Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(43)

He reached for her and she flinched. "Because even though I can't enjoy your screams . . ." His thumb slid lightly across her bottom lip. " . . . I so enjoy watching the horror dawn in your eyes night after night as I reveal myself to you." His thumb stroked her cheek, a featherlight touch that might have seemed gentle if not for the cruelty in his eyes. And the terror of his words. His hand moved, his knuckles barely grazing her breast. "Then I hurt you."

"Why are you saying this?"

His hand slid between his legs. Her gaze followed, terror slicing through her as she saw the huge bulge in his pants and the way his fingers slid over it.

With his free hand, he gripped her jaw hard, lifting her gaze back to his. His eyes burned with hatred. "Women are the vilest of creatures, incapable of true emotion. They seduce those who trust, then betray them. And in the end they're only good for one thing." His fangs slid out, his eyes changing. His claws erupted, tearing open the flesh of her face where he gripped her in a river of fire. "The way they scream when you cut them."

Faith tried to cry out, but he slammed her jaw closed against the sound. Tears of pain ran down her cheeks. "You're sick," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"So they say. But no one knows that but you. And in a few moments, you won't remember. But there's more, dearest Faith. Much more. Because just today I discovered the greatest irony of all. The new Ferals . . . we aren't destined to be the saviors of the race. We're not destined to keep the Daemons from rising. We're here to free them."

She frowned, her head pounding in concert with the thudding of her heart. This wasn't happening. And yet the shadows leaped, wisps of nightmares escaping, memories of terrible pain. Of screams she couldn't voice.

Trembling, she fought to get up, but his grip held her immobilized. "I don't believe you." Her words escaped between her closed teeth. "The animals only mark the best of the race."

"Usually, yes. With the seventeen, no. These Ferals were never the ones meant to be marked. When the time is right, we'll rise up and slay the nine, then free the Daemons. But first, your Hawke will suffer."

Her Hawke.

"He'll go feral during the uprising, of course, and leap into the fight. But the moment he loses control and shifts, I'll cage him. The great hawk." He smiled with genuine pleasure. "And when he regains his human form, I'll torture him until he loses it again, over and over, until his mind is as wrecked as his body. And then he, too, will die."

No.

Maxim smiled, pure evil glittering in his eyes. "Now look at me, and I'll cloud your mind, shift into my beast, and feed off your pain. Be glad you have no memory of what destruction these saber teeth of mine can wreak on a woman's flesh, Faith. For you've felt it before, and you'll feel it again. Over and over and over."

"No!" She squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to let him steal her memories. She had to warn Hawke!

But a moment later she felt the sharp prick of one claw on her eyelid. With a strangled cry, she fought him. The picture Maxim had painted of what he'd do to Hawke burned in her mind, igniting a pounding, righteous rage that tore through her body, triggering a strange tingling in her mouth and fingertips.

She swung at his face, trying to knock away that clawed hand before it tore her eyelid, and she felt her fingernails rip deep furrows in his flesh.

Maxim reared back, releasing her. Faith wrenched open her eyes and stared in shocked horror at the bright red ribbons of flesh hanging from his cheeks. Her wide-eyed gaze dropped to her hands, to the bloody claws where her fingernails should have been.

Heaven help me.

Her head pounded. Her tongue felt at the foreign shapes touching her lips and darted back, pricked.

Fangs. Claws.

Before Maxim could react, she leaped up, darting for the door.

Maxim began to laugh. "I should have known! The connection I feel to you is much like I feel with the other new Ferals, but your being a woman got in my way."

Feral. She'd been marked to be a Feral Warrior.

One of us. Never the ones meant to be marked.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Chapter Nine

Faith darted across Maxim's bedchamber, the horror of his words pounding in her head - that he was a monster, that he'd been hurting her. That the new Ferals were the wrong ones and meant to kill the real ones, the good ones. Hawke.

And she was one of them!

As the blood congealed in her veins, her fangs disappeared as suddenly as they'd appeared, her claws slipping back into her fingertips.

Heaven help me.

Maxim lunged for her, but she was quicker, and closer to the door. She wrenched it open, terror powering her movements. As she dashed into the hall, Maxim close behind, she saw Lyon at the top of the stairs starting toward them.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "I heard a crash." His eyes narrowed on her. "You've been bleeding."

Faith didn't slow. Instead, she picked up speed, running past him as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. Or an evil saber-toothed cat.

Behind her, she heard a grunt and glanced over her shoulder to find Maxim slammed up against the wall, Lyon's hand around his throat. "If you raise a hand or claw against a woman in this house again . . ."

Faith didn't wait to hear the rest. She reached the stairs and started down, taking them as quickly as her feet would move. She found Kara standing by the new railing.