Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(9)

Hawke lifted one arched brow. "Lyon is in the foyer." As Maxim brushed past him, Hawke shook his head, then descended the steps and started toward the vehicle. His gaze swept over her, moving to where Vhyper pulled Maxim's suitcases out of the Hummer, then back to her again. The friendliness returned to his expression, along with a hint of curiosity. Her blue-tipped hair tended to bring that out in people.

She smiled at him as Maxim had not.

The appealing man returned the smile slowly. His eyes lit first, crinkling at the edges before his mouth spread. It was a small smile, a close-mouthed smile, but its effect on her was devastating. A fluttering arose in her stomach like a whirl of dove's wings. As he drew nearer, her face . . . her entire body . . . began to flush with a heat that had her wishing she could peel off her sweater. With a face that was perhaps a bit too long and a nose that was a tad too pronounced, he wasn't movie-star handsome. But his eyes, a beautiful brown shot through with flecks of gold, were kind, his mouth beautifully sculpted. And the overall effect was breathtaking.

Dismay seized her heart, a deep disappointment that she felt no such physical attraction to the man fate had chosen for her. But physical attraction wasn't everything. Deep inside, that pull remained as strong as before - the certain knowledge that she belonged to Maxim.

Hawke stared at the smiling girl, his mind at once racing and blank, his pulse thrumming a fast, erratic beat. She was a little odd-looking, with dark hair painted bright blue at the ends and one ear entirely enclosed in earrings, yet she was . . . extraordinary. That smile . . . Goddess, that smile could slay an army, knocking them all to their knees. Though of average height, her features were small and pert, giving her beauty a pixieish charm. Beautiful. And clearly too young.

He told himself to keep his gaze on her face, but his eyes had a mind of their own. He couldn't help noticing that her thin sweater, the same blue as the ends of her hair, clung to small, sweet curves, and that the sleeves half covered her hands. On slender legs she wore holey jeans. On her feet, badly worn sneakers.

Slowly, he forced his gaze back to her face, to the smile that sent his pulse into a wild flight all over again, then up to eyes that held an odd mixture of awareness, laughter, and shadows. And a wisdom that had him reassessing her age. Perhaps she wasn't as young as she looked.

Relief had his smile widening. "Hi."

"Hello." Her eyes began to sparkle, her voice light and musical with a slight European lilt, as enchanting as her smile.

He passed close to her as he tore his gaze away and went to help Vhyper with the luggage, close enough to catch a whiff of soft female and raspberry sweetness.

She followed. "I'm sorry," she said as Hawke reached in and pulled out a huge suitcase. Vhyper already had four of them sitting on the pavement. "I think he's used to servants."

"We'll break him of that quickly enough," Vhyper muttered darkly.

Hawke grunted. Maxim was a fool if he thought they'd put up with that kind of attitude. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism that would ease once he felt like he was one of them. They could only hope.

Vhyper grabbed three of the huge pieces of luggage and started toward the house. The woman watched him go, her smile gone, her brows dipped in worry.

Hawke felt the need to ease her mind. "Don't worry about Vhyper. Or Maxim, for that matter. Newly marked Ferals are rarely at their best. While their bodies come to terms with the animal spirit, they tend to be unpredictable, aggressive, quick-tempered, you name it."

The woman turned to him, wrinkling her nose.

Adorable.

"For how long?"

"The worst of it will pass when he's brought into his animal - his first shift. But for some, it takes several years."

She sighed. "Wonderful."

He grinned at her. "I'm Hawke."

Her expression shifted with delightful speed, awe lacing her gaze and her words. "You're the hawk shifter."

"I am. And who might you be?"

"I'm Faith. I'm with Maxim, though I'm not sure that's something I want to admit at the moment."

With Maxim. He didn't like the sound of that. "His daughter?" he asked hopefully.

She laughed. "I was born in 1899. I just try to look like a teenager."

Not too young at all. Which would be beside the point if she was truly with Maxim. Ferals never, ever poached another Feral's female.

He held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Faith."

Her eyes sparkled as she slid her slender hand into his on a rush of soft pleasure. "It's nice to meet you, too."

Hawke found himself suddenly torn between modern manners, which dictated he simply shake her hand, and a surprising desire to raise her knuckles to his lips in the old way. The desire to inhale the scent of her skin, to feel her flesh beneath his lips, was dismayingly powerful. But until he knew which way the wind blew between her and Maxim, he'd be wise to err on the side of caution.

With a twinge of regret, he shook her delicate hand, then released her and turned to pull out another of the suitcases. "Is there a reason you enjoy looking like a teen?" He glanced back to find her brown eyes sparkling like dark gems.

"It's either piercings or tats, or I'd look like a poser." She shrugged a delicate shoulder. "The tats are permanent. The piercings aren't." Immortal flesh healed any wound, even those inflicted intentionally.