A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(6)

“Mel,” Ariana warned.

The petite blonde flung her empty hand toward him as if it were not empty at all, as if she meant to toss a fireball in his face.

Instead, exquisite sexual pleasure rushed through his body on a blast so strong, so pure, that he nearly came right there in the middle of the hallway. On a groan, he arched his back, his eyes dropping closed as the pleasure roared through him, wave after wave of pure ecstasy.

When he could move again, his eyes snapped open, and he straightened to find the most fascinating woman he’d ever met staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief, her mouth forming a horrified O.

A grin spread slowly across his face, his gaze locking with hers. The next time he felt that kind of rapture in her presence, he’d be deep inside of her, and she’d be screaming her release right along with him.

Go to hell shimmered in Melisande’s eyes as if she’d heard his silent promise, her mouth snapping closed, once more tightening into a hard line. With a low growl of fury, the beauty disappeared, misting away.

Fox began to laugh.

“What did you do to her?” Kougar asked, clearly puzzled.

Fox shook his head. “I’ve no bloody idea.”

“Watch your step,” Ariana warned softly. “Melisande is a good person, but she has a violent and justified hatred of Therians. While she’s obligated to honor my alliance with the Ferals, she’s unpredictable. She won’t try to kill you. But that’s about all I can guarantee. And if you hurt her, even that’s off the table.”

“Point taken.” But the grin hovered at the edges of his mouth, the pleasure still coursing through his body. He had no intention of hurting her. Not at all. What he had in mind would have her arching with as much pleasure as she’d just given him. And more. Far more.

As Ariana left to speak to the Shaman, Lyon and Kara strode down the hallway toward them. Lyon caressed his mate’s hair. “Are you up to it?”

“Of course.” Kara smiled, gazing up at her mate with adoration. In the short time he’d been at Feral House, Fox had come to realize that the love between the Ferals’ chief and their Radiant was the beating heart of the house and the bedrock that held them all together regardless of what crisis they found themselves in. And they’d faced one crisis after another since his arrival.

Kara turned front again, catching Fox watching them. She smiled at him sweetly, a woman impossible not to adore. In her jeans and bare feet, she exuded a girl-next-door wholesomeness at odds with her role as the most powerful of the nonshifting Therians. In some ways, she was more powerful even than the shifters, for without her, within a couple of months, they’d begin to lose the power of their animals.

“Radiance,” Lyon said, squeezing his mate’s shoulder gently.

Though it wasn’t necessary to take a shot of radiance directly from the source—Kara empowered them through proximity—none of them ever turned down an invitation for that pure energy rush.

As Kara held her hands out at her sides, Kougar stepped forward and curled his fingers around one slender wrist, a smile for her in his eyes. Hawke tugged on her ponytail like a fond older brother, then wrapped his hand around her other wrist. As Lyon slid his hand beneath Kara’s ponytail, pressing his palm against the back of her neck in a gesture at once possessive and tender, Fox stepped forward to kneel at her feet, slipping his hand around one bare ankle.

“Little Radiant,” Lyon said softly, and, a moment later, Kara lit up, her skin glowing brightly enough to light a darkened room. Going radiant, they called it.

Warm, lush energy rushed through Fox’s body—the Earth’s energy, the lifeblood of a Feral Warrior, channeled through the golden armband that had appeared during his first shift.

But it was the rush of a different energy, one of pure rapture that he couldn’t get out of his mind. Nor could he think of anything but the sapphire-eyed beauty who’d delivered it. And how he was going to coax her into his bed.

Melisande stormed down the Grand Corridor of the Ilinas palace in the Crystal Realm, grabbing an ancient vase off its pedestal and smashing it on the emerald floor with a roar of fury that set the chandeliers to swaying, the torches on the crystal walls to flickering, and the few Ilina sisters who’d been keeping a wary eye on her fleeing in mist.

“Dammit!”

Even now, far from Feral House, that shifter’s face swam in her mind.

Fox.

She’d noticed him the moment she’d misted into Feral House at Ariana’s side, though what female with eyes in her head wouldn’t have? The male was appallingly good-looking, a Greek god with golden waves of hair falling to broad shoulders framing a face of true perfection—high cheekbones, a straight patrician nose, a strong, chiseled jaw, and eyes the blue of a summer sky. Dressed in black military pants and an army green tee, he’d looked like the warrior he undoubtedly was. And, oh, that T-shirt had fit him well, pulling snuggly across his chest and arms, setting off his muscular form to true perfection. Around one thick biceps had curled the golden Feral armband with the head of a fox.

She’d found herself staring at him, unable to look away. That she’d noticed him annoyed her. That he’d caught her staring at him infuriated her. But the worst . . . the very worst . . . was that when their gazes met, she’d felt awareness . . . awareness . . . for the first time in forever. Her cheeks had heated, her breath had scattered, her pulse had raced and had yet to calm.