A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(19)

She would not let it happen.

It was all the fault of that damned golden shifter. Even now, even without looking, she knew exactly where he was. As the small procession strode to the war room, he followed behind Kougar, Wulfe at his side. She felt him, his energy like a beacon, calling to her.

They filed into the war room, the Ferals with wives taking seats at the table beside their mates, the others standing against the walls of the room. Melisande stood at the back of the room with three of her sisters, her arms crossed tight against her chest in an effort to still the faint trembling that wouldn’t stop.

The room filled quickly, the scent of hard male bodies teasing her nose, reminding her of the carnal longings that had once been a constant part of her life. Now it was only one male who claimed her attention. Her gaze slid to where Fox stood against the adjoining wall beside Wulfe. And Phylicia.

An unexpected burst of anger flared inside of her, startling her as much as it dismayed. Jealousy. This was a day for lows. And Phylicia didn’t deserve it. One of the youngest of her sisters, Phylicia had spent most of her life hiding in the Crystal Realm, forbidden the pleasures of males and sex for fear the truth of their extinction . . . or lack thereof . . . would leak to the Mage who were trying to destroy them.

Melisande crossed her arms tighter, setting her jaw as she reminded herself that she should encourage Phylicia to bed Fox. With the shifter’s attention turned elsewhere, perhaps this unholy connection between them would finally break. All would go back to the way it was before.

Which was all she wanted. All she wanted.

Paenther began to speak, drawing all eyes toward the front of the room. “We have a lead, thanks to Fox and his intuition.”

The Greek God smiled faintly and gave a nod. But his gaze slid to her as if, in this crowded room, she was the only one he saw. Not Phylicia fawning beside him, not his brothers or their wives. Her.

As their gazes locked, her pulse tripped, heat flushing her cheeks. She tried to pull her gaze away and couldn’t.

“Fox suggested we investigate a link with West Virginia,” Paenther continued, drawing the gazes front again, including Fox’s.

With a trembling breath, Melisande looked toward the windows and tried to rally her defenses. Maybe she really was going to have to give up her role as Ariana’s second and put as much distance between her and that shifter as she could manage. Every time she was near him . . .

She felt them, the whispers of the emotions of the others, startling her and chilling her to the bone. Her eyes widened.

No, no, no.

Frustration, desperation, hope slid around her like swirls of smoke. Not her emotion. Theirs.

Something she’d not felt in centuries, not since Castin’s treachery. Long ago, she’d been a different person, gifted with the ability to sense the emotions of others and ease their torment. A Ceraph, they’d called her, touched by the grace of the goddess herself. She’d been no warrior then, gentle and kind, unable and unwilling to kill. But Castin had changed all that, changed her, when he betrayed her, handing her over to his clan to be raped and tortured mercilessly in a bid for a power she’d had no ability to give them. They’d all but destroyed her, taking everything she was, leaving a coldhearted, vengeance-driven warrior in her place.

And now another shifter, Fox, was threatening to shatter that woman, too.

Paenther’s voice filled the room. “In following up on our two missing new Ferals, I discovered that one of them, Estevan, called home last night. We’ve traced the cell signal to West Virginia, not far from Elkins. I called my Mage contact and learned that it’s long been rumored that Inir once had a stronghold in the Allegheny Mountains near Elkins. Twenty minutes ago, one of his men stumbled upon an abandoned pickup with Canadian tags on the mountain where the stronghold is rumored to have been. We’ve run the tags. The truck belongs to the second of our missing Ferals and is only five miles from where Estevan made that call.”

Silence hung over the room as all absorbed the information.

Kougar stroked his goatee. “If the new Ferals are being drawn to that mountain, Inir is there. And probably Kara. Inir will demand she bring the new Ferals into their animals.”

The Ferals exchanged angry, worried glances as Paenther continued. “My Mage contact warned me that if this is indeed Inir’s stronghold, we’ll be up against powerful magic. We’ve seen strong warding before, the kind that will confuse and confound until the trespasser doesn’t know where he is, let alone where the Mage stronghold lies. The warding on this mountain may be a hundred times worse, especially if it contains Daemon magic. There are rumors of people . . . Mage . . . disappearing, never to be seen again. We have to be prepared for anything.”

“We’re getting Kara back,” Jag growled.

Rough sounds of agreement peppered the room.

Melisande felt the flare of their resolve, and her own. Theirs to find their Radiant, hers to get as far away from Fox and the destruction he would wreak on her life as quickly as possible. Ariana was going to have to choose another second.

The thought of losing her position, her place, was like a blow. But the prospect of losing herself was far, far worse.

“We’ll be sending three teams out there ASAP,” Paenther said. “Hawke and Falkyn, you’ll do aerial reconnaissance and grid the search to try to minimize the warding’s confusion. Jag, you’ll lead the second team, with Fox and Olivia. Lyon will lead the third, with Kougar and Wulfe.”