Ecstasy Untamed (18 page)

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Lyon asked.

“That we may need to kill the ones that have been marked? Allow the animal spirits to mark the ones they should have in the first place? Yes.”

Faith felt the blood drain from her face.

Olivia surged to her feet. “Ewan . . . Polaris . . . does not deserve to die for this! Maybe he wasn’t the one meant to be marked, but I’ll bet he was in the top three of that polar-bear line. He’s a good man, every bit as strong physically and morally as any man here. I’ve known him for centuries. There’s no evil in him.
None.
”

Lyon nodded. “Polaris is a good man and a good fighter. But he tried to kill Hawke.” He held up his hand, forestalling Olivia’s argument. “We’re all but certain he’s under the influence of magic, but that doesn’t make him any less dangerous. If he can be cured of the darkness, perhaps he’ll make a fine Feral Warrior. The same can’t be said of all of them.”

Good heavens, that was an understatement. They had no idea. She was going to make a terrible Feral Warrior. She barely knew how to kill draden!

As Olivia resumed her seat, Wulfe leaned back. “So why were they marked? Polaris is a good guy, the sabertooth clearly isn’t. Eigle got himself killed in his first fight. I understand that the Mage magic probably kept the animal spirits from marking the ones they wanted, but who did they mark?”

Lyon looked to Kougar.

Kougar pursed his mouth thoughtfully. “I’m inclined to believe they were marked at random. Some may make good Feral Warriors . . . or would have if they hadn’t been infected . . . like Polaris. Others are the dregs of the race. But most are probably decent men who should never have been chosen.”

Or women, Faith thought. Decent men or women.

“The Shaman should take a look at the three we’ve captured,” Kougar said.

Lyon nodded. “I agree. If we’re right, Fox will be free of the magic, and we can let him out of the prison. The other two will remain locked up until we can find a cure. If any other new Ferals arrive, they’ll join them in the prison. In the meantime, I’ll enlist the aid of the enclave here in digging into the backgrounds of everyone who’s been recently marked. I want to know who these men are.”

“Does it matter?” Kougar’s question hung in the air.

Lyon tilted his head. “You think it shouldn’t?”

“If we want to maximize our chances of defeating Inir and his army, we need the strongest Ferals. Period. If, goddess forbid, Inir succeeds in freeing the Daemons without us, and I’m no longer certain he won’t, then we absolutely must have the strongest. The ones marked are the wrong men.”

Faith’s stomach cramped. Kougar thought they should all be killed. Even if they were cured. Her pulse began to pound, instinct yelling at her to run. Fight or flight.
Deep breaths.
She struggled to get control. They didn’t know she’d been marked. Yet.

Lyon cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. “We need to find a cure for the infection. If we succeed, we’ll decide where to go from there. If we don’t, then we’ll have no choice.” They would kill them. His expression grew hard. “I don’t need to tell you that this discussion goes no further than this room. The new Ferals absolutely cannot know their fates lie in the balance.”

“Where are they?” Vhyper asked.

Wulfe nodded. “I’ve been wondering the same. And why did they run? They caught us by surprise. If they’d kept fighting instead of taking off, they could have made certain Jag and Paenther were dead. They might have succeeded in killing one or two more of us, too.”

For a moment, all were silent. Faith didn’t know the answer any more than they did.

“They’re Mage creations,” Kougar said slowly. “Possibly even Mage puppets. And the puppet master, Inir, most likely, didn’t want his puppets destroyed. The fact that they ran instead of continuing to fight supports the theory that the animal will only infect the first Feral he marks. Inir, or whoever was controlling the new Ferals in that battle, must have feared he’d lose too many. It was better to pull them out of there, regroup, and attack again later.”

“Not only were they outmatched,” Hawke said beside her. “But the puppet master was losing his hold on some of them. On Grizz, at least. He may have feared more would slip from his grasp. He called them to him to reinforce that control.”

“To steal their souls,” Tighe muttered.

Hawke nodded. “Possibly.”

“We have to find them.” Lyon began to pace, the general planning his battle strategy. After several minutes, he started issuing orders. “First, we retake and secure Feral House. Then we interrogate the prisoners with the Shaman’s help—learn what we can from them. Tighe, have Skye contact the Mage resistance, let them know we’re hunting the new Ferals and they may be heading for a Mage stronghold.”

“I’ll drive up to Harpers Ferry,” Wulfe offered. “To make sure they haven’t gone back there.”

Lyon nodded. “Once Feral House is secure, and I no longer need you there.” His gaze swung to Kougar. “Find a cure.” He straightened and addressed them all, his gaze sliding from one man to the next. “But our number one job is to protect our Radiant.”

Heartfelt, murmured assent erupted around the table.

“The new Ferals need her radiance as much as we do, now. Their first goal is almost certainly to steal her.”

“They’re not getting her,” Wulfe growled.

“No way in hell,” Tighe concurred.

It was clear they all loved her, and Faith could certainly understand why. Kara was the heart of Feral House.

Lyon lifted his hand. “We’ll leave for Feral House at dawn.” Which gave them about an hour. “Meeting dismissed.”

As everyone stood, Faith rose, and Hawke pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. In Hawke’s arms, she felt safe.

Yet, never had her life been more in danger.

Chapter Twelve

T
hey piled into two vehicles. Hawke drove his big black SUV with Lyon in front beside him. Faith and Kara climbed into the far back at Kara’s suggestion. Skye, Olivia, and Delaney had remained at the enclave—Skye and Olivia at their mates’ bedsides and Delaney because of the babe she carried.

As the vehicle started, Kara turned to her, her eyes sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Faith. I’m sorry Maxim wasn’t the man you thought he was.”

Faith nodded, brushing her palms over her worn jeans, uncertain how to respond. She hadn’t even known Maxim, really, except for his dictatorial, jealous ways. And the cruelty in his eyes that last time as he’d told her all the horrible things he’d done. She kept getting flashes of nightmarish pain and wondered if it would all come back to her eventually, if she’d be forced to relive it all again in her mind.

“I’m glad you’re staying.” Kara glanced in Hawke’s direction, a small smile lifting her mouth before she turned back. “Maybe you’ll decide to stay permanently. I’d like that.”

Faith’s chest squeezed. There was nothing she wanted more that to be with Hawke permanently. If only her situation were so simple. If only she could choose to stay because she was starting to fall for one of the Ferals—a good one this time. Because he wanted her to stay. Not because she would die without radiance if she left. But everything was so complicated. And her choices were no longer her own.

She tried to return Kara’s smile, but her effort fell short. “I’d like that, too.”

When they arrived at Feral House, the men fanned out. Like the previous night, they were prepared for a battle, although Lyon had been in touch with Pink, and she’d assured him she’d seen no sign of the new Ferals. Wulfe pulled off his clothes, shifted into his wolf, and began sniffing, probably searching for their scent. After a complete circle of the house, he knelt behind one of the cars and shifted back, then rose and dressed again.

“None of them have been here in the past six hours.”

Lyon nodded. “Good. Wulfe and Vhyper, replace the broken windows. The rest of you, come with me.”

Hawke came over to where she stood with Kara, his gaze soft and concerned, as it always was. As if he walked on eggshells around her. As Lyon took Kara’s hand, Hawke wrapped his arm around Faith’s shoulders, and, together, they followed.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine, and you can quit asking me that.” She smiled, taking the sting out of her words. “I’m stronger than I look.”

But though a hint of approval flashed in his gaze, the worry didn’t leave his eyes. “When I saw you a couple of days ago, after not seeing you for days, I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. That’s why I came to you that night. But you denied it. And I know now I was right.”

“I didn’t know what he was doing to me. I didn’t remember.”

Hawke nodded. “Understood. But my gut still tells me something’s wrong, something that you’re not telling me. Something that scares you.”

Faith looked away, trying to hide the telltale flush she felt rise to her cheeks. How could he possibly see her so clearly?

“I’m not keeping anything from you, Hawke,” she fabricated. “Not intentionally. I think the fear may be coming from my subconscious. Things he did to me that I haven’t yet remembered.” It was time to change the subject before he pressed, and she wound up telling him things she wasn’t ready to share. “Who is he?” she whispered, nodding toward the Shaman, who walked a distance ahead of them. He looked like a young teenager.

She felt Hawke’s gaze on her but kept her own straight ahead, not wanting to see the knowing look in his eyes. Not wanting him to read the secrets in her own.

“The Shaman is very old, somewhere between six and ten thousand years. I doubt even he knows.”

Faith’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping.

“He was attacked by Mage magic when he was a teen and never physically aged again, but he acquired a rare ability to sense that magic in others. His gift isn’t foolproof, but he’s good. And he’s very, very kind. He’s been good enough to stay in the area since this latest Mage war began. We have need of him more often than we care for, believe me.”

If the Shaman could detect magic in others, could he detect the dark magic in her? She shivered, but if Hawke noticed, he didn’t comment.

As they entered the house, Wulfe called out, “Pink! Xavier! We’re back.” To Vhyper he said, “I’ll check on them, then meet you in the storeroom.” Vhyper opened the door to the basement, started down, and they all followed.

“Why didn’t we take Pink and Xavier with us to the enclave?” Faith asked quietly.

“They were safe here, and we can’t risk anyone’s seeing either of them. The human police are still searching for Xavier. And Pink . . .” He shrugged, as if that said it all. And it did. With her human-shaped face covered in pink feathers and her flamingo legs, there would be no passing Pink off as anything other than nonhuman.

They reached the prisons to find the grizzly and fox prowling their cages as impatiently as any caged beasts. But the lynx merely lay on the floor watching them. As the group approached, Grizz and Fox shifted into men in twin sprays of colored lights, Fox fully dressed, Grizz startlingly naked. Despite the size of him, there wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere. Which was more than she really needed to know.

Fox stared at them, looking thoroughly annoyed. But Grizz growled, grabbed the bars, and shook them as if he were trying to yank them out of the floor. “Let me out of here!” he roared.

Lynks closed his cat eyes, ignoring them.

Lyon and Tighe exchanged a look that said they weren’t sure how to go about this. If they meant for the Shaman to go into one of those cages, Faith didn’t want to be anywhere near when they opened the doors. Certainly not Grizz’s, anyway.

“The Shaman is here to examine you,” Lyon said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the bear shifter’s fury. “If you’ve been infected with Mage magic, as we suspect, he has the ability to sense it. We need to know what’s happened in order to help you.”

To Faith’s surprise—to everyone’s she suspected—Grizz thrust his hand through the bars, palm up, as if asking for that help.

Lyon stepped forward without hesitation and grasped Grizz’s wrist. The big Feral growled but didn’t fight him. The Shaman took a step forward, hesitated, then continued forth, laying both hands on Grizz’s exposed forearm. He jerked his hands back, then cautiously touched the big man’s arm with one hand only. For several seconds, he stood rooted, his eyelids drifting closed. Finally, he stepped away, turning to Lyon. “He’s badly infected, though I can’t say for certain it’s Mage magic. It could be Daemon or a combination.”

“Is the animal spirit infected?” Lyon asked.

“I don’t know. It’s impossible to tell.”

Fox stuck his hand out in the same way Grizz had, his jaw set in a hard line. “My turn.”

Lyon released Grizz and repeated the move on Fox. The Shaman touched the fox shifter’s arm, then motioned him closer to the bars and reached into the cage, pressing his hand to Fox’s forehead. The Feral watched the Shaman warily but allowed the touch.

“Nothing.” The Shaman pulled away, turning to Lyon. “Completely clean. No darkness or magic whatsoever.”

Fox folded his arms, his jaw hard, his stance shouting,
I told you so.

Lyon opened the door of the cage himself, then held out his arm. “No hard feelings? After what happened last night, I couldn’t take a chance.”

Fox stared at him for several seconds, letting Lyon’s arm hang before he finally, slowly unfolded his own and grasped Lyon’s forearm as Lyon grasped his.

“How are Jag and Paenther?” Fox asked.

Lyon nodded as if pleased with the question. “Stable and healing. They’ll make it.” Lyon turned to the third Feral. “Shift, Lynks.”

The cat lifted his lids, blinking at the Chief of the Ferals lazily. Ignoring the command.

Lyon glanced at Fox. “Vhyper tells me you managed to shift your form to the size of a small horse last night. Far larger than your predecessor.”

Fox shrugged, his mood still darkly angry.

“Maybe you’d like to demonstrate that to Lynks. You can do it in his cage if you’d like.”

Tighe chuckled. “You can show him your teeth up close and personal.”

Fox glanced at Tighe, a dangerous smile spreading across his mouth. “Bloody right.”

In a quick spray of sparkling lights, Lynks shifted, then rose, fully clothed, to stare at them sullenly. He didn’t look well. He looked, Faith thought, as if he’d suffered and wasn’t a man used to suffering.

“Put your hand through the bars,” Lyon snapped. Lynks did so slowly, and Lyon grabbed his wrist as he had the others.

The Shaman’s examination went much as it had with Grizz. “Thick, dark magic. The same as the other.” He released the Feral, and Lyon did the same. “It appears that the nine are clean, but the seventeen have most definitely been infected, as you believed.”

Faith’s stomach knotted. She wondered what would happen if she held out her hand to the Shaman, too. Would he declare her infected? She swallowed hard, watching Grizz once more shake his cage like a wild beast.

“Maybe not all the nine.” Hawke released her and stepped toward the Shaman, holding out his hand as the caged Ferals had done. “Check me, Shaman.”

Lyon tilted his chin in question.

“I was in that spirit trap,” Hawke replied in answer to Lyon’s unspoken question. “As was my hawk.”

The Shaman took Hawke’s wrist as he had the others. With a frown, he lifted his hand to the top of Hawke’s head. “I sense no infection, but . . .” His frown deepened. “There is deep trauma within your bond with your animal, warrior.”

“I know. We’re working on it.”

The Shaman nodded.

Lyon’s brows lowered with concern. “But you don’t sense that it’s being caused by magic?”

“No, but I’m not sure I’d detect any magic within the spirit, only the man. If you find a cure, Hawke and Tighe should partake of it, too, just to be sure.”

Lyon glanced at the two caged Ferals. “Can their magic be cleared in the usual way?”

“If it’s Mage, I would assume so,” the Shaman replied. “If it’s Daemon, perhaps not.”

Faith glanced up at Hawke as he stepped back to join her. “What’s the usual way?”

Hawke lifted an eyebrow, his eyes beginning to gleam. “Sex.”

Her eyes narrowed. “No, it’s not.”

“It is. It’s during the moment of sexual release that the mind and body are the most open. With the mind opened, the body is able to expel simple magic. Most Therians know that.”

“I was a little young when I was last around Therians.”

“I’m not risking a woman with Grizz,” Lyon said. “He’s too violent.”

Without warning, the huge shifter reached between his legs, grabbed his long, flaccid member, and began pumping himself.

Faith gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as her gaze slammed into Kara’s. As one, they burst into shocked laughter. And just as quickly turned back to the prison. There was something incredibly . . .
intriguing . . .
about watching a man like that get himself off. Grizz clearly wanted to be rid of that magic. Immediately.

“I’ll ask Ariana to send one of her maidens for Lynks.” Kougar’s calm tone made it sound as if this kind of thing happened all the time at Feral House. “It’s unlikely he’ll be able to hurt her even if he tries.”

“I would never demand a woman—” Lyon began, but Kougar cut him off.

“The legends are true, Roar. Many Ilinas are highly sexual creatures who crave sex with corporeal males. Not all, of course. Ariana will send one who is.”

Moments later, a woman appeared out of thin air, a petite dark-haired beauty in a diaphanous long green gown, her loose hair falling nearly to her waist.

“How . . . ?” Faith began.

“Kougar can communicate with Ariana over any distance,” Hawke said. “It comes in handy.”

“Phylicia.” Kougar nodded.

The woman smiled, a seductive look on her face as her gaze tripped from male to male with eager excitement, landing on Fox. “This one? He’s beautiful.”

“No.” Lyon motioned toward the prisons, toward Lynks, but Phylicia caught sight of Grizz, who was still pumping himself, and stuck fast.

“Warrior,” she purred. Suddenly, she was no longer standing outside the cages. She was in with Grizz, pulling up her gown.

“He isn’t the one, Phylicia,” Kougar said evenly.

“Oh, I think he is. The perfect one.” A second later, her legs were wrapped around Grizz’s waist, her back against the stone wall as he thrust inside her.

As one, Faith and Kara whirled away, covering their faces.

“I’ll never get used to this,” Kara muttered, stepping beside her.

Faith’s body was growing hotter with each slap of flesh against flesh, with each moan of pleasure. In her mind, it wasn’t Grizz and the Ilina but Hawke. And her. And she wanted that, wanted him, with every tight breath she drew into her lungs.

“He’s dangerous, Phylicia,” Kougar said behind them. “Be aware.”

“He’s . . .
magnificent
,” she replied.

Faith glanced over her shoulder, peeking at Hawke, wondering if he was as aroused . . . Her breath caught as their gazes collided, his scorching hot. He hadn’t been looking at the rutting couple. He’d been watching her. In his eyes, she saw the promise of pleasure every bit as intense as that they were witnessing. And soon.

Phylicia screamed her release. Grizz roared with his own. A moment later, Phylicia stood once more outside the cage, her gown falling around her calves, her face flushed and damp, her smile radiant.

“
Ah
, that was good. Who’s next? Who was it you’d meant me to take?”

“Me!” Lynks was standing, his hands curled around the bars of his cage.

Lyon shook his head. “Wait a moment, if you will, Phylicia. Shaman?”

Once more, Grizz thrust his hand through the bars of the cage. Once more, the Shaman examined him. “No change. The infection held fast.”

With an angry growl, Grizz tore his arm from the Shaman’s grasp and whirled away.

“We’ll find a cure for the magic,” Lyon told him. “But until we do, you’ll both have to remain here. I’m sorry.” He turned to the Shaman. “Has the Ilina been infected?”