Ecstasy Untamed (5 page)

“It’s hard not to crave a little sweetness when there’s so much in the room,” Hawke said quietly, a twinkle in his eye.

Kara laughed.

Though the words were blatant flattery, Faith sensed sincerity in them. Faith turned to find him watching her with a look in his eyes that made her chest feel suddenly tight, turning her breathing rapid. And shallow.

She supposed it was a good thing all the Ferals didn’t affect her like this, or she’d never take a full breath again.

She forced herself to nibble the soft, delicious cookie as she struggled to ignore her body’s inappropriate reaction to the male at her side.

As Xavier regaled them, in detail, about the food they’d prepared for the reception, they each had several cookies. Finally, Kara glanced at the clock. “I’d better get moving. Are you ready to head back upstairs, Faith?”

“If you want another cookie first, I’ll show you the way,” Hawke offered.

Faith looked at him with surprise, and their gazes caught. He wanted her to stay, she’d heard it in his voice and could see it in his eyes. Was he feeling this . . . weirdness . . . between them, too? Not weirdness.
Attraction.
Those dark eyes watched her in a way that set butterflies to flight in her stomach. And she knew this was a mistake. She could feel the electricity arcing in the air between them.

She needed to stop this, to leave with Kara and end it now. But staying a few more minutes, enjoying the decadent pleasure of a rare and harmless flirtation, was such a temptation.

“That works,” Kara said, a smile in her voice. “I’ll see you both soon.”

Faith pulled her gaze from Hawke’s just as Kara disappeared through the swinging door. Pink and Xavier, too, had wandered away at some point, leaving her alone in the kitchen with Hawke. Maxim would not be happy. And the way her pulse was tripping, she couldn’t really blame him.

She stepped away, casually circling the island until the wide counter separated her from Hawke, then reached for another cookie. Just one more, then she’d go. “You really don’t eat sweets?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she remembered the way he’d alluded to her and Kara as “sweets.” Her gaze snapped up to his, heat rising in her cheeks at the weak double entendre. He wouldn’t have caught it, surely.

The mix of laughter and heat in his eyes told her he had. Most definitely. But to her relief, he acted the gentleman, answering the question she’d intended to ask, not the far more carnal one.

“None of the current Ferals has much of a sweet tooth, nor have the past couple of Radiants. Kara’s the exception. Skye, too, loves sweets, so Pink bakes on a regular basis for the first time in years.” His eyes smiled at her. “What about you?”

Faith returned his smile. “I enjoy a sweet treat when I have a little extra money.” She felt herself falling into his eyes. Jerking her gaze away, she looked around—the dark cherry cabinets, the gleaming appliances . . . anywhere but the man. “This kitchen is beautiful. How long have you lived here?”

“We redid the kitchen about ten years ago. But we built the house centuries ago.”

“
You
built it?” She looked at him with surprise.

“Not me personally. I haven’t been alive that long. Lyon, Tighe, Kougar, and Wulfe have, though. They came to America from Europe in 1540. Initially they lived in a series of small houses while they sought a place with a strong conduit to the Earth’s energies. They finally found it here, among the rocks that make up the cliff face overlooking the Potomac. We call it the goddess rock.”

“Where did the Ferals live before America? I know they were in Scotland at some point. One of the men in my childhood enclave had lived near them then.”

Hawke nodded. “They came to America from Spain. But before that, they’d lived in Ireland, Scotland, what’s now Germany, France.”

Faith watched him, fascinated as much by his words as by the play of light on his rugged face. “If I asked, could you tell me the dates and the reason for each move?”

As she spoke, the door swung open, and Tighe strode in. “Hawke can tell you anything you want to know about any subject, trust me.” He glanced at them curiously. “Just the two of you?”

Hawke’s expression tightened slightly. “Kara and Faith snuck down to raid the kitchen. Kara just left to get ready for the reception.”

Tighe nodded. “Maxim?”

Faith tensed. “I think he’s still in his room. Have you seen him?”

“No.” The contemplative look in Tighe’s eyes only deepened. “Delaney was trying to hold out for the reception, but she’s too hungry.” A smile broke over his face. “She’s always hungry.”

As Tighe began piling cookies on a small plate, Faith turned back to Hawke. “So how do you know so much? You must have gone to school.”

Tighe snorted. “Twenty-four degrees. Or is it twenty-five?”

Hawke’s smile had a charmingly self-deprecating quality to it. “Twenty-seven, though most are obsolete. They were earned a long, long time ago.”

She watched him with wonder. Twenty-seven degrees. “What are your favorite subjects?”

“She’s as curious as you are,” Tighe muttered as he turned and went back through the door, cookie plate in hand.

Hawke shrugged. “I’ve studied everything from philosophy to engineering, but I’ve always been most fascinated by people.”

“Humans?”

“All people. At heart, we’re basically the same regardless of race—human, Therian. Even Mage.”

“I love to study people, too. I envy you getting to go to school. Everything I know I’ve gotten out of books. Or living.”

“You never had a tutor?”

“No.”

“I used to be one. Before I was marked. I can be one again.” A gentle smile spread over his mouth. “For you.”

Her own smile ignited until she felt herself beaming. “I’d like that.” And she meant it. How she would enjoy sitting by this man’s side hour after hour, listening to his rich voice as he opened the secrets of the universe to her curious mind.

As they smiled at one another, something began to change. His eyes began to gleam and darken as if opening to fathomless depths. The already-charged air between them thickened and danced, caressing her skin, sensitizing her flesh until even the touch of her clothing became too intense.

Slowly, his smile died, his eyes glowing with an intensity that set her pulse to hammering, calling to her until it was all she could do not to step forward, close the distance between them, and slide into his arms.

With dismay, she wrenched her gaze from his. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be feeling this. She shouldn’t be with him at all, not alone.

Swallowing hard, struggling to corral her unruly pulse, she glanced at the clock and groaned. Maxim would be at her bedroom door to pick her up in fifteen minutes.

“I have to go.” She spun toward the swinging door.

“Can you find your way back to your room?”

“Yes.” What had she been thinking, staying with Hawke so long? She’d given in to a temptation she should never have indulged in, fanning an attraction that had to die a quick death.

Maxim was the man she was intended for, not Hawke. She knew it deep in her heart and had since the moment she’d met him. Which meant she was going to have to stay away from Hawke until his attention turned elsewhere. And hers turned where it needed to stay.

On Maxim. Her soon-to-be mate.

F
ifteen minutes later, an imperious rap sounded at her door. Maxim. And she wasn’t quite ready.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called. She’d taken a quick shower, careful to keep her hair dry since she’d washed it that morning, then pulled on a black dress with capped sleeves and a modest v-neck. The dress was made of a lightweight knit with a full skirt that fell to her knees. Hopefully, it would be appropriate.

She slipped on her only pair of heels—well-worn black pumps—then brushed out her hair. She was swiping on a little mascara when the knock sounded again, quick and impatient.

“I’m almost ready, Maxim.” A quick brush of lip gloss on her lips, and she hurried to the open door. And stared with dismay.

Maxim stood on the other side, impeccably dressed in a full tuxedo, his hair slicked back from his face. She was hopelessly underdressed. As his gaze skimmed her attire, his expression soured. “Have you nothing better to wear?”

Embarrassment stained her cheeks. “It’s my only dress, Maxim.”

Without reply, he turned and started down the hall as if expecting her to follow. Or not.

Part of her wanted to stay in the room and skip the reception altogether, but what if they dressed up for dinner, too? For every dinner? She couldn’t hide in her room forever.

Unhappily, Faith started after him, her stomach cramping. She’d been afraid of this—that she was out of her league with Maxim. Especially with the Feral Warriors. Would they all look at her with dismay? Kara? Hawke?

The thought of it made her want to sink into the floor. She’d never pretended to be any kind of royalty. She’d never pretended to be anything more than what she was—a sometimes waitress who tried to help street kids. And now . . . Maxim’s soon-to-be mate. A role she was beginning to fear would never fit.

At the bottom of the stairs, Maxim came to a stop, apparently waiting for her, though his face remained turned away. When she caught up with him, he offered her his arm and she took it, feeling gauche and miserable beside his tuxedoed splendor. But there wasn’t anything she could do but lift her chin and paste a smile on her face.

Together, they followed the voices to a large, formal room furnished in black and white with splashes of deep red. A number of the Ferals and their women were already there, some of whom she’d already met—Lyon, Paenther, Vhyper, and Kara. They were pouring drinks or grabbing beers, but the easy conversation died as all eyes swiveled toward Maxim and her.

It took a moment before she realized that her mortification over being underdressed was unfounded. To her relief, the only one who had dressed formally was Maxim. The other men were in pants and collared shirts of one kind or another, with one—a giant with a badly scarred face—in a plain black T-shirt.

Kara wore a brightly colored green-and-yellow sundress with a matching green sweater. And flip-flops.
Flip-flops.
Faith realized she was staring at the other woman’s feet. But when she forced her gaze upward, Kara’s shrug and grin sent the rest of Faith’s tension tumbling away.

One by one, each Feral stepped forward and introduced himself and his wife, if he had one. Jag and Olivia, Kougar, who promised they’d meet his wife later, and Wulfe, the giant with the scars who didn’t appear to have a mate.

She wondered suddenly if Hawke was mated. Was she to meet his wife tonight, too? Surely he wouldn’t have been smiling at her the way he had if he’d had a mate. Just as she shouldn’t have been smiling at him.

Paenther stepped forward, his arm tight around the shoulders of a woman in a violet dress not too different from Faith’s own. A woman with the strangest eyes—copper rings around the irises.
Mage eyes.
With her short cap of dark hair, Skye possessed an ethereal quality that wasn’t at all what Faith had expected of one of the race that had long been enemy to the Therians and their Feral guardians.

Skye’s smile was cautious as she glanced from Maxim to Faith and back again. “Welcome to Feral House.”

Faith waited for Maxim to say something, or at least nod, but he remained stonily silent. She wanted to elbow him but didn’t.

“Thank you,” Faith said pointedly, flashing Skye a friendly smile.

But her response wasn’t the one that mattered. Paenther’s mouth took on a hard line as he stared at Maxim, his expression suddenly granite, his protectiveness a living shield around the woman.

“If you ever hurt her
in any way,
I will kill you.”

Still Maxim didn’t speak. If only he’d
try
to be nice. But men had always been something of a mystery to her. Was this merely male posturing? Once they took one another’s measure, would Maxim settle down and become friends with these men? She could only hope.

Paenther steered Skye away from them, angling his body in such a way that his gaze never quite left Maxim. As if he half expected an attack.

Skye threw Faith an apologetic look, which Faith quickly returned.
Men.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two more of the big men step into the room along with a woman. Her heart gave a small, excited leap.
Hawke.
Tighe had his arm around the shoulders of a brunette dressed, interestingly enough, in a pair of black pants and a red silk blouse, a gun hanging from the belt at her waist. A gun?

Together, the three started toward them.

Faith’s pulse began to thrum as she shifted her gaze to Hawke and found him watching her, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Her breath quickened, butterfly wings brushing the insides of her ribs even as she looked away. Even as she tried to ignore him. But, just as it had in the kitchen, the air began to thicken and dance around her. Why did he have to affect her like this? Why didn’t Maxim?

Maybe Maxim isn’t the one meant for me.
But even as the thought formed in her head, another blasted it down.
You belong to Maxim.
The voice pulsed within her mind, burrowing deeply. Disturbingly.

As the three neared, she hazarded another glance at Hawke. He’d turned to Maxim, his eyes losing all warmth. A shiver skittered down Faith’s spine as she glimpsed the warrior behind those kind eyes, the Feral capable of handing out death with a few quick blows. Tighe’s expression wasn’t much warmer. Maxim had done a bang-up job of alienating the entire household, it appeared.

The woman beside Tighe thrust out her hand toward Faith as if she felt the tension between the males and thought it best to leave them to their glaring. “I’m Delaney. Tighe’s wife.”

Faith shook her hand gladly. “I’m pleased to meet you.” Her curious gaze dropped to the gun.

Delaney’s gaze followed. She smiled ruefully. “Ex-FBI. I feel naked without it. We’re always glad to have another Feral wife around here. We’re slowly evening out the numbers.”