Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(87)

I'm here, Hawke. Right behind you.

You're cured of the dark magic!

Yes. The ritual worked for me this time.

The hawk dipped and circled her and suddenly he was flying at her side. How is this happening? I'm flying again!

In her mind, Faith smiled. The falcon spirit talked the hawk spirit into giving you another chance.

She talked . . . ? Thank the goddess. You have no idea how much I needed to be able to fly again. What do you think of it? Of flying?

She heard the joy in his tone, and the terrible pressure binding her chest eased. I've been so focused on reaching you, I haven't been paying much attention.

Feel, Faith! It's glorious up here. The others think their animals are better because they're bigger and can rip a Mage to shreds. But if they could feel what it's like up here, they'd mourn their grounded fate. They have no idea what they're missing.

Little by little, the awful tension that had been riding her for so long slid away as she allowed herself time to simply feel the wind rushing through her feathers, the sun warm on her back. A smile bloomed brilliantly in her mind. It was, just as he said, glorious.

She dipped, spiraling through the air, zooming down, then back up with a rush and a mental shriek of joy.

You're a natural, he told her. It took me weeks of practice to be able to roll like that.

The falcon's doing all the work.

She took over? His tone was suddenly sharp. Unhappy.

No. It's not like that. I thought about flying free, and she executed it.

Just like that.

Yes.

He didn't reply.

Isn't that how it is with the hawk?

No. The word was thoughtful, but the silence that followed was too full, too complete. Ahhh!

The sudden sound of Hawke's pain filled her mind. Fear ratcheted her bird's pulse. What's the matter?

The damned hawk's . . . trying to rake out my brain . . . with his talons. Goddess!

The falcon's thoughts bloomed in Faith's head. The hawk tries to hold on to him as the connection between them splinters. The hawk does not wish to lose this Feral - he is, as you said, a good man, by far the best of his line - but the Feral refuses . . . has always refused . . . to trust him, to become one with him. The spirit trap may have torn the connection between them, but it is their fighting that is destroying the bond.

Their fighting?

Yes. The hawk yanks away control, but the moment he returns it, the Feral wrenches it back. Only by the Feral's giving up control freely to the spirit, and joining with him completely, will they be able to heal this terrible rift and save your Feral's life. He must do it soon, or he will die. The connection is almost gone. I fear another battle between them, and it will sever for good.

Faith's heart stuttered. Hawke?

I need to land, Smiley. I need to shift. I don't trust this damned bird not to take over again. This way. He dipped into a nosedive that was gorgeous to behold. She followed, trusting the falcon, exhilarated by the drop that should be terrifying but was nothing but thrilling joy.

Hawke landed first, on the top of a forested cliff not far from the river, away from people. Slowly, the lights began to sparkle over him. She dropped down into the underbrush beside him, shifting as she did. She turned to him, breathless with the euphoria of her first flight. He stared at her, his body tense, but his eyes overflowing with relief, with warmth, with love.

"You're really cured," he murmured, then pulled her into his arms, covering her mouth in a hot, tender kiss, one hand sliding into her hair, the other slipping around her waist, tangling in her oversized T-shirt as he tightened his hold on her.

His lips left hers, trailing along her cheek, her cheekbone, her temple, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She kissed his chest where his shirt hung open. Vaguely, she remembered ripping it when he tried to dress her in the prison cell. Pulling back, he framed her face with his long fingers, looking down at her with eyes filled with tenderness.

"I love you," she whispered.

A smile slowly spread over his face. "I love you, too."

She gripped his waist. "Hawke, your animal . . ." They had to discuss the disconnect before it was too late.

His finger pressed against her lips, silencing her. "Shh. I want to see . . ." He lifted her arm, pushing back the too-long sleeve to reveal the delicate golden armband around her arm. The head of the falcon was barely raised and wouldn't cause her trouble beneath her shirts.

His fingers slid over the surface. "I never realized it would be so small, so fine. It's perfect for you." He looked up, a terrible tenderness in his eyes. A sadness, as if he knew exactly how close he was to dying.

"Hawke."

His knuckles brushed her cheek. "Let me see you shift. Then we'll talk, I promise. Fly for me." His words were pained, as if flying this time had made him remember how desperately he'd missed it. As if he thought he'd never do it again.

Swallowing hard, she nodded and stepped back. With a bare thought of what she wanted to do, she shifted in a rush of unbelievable pleasure and shot into the air with a silent cry of joy. The trees flew past so quickly, she could barely see the branches, let alone the leaves, yet she sensed them perfectly as she zipped past, zooming around the tree trunks, filled with a breathless joy.

She thought of standing in front of Hawke and, a second later, did just that, shifting as she landed.