Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(81)

"Away. I must get away. I must go to him."

To him? "To who?"

She fought him, her hip grinding against his groin, damn near setting him on fire. "Maxim. I belong to him."

And that quickly, she doused the flame with ice water.

"You belong to me."

She snarled, her claws and fangs erupting. Hawke felt his own leap out, a dark growl escaping between his lips.

"Easy, buddy," Tighe's voice came from behind him. "Ease down, Wings."

He was fighting for control, riding a knife's edge. "You said you know me. Who am I, Faith? Who am I to you?"

A strange look crossed her face, a look he'd never seen before. Dark, predatory. "You're the man I want to f**k."

The word shot straight to his groin, hardening his already-inflamed body. But his heart clenched in denial. This wasn't his Faith. The screeching inside his head intensified as if the hawk spirit were as frustrated as he was.

"It's time to go." Kougar entered his line of vision. "Ariana and company are on their way."

A moment later, the Ilinas arrived, Ariana and two others Hawke didn't recognize appearing out of thin air in front of them. Ariana nodded to him. "Release her, Hawke. We have her."

The animal inside his head let out a screech of anger, his and the hawk's emotions in complete accord. No. Mine! But he fought both his own possessive instincts and the animal spirit's demands and let her go.

The moment he released her, the Ilinas turned to mist, and moved in. A second later, they were gone, Faith along with them.

Another Ilina snatched up Hawke in her mist before he even registered what she looked like, then the spinning began - his body, his head, his stomach. And ended abruptly with a slam of power that felt as if his bones had been pulverized.

Suddenly, he was falling through hot air, landing with a thud in a sea of hot, golden sand. The Sahara? Thuds sounded all around him, the shouts of men, the cries of women in pain. And the sound of swords and animals. Chaos.

The sickness roared through him as it had the last two times he'd traveled by Ilina, but he fought it back, pushed to his feet, and whirled, taking in the horrific sight in the middle of the sun-scorched desert. Mage sentinels lunged at downed Ferals and Ilinas, alike.

They'd flown into an ambush.

Chapter Seventeen

Hawke pulled his blades against a rushing Mage, searching frantically for Faith through the chaotic battle scene playing out all around him as he squinted against the blinding sun gleaming off the golden sand now streaked with blood and body parts. He dispatched the Mage's sword hand with ease, then pushed into the melee, desperate to find her. If the Mage caught Faith, if they used the counterspell to free her from the wristbands, she'd fly off, and he might never find her again. The thought sent a reeling panic pounding through his chest.

Finally, he spotted her battling two Mage a short distance away though the pair appeared to be trying to grab her, not hurt her - neither had pulled weapons. For a moment, he could only stare. Faith was fighting them brilliantly, using not only her newly acquired strength, but also the moves they'd shown her, fighting with a speed and agility that spoke of years . . . decades . . . of training.

He pushed toward her. Around him, the other Ferals had shifted into their animals and were tearing at the Mage. Ilinas littered the ground, fully corporeal, dazed, rising, fighting. What in the hell had happened? The Ilinas had gotten them to the Sahara, but clearly not into the cave.

Another Mage joined the fight against Faith. Why? Why try to catch her instead of kill her?

But he knew. She, like Maxim and the other new Ferals, was under the spell of Mage magic. And they wanted her alive, a weapon to use against the uninfected Ferals. Rage barreled through him, the hawk's anger melding with his own, hot and wild.

A Mage lunged at Hawke, but he parried the blow with ease. He was bigger than the Mage, stronger, more skilled, and infinitely more furious. In a single swing, he lopped off this sentinel's hand as he had the one before and continued to make his way to Faith. Another Mage lunged at him, sword swinging, and met the same fate as his predecessors. He'd kill them all, and happily, if not for the fact that Mother Nature tended to rebel when too many of her Mage died at once. As the sands began to rise in a sudden wind, he knew some of them had died. And Mother Nature was starting to get pissed.

Two more came at him from opposite directions, and he battled them back, striking one's hand from his arm and thrusting his blade deep through the other's heart, likely killing him. Some sane corner of his mind knew he was losing it. The berserker was beginning to surface. The berserker always came first, followed by the shift that would send him flying off in his bird to goddess-knew-where. Deeper into the Sahara? He had to reach Faith before that happened!

Faith continued to fight, her strength superior to her opponents', one-on-one, but there were three of them. Why was she fighting them if she was being controlled by Mage magic?

Hawke reached the first of the men, running a blade through his soulless heart. The wind whipped harder, sending the sand flaying his face, his arms, destroying visibility. Faith tripped the other and began to run, her tread surprisingly light on the shifting sands. He lopped off the head of her second attacker, spilling blood into the sand, and took off after her, struggling to run. He'd never catch her!

The Earth began to quake under his feet, Mother Nature thoroughly angry, now. The sand began to swirl dangerously fast.