A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(24)

It was strange and amazing being both man and animal like this, and for the hundredth time, he marveled at his changed existence. He marveled at the thought that at one time all Therians had been shifters. How awful it must have been to lose that ability after the Sacrifice all those millennia ago. For him this was still brand-new. The other Ferals had told him that it would take some time for the man and animal to get used to one another and to learn to work together. They’d warned him about a lot of things and informed him that he’d probably develop one or two abilities that he hadn’t had before. Lyon was said to be able to steal the emotions of another, particularly a human. Tighe was good at clearing the mind of a human who’d seen things he shouldn’t have. And they’d hinted that Jag could do something with his hands, something the females enjoyed. He wasn’t about to ask for an explanation of that one. Apparently sometimes these gifts were new, sometimes just a deepening of talents the Feral already possessed.

So far the only thing he’d seen new was that premonition. And it was bothering him. A lot.

How you doing, Foxylocks? Why don’t you walk on two feet for a while, take a break?

I’m fine, Jagabelle, but thanks for the concern.

Yeah, well I wasn’t really asking, Fox-man. Maintaining the shift can be taxing for a new Feral, and the last thing we need is for you to do a face plant from exhaustion just as we cross a traveling party of Mage.

That would be poor strategy, wouldn’t it?

Jag chuckled in his head. Yes it would. Besides, Castin’s trail is clear and easy to follow. There’s no need for us both to stay in animal form. We’ll take turns from here on out.

Since you put it that way . . .

The change flowed over Fox in a heady torrent and a rush of relief. He hadn’t realized how much effort he’d been putting into holding the shift until he stopped. But the moment he was a man again, Melisande’s sensual energy rushed over his flesh, heating his blood.

He longed to walk straight to her, take her in his arms, and kiss her until she melted. And he might have considered it if he didn’t suspect he’d get a knife in the gut for his efforts. He might do it even then if he didn’t sense that odd note of vulnerability in her. Despite the tartness of her words and the coolness of her gaze, he felt the need to treat her carefully. Something told him that she was not a woman to be seduced, but instead slowly and carefully gentled. Which was an extraordinary thought given her indisputable strength.

But his instincts with females were usually dead-on.

Olivia patted his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He smiled at his old friend, throwing his arm around her shoulders and hauling her close for a quick hug. “Jagabelle suggested I take a break and two-foot it for a bit.”

She snorted. “You two amuse me.” But there was a sadness in her eyes that tugged at him.

“What’s the matter, Olivia?”

Her red hair gleamed in the sunlight, but her eyes suddenly turned bright with unshed tears. “Kara. I’m so worried about her.”

“We all are.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve become close friends, haven’t you?” He’d known Olivia for more than a century and knew her well.

“More than friends. The Feral wives . . .” She shook her head. “We’ve become sisters. That sounds silly, I know, but it’s true. I love her, Fox. They can’t have her.”

“We’ll get her back.” And they would. The need burned inside of him as it did all the Ferals.

He glanced over his shoulder at the two Ilinas walking close behind, unable to ignore Melisande even if he wanted to. She glared at him, but the glare didn’t quite reach her eyes. Was it possible she was beginning to soften toward him?

Olivia caught the glance back. “Determined to tame that tornado, are you?”

“I’m not sure tame is the right word. To be truthful, luv, I’m not sure what I’m doing. I just can’t seem to look away for long.”

“Smitten,” Olivia whispered.

“Never,” he whispered back.

With a smile and a shake of her head, she pulled away. Catching up with Jag, she slid her hand along her mate’s spotted tail, running her fingers through his fur.

Fox watched, filled once more with the desire to know the feel of Melisande’s fingers in his own fur. He paused long enough for the two Ilinas to catch up with him, then fell into step beside them.

“And how are you ladies holding up?” he asked, even as his gaze scanned the surrounding vistas, searching for signs of Mage. Or Castin. Or Kara. His warrior’s instincts were so well honed he didn’t even have to consciously pay attention. He was always aware of what was going on around him. Always. Regardless of whether or not there was a female in his company he badly wanted to bed.

Phylicia slipped her arm in his, her long, black hair brushing his hip. “You’ve no idea how wonderful it is to be able to walk the Earth freely again. We were trapped in the Crystal Realm, hiding for so long that I thought we’d never be free.”

“You’ve a lot to make up for.”

She cut him a seductive look. “I do indeed.” Her mouth tilted attractively. “You know, if we were to take a little break, I could mist you right back to your companions the moment we were through.”

“Phylicia . . .” Mel warned.