Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(20)

Goddess, she had to warn Melisande and the others!

"Kougar, let me down," she commanded, staring at the hard, shadowed lines of his arresting face. "Let me go. My maidens could be in danger!"

"Have you turned to mist?"

"No, of course not."

"Then they're safe. Isn't that what you implied?"

"I can't be sure." But he was right. The greater danger was that Hookeye would pump more poison into the mating bond itself. Too much for her to control.

She squeezed her eyes closed against the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, then opened them again on a shuddering breath. All she could do was hold on and fight the poison attack when and if it came. And she would fight. To the end. She hadn't held on for so long only to give up now.

As Kougar carried her across a wide, circular drive lined with vehicles, her gaze took in the monster of a house looming before her. No, not a house. A mansion, with dormers on the top floor and black shutters framing each of the windows. Though sunrise was still a good half hour away, light glowed from all the downstairs windows and several of the upper ones--three brick stories lit up like a prison after an escape.

A prison full of shape-shifting Feral Warriors.

Her pulse faltered, perspiration dampening the back of her neck. No one but Kougar knew the Ilinas still existed. Now he was about to wrench that secret wide open.

At least before he'd kidnapped her he'd taken the time to dress her in the pair of jeans she'd left hanging on her bedroom doorknob and a fitted red T-shirt from her closet. If she wasn't mistaken, he'd even found her a bra.

At the base of the stairs leading up to a massive front door that was easily half again as wide as most, and a good eight feet high, Kougar dropped her bare feet to the walk and grabbed hold of her arm.

She fought him as he tried to propel her forward.

"Kougar, no. Let me go to them, let me see for myself that they're all right. Then I'll come back."

He didn't reply, which was answer enough. He didn't trust her.

And he shouldn't. The moment she got free, she was leaving. The Ferals would try to force her to turn to mist and save their friends, regardless of the consequences. If her race perished as a result, it would simply be an unfortunate case of collateral damage.

She had no reason to trust them. Not since the Daemon War had the two races been allies, and both their peoples had disapproved of her and Kougar mating. While she'd loved Kougar, she'd never really trusted any of the other shape-shifters, with the possible exception of his two closest friends. And at least one of them, she knew, was dead. No, the Ferals weren't going to have it their way. No way in hell would she allow them to sacrifice her people to save their own.

Kougar led her up the front steps and through the wide door, ushering her into a high-ceilinged foyer. Lights from a large, crystal chandelier sparkled upon the heavy green-and-gold floral wallpaper that belonged to a bygone age, while twin staircases curved downward in a sinuous dance, drawing the eye to the floor, where a lush painted mural enchanted with all manner of mythical creatures.

As Kougar closed the door behind them, two large men strode into the foyer, each eyeing her with surprise and no small amount of curiosity. One was badly scarred and huge. The other, a man with a tawny mane and nice clothes, gave off an air of command that made her suspect he was one of the leaders of the warriors. And they were definitely Feral Warriors. Even if she weren't in Feral House, she'd know that the men were shifters by the sheer, raw power they exuded.

Jag descended one of the twin stairs, a petite redheaded woman at his side. He gave a grunt as his gaze landed on Ariana. "Already bringing her home to meet the family?" His brows drew together as he stared at her. "What's with the neon baby blues? I'd have noticed eyes like that."

Kougar ignored him, ushering her toward the nearest hallway. The men followed, the one she'd nailed as one of the leaders calling out, "War room. Now!"

Moments later, Kougar propelled her into a large wood-paneled room with a huge conference table ringed by upholstered executive-type chairs. The rips in the cushions of a couple of the chairs and the occasional cracks and dents in the wall paneling gave telling evidence that this particular office space belonged to men who were not quite civilized.

Kougar pulled out a chair for her, then shoved her into it, reminding her that his anger was alive and well. She felt his anger like a physical ache that lodged itself between her shoulder blades, right where she imagined he'd like to stab her.

When Kougar took the seat beside her, she glanced at him in surprise. She would have thought the chief would stand at the front of the room, but perhaps their ways were different. As the others followed them into the room, she saw it was the man with the tawny mane and rust silk shirt who took that place. A man who wore the mantle of leadership like a comfortable cloak.

Her palms were sweating, but there was nothing she could do about it with her wrists bound together. Nothing but wait for Kougar to rip her world to shreds.

She glanced at him stonily. "When did you stop being chief?"

Kougar's eyes were cold when he met her gaze. "The day I lost my mate."

Ariana stared at him, his words sinking in slowly. The death of one's mate was known to cripple many an immortal, but because of Melisande's intervention, she'd never suffered unduly from the severing of the mating bond. She'd assumed Kougar hadn't either. He'd been a strong, natural leader back in those days. What must she have done to him, for him to have been unable to continue? Her stomach gave an involuntary cramp. She'd never considered she might have injured him like that.