Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(35)

Lyon saw him come in the door.

"You've been flying all this time?" his chief asked.

"All except the walk home. It's still Thursday?"

Lyon shook his head, his expression grim. "Friday. Thirty-seven hours since you flew off."

Hell. "I thought I was getting better." Clearly not. Each time he shifted, he was lost to the bird for a longer time. An hour, two. Five. Thirty-seven. "I need sleep."

"I want Kara to give you radiance, first." Lyon gripped his arm in the Feral greeting, his other hand clasping Hawke's shoulder as worried eyes embraced him in deep, abiding friendship. "I'm glad to have you back."

"Is everything okay here?" Hawke asked, as Lyon motioned him to follow him. He wanted to ask about Maxim. About Faith. But he remembered too well his decision to back out of their lives. If he'd done it sooner, maybe he wouldn't have just lost thirty-seven hours.

"Well enough. A couple of the new Ferals showed up. Five have made contact so far. It looks like they're going to be a rowdy bunch. You can meet them in the morning."

They found Kara curled up in a chair in the corner of Lyon's office, an open book in her lap. At their entrance, she leaped to her feet, tossed the book carelessly into the chair behind her, and ran to Hawke, throwing her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're back."

Hawke pulled her tight against him, affection for this woman pressing against the walls of his chest.

"He could use some radiance." Lyon's voice was rough, but without a trace of jealousy as his mate embraced his no-longer-missing warrior.

"Of course," Kara said softly, and began to glow.

For the first time since his Renascence, the energy jolting through him brought no pleasure, no feeling of power. Only a dull, tingling ache. He waited for the ache to fade, the power to rush into him, but nothing changed. And when Kara pulled back at last, her light going out, he felt worse than when they'd started.

Hell.

He kissed her forehead. "Thanks, Kara."

Kara smiled sweetly at him as she backed into Lyon's waiting embrace.

Lyon wrapped his arms around her, his worried gaze on Hawke. "Get some sleep, Wings."

Hawke nodded. Minutes later, he pushed through the door to his bedroom, stripped, and collapsed onto his bed. What the hell had just happened in there? It wasn't enough he'd been gone thirty-seven hours . . . thirty-seven. Now radiance wasn't helping him? With a stab of fear, he knew. He remembered all too well the way Kara's radiance had sent Paenther crashing into the wall like a man electrocuted when he'd nearly lost the connection with his animal a few weeks back.

His own connection with his hawk was getting worse. More and more they were acting as separate entities. He feared it was only a matter of time before the connection shattered.

Hawke woke a couple of hours before dawn, went down to the kitchen, and fixed himself a plate, eating alone in a room as dark as his mood. The seventeen animals seemed to be returning after a centuries-long absence, but if they were as rowdy as Lyon suggested, their chief was going to need the original Ferals on their game. And Hawke couldn't be any more off his. He couldn't shift, couldn't fight without risking disappearing for days at a time. Maybe, eventually, forever.

With twenty-five others, maybe it wouldn't matter.

He shoved his chair back, running a hand through his hair. It mattered to him. The only way he could avoid that fate was to keep himself calm. Collected. A near impossibility with Faith and Maxim in the house.

Goddess. If not for his need for radiance, he'd leave and go live at one of the enclaves. Maybe he should consider it anyway.

He wandered into the hall. Television didn't interest him, so he headed for the library, his private sanctuary. The room belonged to everyone, of course, but he was the only one who used it on a regular basis. He loved the smell of books, loved to spend an hour or two every day deeply immersed in the words of another mind and, often, another time. It never failed to settle him, calming his soul. And he needed that calm now. Desperately.

But as he approached the double doors to his sanctuary, he saw light spilling out beneath. He'd found Kara in there a few times, but she was usually asleep this time of night.

He pushed open the door and stopped short. Not Kara.

Faith.

She looked up from where she sat curled in his favorite chair in that holey pair of jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, a huge Civil War tome open on her lap. As their gazes met, he felt like a damned deer caught in the headlights. His rational mind told him to back away. Get the hell out of there. The woman was a danger to his equilibrium, to his sanity, to his very life. If Maxim was in there with her . . . or if he found them together again . . .

Just the thought of that prick had his hands clenching into fists, the anger sparking deep inside him. Yet the ever-present rage dimmed, that calming hand pushing it down. He blinked, understanding washing over him. It was Faith who'd been helping him keep control. Or more accurately, the damned bird's infatuation with her. He could almost hear the hawk's sigh in his head.

But it didn't matter that she calmed him. It didn't change a thing.

Back away, he told himself. Turn around and go downstairs to the gym. It's safer. Far away from temptation and disaster. Far away from Faith.

But before he could force his feet to move, she tucked a lock of blue-tipped hair behind her ear and gave him a soft, sweet smile that arrowed straight into his chest. And he knew he was lost. Instead of backing out of the room, his traitorous feet carried him forward, through the double doors.