Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8) 7

“Does he have complete control over her now?” Hawke asked.

“No.” He frowned, his stomach full of lead shot. “I hope not.”

“This connection Satanan has with you is no good, you know that,” Lyon said evenly.

“I know.” Wulfe’s grip on Natalie tightened, and he knew what was going through Lyon’s head. Probably all of their heads. The safest course of action would be to sever the connection. Here. Now.

“I love her.” He met the gazes of each of his brothers in turn, men he’d lay his life down for in an instant. “I’ll kill you before I let you hurt her.”

Lyon’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “We risk much for the women we love.”

“Without them, what do we have that’s worth fighting for?” Hawke asked philosophically.

To Wulfe’s surprise, Kougar nodded. “Natalie lives. It’s Inir that dies.”

But they were back to square one. Wulfe looked down at the woman in his arms and wished he could pack her up and take her somewhere, away from the wary gazes, somewhere that Satanan and Inir couldn’t send Mage sentinels after them.

He turned to Kougar suddenly. “Would the Ilinas host a couple of corporeal visitors for a few hours? I’ll go stark, raving mad . . . again . . . if I don’t get out of this house.”

“The Ilinas would welcome you, but I suggest Melisande accompany you.”

Lyon nodded. “If you have any trouble, she and her mist warriors can either whisk you both back here, or us up there.”

“You’ll be safe enough there,” Kougar added. “As safe as anywhere.”

And that was the real crux of the matter. As long as Satanan had his claws in them, there was nowhere they could really hide.

Natalie came awake to the feel of a large, tender hand stroking her hair. Wulfe’s. Even without opening her eyes, she knew he was the one who held her on his lap, cradled against his strong chest.

“Are you back?” he asked softly.

With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and met his concerned gaze, then tensed as she saw the bleakness there. Struggling to sit up, she reached for him, her hand pressing against his cheek.

“What happened? Something terrible happened. Someone died.”

He stared at her, shook his head. “You amaze me with your perception. No one died, not exactly. I lost my animal.” At those last words, his brow tightened, grief slashing across his eyes.

“Oh, Wulfe.” This was bad, in so many ways, she knew that. But in that moment, all she could feel was his anguish, and it slew her. Sliding her arms around his neck, she pulled him close, held him tight as he buried his face against her shoulder. Fear washed through her in an icy flow because she knew that a Feral without his animal would not survive.

Her hold on him tightened until her muscles began to quake. “You can’t die.”

“It’s not going to come to that,” he said against her hair. “We’re not going to let it come to that.” But while he made a decent effort to reassure her, she heard no certainty in his voice.

As her gaze slowly took in her surroundings, she began to frown. They appeared to be sitting at the base of a cascade of rocks, beneath a bright blue sky. But the air . . . It was sparkling, as if filled with tiny crystals!

She jerked upright and peered around. In front of her sat a lovely pool of clear water fed by a small, tinkling waterfall. It was lovely in a stark kind of way. There wasn’t a plant or flower in sight despite the fact that she smelled the unmistakable scent of pine.

“What is this place?” she asked, pushing off Wulfe’s lap to stand and look around.

“We’re safe here.” Wulfe’s bare feet dangled in the water. “We’re in the Crystal Realm. The Ilinas’ castle is just beyond the rocks.”

She cocked her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “Where?”

“In the clouds.”

Natalie scowled. “That’s not possible.”

“And a race of women who can turn to mist, disappear at will, and travel anywhere in the world in seconds is?”

Natalie stared at him a moment more, then blinked, giving up. She’d already accepted shape-shifters, Daemons, and Mage. And she’d seen the Ilinas appear and disappear, had even traveled with one. What was a castle in the clouds compared to all that?

Of far more concern was why they were here. “What happened, Wulfe? The last thing I remember, you were about to perform some ritual with the Ferals to reclaim your immortality.” With a frown, she understood. “It didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Do you remember anything of what happened in your room?”

The way he was looking at her, she knew it must be bad. “Tell me.”

He held out his hand to her and when she took it, pulled her onto the rock beside him and slid his arm around her shoulders. “Somehow, Satanan forced you to perform a ritual that opened the channel a little bit.” When her jaw dropped, he added hastily, “Not far. I knocked you out and brought you here afterward.”

Vaguely, she remembered . . . something. More like a nightmare than reality. “I hurt myself, didn’t I?”

“Yes. He forced you to scratch open your wrists and whisper a string of ritual words. I got there in time to stop you before it accomplished much.”

She lifted one of her wrists and looked at clear, uninjured flesh. With a purse of her lips, she reached for his free arm and turned it over, eyeing the thin scratches.

“You took my wounds again.”

Eyes filled with infinite warmth watched her softly. “I will always take your injuries. I can’t stand to see you in pain.”

Love welled up, filling her chest until it nearly cut off her breath. She lifted a hand to his cheek, lifted her face for his kiss, and he met her halfway. Warm lips brushed hers, featherlight. Strong arms pulled her tight against his muscular chest, and he kissed her with increasing urgency, with rising need and passion. Her pulse took off, her breath growing shallow, then disappearing altogether as their mouths merged, their tongues twining, their limbs shaking with need and desire.

His hand slid into her hair, cupping her head, as he deepened the kiss. His need transmitted to her through desperate hands and fierce kisses, and the growing erection that pressed more and more insistently against her hip. Liquid heat slid through her, and she shook with the desire to feel him inside her again, to become one with him once more.

Wulfe’s hand slid down her back, then up under her shirt to press against her warm flesh. His mouth tore from hers, his lips pressing against her cheek, her eye, her temple.

“I need to be inside you, Natalie.”

“Yes. Please.”

He moved with swift grace for such a big man, stripping them both of their shirts and her of her bra before she could lift a trembling hand to help him. As she pulled off her shoes, he rose to his feet and divested himself of the remainder of his clothes. Laying their T-shirts on the rocks, he scooped her up and set her atop them, then quickly stripped her bare.

For long moments he sat back on his heels, gazing at her, naked except for the gleaming golden wolf’s-head armband, his gaze skimming slowly over her bare flesh, setting every single inch on fire.

Watching him filled her with such happiness, despite everything, that a fleeting smile found its way to her mouth. His gaze flicked to hers, a wry, answering smile lighting his eyes as his hand reached for her, skimming up her abdomen, then cupping her breast. A moment later, she was on her back, his mouth on her breast, his hand between her legs. He drove her up, hard and fast, until she was crying out from an exquisite release. Finally, he settled between her thighs, met her gaze with an expression so full of heat and tenderness that it melted the heart in her chest, and slid thickly, deeply, wonderfully inside her.

Natalie reached up and clasped her hands behind his neck, holding on as she met him, thrust for thrust. Their gazes locked, her heart opened so fully she began to think their hearts, too, were becoming one.

“Do you feel that?” he asked with wonder.

The love overwhelmed her, misting her eyes with tears. “Yes.” Yet neither of them had ever said the words. And then no words were possible as her body began to rise again, higher than before. Wulfe drove into her harder and faster, following her to those impossible heights, shattering right alongside her as she cried out with triumph and stunning release, and a love so deep she wondered if, within its glorious depths, she might drown.

Bracing himself on his forearms, he watched her, his eyes softer than she’d ever seen them. “I love you, Natalie Cash.”

Tears misted her eyes all over again. “I love you, too, my wolf.”

He kissed her nose and lifted up again, a gentle smile on his mouth. “I know. Your love is a miracle. It’s healing me in more ways than I’d imagined.”

She gave him an impudent grin. “Everything’s in fine working order, now.”

He laughed. “Thank the goddess.” But his gaze turned serious. “It was the strength of your love that broke through the tangled mess of my shattered mating bond, sweeping it all away. The sweetness of your kiss.” He stroked the hair back from her face. “Food has taste, colors are back to their true, vibrant beauty. And I can feel again. Passion, desire, need.”

As she watched him, as she loved him, her heart pinched. Because what would come of this love? What could come of it? Despite his words, he’d said nothing about the future.

Then again, given the precariousness of their current situation, any future might be very, very short.

Wulfe pulled out of her and rolled to her side, gathering her against him. She curled into him, her cheek on his shoulders, her arm around his waist, as he stroked her back. His mood, too, had lost its buoyancy, and she knew he had many of the same thoughts she did, the same concerns about the hours to come.

His fingers slid into her hair, and he kissed her forehead. “I’m going to keep you safe. Whatever else, I promise you that.” Quietly, they lay together, enjoying the feel of one another’s body pressing close. He traced the curve of her ear with his thumb. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me about your life, your work. I want to know everything there is to know about Natalie Cash.”

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?

Together 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.