Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(65)

Tighe groaned.

Vhyper shook his head. "You couldn't be the Wicked Witch of the West. You have to be all Tinker Bell cute and sunny."

Lyon continued to watch her with that piercing gaze of his, seeing all, revealing nothing of his thoughts, though Hawke suspected them clearly enough. "Maxim . . . You were his intended mate."

"I barely knew him. I met him the day before we arrived here and felt an instant connection with him. A pull. I thought . . ." She went silent, and he glanced at her, seeing her cheeks begin to color. "I thought it was a mating pull. He was kind to me then. But he was a monster, and I believe now that the pull I felt was due to the infection."

"Shaman?"

At Lyon's prompt, the Shaman stood. Hawke rose with him, moving behind Faith, his hands on her shoulders, his gaze meeting every one of his brothers' in turn. A silent warning that each of them acknowledged with a nod or a look of dismay. If they'd had any question as to how he felt about her, they did no longer.

Mine. He didn't have to say the word. They all heard it loud and clear.

The Shaman approached slowly with his usual calm demeanor and held out his hand to Faith.

With only a brief hesitation, she placed her own in his. The Shaman covered her hand and closed his eyes. Then he reached for her, one hand traveling unerringly to rest on the top of her head.

"She's infected, but not like the others. The infection is dormant in her, like an unpopped kernel of corn. It's there, deep inside her. But it's not yet affecting her."

"Which is why she didn't rise up against us," Lyon murmured.

"Like that would have ended well," Faith muttered.

A quick smile flickered in Tighe's and Vhyper's expressions.

"You should also note," Hawke said quietly, "that she told me about the feral marks. She showed me, despite being privy to the entire conversation yesterday."

Tighe grimaced, and Hawke knew he was thinking about just what they'd discussed - the possible need to eliminate all the new Ferals.

Kougar's frown told him he was thinking the same. He plucked at his small beard. "Why isn't the darkness affecting her? Because she's female and lacking the testosterone? Or because she hasn't been brought into her animal?"

"I don't know," the Shaman replied. "I suppose you'll find out as soon as you bring her into her animal."

Lyon met Hawke's gaze, nodding toward the hallway. "A word?"

Hawke's grip on Faith's shoulders tightened. On a primitive level, he didn't want to leave her unprotected. But he'd made his feelings clear. None of them would hurt her. Yet. The one calling those shots was Lyon. It was his chief he had to convince to leave her alive.

As Hawke walked away to talk to Lyon in private, Faith looked around the dining table at the remaining Feral Warriors, now staring at her with varying degrees of speculation, sympathy, and wariness. Thanks to Mage interference, she was one of them. For now.

"Well, this is awkward," she muttered, wishing she were anywhere but there. She picked up her fork and absently pushed a bite of meat around.

"You really went feral on that saber-toothed bastard?" Wulfe asked, a hint of awe in his voice.

Faith looked up, her expression rueful as she nodded.

Tighe snorted. "I wish I'd seen the look on his face."

"Trust me, it wasn't any more comical than the look on my own."

"You should have seen Croc and me last week when we first went feral." Fox frowned. "He was a new recruit to my unit of the Therian Guard. An idiot, if you ask me, which I can finally admit. I belted him because he had it coming. He went feral, then laughed, thinking he was the new fox shifter - the entire race had been waiting for him to show up. Then he took a swipe at me with those claws, ripping off half my face. I was more angry at the fact that one such as he had been chosen to be a Feral Warrior than the pain he'd inflicted. So I returned the favor. I'm not sure which of us was more surprised when I drew claws, too. I remember staring at my hand, his blood still clinging to those claws and thinking, for just a moment, that I'd turned into a monster."

Tighe nodded. "I know the feeling. I was married to a human who didn't know I was immortal. I knew almost nothing about the Feral Warriors. So when I went feral that first time . . ." He scrubbed his face. "She thought I was a demon. I was half-afraid she was right. I lost her because of that. Lost my daughter. I was not one of the ones celebrating being marked, trust me."

Wulfe's hand squeezed Tighe's shoulder.

Their stories, freely offered, were a gift Faith cherished. A welcome of sorts. Or at least an assurance that they didn't outright hate her. Yet.

"Can you call on the fangs and claws anytime you want?" she asked.

"Some can," Tighe said. "For most, it's tied to emotion. I would have said testosterone . . ."

She put down her fork. "I was furious."

"That works, too."

"So in a fight, in order to go feral, I have to get mad?"

A couple of them exchanged glances. Most looked away, uncomfortably, as if they didn't think it likely she'd ever be in a fight. Not for long, at least.

Kougar was the only one who held her gaze, studying her. "Female shifters tend to go feral with temper or adrenaline. Anger or fear. And you'll likely feel both in battle. But I've known females who could draw claws or fangs whenever they chose. They were actually far more controlled than the males. And sometimes more effective. But that kind of control comes with experience."