Wulfe Untamed (23 page)

As she lay curled against him, a warm, comfortable breeze wafting over her bare skin as his hand moved to rub her back, she told him what she did, and why. How her brother James’s struggle to learn to read had all but destroyed his life. How she was determined to keep that from happening to other children.

Wulfe stroked her hair. “I love that your work matters to you. That it matters, period.” He brushed her forehead with his lips, then rose on one elbow to peer down at her, his gaze fervent. “I’ll get you home, Natalie. I’m not sure how, but I will.”

Even as she nodded, his reassurance made her ache. For the first time in her life, she’d truly lost her heart to another. How would she ever live the rest of her life without it? Without the man, the shape-shifter, she’d fallen in love with?

T
ogether they rose and dressed. Wulfe took Natalie’s hand, loving the way she instinctively brushed against his side as they wandered among the stone formations of the Ilinas’ rock garden, brushing her shoulder against his arm as if she sensed his Feral need for touch—a need heightened by the empty chasm inside him that, for nearly six hundred years, had been occupied by his wolf. The silence in his head threatened to deafen him.

Yet, as empty as he felt without his animal, he knew he’d feel ten times more lonely once he’d taken Natalie’s memories and returned her to her world. The thought was enough to drive a blade through his heart, yet there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her happy. Nothing.

But,
goddess,
he would suffer.

“What happens, now?” she asked softly beside him.

“I don’t know.” They were fucked. The ritual that should have worked hadn’t, and they didn’t know why. The Daemons were going to rise. And when they did, if he wasn’t dead already, he’d likely fall under Satanan’s control. He might turn on his friends. On Natalie.

Royally, royally fucked.

“I think you should consider pulling the primal energies, Wulfe.”

His mind shut down. “No.”

“With that kind of power, you might be able to beat Inir.”

Shadows darkened his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I know exactly what I’m asking. More than asking. I’m demanding that you not compromise the Ferals’ ability to win this battle, certainly not for me. If the Daemons are freed, Wulfe, I’m going to die. Likely in a horrific way. We all are. Please don’t ever lose sight of that fact.”

He turned to her, needing her to understand. “Just the little bit of that power that I consume when Satanan pulls it through us is enough to send me out of my mind. What do you think will happen if I open the channel? I’ll be swamped by it. I could kill every one around me. Everyone I care about.”

“I think you have more control in that state than you think. Every time you blank, you come back to me. To
me,
Wulfe.” She stared at him, such certainty in those gray eyes. “I can pull you back.”

“And if you don’t?”

“If the Daemons rise, we’re all dead either way.”

“No.” He dropped her hand and moved away from her, watching one of the small waterfalls, its spray welcome against the heat of his flesh. She didn’t know what she was asking. He wouldn’t even consider it.

He felt her arms go around his waist from behind and he slid his hands atop hers. A small shudder went through him as her welcome touch soaked into him.

“We’re connected, Wulfe,” she said quietly. “Beyond the channel key. I don’t understand it, I just know that it’s true. From the start, you’ve protected me. You won’t hurt me. I
know
that. And just as you’ll protect me, I’ll protect you.”

“Natalie . . .”

“Trust me, Wulfe. Far more importantly, trust yourself.”

Wulfe stared at the water tripping down the rocks, his heart pounding because the Ferals’ needed a miracle. But how could he possibly pull this off? How could anyone? If he lost control of the darkness, he could become the instrument of the world’s destruction.

Goddess,
he prayed silently.
I beg of you, don’t let that happen. I know you’ve been disappointed in me. I know you punished me for my vanity and my mistakes all those years ago. I’m reminded every time I look in the mirror.
His hands gripped Natalie’s tight.
I’m sorry. Please don’t make Natalie pay for my sins, too. Please protect her through this. And protect my brothers. If a life must be forfeit, let it be mine.

He felt a soft cheek rub against his shoulder. “I won’t let the darkness take you, Wulfe. I promise.”

With a shudder, he pulled her around in front of him, until he could hold her precious face in his hands. Her eyes were so calm, so sure.

“How do you have such faith in me?” he asked with wonder.

“Because I know you.” She placed a slender hand over her heart. “In here.”

As he stared into those gray eyes, alight with conviction, he felt a calmness beyond reckoning, a joy without bounds. “Goddess, how I love you.” Pulling her close, he kissed her, drinking of her essence, her strength, even as he shared his in return.

Slowly, they pulled apart. He caressed her cheek, subconsciously tracing the line of her missing wound, until he realized what he was doing. Strome’s words came back to him, that in order to pull the primal energies for himself, to open the channel fully, he had to give Natalie back the wound he’d taken.

“How could I ever intentionally hurt you?” he whispered, tracing that invisible line down her cheek.

Her hand covered his. “You won’t be hurting me, Wulfe. You’ll simply undo what you did before and give me back the cut that was always mine.”

“I would take a hundred to keep you from suffering that one.”

“It’s a small price to pay to save the world. Besides, I’d kind of like a rakish scar. A battle scar.” Her smile turned impish. “I rather like yours, Shifter. I rather fancy having one of my own.”

He shook his head, then snorted, remembering her as he first knew her—with her hair unwashed and tangled, that jagged wound across her cheek. From the very start, she’d never been anything but beautiful to him. From the first moment he’d spoken with her, that calm poise and courage of hers had shone through so brightly that her imperfections had faded to obscurity. He’d fallen in love with her then, wound and all. No simple scar would ever change that. A hundred scars wouldn’t change it.

And he finally understood that it was the same for her. His scars truly meant nothing to her, nothing but a chronicle of past events. As hers, if the day ever came that he felt driven to return it, would become a sign of her courage and a mark of battles fought.

“You humble me.” He stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her, caressing her lips with his, sliding his tongue into her sweet mouth, pulling her tight against his heart as he loved her. As she loved him in return. But as their tongues stroked one another, voices began to whisper in his head, and he jerked back, freezing.

My lord, it is done. My sorcerers have accomplished the impossible. They’ve created the unascended Radiant’s blood needed to open the Daemon Blade. All but two Feral lights have been doused, and the last two should be choking out any minute.

Gather your Ferals.

Done. The moment the true Ferals are no more, the ritual will begin. You will be free at last.

“What’s the matter?” Natalie asked, her expression worried.

“They’ve done it. They have what they need to open the Daemon Blade. We’re out of time.”

Wulfe grabbed Natalie’s hand and started running toward the Ilinas’ castle. “Melisande!” he shouted.

A second later, the petite Ilina materialized in front of him, her expression battle ready. “What happened?”

“Get us back to Feral House,
now.
”

Chapter Twenty

W
ulfe raced into the Feral dining room through the back door, Natalie and Melisande close behind. Paenther, Fox, and Zeeland sat at the table.

“Roar!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, knowing his chief could be anywhere in the house. “Foyer!”

The three at the table leaped up and followed as he grabbed Natalie’s hand and ran down the hall. All the Ferals, hearing his shout, converged in the foyer within a minute.

“They’ve created unascended Radiant blood,” Wulfe told them. “Inir says only two of us can still shift. He’s preparing his Ferals to open the blade the moment they can’t. We’re out of time.”

“I’ve still got my animal,” Falkyn said.

Fox nodded. “As have I.”

Lyon’s gaze snapped toward the basement door. “Grizz and Lepard?”

“I’ll check,” Melisande said, and disappeared. Four seconds later, she was back. “They both lost theirs within the past hour.”

“So Inir was right,” Fox muttered. “We’re down to two.”

Jag’s hands fisted. “Let’s go kill that bastard.”

“Wait!” Olivia said beside him. “The Therian Guard should go after Inir. You’re still mortal. Let us try to capture him and bring him to you.”

“Not a chance, Red.” Jag hauled her close. “This is our fight.”

Olivia turned on her mate, her expression warrior-hard. “Kara saw hundreds of immortal sentinels. Too many for you to take on in this condition, Jag, and you know it. And that’s
if
you can find your way through the warding again.”

Fox joined the argument. “The Guard is unlikely to have any better luck breaching that warding, Olivia, and you know it.”

Ariana appeared suddenly in the midst of them, frustration in her Ilina eyes. “I finally know what went wrong with the ritual to restore your animals.” Silence dropped like a blanket over the foyer as all heads turned her way. “The ritual requires the blood of the one who made the charm. The Shaman has felt Inir’s magic in it from the start. We need Inir’s blood.”

“Bloody hell,” Fox muttered. “So there’s no fecking way out of this. We’re attacking that stronghold just as we are, as nonshifting mortals.”

Vhyper shrugged. “Better nonshifting than dead.”

“We attack Inir’s fortress immediately,” Lyon snapped. “The ten Ferals will head out first along with Zeeland and Olivia and however many Guards the Ilinas can take. The rest will follow as quickly as the Ilinas can get them there. Say good-bye to your mates, grab food, and arm yourselves well since you won’t be shifting.” He turned to Ariana. “Once you’ve delivered us close to the warding, the same place you did last time, return here with your Ilinas to protect our women. Mist them out of here if you need to.”

“We’re all going?” Tighe asked.

“Do you see an alternative?”

“No. We’re going to need every man. What about Grizz and Lepard? They delivered themselves back here, knowing we might kill them.”

“They stay in the prisons. Trusting them is a risk we can’t afford.”

Wulfe had to agree. As much as they could use Grizz’s and Lepard’s help, Grizz was a time bomb with a short fuse. If Inir found a way to turn him against them, he could kill two or three of them before they realized what was happening.

“Gather your weapons and meet back here immediately,” Lyon commanded. “The Ilinas will transport you as you arrive.” Lyon swept Kara into his arms and ran up the stairs.

Wulfe took Natalie’s hand and followed. The moment he ushered her into his bedroom, he gathered her close and kissed her with all the worry and frustration that battled inside him.

Finally, he pulled back, cupping her face. “You’ll stay with the other women.”

“If Satanan takes control of me again?”

He tipped his forehead to hers. “I pray that doesn’t happen.” Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “It’s far too dangerous to take you into battle.”

Her jaw hardened, a warrior’s strength shining in her eyes. “If you need me, send for me. Don’t hesitate, Wulfe.”

He stroked her creamy cheek, then pulled away to arm himself, strapping his knife-laden hunting belt around his waist and two swords across his back, one for each hand. Finally, he slid a pair of knives into his boots.

As he straightened, shouts and whoops blasted suddenly from the foyer two stories below.

“Goddess, please let this be good news for once,” Wulfe muttered. Grabbing Natalie’s hand, he ran.

Z
eeland stood in the foyer, surrounded by the Therian Guards, Olivia, and Fox, the shouting in his ears and the hands slapping his back barely breaching the shock as he stared at the claw marks that had erupted on his forearm seconds ago, four parallel marks, each several inches in length, that looked like long-healed scars.

His heart pounded, goose bumps rising on his flesh as understanding slowly penetrated his stunned mind.

“Lyon!” Olivia shouted beside him. “Zeeland’s been marked!”

Marked. To be a Feral Warrior.

His jaw had dropped and still hung open as he met Fox’s grin. Fox held out his hand and slapped forearms with him in the Ferals’ traditional manner.

Julianne flew into his arms, and he held her tight against him as he buried his face in her hair.

A Feral Warrior. At last.

But was the animal who’d marked him one of the seventeen who’d been infected? It might be one of the two who’d been infected and died, an animal spirit that should be clear of Inir’s poison this time. There was no way to know.

Would the Ferals imprison him now, too?

Goddess.

He looked up to find Lyon at the top of the stairs, joined in quick succession by most of the other Ferals and many of their mates.

“Is it true?” Lyon demanded.

Zeeland held up his arm.

“Hot diggity damn!” Jag crowed.

“
Praise the goddess,
” Hawke said starting down the stairs, Falkyn beside him. “Roar, I’ve known this male since he was a child. I would stake my life and that of my mate on Zeeland’s being the best of the best. There’s not an ounce of darkness in him.”

“I agree,” Fox said from beside Zeeland. “I’ve worked with him for decades, and he’s as honorable as they come.”

“This is what we’ve been waiting for,” Tighe said. “A sure thing.”

The Ferals were all streaming down the stairs, now, all but Lyon. When Hawke reached Zeeland, he slapped forearms with him, his grin wide and delighted. “Bringing a good Feral into his animal will reverse the damage done to Kara.”

“You’re our ace in the hole.” Wulfe extended his arm to him, too. “The moment we bring you into your animal, we halt Inir’s ability to perform the ritual to free the Daemons.”

“Time for a Renascence, boys and girls,” Jag said, slapping Zeeland on the shoulder as he extended his arm.

“The goddess stone, ASAP.” Lyon’s voice boomed down the stairs, and Zeeland looked up to find him carrying Kara down. “Ferals only. And Julianne. Olivia’s in charge here.”

Kougar looked up. “Roar, it’s still daylight. There will be humans all over the place.”

“Go. Raise the warding. The rest of us will arrive by Ilina.”

Groans peppered the foyer, but Kougar nodded as Ariana turned to mist beside him. A moment later the pair disappeared. The rest of the males stripped off their shirts, many laying knives and swords of every length into a pile against one wall. Pulling away from Julianne, Zeeland did the same, then kicked off his boots. In a few minutes, he’d be shifting, and he had no idea if he’d be able to hold on to his clothes and weapons.

The chills raced over his skin.
Shifting.

“No!” Falkyn cried.

Hawke grabbed her as she swayed. “Faith?”

“My falcon.
She’s gone.
”

The Ferals’ exchanged ominous glances. They were down to one.

Two minutes later, Ariana was back. “He’s ready.”

Zeeland grabbed Julianne’s hand, meeting her bright blue gaze and the love and pride in her eyes. She grinned at him, slaying him all over again as she did every single time she smiled. Goddess, but he loved this woman.

As Ilinas appeared out of nowhere, all around the foyer, he released Julianne’s hand and, a heartbeat later, was swept into a tingling, scratchy cloud that spun until he was sick with dizziness. Almost as soon as it began, the ride ended, and he found himself on the rocks overlooking the Potomac, retching his guts out. All around him, the other Ferals were doing the same. He finally understood why they complained so much about Ilina travel. What a miserable ride.

Ariana joined Kougar and began chanting, while the rest of the Ilinas gathered close to the short rock face farthest from the river below.

As Zeeland rose to his feet, he found Julianne and went to her. “Are you all right?”

She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Quite a trip.”

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and pulled her close. The sun was low in the western sky and would be setting soon, the day warm and bright. A perfect day to turn into a shape-shifter. His grin escaped, and he kissed his mate soundly, needing to share his joy with her.

Quickly, the Ferals gathered into a circle around the rock, Lyon depositing Kara in the middle, cupping her face.

“Take your time, little one.”

“I can do this, Lyon. I
will
do it.”

But,
goddess,
the woman looked like death warmed over. She swayed, dipping her head as if holding it up was too much effort.

“Roar?” Paenther asked.

“Pulling the radiance earlier took a lot out of her,” Lyon admitted, stroking his mate’s head. “But this is what she needs.”

“I’ll pull it,” Kara said so softly, Zeeland barely heard her.

Finally, Lyon stepped back and took his place. “The warding will keep Zeeland from escaping if he’s been marked by one of the still-infected animal spirits and the darkness takes him. If he turns into the eagle or sabertooth, both of which should be clear of the poison, now, we’re good. If not, the Ilinas will whisk the rest of us out of here so that he doesn’t injure anyone while Ariana cures him.”

The thought that he might, like Ewan, be turned to evil, even temporarily, raked at his mind. But the Ferals had been taken by surprise by the first batch of new Ferals, unaware they’d been infected. They would not be caught unaware again.

Golden armbands gleamed in the bright setting sun as Kougar began to chant in some kind of ancient language, and the others joined him. How they expected him to learn all this well enough to pass it on, he didn’t know. The thought that he still might have to be the keeper of the Feral legacy smothered his euphoria, dampening his joy. But he would do what must be done, no matter the cost or the difficulty, as he always had.

Kougar lifted the ritual knife and cut his palm, then curled his fingers into a fist around the blood and handed the knife to Lyon who did the same. Each warrior followed, one after another. Finally, Paenther handed the knife to Zeeland and motioned with his head for him to follow suit. When he had, Kougar shoved his fist into the air and the others followed.

“Little Radiant,” Lyon said softly, his tone tight with worry.

From where she sat on the stone, Kara attempted to lift her arms to the sky, her face pale, her eyes dulled from the poison that had attacked her too many times as she brought evil Ferals into their animals without knowing it. But her arms dropped again, as if too heavy for her.

“Kara.” Lyon’s voice throbbed with misery. He knelt at her side, stroking her hair.

“I can do this,” their Radiant said, her voice determined if far too soft.

Lyon kissed the top of her head and once more took his place in the circle.

“Shite!” Fox exclaimed suddenly. “I just lost my animal.”

“Fuck,” Jag muttered. The hopeful air disintegrated into a tight, heavy cloud of tension. The last of the Feral lights had gone out. Zeeland’s own had yet to come on. Inir’s evil Ferals were beginning the ritual to free the Daemons from the Daemon Blade.

The race was on.

“It’ll be close,” Paenther murmured.

Or not close at all, if Kara couldn’t pull the radiance.

This time, Kara pressed her palms to the stone beneath her, closing her eyes, and tilting her head back, her face tight with lines of concentration. The seconds ticked by, then a minute. Two. Zeeland’s pulse pounded as he prayed for her to find the strength she needed.
Come on, Kara. Come on, sweetheart.

Silence blanketed the goddess stone as every man and woman held his or her breath, waiting. Praying. If this didn’t work . . .

Suddenly, Kara went radiant, light erupting within her, a dim glow at first that quickly grew brighter and brighter until it shone through her skin as if she’d swallowed a small piece of the sun. Zeeland’s mind sang with relief and excitement, his gaze finding Julianne’s as she stood beside Ariana, his heart warming.

“Stay where you are, Zeeland,” Lyon ordered. “If you touch her without an armband, the radiance will kill you.”

As the rest of the Ferals stepped forward, closing around Kara, clasping her arms or ankles, or pressing a palm to the top of her head, Zeeland remained still, and watched. Kougar was the first to release Kara and walk toward him. He pressed his bloodied fist on top of Zeeland’s. The others joined them, Lyon pressing his fist atop Kougar’s, Paenther’s atop Lyon’s, Wulfe’s atop Paenther’s. One by one they added their blood until all pressed close around him.

Kougar began to chant, switching to English as the others joined in. “Spirits rise and join. Empower the beasts beneath this moon. Goddess, reveal your warrior!”

Thunder rumbled across the clear sunset sky, a roar of powerful magic. The rock beneath Zeeland’s feet trembled, as if in anticipation. Or dread. Zeeland’s pulse thudded in his ears. Power raced through his body, a joy and pleasure and
rightness
of extraordinary proportions. And suddenly his vision shifted until he was staring at the belts of the males and female encircling him. His senses exploded—sights, sounds, scents. He heard the heartbeats of every person around him, smelled them individually.

A cheer went up.