A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(73)

Fox’s stunned, pained eyes penetrated the haze. A red stripe bloomed across his chest. Blood. It was Fox she’d struck, Fox’s flesh her sword had pierced. And he wasn’t healing.

She stumbled back, staring with him at horror. “No. Not you, too. Not you, too.” The screams rose and rose as if they wanted to rip out her eardrums and crush her mind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I never meant for anyone to die. My fault, my fault.”

She covered her ears with hands coated in the blood of the dead. So much blood.

“Goddess help me, it was all my fault.”

Fox lunged for her, grimacing at the pain searing his chest. She’d sliced him from shoulder to shoulder, but her blade hadn’t gone deep, thank the goddess, or he’d be a dead man. He grabbed the blade from her hand before she skewered him again, then gathered her against him as she sank to the pavement.

While she’d pressed Castin, the landscape around them had made another of its abrupt changes, the labyrinth propelling the three of them into the next stop along the gauntlet. They stood in the middle of a deserted street, now, in the middle of a deserted town that looked like it hadn’t been inhabited since the 1960s. An old rusted-out station wagon sat parked against one curb, an equally decrepit truck against another. The street was lined with shops—a diner, a druggist’s, a tailor’s—but the windows were all broken, the proprietors long gone.

“Easy, pet.” He cradled her against him, sinking to the ground with her where he could keep an eye on Castin. The male had turned pale at her accusations and appeared honestly shaken. In his arms, Melisande quaked, her skin like ice where it touched his own.

“My fault,” she whispered over and over. “My fault.”

“Mel.” He kissed her forehead, stroking her head, her shoulder, her back. “It’s okay, pet. It’s over. You’re safe.”

But she shook her head, looking up slowly to meet his gaze, her eyes twin pools of agony. “I killed them. Ninety-six sisters. I killed them.”

“No, luv. The Mage killed them. They poisoned all of you.”

Tears began to run down her cheeks in a hot, bitter torrent. “I was the one who sought out the Mage potion master. My hatred for shifters was so great that I couldn’t bear the thought of Ariana marrying one. I was certain she would never be happy with Kougar. I told myself I was protecting her, that I was protecting all of us, when I sought a potion that would keep their mating bond from fully forming.”

Fox’s gut cramped, the rest of the story so clear, now. “He took advantage of you.”

“Yes. He was not only the potions master but the poison master. The potion he sold me was designed to wipe out my race. The Mage didn’t want an Ilina-Feral alliance any more than I did. They died”—she choked on a sob—“ because of me. Two-thirds of my race dead because of me. I killed them.”

Fox held her close, her sobs tearing at his heart. And he thought he finally understood why she’d been so desperate to return to that unfeeling state in which she’d lived for so long. It wasn’t the trauma of the cheetah attack she couldn’t live with. It was her guilt over the deaths of her sisters.

“Shh, luv. It wasn’t your fault.” He stroked her hair, kissed her temple. “It wasn’t your fault. You never meant for them to die. You were just doing, as you’ve always done, what you thought best.”

Slowly, her tears subsided. With a shuddering breath, she wiped the moisture from her face, then looked at his chest, her mouth tightening. “I did that to you.”

“It’s shallow. And healing.” He cupped her cheek. “It was an accident, Mel. You must learn how to forgive yourself.”

She looked at him with deep, shattered eyes. “You forgive me?”

Fox smiled at her tenderly. “Of course.” He kissed her softly, then set her on her feet and rose beside her.

Melisande turned to Castin, her arms crossed protectively. Never had she looked so fragile. “You really didn’t know what your chieftain meant to do to us?”

Castin shook his head, misery in his eyes. “I would never have allowed you to be hurt, Melisande. I cared for you far too much.”

Fox’s animal growled with displeasure, Fox barely managing to keep from doing the same.

“I always wondered what became of you,” Castin continued. “I had nightmares for centuries, you calling out for help and me unable to answer. But I never again crossed paths with an Ilina, and I had no way to find out if you were all right.” His eyes narrowed with pain. “What they did to you . . . it must have been terrible.”

“Yes.”

Fox gripped Melisande’s shoulders, pulling her back against his chest. “That’s a story for another day. Right now we need to find the key, and Kara, and get out of here.”

Castin nodded, his expression slowly returning to its usual warrior stillness. Beneath Fox’s hands, he felt Melisande straighten. She stepped away from him, taking a deep breath. And when she turned to him, the strength was back in her eyes.

“Better?” he asked.

For a moment, she said nothing. But she nodded briefly, telling him she was still hurting, of course she was. But she was too strong and too stubborn to let it keep her down for long.

“Let’s have a look around.” But as he reached for Melisande’s hand, the shifting magic tore over him without warning and he shifted into his fox. Feck. He tried to shift back, could feel his animal fighting to help him, and failed.