Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(15)

Goddess, he needed to get away from her. To forget her.

But first, she was going to save his friends.

He tightened his grip. "Why do you think you can't turn to mist? What's the matter with you?"

She jerked her chin as if trying to dislodge his grip, her eyes flashing at him. "Dark spirit slowly eats away an Ilina from the inside out. Didn't you know?"

Kougar studied her. Melisande had said as much, but his instincts now, as then, told him there was more to it.

"You can turn to mist, Ariana. You're going to."

"No."

Again that flash of . . . defiance? Desperation?

He didn't want to see it.

Her mouth tightened, the full, unpainted mouth he'd dreamed of for a thousand years. His arms ached to pull her closer, yet his mind rebelled. She wasn't the woman he'd loved!

His cat clawed at him, urging him to claim her.

Ariana stared at him, flaying him with her gaze even as she began to tremble beneath his hand. Her nostrils flared as she took a shuddering breath. Heat sparked in her eyes, igniting an inferno inside him.

He was losing the battle. "I have to taste you."

Her jaw tightened as if part of her wanted to object, but another part wouldn't let her say the words.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway. He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers. The feel of her lips against his, the achingly familiar taste of her released a floodgate of need and grief and desperate longing. At that moment, it didn't matter who she was, what she was. Ariana was back in his arms, her mouth opening beneath his, her tongue welcoming the desperate stroke of his own.

Her taste wasn't quite right. How he knew that after all this time, he didn't know, but didn't question. She still tasted as she always had, of crystal streams and summer nights, but overlying the sultry sweetness was another taste. A taste of darkness, and darkness had a taste all its own. A sharpness, a tang that was not unpleasant. But then darkness was often all too seductive.

His hands framed her face, his fingers weaving into her hair as he feasted on her mouth. His senses swam, his heart breaking. The feel of her beneath his hands, the taste of her kiss, the scent of her hair all rushed together, swamping him with memories, pummeling him with so many emotions he couldn't make sense of any of them.

His hands began to shake, a deep quaking setting up inside him. How many times had he dreamed of having her in his arms again, of feeling her lips against his, her small br**sts pressed against him? How many times had he longed to taste her kiss just one more time? To watch her spread her thighs and welcome him into her body? His Ariana. His woman. His mate.

But she wasn't, was she?

His Ariana--his bright, beautiful Ariana with the shining soul was not in his arms.

He tore his mouth from hers, released her, and stepped back. His hands were still shaking, his world tilting precariously. Whirling away from her, he strode to the window with harsh strides, his chest feeling like it was about to implode.

Goddess, he needed this over. He needed this woman . . . this thing . . . out of his life.

Pressing his hands to the window frame, he dipped his head and took deep, unsteady breaths. Every instinct he possessed told him to go, to get the hell out of there before she destroyed what was left of his sanity.

But he'd come for a reason. He had to force her capitulation, force her to enter the spirit trap. That was all that mattered.

Slowly, he turned back to face her. She watched him with eyes as deep as the darkest well, her mouth damp and full from his kisses. His body tightened, desire eclipsing everything else. He hated her. But, goddess, he wanted her.

He strode to her as he'd left her, his strides long and angry, but when he gripped her face this time, his fingers were steady. "I'm going to . . . f**k . . . this body of yours." He'd almost said make love to, but there was no love involved. Not anymore.

She swallowed visibly, the pulse pounding in her throat. But she didn't deny it.

He squeezed her jaw. "You're going to turn to mist, Ariana."

"If I do, I'll just escape you."

His grip tightened. "I'm aware of that. But then you'll return and help my friends, because if you don't, I'll give away your secret. I'll tell the immortal world you still exist."

She paled, and he felt a moment's hesitation as that old, fierce protectiveness tried to rise.

"You can't. You can't betray me, Kougar. The mating bond won't allow it."

He shoved off the protectiveness, reminding himself she wasn't the woman he'd loved, ignoring his cat's hiss of denial. "I'll find a way, never doubt that. And when I do, you soulless bitch, I'll destroy you and yours. I swear it. Unless you help me."

Her gaze never wavered from his. Shadows of fear slid through her eyes, then dissipated, replaced by a weariness that almost plucked at his sympathy.

"Do your worst, Kougar." Her words throbbed with exhaustion. Defiance, he would have understood, but not this. His threat hadn't hit its mark. Why not? Because she didn't believe he could betray her? Or because she truly didn't believe he could make her turn to mist?

The latter sent a frisson of fear skating down his spine. If he couldn't make her turn, his friends were dead.

Falling. Falling.

Hawke felt as if he'd been tumbling for hours, perhaps even days. One minute he'd been digging the heart out of one of the Daemon's throats, the next, the ground had fallen away, the earth opening to swallow him in a swirling red vortex.