Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(23)

"He hasn't been able to fight like this without shifting since he got out of the spirit trap," Paenther murmured.

"Maybe he's finally coming out of it." Lyon's voice sounded equally surprised.

"Lyon . . ." Faith pleaded.

"Faith, it's better if you go upstairs. Kara?"

Kara stepped out from behind the men, giving her a sympathetic look. Faith hadn't even realized she was there. "Come on," Kara said, with a tilt of her head.

Faith hesitated, then joined Kara, deciding Lyon was probably right. If she left, Maxim might decide to come after her and leave Hawke alone. But as they started down the hall to the foyer together, the sounds of animal battle made her shiver, compelling her to turn and watch.

Kara didn't try to stop her.

"This is my fault," Faith muttered. She'd come with Maxim to help make this transition easier for him. Not harder.

"You're not at fault, Faith," Kara said, standing at her elbow. "You're just an excuse. They're always fighting, whether out of anger, frustration, or just for the fun of it. This is normal for shifters. As long as the Ferals remain in human form or this in-between place, they fight as equals and never really hurt one another. Not permanently. You'll get used to it."

Perhaps she'd get used to the fighting in general, but she would never get used to Maxim's attacking Hawke, or any of the men, out of jealousy over her. Maybe the best thing to do was leave, return to Warsaw for a time. At least until after Maxim was brought into his animal and had had a chance to settle in. And settle down. Then, perhaps, she'd come back to Feral House for a visit, to see if the man had truly changed. To discover whether they still had a chance together. Because it was becoming increasingly clear that this Maxim was not a man she wanted to be with, let alone spend an eternity with, connection or not.

She forced herself to watch the fight, traitorously proud that Hawke was tearing "her" man to shreds. Hawke was by far the better fighter. But she refused to remain the cause of such animosity. Her remaining at Feral House helped no one.

Resolutely, she turned away, meeting Kara's sympathetic gaze. "Okay, let's go."

Maxim might have started the fight, but Hawke was damn sure going to finish it. The rage was egging him on, the red haze floating at the edges of his vision, but for the first time since he'd escaped the spirit trap, he was holding it at bay. Furious, yes. Fighting, absolutely. But not out of control.

Hallelujah.

And he needed this fight. He needed to tear this ass**le to shreds and had since the moment he'd heard Faith's cry of pain in the living room. He almost wished he weren't in control because in his true berserker form, he might just kill the prick. And he wanted to. Goddess, he wanted to.

"Cease!" Lyon's order rang through the hallway. He'd let them fight, but was now calling a stop to it.

Hawke started to pull back, but the wicked gleam in Maxim's eyes preceded a vicious swipe of claws across Hawke's chest, and the battle was on again.

"Maxim, stand down!" Lyon roared.

The newest Feral completely ignored his chief's command. The prick wasn't going to quit fighting until someone made him. And Hawke was more than happy to be that someone. He'd already assessed the man's weaknesses. Maxim was fairly strong though not as strong as Hawke. And he wasn't particularly quick. What's more, he was a dirty fighter. Two could play at that game.

Less than a minute later, Hawke found the opening he was looking for, swept Maxim's feet out from under him and body-slammed him to the ground, face-first, digging his knee into the small of the prick's back and his claws deep into his neck.

Maxim continued to growl and snarl, trying to buck Hawke off him, to no avail.

"Get back in your skin, Maxim!" Lyon ordered. "Retract your claws!"

Still, Maxim refused to bow to his chief's authority. Hawke leaned forward, and, in a vicious move he'd never before pulled on a brother, he shoved his claws deep into Maxim's side. The shifter roared with pain, trying to slash behind him with his own claws, and missing.

"How about I yank out your liver? Maybe that will teach you some respect." Inside, he felt the control that had been holding back the red haze begin to slip away.

"Go, Wings." Wulfe's quiet cheer penetrated the bloodlust, reminding him he had an audience. An audience that included Faith. Hell. But when he looked up, he couldn't see her.

"Hawke."

At Lyon's prompt, he realized that Maxim's claws had finally retracted. He was losing it, and if he didn't move fast, he was going to do precisely what he'd threatened - yank out the bastard's liver, then rip his heart out so that he never touched Faith again. Killing the man she cared about.

He couldn't do that to her. He pushed off Maxim, backing away, but there was no retracting his fangs and claws. The red haze had begun to rush in, and he was losing control. As Maxim rose, Wulfe crossed to Hawke, gripping his shoulders, tethering him. After the sensory deprivation of the spirit trap, touch was often the one thing that calmed him.

"Ease down, Wings," Wulfe said. "Easy. Deep breaths."

"You were doing so well," Tighe muttered, suddenly beside him, too. Hawke hadn't seen him come up.

Beyond them, he watched as Lyon grabbed Maxim by the neck, slamming him against the wall. "I don't know who you were in your former life, and I don't care. Here you are one of my men. Nothing more. You will do as I order, when I order, or I will personally clear the way for your replacement. Is that understood?"