Wulfe Untamed (29 page)
Authors: Wulfe Untamed
They are Feral Warriors—an elite band of
immortals who can change shape at will.
Sworn to rid the world of evil, their wild
natures are primed for release . . .
Missed any of Pamela Palmer’s dark, sexy series?
Keep reading for a glimpse of more
of her untamed romances
from Avon Books!
Kara MacAllister’s quiet life is transformed forever the night a powerful stranger rips her from her home, claiming she’s immortal and the key to his race’s survival. Lyon arouses a fierce, primal hunger deep within Kara—beyond anything she had ever imagined. But when their lives are threatened by an ancient evil, Kara and Lyon realize they have found a love they would risk their souls to claim . . . and a powerful desire that could never, ever be tamed.
T
he relief and welcome in her eyes as he approached nearly drove him to his knees. His hands shook with the need to pull her into his arms. For once he didn’t have to fight the urge. He cupped her bare shoulders and pulled her against him, his passion igniting and flaring into a wildfire with the first brush of his heated flesh against her silken skin. Her breasts pebbled against his bare chest. Her scent rose up, clouding his mind, ensnaring him in a haze of lust that was almost too thick to breathe.
When he covered her mouth, reason fled. Her sweetness drugged him, stealing all thought but the certainty she was the only sustenance he would ever need. His hands pressed against her back, pulling her closer as her own hands swept up to catch in his hair, holding him tight.
His tongue swept inside the lush cavern of her mouth, seeking its mate, drawing small moans from her throat that grew in force until she was rocking against him. In a far, distant corner of his mind, he remembered where they were. Remembered they stood within the circle of his fellows. He should let her go and step back.
But his beast roared,
Mine!
and he increased the pressure of his tongue strokes instead, marking her, his beast daring the goddess to ignore his claim. In a trembling rush, Kara came apart in his arms, clinging to him as soft whimpers escaped her throat.
Lyon continued to kiss her, drinking in the heady taste of her release until the torrent passed, and she clung to him. Slowly, regretfully, he released her mouth and held her tight against him until she could stand on her own.
Sweet goddess, he wasn’t letting her go. She had to be his. His logical mind took up the cry of his beast.
Mine.
But she would only be his if his fingertips glowed in the mark of the true mate.
His scalp began to tingle with cold realization. Glowing fingers would have triggered a shout. A cheer. The only sounds that met his ears were the crackle of the fires and the stunned and utter silence of his brothers. He knew. Before he ever pulled away from her and looked at his hands,
he knew
there would be no glow.
Mine!
his beast roared in anger and betrayal. But he lifted his hands and stared at the traitorous normalcy of his flesh.
Kara wasn’t his.
Every time FBI agent Delaney Randall closes her eyes, she suffers yet another nightmare. A brutal serial killer has found his way inside her head, and she lives each murder through his soulless eyes. Tighe, a dangerous Feral Warrior, needs Delaney and her visions to help stop the rampages of an evil fiend. As the two join forces, Tighe—who has little use for humans—falls for the intense beauty and becomes wild with an obsession as untamed as his heart . . .
“I
’m not getting married without underwear. Or without my gun. Not with wild animals on the loose.”
Tighe took a step toward her, his mouth compressing dangerously. “You’ll do whatever I tell you to do.”
She threw the gown on the floor. “Go to hell.”
He lunged for her, grabbed her arm, and hauled her roughly against him. “I don’t like this any better than you do, but it’s either bind yourself to me or die. I gave you the choice already. You chose this. You chose me.”
“I was delirious.”
His jaw went hard as he released her with one hand and flicked open a switchblade three inches from her face.
“It’s not too late to change your mind.” The tightness of his mouth spoke of barely leashed violence, but in the agitated flutter of those angel wings in her head she sensed an unhappiness as raw as her own. He was being forced to tie himself to a woman he didn’t love.
No, not forced.
He could have let her die.
Her fury ebbed as her heart began to ache for him almost as much as herself. “Would you really kill me?” she asked quietly. She already knew the answer.
The anger drained out of him as he retracted the blade and shoved it back in his pocket.
“No.” He released her along with a sigh that echoed with pain. “But if you won’t go through with this, I’ll have no choice but to step aside while someone else does. The survival of our race is too important.” He shook his head. “Not just to us. If we die, there will be no one left to keep the Daemons from returning. Imagine thousands of creatures terrorizing the human population. Creatures worse than my twin. A dozen times worse.”
She shuddered and stared at him, her mind struggling to accept round after round of evidence that the world was so much more complex than she’d thought. “So I really don’t have a choice?”
His mouth turned rueful. “You really don’t.”
“But you do. A human death can’t mean that much to you. Why bind yourself to me when you could have let me die? When you don’t want me?”
His mouth turned up in a wry half smile. “Who says I don’t want you?”
As she stared at him, he bent down and picked up the gown, then met her gaze again, his expression softening just a little. “Come on, D. Let’s get this over with.”
It wasn’t quite the marriage proposal she’d dreamed of, but there had been something in his expression, something in his words that eased the ache inside her. Not much, but maybe it was enough. Especially since she clearly didn’t have a choice.
“I need to get cleaned up.”
He handed her the gown and nodded toward a door in the corner. “Bathroom’s in there. I’ll see if I can find you a brush or something.”
She nodded and took the gown from him. As he started to turn away, she stopped him. “Tighe?”
He turned back to her.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For not letting me die.”
His gaze seemed to search hers for several moments, then he lifted his hand and traced her cheekbone with his thumb in a featherlight touch. “You’re welcome.” Then he turned away.
Though the Mage witch Skye has a gentle heart, demonic forces have enslaved her, forcing her to kidnap Paenther, a powerful and dangerous immortal. Even chained and naked, he is a cunning prisoner who seduces her, turning captive into captor. Despite Paenther’s fury over her treachery, Skye’s gentle beauty calls to his soul, calming the wild chaos within. But when evil threatens, their only chance at survival is to trust in one another . . . and the power of love.
P
aenther scented violets even before the witch stepped into the room. She returned without her animals, her hair wet as if she’d just showered, her eyes hollow. Without a word, without meeting his gaze, she crawled up beside him, between his body and the wall, and lay down, curling against his hip. He could feel her trembling.
As much as he hated her, he’d always had finely honed protective instincts toward women and children, and they rose now. Something had hurt her. He reminded himself he didn’t care. But as he felt her slowly calm, her breathing evening out in sleep, the tension eased from his own body.
He wasn’t sure when he’d drifted off, but he woke to the sound of water dripping from the stalactites into the puddles scattered across the room and the feel of the witch’s silken head on his chest. She had one arm wrapped around his waist, the other hand tucked against her neck. That second arm was nearly within reach of his mouth. But he’d lost the desire to hurt her. Her gentle touch and her acceptance of his fury had taken the edge off his need for revenge.
He blinked, feeling . . . strange. Almost . . . relaxed.
With disbelief he realized what was wrong. Or what was right. The rage, the ever-present rage he struggled to contain day and night, the rage burned into his soul by Ancreta nearly three hundred years ago, had inexplicably left him.
How?
Was this simply more magic?
Did he care?
Chained atop this cold stone, deep in the bowels of a second Mage captivity, he felt more at peace than he had in years. Eased. Whole in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries.
Had she somehow, miraculously healed him? Or was her nearness affecting him in a way he’d never imagined anyone could?
The implications rocked him. He almost hoped it was just enchantment. Just a lie. Because if it wasn’t, if this easing of the torment he’d lived with for centuries was somehow coming from her . . .
A witch.
Heaven help him. The last thing he wanted was to need her. More than he did already.
The most combative and tormented of the Ferals, Jag is a predator who hunts alone. But when Daemons terrorize the human population he partners with Olivia, a flame-haired Therian temptress as strong as she is beautiful. As their sensual dance heats up, a dark force sets its sights on Olivia, threatening to destroy everything she’s vowed to protect—and the only one who can save her is the arrogant shifter she lusts for but dares not love.
“D
id you love him?”
“You know the answer to that. As a friend, yes, but you know I didn’t return the feelings he had for me.” Her elbow slammed into his solar plexus. “But so help me, if you think I shouldn’t care that he’s dead . . .” Her heel drove hard into his knee. “If you think I can just forget the sight of that monster stripping his face away one strip of flesh at a time . . .” Her voice cracked. “So help me, Jag, I’m going to beat your cold ass to hell and back.”
The bed collapsed beneath them with a crash. He rolled onto his feet, but Olivia followed, spinning and slamming her heel into his knee again, splintering his kneecap. With a roar, he collapsed onto his other knee just as the door burst open wide.
Tighe and Wulfe pushed inside, then halted in the doorway, staring at the wreckage of the bed, him on his knees, blood running down his face and his fire demon of a partner standing over him, about to drive her elbow into his skull.
Jag grinned. Goddess, but he loved a strong woman. He wiped the blood from his mouth and gave Tighe a jaunty salute.
Olivia whirled on the pair in the doorway, her eyes blazing with unholy fire. “Unless you want to join the fight, get the hell out of here.”
Tighe lifted his hands in quick surrender. “I’m gone.”
Wulfe, the bastard, grinned. “Don’t kill him.”
The respite had given his knee a chance to heal. As Wulfe pulled the door closed behind him, Jag shot to his feet, ready for another round. He loved a good fight, and this one had gotten his blood pumping, and at the same time given him an outlet for the awful tension that had been riding him ever since that goat fuck of a battle.
But Olivia’s eyes showed no such relief. Deep in those gray depths, he could see her shattering. His heart clenched in his chest as he understood. She fought the grief and her own emotions more than she fought him. And while he’d gladly let her beat the crap out of him if it helped her, he could see it wasn’t helping at all.
The emotion needed another way out. The sheen in her eyes told him that.
She launched herself at him again, but even as she did, tears began to run down her cheeks, seeming to make her madder. He let her get in a couple of good punches, then he grabbed her in a bear hug and pressed her face against his chest as she struggled.
“Let it out, Liv,” he said quietly. “You’re not going to get rid of it until you give in. Just let it out.”
She fought him a moment more, her fists pummeling his shoulders until the storm overtook her. Sobs wracked her small body, her fists opening, her fingers clinging to him as grief swept her away.
He felt a deep and sudden need to comfort her and didn’t have a clue how to do it. He’d always been great at causing anger. Soothing raging emotions was beyond him. He could always use the calming touch of his hand, but he sensed that wasn’t what she needed right now. She needed to get it out.
He patted her back awkwardly.
She buried her face tighter against him, clinging to him harder, as if his attempts weren’t that awkward at all.
He lifted his hand and cupped her small head, holding it tight against him. Deep inside his chest, he felt a cracking of the ice that had for so long encased his heart.
He didn’t want that. Didn’t need it. But even as the thought went through his head, his arms enclosed her in a vise of a protective cage through which nothing would ever harm her again.
For a thousand years she has haunted him—Ariana, queen of the Ilinas. Kougar believed her lost to him forever until the truth of her betrayal left him bitter and hungry for revenge. Ariana, caught in a deadly battle of her own, is neither the soulless creature Kougar believes her to be nor the savior he seeks. And when darkness threatens to annihilate both races, the greatest danger of all becomes the glorious love Kougar and Ariana once shared. A love that has never died.
“T
ell me what’s going on.”
She struggled against his hold, thrashing wildly. “Let me go!”
Inside, his cat yowled with distress. His gut knotted at the anguish in her eyes. But if he let her go now, he might lose his only chance to save Hawke and Tighe. He couldn’t be certain where she’d go. And if it wasn’t the Crystal Realm, he wouldn’t be able to follow.
He tightened his grip on her jaw, forcing her to look at him. A sheen of perspiration dampened her too-pale skin. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on, Ariana.”
He waited as she struggled to pull herself together though her breaths remained ragged and her lips pressed tight with a faint tremble that told him she was close to tears. She blinked hard, pulled in a shuddering breath, and met his gaze.
“Who knows?” he prompted quietly.
“A Mage.” She tried to look away. “The moonstones have kept him from finding me. He’ll attack us.”
Kougar frowned. “I didn’t think anyone knew you were alive.” Those who knew the truth had a way of dying beneath Melisande’s sword. Or being dragged back to the Crystal Realm to die there.
“He didn’t. Now he does.”
Kougar stared at her, struggling to fill in the blanks. Since when did the Mage attack Ilinas?
“He’s attacked you before?” He stilled. “When, Ariana?”
She glanced at him, but couldn’t hold his gaze. “A hundred years ago.”
“You’re lying.” Goose bumps erupted on his arms as understanding crashed over him. “Not a hundred years ago, but a thousand. Am I right?”
When she didn’t answer, he squeezed her jaw harder. “Am I right?”
“Yes! Yes, it was a thousand years ago.” She met his gaze, truth and anguish in her eyes. “He all but destroyed us. The moonstones were all that’s kept us safe. I don’t know why he couldn’t sense me through them, but he couldn’t.” Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “But now he knows.”
Kougar reeled at the implications. “It was never dark spirit that attacked you,
but a Mage
?”
His breath lodged in his throat as his world flipped upside down, as Ariana rewrote thousand-year-old history in the space of seconds. Twenty-one years ago he’d learned the Ilinas weren’t extinct. That Ariana still lived. Twenty-one years later, he was still reeling from that revelation. But this rocked him even more. Because if Ariana hadn’t been attacked by dark spirit . . .
she wasn’t soulless
. The woman he’d loved still lived.