Ecstasy Untamed (Feral Warriors #6)(98)

Hawke turned to Kougar. "I'm shifting. I'm going in after her."

The other Feral stared at him.

Hawke swallowed hard and lifted a hand. "I can't get in there through my will alone. It's up to the hawk spirit."

"And if he takes off with you as he has in the past?"

Hawke shrugged. "I've been told that one more struggle for control with him, and our connection will snap. It's only a matter of time, Kougar. I don't have anything left to lose by trying."

Kougar stared at him long and hard, then extended his arm, his free hand clasping his shoulder. "I beg of you, spirit of the hawk, bring him back to us. He's the best of us, and you'll never mark a better man. We need him, both you and us."

"If this fails . . ." Hawke began.

"If we can get Falkyn out of there, I'll watch over her."

"She was no accident. The falcon chose her."

"I suspected as much."

Hawke released Kougar's arm and stepped back, his pulse erratic as he risked everything. He would either fly again. Or die.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on Faith. Just Faith. Nothing else mattered but reaching her. Nothing. Slowly, he released the breath, willing the tension over what he was about to do to slide away. Okay, buddy, it's up to you. Our lives are in your hands, now.

He started to pull on the energy to shift, but it barreled through him so fast, it was a moment before the euphoria caught up with him. He was already flying!

Goddess, it worked! He was conscious, flying, aiming for the chimney Faith had flown into. For the first time, he didn't feel like he was flying alone, and it was just as Faith had described. The animal spirit wasn't exactly in control, yet neither was the man. They both knew where they had to go - into that castle after Faith. But it was the bird who powered the flight. Hawke had always been able to fly in his bird, but this was something altogether new. It felt as if the hawk spirit had brought along booster rockets!

As one - one creature, one mind - they shot down the flue, intent only on saving Faith.

And the falcon.

Huh. The bird hadn't spoken to him, yet he felt the hawk spirit's need to claim the other bird spirit as fiercely as his own to claim his mate. And Faith was, without a doubt, his mate.

They erupted into the room he'd seen in the video, what could only be called a dungeon, the walls dark stone, stained with centuries of smoke. And blood. In the center of the open room hung the two girls above a large pentagram carved into the stone floor. A Daemon's sacrificial pentagram, he relayed to his men outside.

One of the girls screamed as Faith lifted a knife in front of her and aimed it at her breast. Muscles straining, her mouth granite hard, tears streamed down Faith's beloved face, cutting out his heart and honing his determination to stop this.

Around the women stood the other new Ferals - Lepard, Polaris, Croc, and Whit, like soldiers at attention. Or puppets on steel wires. At the head of the circle stood Maxim, his expression one of hungry glee.

Without conscious thought or direction, Hawke swooped toward Faith, desperate to keep her from killing the girl. Just as her blade pierced the girl's chest, he reached her, shifting into his human form on the fly, grabbing the knife from her hand.

Maxim yelled with anger.

Hawke! Faith's voice sang in his head even as she whirled toward him, claws and fangs erupting, weapons he knew would be used against him. You did it! You shifted.

I just needed the right motivation.

Her sweet laughter rang in his head for one bright moment, a glimmer of light peeking out of the darkness. Destroy the painted skull, and you might free me. But the only way to stop this ritual is to kill Maxim.

He'd gladly do both, though that would surely be easier said than done. Sliding one of his own knives into his free hand, he turned to find the five male Ferals stalking him with blades gleaming in the flickering torchlight.

The smile on Maxim's face told him this confrontation was exactly what he'd been waiting for. And Hawke was raring for the fight. For the first time since he fell into that spirit trap, he felt whole again. Hell, more than whole. Strong, powerful, right, as he'd never been. Like a rubber band snapping into place, he'd become one with his animal at last. The bird made a low cry of agreement, his anger completely gone.

Hawke turned, keeping each of the warriors in sight. He was a skilled fighter, but no one . . . no one . . . could take on six Feral Warriors bent on his death and come out alive. And he had no doubt his death was Maxim's goal. That saber-toothed bastard appeared to be the one pulling all the strings. Adrenaline pulsed in his blood, his senses flying out in every direction. The first thing he had to do was move the fight away from the girls.

He lunged for Maxim, but Polaris, still firmly under the thrall of the dark magic, blocked him with a massive stroke of his blade. Hawke parried the blow, then whirled as Croc came at him from behind, then Whit. With both hands he fought them, his speed double what it had been before, yet the blades came too fast. Maxim shifted into his saber-toothed cat, eyes gleaming. Whit, the white tiger, did the same. Could he possibly fight off so many animals at once before they tore him to shreds?

Hawke. Faith's voice was a cry of despair. Get out of here!

No.

It's too late. The magic has been activated. The blood . . .

His gaze snapped to the girl hanging over the now-glowing pentagram, and to the blood dripping from her bare feet from a wound he hadn't been quite soon enough to prevent. But he wasn't giving up, dammit, not when he'd come this far. And he wasn't about to leave without Faith.