Obsession Untamed
Authors: Pamela Palmer
Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Adult, #Contemporary
Pamela Palmer
Obsession Untamed
A Feral Warriors Novel
For my parents, Stew and Pat Palmer,
for your love and encouragement,
and for instilling in me the belief
that anythings possible
Contents
Chapter One
Five millennia ago, the Therian race of shape-shifters joined forces
Chapter Two
Still deep in the vision, beneath the harsh, bright lights
Chapter Three
As the sun rose over Washington, D.C., Tighe slammed open
Chapter Four
Delaney pressed the elevator button in the FBI field office,
Chapter Five
Tighe stifled a groan as the half-naked woman rubbed her
Chapter Six
Tighe pushed through the safe-house door Hawke held open for
Chapter Seven
Its about damned time, Tighe muttered as he slowly withdrew
Chapter Eight
Delaney, wait! Tighes voice echoed up from the base of
Chapter Nine
The scene flashed into Tighes inner vision.
Chapter Ten
Delaney stumbled down the hallway from apartment 331, her lungs
Chapter Eleven
In the nearby Virginia suburbs, Paenther snapped his cell phone
Chapter Twelve
Lyon extended his arm to Tighe. Youre looking better.
Chapter Thirteen
Darkness swallowed her, swallowed everything. Sight, sound, even her sense
Chapter Fourteen
Paenther turned at the sound of the blinkers to find
Chapter Fifteen
Tighe paced the small bedroom in the basement apartment of
Chapter Sixteen
Delaney ran her hands over the hard planes of Tighes
Chapter Seventeen
Delaney stared in horror as the frightening vision in her
Chapter Eighteen
Paenthers fist tapped with rhythmic frustration against the cars door
Chapter Nineteen
Delaney sat up slowly in the strange bed, logging her
Chapter Twenty
Tighe led Delaney through what she could only describe as
Chapter Twenty-One
Tighe opened his bedroom door quietly, not wanting to wake
Chapter Twenty-Two
Delaney groaned, trying to rise out of the fog that
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shes not a witch! Paenther growled as Foxx pulled on
Chapter Twenty-Four
Shes alive.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tighe?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tighe held Delaney in his arms, deep in the bowels
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Youre not going to try to marry me, are you?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ten minutes later, Tighe paced the war room, adrenaline racing
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tighe fought back the draden, gut clenching, terror pounding through
Chapter Thirty
Tighe, I can walk. Delaney tightened her hold on Tighes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Pamela Palmer
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Five millennia ago, the Therian race of shape-shifters joined forces with their magic-wielding enemies, the Mage, to defeat and imprison the High Daemon, Satanan, and his vicious horde. They succeeded, but at a terrible cost, both races forced to mortgage the bulk of their power. All but one Therian from each of the ancient lines lost the strength of their animals and the ability to shift. Only nine shape-shifters remain.
They are the Feral Warriors.
Their duty is to protect the race, to hunt and destroy the dangerous, mindless, Daemon dregs calleddraden.And, most importantly, to guard the Daemon blade, in which Satanan and his horde are imprisoned, for the Daemons return would bring hell to the races of the Earth.
The Feral Warriors were in a world of hurt.
Tighe lifted his face to the night wind, trying to cool the frustration lodged beneath the surface of his skin as he traversed the rugged, rocky woods high above the Potomac River.
The Mage had lost their freaking minds and were apparentlytrying to free the Daemons. After sacrificing so much five millennia ago to imprison them, Tighe couldnt fathom why, but there was no denying at least one Mage, the witch Zaphene, had been determined to free Satanan. Zaphene was dead, but shed left a hell of a legacy.
One of the Ferals, Vhyper, was missing. The Daemon blade itself was gone. And one of Zaphenes creations had run off with half of Tighes soul. Literally.
Where the Mage witch had come by the magic to split souls, no one knew, but shed done so to make clones of the Ferals. Clones who would raise the Daemons from the blade in the real Ferals stead, since the real Ferals werentstupid enough to want that plague freed again.What were the Mage thinking ?
A growl rumbled deep in his throat as he climbed the last of the stone outcroppings onto the cliffs above the river. The night was clear, the brightest stars little more than a dull glow, thanks to the damned humans and their incessant need to battle back the dark.
His clone was, by all indications, currently wreaking havoc on the human population. Tighe
and two other Ferals had been tracking him for three days as hed left a path of dead between Great Falls, Virginia, and nearby Washington, D.C.
And while, yes, the clones deadly rampage needed to be stopped, Tighes stake in his capture was a lot more personal. He needed his damned soul back. No one knew for sure how long he could survive with it split like it was, but the consensus was,not long . At least not with his sanity intact.
Dammit.
Which was why he returned to Great Falls and Feral House each night instead of remaining on the trail of his clone. Hed seen what could happen to a Feral with a split soul, and it wasnt pretty. Hell, it gave him nightmares. He was determined to hold on to his sanity, even if every Feral watched him as if he expected to have to lock Tighe up in the prison deep below Feral House at any moment.
Wulfe stepped onto the rock beside him. Any sign of draden? Wulfe was the biggest of the Ferals, a monster of a man close to seven feet tall, with a face that looked like it had once been used as a cats scratching post.
Tighe released his frustration on a huff. Not yet. Theyll come. Then hed rip their hearts out, as he did every night, and release some of this gut-eating frustration. Enough to feel relatively safe returning to the hunt for his clone in human-infested D.C.
Im surprised Lyon let us take you out without a leash, Jag drawled behind him.
A growl rumbled in Tighes chest. The idiot wasnt satisfied until he had every Feral ready to
rip his throat out. And Tighe was in a foul enough mood to accommodate him.
Shut up, Jag, Wulfe snarled. The last thing he needs right now is your needling.
The last thing heneeded was everyone treating him like he was filled with gunpowder, a lit fuse dangling from the corner of his mouth. He wasfine .
But the burn in his fingertips gave the lie to that little assertion. He struggled for control, struggled to pull back from the feral rage engulfing him. Under normal circumstances the feral state was merely a place of lost tempers and healthy fighting. The place halfway between man and beast, where human teeth elongated into fangs, claws erupted from fingertips, and human eyes no longer looked human. A place where a hawk and a tiger could access their wilder natures yet fight on equal footing.
But these were not normal circumstances. Thanks to the rending of his soul, he didnt know how much longer hed have the strength or control to pull himself out of that state again.
He fought against the fury engulfing his body, clenching his teeth even as he willed himself calm, but it was too late. Claws unsheathed from the tips of his fingers. Fangs dropped from the top of his jaw. Daggerlike incisors rose from below as a backload of dammed-up rage ripped free of his control. In a rush of feral anger, he lunged, tackling Jag to the rocky ground.
In a haze of bloodlust, he felt the slash of claws
and the ripping of flesh as Jag went feral, too. Blood spilled into his mouth, both his own and Jags, tasting warm and fine. His vision hazed in a wild bloodlust that had him suddenly longing to sink his teeth into Jags neck and rip out the bastards throat for real.
His logical mind recoiled. He was losing it. He could almost see the dark, swirling waters of chaos lapping at his sanity. As his sane mind clawed its way back from the precipice, Wulfe wedged himself between the two warriors, jerking Jag out of his grasp.
Tighe slowly struggled back to his controlled, human, form. As his claws and fangs retracted, Wulfe balled up his fist and hit Jag in the jaw with a hard right hook.
Jag went sprawling. Whatd you do that for?
You can be such an ass, Wulfe snarled. Do youwant to see him locked up?Now ? Would it be too much to ask you tonot hasten the destruction of one of our strongest warriors?
Jag scowled and pushed to his feet. Fuck you.
Im not heading for destruction, Tighe growled, standing and adjusting his ripped shirt so that it continued to hang,barely , from his body. He wouldnt let it happen. Herefused to let it happen.
But he couldnt deny he was shaken.
Lets kill some draden, then, Wulfe said.
Tighe compressed his mouth and nodded. They hunted draden by waiting for the little fiends to smell their Therian energy, energy the Ferals emitted in their human forms. It wasnt much longer
before a faint dark cloud appeared over the cliffs across the river.
Incoming, Wulfe said quietly. The draden had found them.
Wulfe yanked off his tee shirt and unzipped his jeans, tossing his clothes onto the rocks. Jag stripped out of his camouflage pants and army green tee. Tighe did nothing. He was one of the Ferals who possessed the ability to retain his clothes when he shifted. A handy trick, especially when he hunted among humans.
The dark cloud of draden moved quickly toward them over the gleaming river, a smudge against the stars and the shadowy distant cliffs. Ahuge smudge.
Holyshit . Jag whistled low. Is it just me, or is that five times the usual number?
There had to be hundreds coming at them. Maybe more than a thousand. Holy shit was right. Theyd known the draden were multiplying faster than usual, but the evidence was alarming. If they didnt get them under control, there wouldnt be enough Therian energy for them to feed on. Theyd turn on the humans.
And if that happened, theyd decimate the population in no time, without the humans ever knowing what hit them.
Then lets get em, boys, Jag said.
Ill take first bait. Tighe pulled his knives. One of them had to remain in his human, or Therian form, or the draden would fly off. But asfirst bait , he would absolutely be fighting for his life.
