A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(29)

Olivia kissed him back, far more tenderly, then pulled back, laughter in her eyes. “Don’t you forget it.” Those too-sharp feminine eyes swung to Fox. “So what’s going on with you and Melisande?”

Fox shrugged. “Unfortunately, nothing.”

Jag snorted. “You just about went feral a moment ago when I disrespected her. Trust me, that’s not nothing. What does your animal think of her?” he asked with studied indifference.

“He snarls when she’s close.”

Jag cocked his head, his gaze turning thoughtful. “It’s just lust then, Fox-man. I admit, we didn’t think it was. Kougar says when an Ilina can’t hurt a man, that male is probably destined to be her mate. We’ve been taking bets on this thing between you and Miss Bitch . . . uh, Miss Melisande. Sounds like I have some inside information now, because the animal spirit is usually the first one to recognize the Feral’s mate, usually long before the Feral himself. And if the fox spirit is snarling, that female is not destined to be your mate.”

Fox glanced at the lantern. That was good news, of course it was. Great news. He was drawn to her. More than drawn. He was utterly and totally obsessed. But the last thing he wanted was a mate. He wouldn’t take her as his mate even if she really was the one.

And she wasn’t.

Great news.

Then why did he feel like he’d just been slugged?

Wulfe lumbered through the forest on four paws, his wolf’s night vision far better than his man’s. Lyon and Kougar, too, had shifted hours back, the two Ilinas accompanying them on foot . . . or floating along beside them as mist. It was impossible to know if they were making any headway this time though it had been hours since they’d last seen that odious rock formation.

Not long after they started off last time, they’d come to a fork in Estevan’s scent. One path had headed northeast, the other southwest. Since they’d taken the southwest one the last time . . . they thought . . . they’d headed northeast. And so far, so good. Wulfe could only hope they were on the right track. Finally.

The night was cloudy, but alive with the sounds of crickets and night birds, and the scurrying of the nocturnal animals hunting food and one another.

It was odd to be out at night and not hunting draden. He loved being in his wolf, loved the feel of the breeze through his fur and the soft forest loam beneath the pads of his paws. If only he could lose his mind in the animal’s senses as easily as his body. If only he could forget about Natalie for just a little while. Maybe once she married, it would be easier. At least then he’d know she was happy—as happy as she could ever be with her friends dead and her brother permanently missing.

And that was the real problem, he supposed. He knew how sad she was. He’d seen it for himself. And though he’d stolen her memories of that savage battle, and taken the wound on her cheek, adding it to his own gruesome collection, he couldn’t take her grief.

She needed to be happy, she deserved to be happy. And that was the one thing he couldn’t give her.

The sound of voices caught his attention, and he paused, his ears pricking up. But these voices, he realized, weren’t coming to him through the air. They were in his head. And they weren’t the voices of his brothers.

The Ferals?

I’ve lost a few. But more Ferals come, my lord. And the originals will cease to be a problem soon.

Good. I’ve waited a long time for this. Hail the Daemons.

Hail the Daem—.

The voices went silent. Wulfe let out a whine.

What’s the matter? Kougar asked. In his animal, he slid silently through the forest not far ahead.

I just heard voices, he told his fellow Feral. Telepathically. Did you hear them?

No.

Shit. I think one of them might have been Inir.

The cougar stopped abruptly and swung toward him, his cat’s eyes glowing in the dark. What did they say?

That more Ferals are coming. And the originals will cease to be a problem soon.

The cougar stared at him for long minutes, then finally turned away, loping after the lion. Let me know if you hear anything more.

As they continued on, Wulfe remained tense, waiting, both wanting to hear more and not. What in the hell did it mean that the Mage was telegraphing his conversation to him like that? Had it been a mistake? Did this mean they were near?

But he heard nothing more, and a couple of hours before dawn, they rounded a corner that felt too familiar. With a sick punch to the gut, Wulfe looked up at that same f**king, idiotic rock formation.

Dammit. To. Hell.

Lyon went berserk, and it was all Wulfe could do not to join him. They’d traveled more than twelve hours . . . twelve hours . . . and they were right back where they’d started. They’d made no progress in finding Kara. None!

Kougar’s voice rang quietly in his head. Get some sleep, Wulfe. We’ll try again in a few hours, when the sun rises.

And they’d make another useless circle around this godforsaken mountain before winding up right back here again.

Shall we try to calm Roar?

No. Let him rage. I’d be doing the same if it were Ariana lost to me. I have done the same.

As would he, if it were Natalie. Even though they weren’t mated, even though she wasn’t his, if she was in trouble, he’d go crazy trying to reach her.

Somehow, they had to find a way to reach Kara.