Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(22)

Heavens, Maxim would come after them both if he heard her thoughts.

In the hallway, Hawke stopped and turned his head, their faces so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Are you hurt?" His gaze captured hers, his eyes dark with concern yet utterly electric.

"Cease!" Lyon's voice boomed from the open entryway, directed at the combatants.

"No. Just . . . shaken." Soon Maxim would come looking for her. If he saw them like this . . . "You need to put me down, Hawke."

A low growl rumbled from Hawke's throat, and she started, half-afraid he was going feral again. But the look on his face had a savageness of an entirely different kind. He stared at her as if he wanted to devour her.

Her breath caught. Heat bloomed low inside her, pooling at her core.

"Hawke."

"I'm trying." His words surprised her even as his arms began to shake. The desire in his eyes flushed her skin and sent her pulse leaping.

She lifted her hand, needing to touch him, then clenched her fingers into a fist and pressed them against her thigh, knowing she'd only fan the flames of this inappropriate relationship if she did.

"Hawke, please put me down. Please don't let him find us like this."

He closed his eyes, the struggle clear in the hard set of his jaw as he leaned forward, burying his nose in her hair, inhaling long and deep. With a violent shudder, he let her legs slide to the floor, then released her, putting a small cushion of air between them even as he remained too close, crowding her between the wall and his long, hard body. He pressed his hands to the wall on either side of her, his head tipped forward, enclosing her in a cage of rioting sensation. Her heart pounded, her body liquefying, as she met his white-hot gaze.

"Your heart is thundering." He watched her carefully, the softness of his words in direct counterpoint to the piercing intensity of his eyes. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No. I'm afraid of Maxim catching us like this. He's so jealous."

Hawke's face hardened, his mouth thinning. "Promise me something, Faith. If he ever hurts you, or threatens you, you'll come to me. Or to any of the other Ferals."

She stared at him, at the fierceness in his eyes. A chill went up her spine, but she shook her head. "He's not going to hurt me." He'd just squeezed her shoulder too tight was all.

"You don't know that. I don't trust him, Faith. And you barely know him." His gaze never left her face. Slowly, his expression softened even as his gaze gripped hers in a satin vise. "I don't want you to get hurt, Smiley," he said gently. "Not by him. Not by me."

The lump that formed in her throat at his words was sudden and unexpected. The peculiar sweetness of believing someone cared. As the seconds ticked by, as the sounds of fighting continued, their gazes held, deepening. Awareness flushed her body, rising to stain her cheeks.

The sound of falling bodies and wood splintering broke the spell. If Maxim saw them staring at one another like this . . .

Pressing her hand to her forehead, she slid out from between Hawke and the wall, putting a little distance between them before she turned back. "Does this happen a lot?"

"The jealousy?"

"The going feral. The fighting."

Hawke's mouth turned rueful. "All the time. You'll get used to it." He shrugged. "We're animals."

She stared at him. There was no judgment in that statement. No irony. "You really are, aren't you?"

"We put on a civilized front. But once we're marked, once the animal spirit claims us, the animal nature that used to be part of all Therians is triggered. We are not civilized men."

Lyon's voice barreled out of the room, thick with anger. "Training. In the basement. Now."

A moment later, Maxim strode out of the room, his fine clothes torn, that slicked-back hair sticking up at odd angles around his bloodied face. But whatever wounds he'd suffered had already healed, and in his eyes shone a hard light, a light that burst into a furious flame as his gaze caught sight of her with Hawke. It didn't matter that they stood three feet apart. She'd known it wouldn't.

Hawke straightened. Maxim growled, his face taking on that terrifying, fanged animal mask again. As he started toward them, Hawke stepped forward, angling himself so that she was behind him, then drew his own fangs and claws.

"Maxim, stop this!" she cried, but he ignored her.

Lyon, Wulfe, and Paenther erupted from the room. Wulfe started to go after Maxim, but Lyon stopped him with a single word. "Hold."

Maxim lunged, taking a swipe at Hawke, turning his cheek into bloody ribbons.

Faith gasped.

All hell broke loose for a second time as the two Ferals crashed together, but this time was so much worse. Because this time she knew she was the cause. This time Hawke was involved.

She pressed herself back against the wall, then scooted past them to where Lyon and the others stood. Doing nothing. "Aren't you going to stop them?"

"No." Lyon watched the battling pair with keen interest.

She turned back to the horrific battle where the two Ferals tore at one another like wild animals, clawing, slashing, biting, snarling. Blood soaked their faces and what was left of their clothes as they crashed into the long, narrow hall table, breaking it in two. A large vase fell to the floor, shattering.