Hunger Untamed (Feral Warriors #5)(31)

Even if they got another chance, they were too different to make a go of this marriage. Their worlds were too far apart, and their loyalties had always been too firmly entrenched with their own instead of one another. If he found a way to save Hawke and Tighe that risked the lives of her maidens, he'd take it. Without question. Not only would he do whatever it took to save his friends, but the Feral Warriors were all that realistically stood between the world and Satanan. The Ferals had to survive for the sake of far more than their own desire to live. But that argument would do nothing to assuage Ariana's grief if it came to that. Nor her hatred of him for letting it happen.

No, they had no future together. Even if they defeated Hookeye, another villain would only take his place. Now that the Mage knew the Ilinas were still alive, they'd seek to steal their souls as they had others'. Or destroy them, as Hookeye had almost done. And might still do. No, he and Ariana had no future. They'd never had one.

But the feel of her in his arms again was heaven after a millennium of hell.

Wulfe heard voices as he slipped through the mirrored door of the workout room into the hidden stone passage and headed back to the prison block deep below Feral House. Not voices, he amended. One voice. Xavier's. If that kid was awake, he was talking. Which beat the hell out of Lip Ring's screaming. As it turned out, those screams of hers weren't reserved for him alone. Lyon had tried to take her terror three times, then given up, which might not bode well for their ability to take her memories when and if the energy Olivia had fed them finally wore off. The teen girl's mind seemed locked in a loop of terror. Not that he could really blame her, given what she'd seen.

As he strolled through the passage, he rolled up the too-short cuffs of his button-down, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't like he'd gotten dressed up. He hadn't tucked in the shirt and was still wearing jeans. He just . . . felt a little more civilized-looking in a collared shirt.

He'd taken guard duty down there on and off for the past couple of days; but never again had he managed to catch Natalie awake, though he kept hoping to. Both Lyon and Jag claimed she was doing fine. Wary and watchful, but calm, all things considered, even as she stuck as close to her brother as a momma bear to her cub.

Xavier went quiet, and Wulfe assumed Lyon had knocked him out again. But Xavier's next question, which carried to Wulfe clearly, proved otherwise.

"So, are you going to be able to let us go, or do we know too much?"

"And what do you think you know?" Lyon asked with deceptive softness.

"I know the earth opened up. I know there was some serious magic shit going down. I know there were large wild animals prowling around who suddenly turned into men."

Even before he reached the cellblock, Wulfe heard the low growl in Lyon's throat. "How could you possibly know that?"

"I heard you, Dude. When you don't have eyes, you see through sounds, and I saw the change. Besides, Nat told me she saw you shift." A pause. "You don't have to kill me, you know, even if you can't take my memories." Clearly, he'd heard too much. "I'm a decent cook. I can wash dishes. I can help out around here, man."

Wulfe didn't have to see Lyon's face to know he was groaning. Disposing of dangerous humans was so much harder when you couldn't help but like them. Especially when the only danger they posed was to the anonymity of the race.

"I'll think about it. Lie down, Xavier. You're going back to sleep."

"I'd rather stay awake."

"Nevertheless . . ."

By the time Wulfe walked into the cellblock, Lyon was locking the brother and sister's cage, Xavier once more unconscious.

Lyon eyed Wulfe's shirt with a lift of his brow. "Going somewhere?"

"Go to hell," Wulfe muttered. "The women?"

Lyon gave him an amused look but didn't razz him further. "That one," he said, nodding toward Lip Ring's cage, "woke in her normal bloodcurdling manner about half an hour ago. She'll be out the rest of the day. The other hasn't woken yet, but should soon. Call Kara when she does, and she'll bring a tray."

When Lyon had left, Wulfe shucked off his clothes, shifted into his wolf, and curled up on the floor to watch. And wait. An hour later, Natalie finally began to stir. Wulfe shifted back and pulled on his jeans. As he buttoned the shirt, he felt like a fool. He usually wore T-shirts since they stretched comfortably to fit his monster-truck size. He used to dress up a little for Beatrice from time to time, hoping to please her, though he never had. His now-dead mate had never been able to see past his scars.

But Natalie hadn't seemed put off by him. He scowled. She hadn't seemed terrified of him. She might still have been revolted. Revulsion could be masked.

Hell.

Natalie sat up groggily, her hand sliding to Xavier's pulse before she was even fully awake. She looked better. Much better now that she was no longer battling the terror and anguish as she had been that first time. In fact, she seemed almost calm.

That was the first word that came to mind when he thought of her. Calm. Lovely was the second, despite her unkempt appearance. Her hair fell to her shoulders in tangled golden waves framing a face of strength and depth and compassion. The only thing jarringly out of place was that wound across her cheekbone.

Cautiously, he stepped out of the shadows.

Natalie looked up, her wary gaze softening slowly. "Hi," she said, a hint of a smile lighting gray eyes.