A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(37)

“I’m still hurting you, aren’t I?”

“Your energy is, aye.”

“You should have gone with Jag and Olivia.”

The hand palming her head began to move, stroking her with a care that felt alien . . . and disturbingly sweet. “I would never leave you here, alone and defenseless.”

She pulled back until she could see his face. His brows were pulled together, small furrows of pain between his eyes.

“Would you have left Phylicia if I’d been the one who’d died?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment, his hand sliding down her braid, curling it around his hand. “No. I would never abandon any female like that.” The truth of his words shone in his eyes. “Or any male, for that matter.”

“Why do you have to be so damned honorable?”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Do you wish me dishonorable?”

“I could dislike you easier if you were. You’re a hard man to hate, Feral.”

“Thank you. I think.” He tugged gently on her braid. “You’re no longer shaking.”

“No. But I’m still blasting the energy. It’s weakening me.” She frowned. “I don’t know how to shut it off.”

“Hopefully, it will stop on its own. I’ll carry you until you’re stronger.”

“I think I can walk, now. Did you find our trail?”

His jaw tensed. “No. The trail is gone, both forward and aft. It’s as if we misted into this spot.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Aye, but it’s a fact. We’re not where we were.”

Cold dread trickled down her spine. “Then where are we?”

He shook his head. “I’ve no bloody idea.” Lifting her off his lap, he rose, then pulled her to her feet beside him, keeping his arm around her.

Her legs wobbled but managed to hold her this time, her body’s healing abilities fighting the weakness. Pulling away from him, she met his gaze. “I can walk.”

He held out his hand to her, his blue eyes glittering with a fierce protectiveness. “I want you to hold on to me and not let go. The mountain is fecking with us, and I wouldn’t put it past it to try to separate us.”

She’d had the same thought and took his hand without hesitation. His warm fingers closed firmly around hers, and she breathed more easily. What was he doing to her? He was a man, a shifter, and she had no business trusting him. None at all.

Except she did.

But there would be time to think about that later, when they weren’t in quite so much danger. When she could mist again and no longer needed him. Her plan to keep him at a distance had failed spectacularly.

“If we don’t know where we are, then we don’t know where the warding is,” she murmured.

His jaw clenched. “No. Hopefully it’s nowhere near here.” Hand in hand, he led her up the hill, the opposite direction they’d been going. She managed to keep one foot in front of the other though the effort cost her. She was so damned weak.

Melisande had no idea how far they’d traveled when, once more, all hell broke loose. Something hit them, hard, and they were flying backward, their hands coming unlinked.

Pain screamed through her body, a hundred times worse than before. Fire licked up all around her.

They’d hit the warding.

Again.

Chapter Nine

“Melisande!”

Fox shifted into his animal right where he landed, leaping at Melisande, covering her as he had the first time he’d run her into the warding. Bloody hell.

She was engulfed in flame.

Terror ripped through his mind, a terror that he wouldn’t be able to save her, even as blazing agony tore through his body nearly short-circuiting his brain. Beneath him, Melisande screamed.

Don’t you dare die on me, angel. Don’t you dare.

The unnatural fire seared his nerve endings, right through his fur, until his animal whimpered, until he wanted to howl.

Mel, we’re too close to the warding. I’ve got to move you.

She didn’t answer, and he realized she’d gone still beneath him. Just as Phylicia had moments before she died. His heart seized. Panic clawed at his mind. Should he continue to cover her and hope the fire went out, or try to move her? And if he did try to move her, which direction? He wasn’t even sure where the warding was, and if he pulled her through it again, it was all over.

It might be already.

Goddess, goddess, goddess. If only his gut would give him a clue. He turned his frantic mind inward, searching for some sign, and got nothing. But his instinct was to stay put and continue to blanket her with his monster fox form as he had the last time.

His heart pounded, fear ripping a hole in him as he pressed his fox face against Melisande’s flesh, praying, praying, he’d covered her in time. He couldn’t see the flames and had no idea if they continued. All he knew was that the pain continued to sear him alive, on and on and on. At least she’d fallen unconscious and wasn’t suffering.

Finally, finally, the searing heat began to ease away. Beneath him, Melisande’s chest continued to rise and fall, her heart beating steadily against his own. He made a whimpering sound in his fox’s throat, his muscles going lax in relief.

Thank the goddess.

He had to get her out of here. If only his intuition would tell him in which direction lay safety. Lifting himself up slowly, he looked down at her through his fox’s eyes, relieved to the depths of his soul to find no hole in her chest. The damage to her had already healed. Even her clothes appeared barely singed.