Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(6)

But deep in her mind, a soft voice urged her to do otherwise. You belong to Maxim. Anticipation stirred within her at the prospect of accompanying him to Feral House, of meeting the Feral Warriors. But it was the thought of having someone who cared about her, who loved her, that made her eyes sting with tears and her heart ache with longing. You belong to Maxim. Already, the mating bond was forming, growing. There was no denying it. No fighting it.

And, goddess help her, she didn't want to.

Chapter Two

Hawke lifted a bare forearm and swiped away a fat bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he picked up his pace on the treadmill in the basement of Feral House. He'd been down here all night, lifting weights, running, working every muscle in his body over and over again while his brothers prowled the rocky banks of the nearby Potomac River, fighting the draden that swarmed near Feral House. Exercise was the only outlet that remained for the pent-up frustration, the anger that had come to haunt his every waking moment.

Five days ago, he'd regained consciousness, escaping the darkness of the spirit trap. An escape that had been incomplete. The rage that had nearly consumed him inside the spirit trap remained, a seething anger that sprang to life at the slightest provocation. An anger that wasn't his own, but the hawk spirit's, as if the animal blamed him for getting them stuck down there and nearly wrenched apart.

The fury waited, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation, the faintest hint of annoyance or frustration. Then the red haze would rise, clouding his vision, and, though he'd struggle to control it, he lost more often than not. Things got broken, flesh got torn if anyone was close enough to feel the rip of his claws. And he usually ended up shifting involuntarily into his hawk. Ferals shifted at will, with ease, retaining their human minds while in their animal bodies. But that was no longer the case for him. When he shifted now, on purpose or accidentally, he tumbled back into that dark fury for hours at a time.

It was as if the hawk spirit took over, leaving him behind, unconscious, until the hawk decided to return control. Hawke came back to awareness sitting on top of a barn or high in a tree every damn time he shifted. So he was left with nothing to do but spend his days and nights working to control the rage. He was useless. Worse than useless. He was a danger to everyone around him.

Hawke turned off the treadmill and grabbed a couple of free weights, pumping iron until he cooled down.

Out of nowhere, pain ripped across his brain, slamming into the insides of his skull and crawling, like jagged fingers of lightning. Kkkeeeeer. The hawk screeched as if it, too, felt that god-awful pain. But even as the first blast faded, a second began, like talons raking at his brain, as if the hawk inside him retaliated, punishing him.

"I'm not doing it on purpose!" he growled at the damned bird spirit.

Slowly, the talons released their hold on his mind, the pain sliding away. The connection between him and his animal had been damaged, without a doubt, but he and his bird had never had an easy relationship. The animal spirit had always demanded a freedom Hawke had never been willing to give him. His father, the previous hawk shifter, used to say that his animal wasn't like the cats. It needed to take the reins at times, or it got cranky. And his father had done just that, given the hawk his head, disappearing sometimes for hours, even days, on a wild flight.

For years after Hawke was marked, the hawk had demanded that kind of freedom from him, too, but Hawke had always refused. He wasn't giving in to that kind of wildness again. Not after what happened to Aren.

The hawk spirit had never entirely forgiven him. But they'd always worked together well enough. Until the spirit trap. Now Hawke was beginning to think they'd become rivals. Perhaps even enemies.

Goddess help them both.

He set down the weights and retreated to the gym shower, where a spray of cold water cooled down his body though doing little to ease the frustration that had become his constant companion. As he dried off, the sound of footsteps on the stairs reached him - a Feral's tread accompanied by a lighter, more feminine step. Kara's, no doubt. She searched him out at least twice every day.

Moving quickly, he pulled on a clean pair of sweatpants before she reached him. Not that he really needed to. Half the Ferals couldn't keep their clothes on when they shifted, and all were naturally comfortable in the nude. Any woman living at Feral House saw naked males. It was unavoidable. But Kara's cheeks still flushed occasionally at the sight, telling Hawke her human upbringing was still too firmly rooted. The last thing he wanted was to cause her, or any of his brothers' mates, discomfort.

He met them as they entered the gym - Kara with Lyon close behind. Hawke had made his brothers promise that none of the women would come near him without an escort. And none of the Ferals had been inclined to object.

Kara, dressed in pink flannel pants and a camisole that looked like sleepwear, strode to him on bare feet, her blond ponytail swaying softly behind her, blue eyes warm with affection and concern. Sweet and courageous, she was their Radiant, the one woman in all the world who could pull from the Earth the energies the Ferals needed in order to access the power of their animals.

As Kara wrapped an arm around his bare waist, he pulled her tight against his side, relishing the feel of her warm body against his, feeding the need for touch all Therians possessed.

Lyon greeted him with a Feral handshake. "Feeling any better?"

"I am now."

Lyon's mouth twitched. "Don't get too comfortable."