Desire Untamed (Feral Warriors #1)(28)

She'll be okay, he told himself. But the eyes she turned to him, so full of unhappiness, made him ache.

"I'm not going to let anyone harm you, Kara. I promise you that."

She pressed her lips tight and nodded, that strength he'd seen in her before, sparking to life through the apprehension that swam in her eyes. Yes, she'd be okay.

Slowly, she stepped back, allowing him room to leave.

Goddess, but he wanted to stay. He forced his feet to move past her and closed the door behind him.

Then he stood there, staring at the door he'd closed, his beast whimpering to go back, his chest aching with her misery and his own loss. But the goddess always knew best. Vhyper would make her the better mate.

Even though he knew it, the knowledge made him bitter. Because with Kara, for the first time in his long life, he'd glimpsed something sweet. Something fine. A pull between them that went both ways. An attraction that was more than the physical. As badly as he ached to drive himself into her, he wanted to hold her almost as much. Hold her, talk to her, listen to her quick mind as he watched the emotions fly across her face and feel them caress his skin. He was attuned to her as he'd never been to another.

He'd never wanted the responsibility of a mate. He didn't want that now. Yet he wanted Kara.

He pressed his palm lightly to the wood as if he could touch her one last time.

Then turned and walked away.

Lyon paused on the second-floor landing the next morning, his gaze drawn to Kara's door. His finder's senses, so attuned to her, told him she was still in bed. His fingers clenched the rail beneath his hand. Goddess, but the pull of her was strong. All night he'd lain awake thinking about her, longing to return to her room. And now that he was here, so close, it was all he could do not to go in there, climb into her bed, and pull her soft, sleep-warmed body against his.

The wood beneath his hand groaned in protest, and he released the old banister before he broke it.

Kara needed to sleep. And even if she didn't, she was no longer his responsibility. She was not his to waken.

His beast howled, but he clenched his jaw and forced himself to continue down the stairs and head for his office as he did every morning to tend to the business of the Ferals over the breakfast Pink brought to him. But at the door to his empty office, he stopped. He didn't feel like eating alone this morning.

Maybe he'd eat in the dining room today.

Five of his men were already seated, eating heartily, when he entered the spacious room.

Jag looked up, his eyes hard and mocking. "So, our fearless leader deigns to grace us with his presence."

Wulfe, Foxx, Paenther, and Kougar all turned to face him, their expressions alert, questioning. As if the only reason he'd be walking into the dining room during breakfast was to issue orders or demand answers.

Had it been that long since he'd eaten with them? Maybe it had. Hell, he hadn't joined them in years. But that was to be expected. Chiefs kept to themselves.

Except he knew that was a lie. The previous Feral chiefs had always joined the men for meals, sitting at the head of the table as was their right.

Lyon never had because… he wasn't even sure why. Because he'd never wanted to. Never needed to.

And he didn't need to now.

This was Kara's fault, dammit.

He almost turned and left, but doing so would only make him feel like more of a fool.

"Is there a problem, Roar?" Paenther asked.

Lyon scowled. "Yeah, there's a problem. I'm hungry."

Jag snorted. "Since when do you eat with us?"

"I'm Chief of the Ferals. I can eat anywhere I damned please."

Paenther stood and thrust out his arm in greeting. "Glad to have you join us, Roar."

Each of his men rose and greeted him in kind, though Jag's greeting was last and decidedly unenthusiastic.

Wulfe smacked Jag in the head. "Show some respect!"

Jag went feral with a growl, then sheathed his claws and slunk back into his chair.

Lyon ignored the surly warrior. Jag had become a Feral long after Lyon became chief. From the day he'd arrived at Feral House, Jag had pitted himself against every man here. Lyon had tried everything from serious talks to harsh punishment, and nothing had ever changed. For a reason Lyon couldn't fathom, Jag seemed to thrive on the enmity of his companions. The more they hated him and punished him, the more it pleased him.

Lyon had long ago given up trying to change him and ignored him instead. For as long as his patience held out.

He grabbed an empty plate and sat at the end of the table, where he could watch the door. In case Kara came down.

As if he could ever not know where she was.

Wulfe shoved two platters his way. "Anyone else sleep like hell last night? It's got to be the lack of radiance. I haven't gotten a decent sleep in nights."

Lyon didn't bother to answer. He'd slept little last night, but he knew the reason. He began loading pork chops and roast beef onto his plate His stomach was demanding food, and he sure as hell meant to feed it.

"Where's Vhyper?" Lyon asked when the worst of his hunger pangs had been quelled.

"Haven't seen him," Jag muttered. He eyed Lyon from beneath needling brows. "Wondering what kind of a lay the new Radiant is?"

Lyon's hand spasmed around the serving fork, his claws erupting to clink against the handle. Kougar's hand weighted his shoulder, pulling him back to his sanity.