A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(22)

Can you upsize without turning into a horse this time?

Fox laughed, his animal making that snorting/sneezing sound again. Probably not. A moment later, instead of growing, he shifted back into human form in a spray of colored lights. “Feck.”

Sensual energy slid over Melisande’s skin as it always did whenever she first came near the male in human form. As if he felt it, too, his gaze swung back to her, heat leaping into his eyes, a heat that spiraled deep down inside of her.

She scowled at him, which only earned her a knowing smile. Looking away from her, he winked at Phylicia. Did he think he had to spread his attention evenly? He could give it all to Phylicia. All of it, and she’d be happy if he did.

Marguerite appeared at her side suddenly. “Hawke and Falkyn are having trouble.”

Jag shifted back to human form without warning. “What kind of trouble?”

The Ilina eyed his naked form with appreciation. “Trouble flying. Every time they lift off, they get dizzy and have to land again or risk crashing to the ground. It’s apparently the Mage warding around this mountain.”

Jag grunted. “Which means we’re in the right place, boys and girls. What about Lyon, Wulfe, and Kougar? Are they having any trouble on foot?”

“Not yet, no. But they wanted you to know that Hawke and Falkyn won’t be joining you. And there’s no cell service up here. We’re your only means of communication.”

Jag slugged Fox lightly in the arm. “Let’s get going, Goldilocks. Kara needs us.” In the blink of an eye, Jag was once more a jaguar.

Fox eyed the other Feral with obvious envy, shifted into his too-large fox, and stayed that way.

I’m glad you decided to join us, pet. Fox’s voice caressed her mind as he took off after Jag.

I’m not your pet.

He chuckled in her mind. Aye. Are you anyone’s pet?

No. Go away.

That chuckle again. You intrigue me, little Ilina. So much spit and fire in such a pretty little package.

Quit calling me little. I’m tall for an Ilina.

Ah. This time the laughter was in his voice. That explains your not even reaching my shoulder.

It’s not my fault you’re a hulking brute.

The fox looked back at her, mouth closed, eyes intense. Inside her head, his voice turned soft, surprisingly serious. I’ll concede the hulking. Therian males tend to grow large. But I’m not a brute, pet. Never a brute. Except to my enemies.

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d held shifters in such contempt for so very long, unable to see them except through the lens of cruelty visited on her by Castin and his clan all those centuries ago. They weren’t all like that, she knew that. Especially not the Ferals. But that didn’t mean she would ever fully trust them.

Come walk beside me, Melisande. The flirtatious quality was back in his tone.

Why would I want to do that? she snapped.

Because then you could touch me, stroke my fur. I’ve never had a female’s hands in my fur before. I’m curious to know how it feels.

Ask Phylicia. She’ll put her hands on you any way you like, and we both know it.

He didn’t reply right away, and she hoped he’d finally given up talking to her. She studied the landscape, reveling in the beauty of the Allegheny Mountains, the wildflowers dotting the ground beneath the spruce and hardwoods. The leaves were still the light green of spring against a bright blue sky. Below, running parallel to the road, a creek glittered crystal clear between a border of large, dramatic rock formations. The place was stunning.

So how long have you been an Ilina, pet?

She rolled her eyes. The male was relentless. All my life. I’d appreciate it if you’d disconnect me from your inane, rambling thoughts, Feral.

If I’m inane and rambling, it’s because your beauty is stealing all deeper thought from my head, Melisande.

She snorted. Do women really fall for that drivel?

Truth be told, women usually appreciate my attention. You’re something of a rarity.

A challenge, you mean?

Aye. But more than that. There’s something between us, you can’t deny it. Something happened when you blasted me with that pleasure. Or perhaps your blasting me with pleasure instead of pain was simply a factor of whatever was meant to happen all along.

Melisande growled low with frustration. I don’t want you, Feral. I don’t know how to make that any clearer. I don’t want your voice in my head, I don’t want you smiling at me, I don’t want anything to do with you. Nothing. And that isn’t ever going to change.

For a moment, he was silent. Then the fox paused and swung his head back, watching her once more with those probing, serious eyes. Is your antipathy toward me specifically, Melisande, or toward all Ferals?

Does it matter?

Perhaps not, though it would be a salve to my battered ego if you said it was all shifters and not just me.

There’s not enough salve in the world to cover your massive ego, she replied tartly.

Now you seek to wound me. But the laughter was back in his voice.

You’re still in my head.

Aye. I’m thinking it may be the only way I’ll ever get inside you.

You’ve got that right. Now go. Away.

You’ll push me into Phylicia’s arms, he warned.

Good. She wants you. I don’t.

Very well. He sighed dramatically. You wound me, pet. My heart may never heal. Once again, the fox paused to look back at her, laughing. Then his mouth snapped closed and he eyed her with an intensity that told her he hadn’t given up. Not at all.