Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(86)

Lyon eyed her with uncertainty, a wariness melded with desperation.

"Lyon, I'm cured. It worked. Free me so I can help him!"

Decision slashed through his eyes, his sharp gaze cutting across the circle. "Shaman!"

As she turned, the Shaman rushed to her, his youthful-looking hands grasping the bands as he closed his eyes and murmured. Seconds later, the bands fell away from her wrists. In her head, the falcon's desperation pounded at her. Go!

Yes, but . . . she didn't know how. Show me how.

The bird's will lifted her, rushing through her with a power and certainty unlike anything she'd ever known. Incredible pleasure swept through her, the sparkling lights barely taking hold before she was airborne, racing into the sky.

The voices of the Ferals trailed behind her.

"Shit, she's fast!"

"Can we trust her?"

"Do we have a choice?"

"Pray she can bring him back to us."

The land fell away. The wind sliding through her feathers, an intoxicating rush she might have enjoyed if Hawke were beside her instead of lost. How was she supposed to find him? Movement caught her attention. Smaller birds. Amazing how well she could see them through her bird's far keener vision. She searched for the hawk . . . wait . . . was that him?

The falcon's affirmation bloomed in her mind. Faith wasn't about to question how she knew. She picked up speed, uncertain if it was her doing or the bird spirit's, and she didn't care. She was smaller than the hawk. What if she couldn't catch him?

The hawk is in no hurry. We'll catch him.

The falcon's certainty calmed her. And, as predicted, she was soon close enough to see the markings on the magnificent bird, the way the wind fluttered in his feathers as he soared.

Hawke!

The bird gave no sign that he knew she was there. If not for the falcon's certainty, Faith might be afraid she followed a real hawk instead of the shifter she loved. She tried again to reach him.

Please let him go, hawk spirit. Please don't take him from me.

But the great bird continued on his path, following the wide, snaking river west toward the mountains.

In her mind, she heard the cries of her falcon, a musical language she understood as she understood all language. Words directed at the hawk spirit. Faith began to smile as the falcon praised the beauty and greatness of the bird, his strength, his honor, his compassion.

Laying it on thick.

All males need to be praised.

If falcons could laugh, Faith would have laughed, though the situation was still dire. Deep in her mind, she felt the animal spirit's smile.

The falcon continued her feminine plea. He is needed, great hawk, by my Feral, whom I fought hard to claim. You know this. You feel it, too.

Gratitude welled up inside Faith with startling force as she realized the falcon fought to save Hawke. But the rest? Had the falcon really fought to claim her? The idea floated, tantalizing and fragile. Impossible.

Not impossible at all, the falcon said. You were the one I've been waiting for.

Chills rippled across Faith's mind. I thought I was marked by accident.

You most certainly were not.

Faith listened in wonder. If she'd been wearing flesh instead of feathers, she'd have been covered in goose bumps. The animal spirit had chosen her . . . her . . . to be a Feral Warrior. Impossible. Incredible.

We shall be magnificent together. But you need the hawk Feral, if the hawk spirit will free him. If they can mend the broken bond between them.

They continued to fly, Faith following Hawke as the falcon spirit talked to the hawk spirit, alternately praising him and cajoling, her tone turning increasingly frustrated.

The hawk spirit is badly offended and violently stubborn.

It wasn't working.

No. I'm sorry.

Faith felt the panic bubbling up, the fear that the hawk spirit would never relent, would never release the man. And with it anger, pure and bright. In the language of the birds, she spoke directly to the hawk spirit, without the falcon's diplomacy. I know you're angry at him, but there's more at stake here than your pride and your frustration. He's a good man. You know that, or you'd never have marked him in the first place. And he's needed. The world is in danger. The Daemons threaten again. If Hawke has wronged you, it was unintentional. I've told him what he has to do, that he has to trust you. Give him time!

She sensed no reply but a fine mist of anger. But her own anger was spent, desperation taking its place.

Hawk spirit, I beg of you, give him another chance. Please. I need him. Emotion welled up inside her so thick, so strong, she thought it would choke her. If falcons could cry, she'd have had teardrops rolling down her feathered cheeks. I love him.

Deep in her mind, she heard a shriek of fury. No not fury. Frustration. The hawk's. As if a part of him wanted to relent.

The falcon continued her plea to the stubborn bird. They are meant for one another, these two shape-shifters. They are meant for greatness. Through us. With us. I beg you to give him one more chance. For me. I have missed you.

Silence reigned for long moments. Then all at once, the angry emotion that had been battering Faith from the hawk spirit fell away, to be replaced by a rush of love. Hawke's love. It worked!

Faith? Hawke's voice clear, deep, and beloved rang in her head.

The falcon's satisfaction fell through her mind like a warm, cleansing rain.