Ecstasy Untamed (25 page)

Through the bird’s cries, knowledge flowed into her head. Hawke’s damaged connection with his animal was shattering. They were going to lose him here, now, if she didn’t pull him back.

The violent need to hurt him barreled through her, then receded, pushed back by the will of the falcon.
Ally. Partner.
The thoughts sank into her head.

Save Hawke. This hawk. Need him.

Ours
.

Pushing past that alien need for violence, Faith reached for him, pressing her palms to his face. “Hawke.” A distant bird’s cry filled her mind. Not the falcon’s. The hawk’s?

Hawke’s gaze was unfocused, his eyes filled with a pain the darkness reveled in, a pain that sliced her heart to shreds. At the push of the falcon, she slid her hands higher, pressing her palms to his temples. The screeching exploded until she gasped from the sound of it. As she held the man, the falcon flew into that maelstrom and, through sheer force of will, began to calm it.

Faith kissed Hawke’s cheek gently. “Look at me.”

Glazed eyes lifted, confusion and relief warring with the horror. “Faith. You’re back.” He pulled her into his arms. “I hurt you.
Goddess,
I hurt you.”

“No.” She kept her palms pressed against his temples. The falcon needed her to, though how she knew that, she wasn’t sure. “I wanted it rough. I needed it rough, and you gave it to me. We were both caught up in that storm. You didn’t hurt me.”

He tipped his forehead to hers, a shudder going through his body. “I’m glad.” His hand slid up her side and back down again. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you. Hawke, I’m fighting the darkness, but it could win again at any moment. It’s pounding in my head, the drive, the demand to escape. To hurt you! But the falcon is helping me. You need my help. Your connection with the hawk is shattering. He’s furious.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. He blames me for getting us caught in that spirit trap.”

“That’s not it. That’s not the problem.”

He pulled back, his gaze narrowing even as he brushed the hair back from her face with shaking hands. ”What do you mean?”

“The falcon is talking with the hawk. She’s relaying the gist of the conversation to me.”

The look he gave her would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

She shrugged. “What can I say? I have a gift for language.”

“
Falcon speak?
”

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter! All I know is the spirit trap frayed the connection between you, you’re making it worse, and he’s frantic.”

“
I’m
making it worse? He’s the one who keeps stealing control! How am I the one making it worse?”

“You’re not working with him, you’re doing nothing to heal the connection.”

He stared at her, as if not quite believing, yet trying to. “Tell me how.”

“You have to give up control to him.” She persisted despite Hawke’s scowl. “You have to become one with him.”

“You think I haven’t tried? He takes over, and I lose hours at a time.
Thirty-seven
, last time.”

Faith stroked his hair back from his face before once more pressing her hand to his temple. “You’ve never given up control to him, Hawke. He snatches it, but you’ve never truly given it.”

The scowl returned. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to do what you have to in order to survive.” She gripped his face, leaning forward until she felt as if she were pouring her will into his eyes. “You’re going to die if you don’t. And soon. The connection is nearly broken.” Emotion ripped through the wall of will and darkness, rushing her with anguish and pain. She caressed his cheek. “I don’t want you to die.”

His jaw clenched beneath her fingers. “If I give in to him—”

“No. Not
give in.
That’s just it. You must freely, willingly,
completely
hand him control.”

He stared at her. “I can’t.”

The darkness began to sweep over her again. She felt it rushing back in and snatched her hands from his face. “Hawke!”

He must have realized what was happening because the next thing she knew, she was on her stomach, his warm body lying along the length of her, his hands pinning hers above her head.

“Don’t leave me, Hawke. Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, Smiley. I won’t.”

But he didn’t understand. And she couldn’t help him any more. Terror ripped through her at the thought that she’d try to fight him again, that she’d drive him past the brink.

“Don’t die,” she whispered brokenly as the dark magic swept her away.

“W
e have to get her cured.”

Hawke turned his head from where he lay atop Faith’s back, both of them stark naked, as she fought and bucked beneath him, struggling to get free of his hold. Kougar stood just outside the cell door.

“Have you been standing there the whole time?” The thought of another Feral watching him make love to a woman didn’t bother him. Hell, if he ever got the chance to take Faith as his mate, they’d all watch. It was part of the mating ceremony. But the thought that Kougar had witnessed him attacking her made him sick with shame.
“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“First, I haven’t been standing here the whole time—I shifted and curled up on the floor in the corner. But I heard clearly enough—rough sex and two very willing participants. If you’d been harming her, I’d have stopped you.”

Hawke would have liked to get up, but Faith was still thrashing, facedown, lost once more to the darkness that demanded his blood. She couldn’t draw it like this, which helped him hold on to his own control. Besides, he was just possessive enough not to like the idea of Kougar seeing the full extent of Faith’s beauty, though with her being Feral now, they’d all see her nude, eventually. It was just a matter of time.

He heard the heavy tread of footsteps. Company. He let his forehead fall to the back of Faith’s head and almost got a broken nose when she reared back.

“Still both human, I see,” Lyon drawled.

“It’s been an eyeful,” Kougar replied.

Hawke glared at him. “You said you hadn’t watched.”

Kougar shrugged. “I lied.” He turned to their chief. “Any word on the cave?”

“They’re not making any progress. Like so many things now, the magic the Mage used seems to have threads of Daemon magic woven into it. We may never break through.”

Hawke growled, tired of lying on the floor while the discussion went on high above his head. He pushed to his feet, dragging a struggling Faith with him. She kicked out, catching him hard in the shin. He pressed her face-first against the wall where he could still see his brothers. “She has to be cured.”

“Ariana believes the exorcism can be performed in any mystic circle, now that they know how it works.” Lyon opened his mouth to continue, then closed it with a frown and a shake of his head.

Hawke read him all too easily. “There was an enormous
but
at the end of that sentence, Roar. Quit trying to spare me.”

Lyon met his gaze, his own somber. “They aren’t sure. And if it doesn’t work, they’re worried they may make the situation worse. They may make the magic’s hold on her stronger. They want to give it more time. A day or two.”

Hawke growled.

“No,” Kougar said. “It has to be done now. Hawke’s connection is nearly gone, and Faith’s situation is driving the nails into his coffin. Separating them isn’t the answer. We’ve got to get her cured.”

Lyon’s gaze met Hawke’s, a deep well of feeling in his eyes. “Then we do it now.”

A
n hour later, they were gathered in the mystic circle behind Feral House. Dawn had broken, though the sun had yet to rise. The earth smelled damp and new.

Hawke stood within the fire circle, with Faith locked in his arms, still struggling. Unlike the goddess stone, this spot didn’t possess strong enough mystic energies to create a barrier through which she couldn’t pass. If he let her go, she’d escape, and they’d never get her cured. At least they were dressed, more or less. He’d escaped the prison cell long enough to pull on a pair of clean sweatpants and T-shirt from the gym, then returned with several more shirts, afraid he’d have trouble getting one on Faith. He had. She’d shredded two, but the third hung to midthigh, covering the important parts. It was the best he could do with her still literally fighting him tooth and nail.

As Ariana and the Shaman chanted, the magic rose, sliding over him, different from the cold, creeping sensation of the cave’s magic. This was more of a pressure that came and went, like snakes wrapping themselves around his limbs and torso and moving on.

Within his arms, Faith cried out, arching back as if in terrible pain.

“Hold on, Smiley. Hold on. Let them free you.”

She thrashed in his arms, then cried out again, over and over, each cry more brutal than the last, flaying him. But unlike last time, her body didn’t bend in impossible angles, breaking bones. If that started happening, he was going to lose it, there was no doubt in his mind. Simply watching her in pain was bad enough. Deep inside, the hawk’s distress melded with Hawke’s own silent roar. It was all he could do not to carry her away, to free her from the pain. But he wasn’t that lost, not yet. Her only freedom came through exorcising the infection.

Faith screamed, gripping her head, no longer trying to fight him. He held her now, keeping her upright as her body sagged against his. The deepest, most primitive part of him began to roar in earnest, hating this. They were hurting her! The red haze began to swirl. Faith screamed again, and the haze rushed in faster, thicker. He was losing it. He had to help her.

His claws erupted.

He was going to hurt her! Releasing her, he stumbled back, watching her sink to the ground. Strong hands gripped his shoulders.

“Easy, buddy,” Tighe’s voice. “Ease down.”

“It’s done.” Ariana’s voice barely cut through the screaming in his head.

Too late. The fury roared up, crashing over him, and he was fighting, claws raking flesh, fangs sinking into blood.

The exquisite sensation of shifting rushed over him. Sparkling lights consumed him.

Despair swallowed him whole.

And he knew no more.

Chapter Eighteen

F
aith pushed herself to her feet, panting, drenched with sweat, her mind a wreck. Confused. She blinked at the fires in a ring of pots beneath the trees, illuminating the woods brightening with dawn. Feral House with its glowing windows stood a short distance away. Around her, Ferals stood, tense, groaning, while behind her she heard the sound of growling, of battle. Hawke. Even without looking, she knew.

She whirled just as he began to sparkle, watching with horror as he disappeared in a flash of colored lights, the great red-tailed hawk he’d become screeching and lifting into the air.

“No! Hawke!” And it all came rushing back, the darkness, the way she’d fought him. The pain as the magic was driven out of her. “Hawke!” But all she could do was watch as he disappeared over the house.

Follow him!
The falcon spirit’s will exploded in her mind.
Quickly!

Faith ran to Lyon. “I have to go after him. I can help him.” She thrust out her wrists and the bands that bound her to human form. “Free me!”

Lyon eyed her with uncertainty, a wariness melded with desperation.

“Lyon, I’m cured. It worked. Free me so I can help him!”

Decision slashed through his eyes, his sharp gaze cutting across the circle. “Shaman!”

As she turned, the Shaman rushed to her, his youthful-looking hands grasping the bands as he closed his eyes and murmured. Seconds later, the bands fell away from her wrists. In her head, the falcon’s desperation pounded at her.
Go!

Yes, but . . . she didn’t know how.
Show me how.

The bird’s will lifted her, rushing through her with a power and certainty unlike anything she’d ever known. Incredible pleasure swept through her, the sparkling lights barely taking hold before she was airborne, racing into the sky.

The voices of the Ferals trailed behind her.

“Shit, she’s fast!”

“Can we trust her?”

“Do we have a choice?”

“Pray she can bring him back to us.”

The land fell away. The wind sliding through her feathers, an intoxicating rush she might have enjoyed if Hawke were beside her instead of lost. How was she supposed to find him? Movement caught her attention. Smaller birds. Amazing how well she could see them through her bird’s far keener vision. She searched for the hawk . . . wait . . . was that him?

The falcon’s affirmation bloomed in her mind. Faith wasn’t about to question how she knew. She picked up speed, uncertain if it was her doing or the bird spirit’s, and she didn’t care. She was smaller than the hawk. What if she couldn’t catch him?

The hawk is in no hurry. We’ll catch him.

The falcon’s certainty calmed her. And, as predicted, she was soon close enough to see the markings on the magnificent bird, the way the wind fluttered in his feathers as he soared.

Hawke!

The bird gave no sign that he knew she was there. If not for the falcon’s certainty, Faith might be afraid she followed a real hawk instead of the shifter she loved. She tried again to reach him.

Please let him go, hawk spirit. Please don’t take him from me.

But the great bird continued on his path, following the wide, snaking river west toward the mountains.

In her mind, she heard the cries of her falcon, a musical language she understood as she understood all language. Words directed at the hawk spirit. Faith began to smile as the falcon praised the beauty and greatness of the bird, his strength, his honor, his compassion.

Laying it on thick.

All males need to be praised.

If falcons could laugh, Faith would have laughed, though the situation was still dire. Deep in her mind, she felt the animal spirit’s smile.

The falcon continued her feminine plea.
He is needed, great hawk, by my Feral, whom I fought hard to claim. You know this. You feel it, too.

Gratitude welled up inside Faith with startling force as she realized the falcon fought to save Hawke. But the rest? Had the falcon really fought to claim her? The idea floated, tantalizing and fragile. Impossible.

Not impossible at all
, the falcon said.
You were the one I’ve been waiting for.

Chills rippled across Faith’s mind.
I thought I was marked by accident.

You most certainly were not.

Faith listened in wonder. If she’d been wearing flesh instead of feathers, she’d have been covered in goose bumps. The animal spirit had chosen her . . .
her . . .
to be a Feral Warrior. Impossible.
Incredible
.

We shall be magnificent together. But you need the hawk Feral, if the hawk spirit will free him. If they can mend the broken bond between them.

They continued to fly, Faith following Hawke as the falcon spirit talked to the hawk spirit, alternately praising him and cajoling, her tone turning increasingly frustrated.

The hawk spirit is badly offended and violently stubborn
.

It wasn’t working.

No. I’m sorry.

Faith felt the panic bubbling up, the fear that the hawk spirit would never relent, would never release the man. And with it anger, pure and bright. In the language of the birds, she spoke directly to the hawk spirit, without the falcon’s diplomacy.
I know you’re angry at him, but there’s more at stake here than your pride and your frustration. He’s a good man. You know that, or you’d never have marked him in the first place. And he’s needed. The world is in danger. The Daemons threaten again. If Hawke has wronged you, it was unintentional. I’ve told him what he has to do, that he has to trust you. Give him time!

She sensed no reply but a fine mist of anger. But her own anger was spent, desperation taking its place.

Hawk spirit, I beg of you, give him another chance. Please. I need him.
Emotion welled up inside her so thick, so strong, she thought it would choke her. If falcons could cry, she’d have had teardrops rolling down her feathered cheeks.
I love him.

Deep in her mind, she heard a shriek of fury. No not fury. Frustration. The hawk’s. As if a part of him wanted to relent.

The falcon continued her plea to the stubborn bird.
They are meant for one another, these two shape-shifters. They are meant for greatness. Through us. With us. I beg you to give him one more chance. For me. I have missed you.

Silence reigned for long moments. Then all at once, the angry emotion that had been battering Faith from the hawk spirit fell away, to be replaced by a rush of love. Hawke’s love. It worked!

Faith?
Hawke’s voice clear, deep, and beloved rang in her head.

The falcon’s satisfaction fell through her mind like a warm, cleansing rain.

I’m here, Hawke. Right behind you.

You’re cured of the dark magic!

Yes. The ritual worked for me this time.

The hawk dipped and circled her and suddenly he was flying at her side.
How is this happening? I’m flying again!

In her mind, Faith smiled.
The falcon spirit talked the hawk spirit into giving you another chance.

She talked . . . ? Thank the goddess. You have no idea how much I needed to be able to fly again. What do you think of it? Of flying?

She heard the joy in his tone, and the terrible pressure binding her chest eased.
I’ve been so focused on reaching you, I haven’t been paying much attention.

Feel, Faith! It’s glorious up here. The others think their animals are better because they’re bigger and can rip a Mage to shreds. But if they could feel what it’s like up here, they’d mourn their grounded fate. They have no idea what they’re missing.

Little by little, the awful tension that had been riding her for so long slid away as she allowed herself time to simply feel the wind rushing through her feathers, the sun warm on her back. A smile bloomed brilliantly in her mind. It was, just as he said, glorious.

She dipped, spiraling through the air, zooming down, then back up with a rush and a mental shriek of joy.

You’re a natural
, he told her.
It took me weeks of practice to be able to roll like that.

The falcon’s doing all the work.

She took over?
His tone was suddenly sharp. Unhappy.

No. It’s not like that. I thought about flying free, and she executed it.

Just like that.

Yes.

He didn’t reply.

Isn’t that how it is with the hawk?

No.
The word was thoughtful, but the silence that followed was too full, too complete.
Ahhh!

The sudden sound of Hawke’s pain filled her mind. Fear ratcheted her bird’s pulse.
What’s the matter?

The damned hawk’s . . . trying to rake out my brain . . . with his talons. Goddess!

The falcon’s thoughts bloomed in Faith’s head.
The hawk tries to hold on to him as the connection between them splinters. The hawk does not wish to lose this Feral—he is, as you said, a good man, by far the best of his line—but the Feral refuses . . . has always refused . . . to trust him, to become one with him. The spirit trap may have torn the connection between them, but it is their fighting that is destroying the bond.

Their fighting?

Yes. The hawk yanks away control, but the moment he returns it, the Feral wrenches it back. Only by the Feral’s
giving up control freely to the spirit, and joining with him completely, will they be able to heal this terrible rift and save your Feral’s life. He must do it soon, or he will die. The connection is almost gone. I fear another battle between them, and it will sever for good.

Faith’s heart stuttered.
Hawke?

I need to land, Smiley. I need to shift. I don’t trust this damned bird not to take over again. This way.
He dipped into a nosedive that was gorgeous to behold. She followed, trusting the falcon, exhilarated by the drop that should be terrifying but was nothing but thrilling joy.

Hawke landed first, on the top of a forested cliff not far from the river, away from people. Slowly, the lights began to sparkle over him. She dropped down into the underbrush beside him, shifting as she did. She turned to him, breathless with the euphoria of her first flight. He stared at her, his body tense, but his eyes overflowing with relief, with warmth, with love.

“You’re really cured,” he murmured, then pulled her into his arms, covering her mouth in a hot, tender kiss, one hand sliding into her hair, the other slipping around her waist, tangling in her oversized T-shirt as he tightened his hold on her.

His lips left hers, trailing along her cheek, her cheekbone, her temple, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She kissed his chest where his shirt hung open. Vaguely, she remembered ripping it when he tried to dress her in the prison cell. Pulling back, he framed her face with his long fingers, looking down at her with eyes filled with tenderness.

“I love you,” she whispered.

A smile slowly spread over his face. “I love you, too.”

She gripped his waist. “Hawke, your animal . . .” They had to discuss the disconnect before it was too late.

His finger pressed against her lips, silencing her. “Shh. I want to see . . .” He lifted her arm, pushing back the too-long sleeve to reveal the delicate golden armband around her arm. The head of the falcon was barely raised and wouldn’t cause her trouble beneath her shirts.

His fingers slid over the surface. “I never realized it would be so small, so fine. It’s perfect for you.” He looked up, a terrible tenderness in his eyes. A sadness, as if he knew exactly how close he was to dying.

“
Hawke.
”

His knuckles brushed her cheek. “Let me see you shift. Then we’ll talk, I promise. Fly for me.” His words were pained, as if flying this time had made him remember how desperately he’d missed it. As if he thought he’d never do it again.

Swallowing hard, she nodded and stepped back. With a bare thought of what she wanted to do, she shifted in a rush of unbelievable pleasure and shot into the air with a silent cry of joy. The trees flew past so quickly, she could barely see the branches, let alone the leaves, yet she sensed them perfectly as she zipped past, zooming around the tree trunks, filled with a breathless joy.

She thought of standing in front of Hawke and, a second later, did just that, shifting as she landed.

He stared at her, his mouth half-open.

Her brows drew down, suddenly worried. “What’s the matter?”

“My father used to be able to do that.” His voice sounded stunned. “I thought . . . I thought it had taken him centuries of practice.”

“What did I do?”

He shook his head. “You flew through the trees without hitting a thing. Shifted as you landed, in the blink of an eye.” Grasping her arms, he leaned toward her, his expression lighting with wonder. “How did you do that?”

She shrugged. “I thought about flying through the trees and returning to you, and that’s what I did.”

“No.” His grip on her arms tightened. “No, you did so much more.”

“The falcon did the rest.”

Hawke stilled, his eyes narrowing. “You said that before. That the falcon takes over.”

“She doesn’t take over, not at all. I think of what I want to do, and she executes the moves. We’re a team.” Deep in her mind, she felt the falcon’s approval.

But only confusion lit Hawke’s face. Releasing her, he turned away, then swung back around. “My father could do that. The hawk is capable of it.”

“It’s what he wants.” Even without the falcon’s coaching, she suddenly understood. “He wants to work with you as a team. In perfect unison. In perfect trust. Instead, you push him away. Or you did, until the spirit trap caused the break in your connection, allowing the hawk to fight you for control. Why, Hawke? Why do you push him away?”