A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(28)

He looked back to find her watching him with a heat that mirrored his own. A lost look raced across sapphire eyes a moment before her shields slammed down. Everything inside him urged him to go to her, to help her, to comfort her. But those now-frosty eyes and the rigidness of her shoulders told him she wanted nothing more than for him to leave her alone.

There would be time aplenty in the months to come for him to solve the mystery of Melisande. Once Kara was safe.

Is that your gut talking? the jaguar asked, looking up at him.

“I believe so,” he hedged, because at the moment all he was hearing was his body’s screaming demand to touch the lovely Ilina.

He shivered. And suddenly he knew.

Finally. “I’m completely sure. This is the way.” Shifting back into his fox, he leaped off the rock and into the water, splashing through the creek on fox paws and climbing out the other side. Giving himself a shake, he shifted back into a man and got hit with the same bloody blast of sultry energy. If only he could find a way to shut it off.

Or satisfy the need it created.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Melisande and Phylicia disappear, and then reappear just as suddenly on the other side of the creek. Olivia pulled off her boots and waded across barefoot while Jag leaped across in his animal, then began rooting around for Castin’s scent.

With an effort, Fox yanked his mind off the woman who tormented him and shifted back into his animal. His gut might be telling him to go this way, but why? Was this the direction Castin went? Would this path lead them to the Mage stronghold and Kara? Was it the direction of the juicy chipmunk his fox was hungry for?

Got it! Nice work, Goldilocks.

Castin’s trail? Fox asked hopefully.

Yep. Plain as day. How in the hell it’s going this way and circling back, is anyone’s guess. Maybe Castin did the circuitous route the first time, too, thanks to the warding, then headed across the creek.

Fox could only hope that was the reason for the strange trail though it didn’t explain why it had taken them nearly twice as long to reach the creek the second time as the first. He was afraid the warding really was screwing with them. Which meant they could still conceivably wander this mountain for days and make no progress whatsoever.

They traveled through sundown and into the evening. For a time, they continued by moonlight, but when clouds began to slide in, shutting out all light, Jag called a halt to their progress.

“Olivia can’t see, and neither can I unless I’m in my animal. We’ll rest. Get some sleep unless the clouds and moon cooperate a little better.” They’d seen no draden, which was good news. The small, gaseous Daemon remnants fed off Therian energy and would attack them in their human forms. Fortunately, they didn’t bother the animals or Ilinas, and Olivia was draden-kissed, one of only a handful of Therians who could turn the tables on them, draining the draden before they could harm her.

Jag pulled a small lantern out of one of the packs, built a small berm around it with underbrush and dead leaves, then turned it on low, offering enough light for them to see one another but not so much that it would be seen from a distance if there really were Mage around.

Olivia pulled sandwiches out of one of the packs and handed them out. Phylicia and Melisande settled on a rock nearby, but Melisande was the only one who accepted the food.

“You don’t eat?” Olivia asked Phylicia.

“I can. And I do sometimes. There are other ways Ilinas prefer to feed.” She glanced at Melisande. “Most Ilinas.”

“Pleasure,” Olivia said matter-of-factly.

“Yes.” Phylicia threw Fox a look of speculation and no small invitation.

But it was Melisande who captured his attention and wouldn’t let go. He took the sandwich Olivia handed him and bit into it as he tried to keep from staring at the blonde. Legend called them sex sirens and he’d come to learn that for many of them, that was true. They fed on pleasure of all kinds—music, dance, art. Especially the pleasures of the flesh. And they were reputedly skilled and inventive lovers.

If only it were Melisande who wanted to feast on him. They’d be away from here in a heartbeat, and he’d have that trim little tunic and leggings off her so fast it would make her dizzy with delight.

Melisande rose, finished with her sandwich, and turned to Jag. “We’ll take watch while you sleep.”

Jag nodded. Phylicia joined Melisande and the pair walked away from the campfire. When they were a distance away, Jag glanced at Fox with speculation. “What is it with you and the Ilinas, pretty boy? The nice one looks like she wants to devour you, and the bitch looks like she wants to lop off her friend’s head for it.”

“Don’t call her a bitch.” Fox’s words were sharper than he intended. No they weren’t.

Jag watched him with interest. “Okay.”

Olivia nudged her mate with her shoulder as she swallowed a bite of sandwich. “If you tell him you’re jealous of all the Ilina attention, I’m going to have to beat your ass, Feral.” Her words held a hint of laughter and the utter confidence of a woman well loved.

Jag grinned, cupped the back of her head, and gave her one hell of a kiss. “If there’s an ounce of jealousy, and I’m not sure there is, it’s a pride thing, nothing more. Not a one of them holds a candle to you, Red. Not a woman on this planet. Or its clouds, for that matter.” Though it was clear they were teasing each other, Jag’s expression turned intense. “Not a one.”