Desire Untamed (Feral Warriors #1)(50)

"None."

"What about the others?"

"Foxx is holding on to his control by a thread. As is Vhyper." His black eyes met Lyon's with the hard glint of truth. "And you."

Lyon couldn't deny it. He was definitely teetering on the edge.

"Jag's more volatile than usual, but that may just be because his digs are getting more reaction than he's used to. The others seem fine. They're taking turns watching Wulfe. Pink's annoyed as hell at all the blood spilling but showing no signs of trouble. Hawke and Jag have been mopping up the messes for her."

"And you?"

"I've been balancing on the edge of control for centuries. Nothing's changed." His gaze flicked to Kara's door. "How's she doing?"

"Well enough."

"Are you going to stay here all night?"

"I am. It's either that or lock up Vhyper."

Paenther eyed him soberly. "You really think he'd hurt her?"

"I think he's mad enough to want to. And I'm not sure his control is currently strong enough to refrain if he gets the chance. I'm not risking it."

Paenther's mouth compressed, but he said nothing as he met Lyon's gaze. Finally, he nodded, said good night, and went down the hall to his room.

Lyon tipped his head back, resting it against the wall behind him, his senses tuned to Kara. She was sleeping, he was almost sure of it. He was too far away to feel her emotions clearly, but low levels of fear were reaching him in regular waves. Unless he was touching her, she was never free of the rancid emotion. He wondered how she stood it.

His beast refused to settle down, whimpering continuously to go to her. To touch her, to ease that fear. To simply be near her.

What had she done to him? Just thinking about her made him ache in a way he barely understood, filling him with a need that was more of the spirit than of the body, though that ache was an ever-present torment as well. As soon as she was ascended, this ache would leave him. He'd go back to being as he'd always been.

He didn't need anyone. He'd never needed anyone.

Until Kara.

And it had to end.

She hung from the ceiling, her arms stretched until she thought they would break, her body hot from the ritual fires that surrounded her, sweat running down her temples and forehead, dripping into her eyes.

Eight robed figures circled her, daggers tight in their hands. Through the fog of dream and fear, she saw the flash of metal, then felt a pain worse than fire. And screamed.

Lyon wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but he woke suddenly to Kara's low cry of distress, her fear washing over him.

He was on his feet in an instant, through her door a heartbeat later. As he rushed to her side, he found her on her back, thrashing in the bed as small cries escaped her throat.

"Kara. Kara, wake up." Easing onto the bed beside her, he stroked her damp brow. "Kara, sweetheart, wake up. You're having a bad dream."

She jerked beneath his hand, then went still, trembling like a leaf in the rain. Slowly, she opened her eyes. But instead of being comforted by his presence, raw terror flooded her eyes, and she jerked away from his touch.

He moved back, giving her room as he attempted to gentle her with his voice. "Kara, it's me. You had a dream."

She was shaking hard enough to rock the bed. Her hands came up to clutch her skull as tears slid down her cheeks. "God, I hate this."

She didn't protest this time when he pulled her against him and onto his lap. Her arms wrapped around him, her damp face buried in his neck. Her pulse thundered so hard he could feel it pounding against his chest.

Lyon stroked her back, her hair, murmuring words of comfort. "You're safe, Kara. It was just a dream."

Slowly, Kara quieted in his arms as he pulled the fear out of her.

His palm splayed over the soft fabric of her nightgown, rubbing gentle circles on her back. "The Shaman will be here in the morning. He'll help us figure out what's going on."

Kara turned her head, pressing her ear to his shoulder.

He held her, stroking her until she fell asleep in his arms, then eased her back onto the bed. But when he straightened, intending to return to his post outside her door, his beast snapped at him. His deep, primitive instincts prowled, restless, sensing that something was wrong. Demanding he protect what was his.

She wasn't his, of course. But his beast would not be denied. He would protect her.

Lyon lifted the silk sheet and climbed in beside her, pulling her tight against his body. Kara gave a soft, satisfied sound and curled against him.

Both beast and man purred.

But less than an hour later, Lyon was the one in pain.

He didn't know what Kara was dreaming, but instead of her fear leaking into him, all he could feel was the steady rise of her arousal. Was he the one she was dreaming of? She was sure as hell dreaming about someone. A twinge of jealousy broke into the passion that was rising inside him. Goddess, but he wanted it to be dreams of him that had her hand clutching his shirt and had her making those soft, mewling noises deep in her throat.

With every one of her soft moans, his c**k grew harder, more painfully engorged until it was all he could do not to flip her on her back and bury himself deep inside her.

He'd never been so acutely aware of a woman. The scent of her hair, the feel of her breath on his neck, the warmth of her body lying tight against his side.