Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(34)

"You're mine, Faith. I love you." Maxim forced his fingers to loosen their death grip on her jaw, forced himself to stroke her fragile cheek gently as he willed her to believe the lie. He hadn't understood why she was important to him, not until the Renascence. Now he knew everything. And she would not leave him. Ever. "Tell me you know I love you."

A strange look came over her eyes, like clouds blotting out the sun's bright rays. "I know you love me." Her words sounded odd. Toneless. Robotic.

He eyed her with annoyance, a flash of anger once more tightening his hold on her until his fingers shook with the effort to keep from breaking the fragile bones. Though he loved the sound of breaking bones, that would not do. Not here. There could be no screams here.

"You will be my mate, Faith."

"I will be your mate." Her reply was as toneless as before.

Beneath his fingers, he felt the tension in her jaw and body melting away, her eyes unfocusing as if he'd . . . clouded her mind.

Holy goddess. Such a thing was usually impossible with nonhumans. To his knowledge, no Therian could ensnare the mind of another of their race. Was this one of the legendary powers he'd gained from his animal?

"Put your hands on your head, Faith."

Slowly, she complied, her expression as blank as an imbecile's.

Maxim began to smile as he turned her and pulled her back against him, then covered her mouth with his hand.

"Do not make a sound, Faith." Concentrating, he called to the newfound animal strength within him and drew the claws and fangs without difficulty. Without pain of any kind. No, the pain would be hers. Lifting one finger, he touched the tip of his claw to her cheekbone, then pressed until he punctured the skin, drawing blood. She tried to jerk away, but he held her. "Be still."

She froze. Silent. As he'd commanded.

He grinned. With a quick, downward pull, he raked a bloody furrow in her cheek from cheekbone to jaw. Her body tensed. A glistening tear ran down her cheek, mingling with the blood. But she made no sound, just as he'd commanded. She was his to control.

The smell of her blood, the feel of her pain, even if her screams were necessarily silenced, fed the awful craving inside him. "Finally." Excitement thrummed through his head as he wiped at the blood running down her jaw and neck with his shirtsleeve until the bleeding stopped and her flesh healed. Pulling off his shirt, he cleaned her up, then turned her, staring deeply into her eyes.

"You won't remember I hurt you, Faith. You don't want to go back to Warsaw. You want to stay here and be my mate. You love me. Now wake up, Faith."

The blankness left her expression, and she blinked. "Your shirt . . ."

"It's time to get some sleep."

"I . . ." She shook her head, as if confused.

"I was speaking to you, and you barely seemed to notice. You're asleep on your feet, Faith."

"I must be."

Maxim's pulse was beginning to thrum with excitement. She didn't remember.

"You'll be happy here with me."

Her gaze met his, confusion slowly being pushed aside by certainty. "I know. I love you." The words were monotone, expressionless.

He smiled in silent triumph. "Faith?"

"Yes?"

He took her jaw, staring into her eyes until once more he'd snatched her mind. "Take off your clothes, then go stand in the empty bathtub. You will make no sound, Faith. No matter what I do to you. Afterward, you'll remember none of it. I would never hurt you Faith. I love you. Would I hurt you, Faith?"

"No. You would never hurt me. You love me."

"Now do as I said."

As she slowly stripped and walked toward the bathroom, Maxim watched with distaste. How he hated the feminine form. Unless it was painted with blood. And bowed in pain. Then it was quite beautiful, indeed.

He shifted back into his saber-toothed cat, then padded behind her, speaking to her telepathically. You'll make no sound, Faith. But you'll feel the pain. You'll feel the terror of what I'm about to do to you. Tremble with fear of me, Faith, for your blood will run.

She stepped into the tub, visibly trembling.

On your hands and knees!

When she'd lowered herself as he'd demanded, he opened his cat's mouth wide and moved forward until his massive canines, his saber teeth, were poised over her lower back.

Make no sound.

He slammed his jaw closed, impaling her. As she arched in silent agony, warm blood flowed into his mouth, drenching his throat, filling him with a fierce, vicious joy. Hail Catt, soon to be Chief of the Feral Warriors.

The nine wouldn't even see it coming.

Chapter Seven

Dusk shadowed the sky as Hawke dragged his tired body through the front door of Feral House. He'd come back to himself about ten miles upriver and discovered his cell phone was dead. At any other time, before his plunge into the spirit trap, he'd have simply flown home. But shifting into his bird would have only ripped away his consciousness and his will a second time. So he'd walked.

On the way, he'd been hit with another of those lightning-strike headaches, quickly followed by his hawk's furious retaliation. That ripping torment had lasted longer than ever before, and he'd found himself half-tempted to shift back into his bird simply to escape the agony. Finally, as always, it had faded away.