to the women, speaking quietly. “I need to know how many of them are around the house. Try not to be seen.”

Three of the women scattered, Delaney and Olivia heading in opposite directions, Kara up the stairs for a bird’s-eye view.

But Faith didn’t move. She crossed to stand before him, a fierceness in her eyes he hadn’t seen before, an anger he understood all too well. Maxim was going to die for what he’d done to her. For what he was doing to Hawke’s brothers right now.

“I’m sorry I told you not to touch me earlier,” she said softly. “Those weren’t my words. I wanted nothing more than to throw myself into your arms.” She swallowed. “But he wouldn’t let me.”

“My arms are always open to you.” His words were low, soft, as his gaze caressed her sweet face.

As he watched, a soft smile curved her mouth even as her eyes began to glitter with unshed tears. They reached for one another simultaneously, Faith launching herself at him and he sweeping her up until she was eye level. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and pressed her cheek to his.

“I’ve needed this.” Her voice was thick with tears. “I’ve needed you.”

Hawke closed his eyes against the pummeling emotions—the fierce tenderness, the terrible protectiveness. The breath-stealing joy of holding her without guilt, at last.

Her mouth brushed his cheek, a soft kiss that sent heat spiraling through his blood. She kissed his cheekbone, then pulled back until their gazes caught, sparks igniting.

They met halfway, their mouths colliding in a savagely gentle, passionate melding that sent his senses spinning and his body hardening. Her scent intoxicated, her lips tasted like sweet berries. With one hand, he held her to him while the other dove into her soft-as-silk hair, curving around her small, precious head, claiming her. His pulse raced, the kiss grew frantic as he caressed, licked, nipped at her mouth, reveling in the feel of those soft lips, drowning in the passion that rushed over him.

With a sweep of his tongue, he parted her lips, then slid inside, pulling a moan from her throat that only inflamed him more. She tasted like raspberries as their tongues slid against one another in a sensuous dance that had his blood pounding. Never had anything felt as right as holding Faith. As kissing Faith.

He pulled back a fraction, delighting in her low sound of distress until he brushed his lips over her cheek, her eye, her temple, tasting her, drinking in the sweet scent of her. But it was her kiss he needed, her mouth he would die for.