A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(5)

“That’s a bloody intriguing comment.”

Kougar looked at him. “Are you aware that she’s Ilina? The queen of the Ilinas?”

Fox nodded. “I heard. Which is another bloody intriguing comment. For a thousand years, the world thought the Ilinas extinct.” He cocked his head at the far-more-senior Feral. “You knew the truth.”

“No. I only learned the truth recently.”

“Where have they been all this time?”

“Most of them in the Crystal Realm, their castle in the clouds.”

Fox knew he meant that literally.

“Ariana will be arriving momentarily.”

Even as Kougar said the words, Fox smelled a whiff of pine, then watched, awestruck, as two petite beauties materialized out of thin air.

Ilinas.

The one was a pretty brunette dressed in jeans and boots and leather jacket. The way she looked at Kougar, with a lover’s smile, told him she must be Ariana.

But it was the other one who caught Fox’s attention and clamped her pretty little fist tight around it. Her hair as light as her companion’s was dark, she was dressed in a timeless outfit that marked her a warrior—leggings and tunic that skimmed graceful curves, a knife hanging from the belt at her slender waist, golden hair falling in a thick braid down her back. She appeared as delicate as a doll—her head small and lovely, her nose pert, her mouth a pretty, petal pink.

But when she glanced his way, sapphire eyes pinned him, eyes as hard as blue diamonds, and, suddenly, she didn’t seem delicate at all.

As their gazes held, his heart went still, then began beating like a herd of spooked cattle. Fire leaped into her eyes, but not the kind of fire he was used to. There was no warmth in those sapphire eyes, no desire. Only a bright, cutting heat that promised to flay the flesh from his bones.

The beauty jerked her gaze from his, turning toward Kougar and his mate.

Hawke and Faith joined Fox. He hadn’t even seen them enter the hallway.

“Amazing that they still exist, isn’t it?” Fox murmured to the pair, unable to tear his gaze away from the Ilina. She was like a little spitfire, eyes snapping with anger, that pretty mouth twisted with annoyance. Still . . . “She’s a fine thing, the blonde.”

“That’s Melisande,” Hawke said quietly beside him.

Melisande. A lovely name for an intriguing woman.

“Apparently she tried to kill Lyon a couple of weeks ago,” Hawke continued.

Fox glanced at him with surprise. “And he let her live?” His gaze returned to the female with a new appreciation. So she knew how to use that sword. No, not delicate at all.

“That was my reaction the first time I heard. It was something of a misunderstanding, and they’ve called a truce of sorts. But the woman apparently has a chip on her shoulder the size of the South Pole when it comes to Ferals. That one’s trouble with a capital T.”

Sapphire eyes cut to him, then away again, without an ounce of interest. Without a modicum of warmth. “Chips can be knocked off.”

Faith snorted beside him. “So can heads.”

Fox chuckled. “She hasn’t met the right Feral yet, is all.”

Hawke clasped him on the shoulder. “You’d have more luck taming a tornado.”

Kougar turned to them. “Fox, Faith, I’d like you to meet Ariana, Queen of the Ilinas and my mate. And her second, Melisande.”

The blonde scowled, and he wondered if she was really as cold as she pretended to be. If he’d seen only her, he might wonder if that were typical of her race, but Ariana’s eyes radiated warmth and love along with strength.

Melisande interested him mightily. His gaze dropped to her mouth, a paradox if ever there was one. At once hard enough to flay a man alive and yet shaped like a lover’s dream—the bottom lip plump and kissable, the top sculpted in pale pink perfection.

Ariana strode forward and introductions were made. Then she turned back toward Kougar. “Where’s the Shaman? I understand we have work to do.”

As Ariana started back to the doorway, where Melisande and Kougar waited, Fox followed, eyeing Melisande, turning on the charm. Could such a cold woman be charmed? The thought made him smile. It had been too long since any female had presented a challenge.

With each step he took, the woman grew more beautiful. Her skin was a flawless cream, as soft, he was certain, as her eyes were hard. Her lashes, a darker gold than her hair, perfectly framed those magnificent eyes. Her body, though small, was perfectly proportioned, her curves neither too slender nor too round. And his hands itched to clutch her waist and pull her against him.

As he drew close, her scent, of wild heather, teased his nose, nearly drowning him in pleasure.

“Melisande, is it?” he asked, drawing on the full force of his Irish upbringing. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Sapphire eyes snapped at him with disbelief, certainly not the usual reaction to his attention, but he played the game the way he knew how. He held out his hand to her, uncertain whether she would meet him halfway and suspecting that if she did, it would be with a huff or a roll of pretty blue eyes. Either would be fine as long as he got to touch her.

“I’m Fox, Melisande. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“That’s what you think.” Her voice was music laced with acid. She ignored his outstretched hand, her eyes narrowing as she smiled at him, but there was nothing pleasant about that smile. Hawke’s words came back to him, that he’d have more luck taming a tornado, and it occurred to him that he might finally have come across a female who was immune to his charms.