A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(30)

If only that didn’t seem like quite such an impossible task.

Chapter Seven

Fox, Jag, and Olivia ate the rest of their sandwiches in silence, gathered around the small lantern deep in the mountains of West Virginia. The night-insect chorus was in full swing, the air moving and comfortable.

Jag stood up and stripped off his shorts.

Olivia’s eyebrow shot up. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Jag snorted. “Always, my love, but not yet. I want to have a sniff around just to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

Fox watched as the man shifted into the jaguar. “Do you want some help, Jagabelle?”

Keep my mate company, Foxy. I won’t be gone long.

“Aye.” As the jaguar disappeared into the night’s shadows, Fox glanced at Olivia sitting across from him, her red hair gleaming in the lanternlight. He rose and joined her on her log. They’d been friends for more than a century and lovers a few times, though neither had felt any emotional attachment beyond the friendship. Therians were notoriously nonmonogamous. They slept around often and freely unless they found the one meant to be their mate, which was rare.

“You’re happy,” he said, bumping her shoulder gently with his. It wasn’t a question. Happiness and contentment radiated from her.

Her grin was slow to bloom, but all the more breathtaking for its depth and completeness. “I am. Never in a million years would I have thought to find such contentment, especially with that Feral. He was an ass, Kieran. He had the worst mouth on him.” She laughed. “Well, he still does, but it’s just habit, now, not designed to antagonize.”

“He’s changed.” Fox looked at her thoughtfully. “You changed him.”

“No, that’s not entirely true. He changed, yes, but much of it was his own doing, coming to grips with a past that had haunted him for too long.”

“Which he’d not have done if not for you.”

“No, probably not.” Her hand curled around his forearm. “I hope you find your mate someday. I never knew what I was missing, and it’s a good thing. But now that I’ve found him, I wonder how I ever survived my cold, solitary existence.”

Fox lifted his brows with a slow grin. “Your existence wasn’t entirely cold.”

She laughed. “No, it wasn’t. And yet . . .” Her gaze turned knowing and wise. “When you find the right one . . . the one . . . everything that went before pales to nothing. I can’t explain it better than that. You’ll have to experience it for yourself, and I hope you do someday, Kieran. I truly hope you do.”

Fox hooked his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. “You’re the only one I ever wanted, Olivia.”

She laughed. “Liar.”

Fox smiled. “I’m happy the way I am. Some males are suited to mates and some are not. I’m one of the latter.”

“You’re wrong about that,” she said softly, tipping her head against his shoulder. “You’d make the right woman a wonderful mate, Kieran. You’ll see.”

In the darkness, Fox saw glowing cat eyes. Jaguar eyes. And he was suddenly conscious of just how close he was holding Jag’s mate. He started to release her, not wanting to risk the friendship that had developed between them. But the jaguar sat back on his haunches, his stance blatantly nonthreatening.

The warmth of Jag’s voice in Fox’s head a moment later confirmed it.

You’re okay, Fox-man, you know that? I like knowing that Olivia has a friend among the Ferals, someone who’s known her for decades. Every one of the Ferals will defend her to the death, but you’ll be watching her back even before the trouble starts. And if I’m not there, you’ll be the first one fighting at her side.

I will, Jag. Absolutely. She’s a fine, fine woman. Fox placed a quick kiss on the top of Olivia’s head, then released her and stood as Jag strode into the camp, a man once more. Their gazes met, understanding and friendship passing between them as Olivia rose to meet her mate. As the couple moved together into the shadows, Fox headed in the other direction and settled on the ground half a dozen yards from the lantern. Lying on his back, his hands beneath his head, he stared up at the clouds scuttling across the faint light that was all that was visible of the moon.

He’d heard the others say they found it far more comfortable to sleep on the ground or floor in their animals, but he’d been sleeping like this in human form for centuries and for now, he’d stay with what he knew.

He’d only been lying there a few minutes, hadn’t even closed his eyes, when the premonition hit. One moment he was staring at the night sky, the next at a stained ceiling and a single too-bright lightbulb. Like before, he felt as if it were real. His arms and legs were pulled outward, spread-eagled, aching as if they’d been in this position for far too long. Cold stone bit into his hips and bare shoulder blades. He was sweating, gasping, trying to gain his breath after . . . something. Something horrendous. Pain radiated through his mind, echoes of what he’d just endured, but even the echoes were enough to make him sick.

His vision swam, clearing slowly, revealing once more a world where everything was beige and gray like an old photograph. Sepia tones.

A man walked into his line of sight, the same one he’d seen in his last premonition. Inir? A chill of dread skated over his scalp as he stared into those cold, soulless copper eyes and saw his own death.